Crossed paths a few times for one reason or another. Maybe in Community Campus. Sure seems like she ought to be in the Webser Groves High School Hall of Fame, or whatever the equivalet is.
I remember Nancy as the very smart "semi-hippie chick" who played the guitar and got good grades in Math and Science. (I was never aware of her Native American heritage. How cool is that? Native American Heritage Month 2014: Nancy B. Jackson (state.gov) ) As fate would have it, Nancy married the brother of a colleague of mine. I tried to get her up to Montana State University to give an inspirational talk for young women in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) at Montana State University, but we were never able to coordinate schedules. I regret that.
Around the time she retired in 2017, she developed aphasia, a generic diagnosis for a language disorder that impairs the ability to communicate, read, write or understand language. Through her brother-in-law, who has his office just across the hall from me, I was apprised of every stage of her illness up until her death. Aphasia can have multiple causes, but I am not sure an assignable cause was ever obtained for Nancy. It was horrible to learn of her deterioration. which progressed over several years until her death. In the end, her disease had many similarities to Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) or Lou Gehrig's Disease, and she ultimately passed from those complications.
A very nice obituary (which I think was written by her husband) can be found here:
I was fortunate to be friends with Nancy during our high school years and through activities at the First Congregational Church in Webster. I got to know her best our senior year while serving on the advisory council for the youth fellowship group. We co-led, dealing with everything from complaints by church staff about how we left the kitchen after a youth event to more serious matters, like what became known as “the Godspell Affair”—a sort of Watergate for teens. I think crises—and our cynical senses of humor—bonded us for good. Several times, symbolically escaping, we drove out to the airport at night to watch planes arrive and depart (we imagined who the people were and where they were going). When we tired of that we went to a nearby I-Hop to discuss council matters—or anything else—over bottomless cups of coffee. I visited her in Washington D.C. during her first semester at George Washington U and remember sitting with her on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial one night, talking about my just-finished bicycle trip to New York, her classes, politics (Nixon had resigned that Aug.), and what her plans were. We kept up a correspondence for the next 7 or 8 years. She was a good writer—thoughtful, introspective, open—able to describe situations she was facing or trying not to face, but ultimately facing and learning more about herself. It was a privilege to be her friend and witness and affirm her journey through those years (I just hope my return letters were as insightful or at least amusing.)
I lost track of Nancy in the mid ‘80s as she went deeper into the world of chemistry, but saw her once at a reunion and have marveled since her death about her career and ability to carry on political activism as a chemist and teacher. She’s still an inspiration to me. Just wish we’d had more time to reconnect other than the short stint on Facebook before disease silenced her forever. I still have her letters (I rarely throw anything away). The summer after she died I found myself driving by coincidence through a part of the Seneca Nation in upstate New York. I thought of her as I watched the trees roll by and sent a greeting. I trust it reached her.
Ann Mangelsdorf
I continue to miss Nancy and have so many good memories of our friendship over the years and her many accomplishments.
Scott Gibbs
Crossed paths a few times for one reason or another. Maybe in Community Campus. Sure seems like she ought to be in the Webser Groves High School Hall of Fame, or whatever the equivalet is.
Douglas Cairns
I remember Nancy as the very smart "semi-hippie chick" who played the guitar and got good grades in Math and Science. (I was never aware of her Native American heritage. How cool is that? Native American Heritage Month 2014: Nancy B. Jackson (state.gov) ) As fate would have it, Nancy married the brother of a colleague of mine. I tried to get her up to Montana State University to give an inspirational talk for young women in Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) at Montana State University, but we were never able to coordinate schedules. I regret that.
Around the time she retired in 2017, she developed aphasia, a generic diagnosis for a language disorder that impairs the ability to communicate, read, write or understand language. Through her brother-in-law, who has his office just across the hall from me, I was apprised of every stage of her illness up until her death. Aphasia can have multiple causes, but I am not sure an assignable cause was ever obtained for Nancy. It was horrible to learn of her deterioration. which progressed over several years until her death. In the end, her disease had many similarities to Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) or Lou Gehrig's Disease, and she ultimately passed from those complications.
A very nice obituary (which I think was written by her husband) can be found here:
Nancy Beth Jackson Obituary 2022 - French Funerals & Cremations
Nancy was definitely a difference maker, and we are lucky to have her in the WGHS Hall of Fame.
Doug Cairns
Michael Long (Long)
I was fortunate to be friends with Nancy during our high school years and through activities at the First Congregational Church in Webster. I got to know her best our senior year while serving on the advisory council for the youth fellowship group. We co-led, dealing with everything from complaints by church staff about how we left the kitchen after a youth event to more serious matters, like what became known as “the Godspell Affair”—a sort of Watergate for teens. I think crises—and our cynical senses of humor—bonded us for good. Several times, symbolically escaping, we drove out to the airport at night to watch planes arrive and depart (we imagined who the people were and where they were going). When we tired of that we went to a nearby I-Hop to discuss council matters—or anything else—over bottomless cups of coffee. I visited her in Washington D.C. during her first semester at George Washington U and remember sitting with her on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial one night, talking about my just-finished bicycle trip to New York, her classes, politics (Nixon had resigned that Aug.), and what her plans were. We kept up a correspondence for the next 7 or 8 years. She was a good writer—thoughtful, introspective, open—able to describe situations she was facing or trying not to face, but ultimately facing and learning more about herself. It was a privilege to be her friend and witness and affirm her journey through those years (I just hope my return letters were as insightful or at least amusing.)
I lost track of Nancy in the mid ‘80s as she went deeper into the world of chemistry, but saw her once at a reunion and have marveled since her death about her career and ability to carry on political activism as a chemist and teacher. She’s still an inspiration to me. Just wish we’d had more time to reconnect other than the short stint on Facebook before disease silenced her forever. I still have her letters (I rarely throw anything away). The summer after she died I found myself driving by coincidence through a part of the Seneca Nation in upstate New York. I thought of her as I watched the trees roll by and sent a greeting. I trust it reached her.