On the first day of his teaching career, during the first hour, there on the front row sat Jill Micka, who he claims to have known before she was born. While a Miami High School student, Bob Walkup’s English teacher, Lorraine Micka had been pregnant with her.
Recollections will be shared for years to come. How each had come to know her and what remarkable thing done or the quirky reply she said will be quoted with people who will now never have a chance to meet her.
One of my best memories of Jill was going to Andrew Jackson’s grave with her and spitting when no one was watching. She had accompanied me on a bus trip with the Cherokee Nation’s Learn and Serve delegation of sorts, to a national conference with Donna Gourd. The bus made few stops on the way, but this one I will never forget. I could not fathom why a Cherokee Nation bus filled with many Cherokees would have any reason to stop at this particular place. But spitting worked for me as an answer, though I didn’t follow the others to know if they found it in them to also pay that kind of tribute to the president responsible for the “Trail of Tears” our ancestors had endured.
All those years ago that 8th grader had figured out that my “Indian” counselor office actually had an open-door-policy, and she has been in and out of my life ever since. After LEAD Agency was formed and we began to operate out of a physical office, she and Kindel Kirkley served as VISTAs for over-lapping years. She was working for us when she was first diagnosed with kidney failure. We all regretted it, but rallied to host the best 50th Birthday Party we could, featuring gifts but also promises of to-dos to extend our birthday wishes.
Jill served for a number of years as a Board Member of our non-profit, quitting only when her health kept her from feeling fit enough to serve. She never waivered in support for our work and for elevating the issues and connected these to the risk we all face due to the environmental hazards that lie around us in Ottawa County. She allowed us to steer journalists and photographers her way to show what impacted health outcomes can look like in a superfund site like this.
She graciously had said yes merely a month ago when Anthropocene Alliance had sent Magnum Photographer Matt Black to do a series of mining sites, starting with us at Tar Creek. Jill was suspicious at first, but agreed to spend time with him, which is the Matt Black way, what he does before ever picking up his camera, is understand the person or place first. So off they went on a road trip to Claremore to the Veteran’s Center to see her husband, Damon. She feared it would be yet another confirmation of the loss she had felt the last few visits, but was shocked and thrilled to find Damon saw her and lit up seeing her and knew her, again. And together they felt joy and love. Jill sat on her porch later that day with me and shared this story. She saw and was seen by the love of her life. He was back for her during that visit.
I have no way of knowing if Matt captured that moment. But I see it now in my mind. No photo needed.
The day before Jill died, while doing a deep cleaning dive in my office, sorting a stack of papers, I found the image of her dad, John Micka holding our Mike Synar Environmental Excellence award just a moment before she called. Jill created magic like that.
It was the last time I spoke with her. But later that afternoon she texted me a name and a phone number followed by a series of hearts.
When I received the call from another of her followers that she had passed, I dialed the number she had texted me and talked with the dear soul who shared the details I had needed to hear.
The magic Jill created, I bet she did it for you, and I would imagine we will be telling “Jill” stories for years to come. What will I do for her? I will have a campfire with LEAD’s Martin and Kindel, just as she had hoped to join us in doing. We will invite Wanonia and share stories. Gather and share, and then I hope you will begin a new legacy of kindness and gifts of joy, done randomly to catch others off-guard with your new spontaneous-ness. For we never knew what Jill would say, do or suggest.
But we knew her faith was real and deeply part of her life and as she would say, “let perpetual light shine” as hers does now.
Let your heart’s light show that we are one. Rumi
And with that thought. Jill perpetually carried an “instant Birthday Party” with her. A match box with matches to light the single reusable birthday candle for the private celebrations of life with those whose birthdays might have passed without thus. Always shining the light for others. I will be assembling kits in her memory to share mini moments of joy into the future.
On my desk waiting for her was the new improved kit that I had found as a gift for her. It had the required ingredients but with the addition of a little stand for the candle, making for a more elegant event when lit, which would have delighted her.
Respectfully Submitted ~ Rebecca Jim