08/14/2026
At Jennifer’s Celebration of Life, folks filled out cards on how the met Jenn. Enjoy!
This is from Michelle Collum:
I am Michelle Collum. I was blessed to be Jen's close friend for 30 years, and I want to tell you about her.
I met Jennifer Taylor on August 21, 1994, at the Chattooga River. She and Brian had just finished their Section IV run, and our group had just gotten into town after my very first Hiwassee run. She was already friends
with my brother Mark, so she was interested in getting to know me better ... and we hit it off famously!
The first thing Jen and I found in common was the gift of gab. We loved to talk, probably because we continued to find more and more that we agreed on. Our love of the outdoors...Music...Theater...Reading...Greek
salad in a pita.
We were gate judges together at the next race, and the timers got tired of us instantly.
"Section 3, report... Section 3, REPORT... Section 3? ... JENNIFER???" Oh. (giggle) Sorry.
We laughed so much that day! And almost every other day we spent together. Jen laughed a lot. She laughed so much it was hard to talk to her on the phone. That's probably why we sought her out. The laughter. The lift. We felt better after only a few minutes with Jen.
Jennifer and Brian tried to get out west for a couple of months every summer they could. They both loved the big rivers and the big skies, and we back home always wondered if this would be the year they didn't come back home. They always did. Eventually.
Jennifer was a globetrotter, not just a summer adventurer. She and her parents traveled the world together, learning fabulous things about fabulous places. She always pretended that she didn't want to go, but she loved spending the time with them and loved the discoveries she
made about this planet she so treasured. She would come back with stories that lasted for weeks! (Some of which I am not privileged to share.)
Jen was generous beyond measure. If she had it and you needed it, it was yours. If you needed it and she could get it, it was yours.
If she saw it and THOUGHT you needed it, it was yours. She made pottery gifts for me. She brought jewelry gifts for me. She even
bought thrift store t-shirts if she saw one she thought I needed. After many exchanges over many years, we finally settled on our favorite gift to each other: hand soap. Pretty, nicely-scented bottles
of hand soap that did not in any way insult the environment (cuz she was boycotting those ... ALWAYS).
Jennifer was a grammar N**i. Did you know that about her? She was seriously book smart, and she loved to read. Fiction and nonfiction. Was always giving me books ... such as Silent Spring (knowing I was in school for environmental science).
Would absolutely NOT hesitate to correct you if you misspelled or misprounounced something. "Michelle, I'm pretty sure that's
pronounced Ayn." But she never spelled "together" right, and when I once pointed that out to her, she assured me that I had to be wrong.
On those lines, she was also a card sender. She sent handwritten cards through the mail for every bump I felt. We recently moved, and many of those cards have turned up. I wish I'd brought them for you to see.
"Congratulations on your new job!"
"I'm really sorry you're dealing with the tornado damage." Even "I just want to say how much I've enjoyed knowing you."
She understood and appreciated the power of the written word. That was maybe our biggest similarity. But she also embraced the immense power of the handwritten
and posted remembrance, and in that, she bested me. Repeatedly.
Jen stumbled upon one of her biggest loves when she went to work for Earthborn: Pottery. She loved everything about making it and being involved with the company.
Many of you know Jen's products. She made the necklace I'm wearing, the coffee cup I drink from, my toothbrush cup, my grandson's bedside change dish. If you're lucky enough to have a piece of Earthborn with a tree emblem on its button, Jennifer made it. If you have an Alabama Cup, it's
probably her handiwork. She worked long days producing those trophies. Gave her free time in creating, producing, delivering ... whatever it took to get them to her people.
And those who own them are very proud of them.
They gave Jen great joy.
She found joy in many things.
Like children. I don't think I ever saw her meet a child whose day she DIDN'T try to improve. She might sit down and share a bowl of ice cream with a small child. Or put a larger one in the front seat of a boat and take her down the river. She understood them, and always made sure
THEY knew they were SEEN.
She was like that with most people, not just children. She saw you. She tried to make your day better. Maybe she was passing you a ... bottle. Or maybe she was helping carry your boat. Or filling out the class you
really wanted to be in. She loved to just be with you. She loved to make you smile.
Until she didn't. Jen could be slippery. When she decided she'd had enough,
she was gone. One minute, she was handing the Jagermeister around the
drum circle, and the next she had simply vanished. Don't bother looking. Or texting. Or calling. Until she was ready again.
Jen had her demons, to be sure. Adopted, she never knew what genes she carried, and she endured a very difficult childhood. She was haunted by that, and sometimes it took her over.
But when she let us in, we were overjoyed. When I started dating my husband Kyle, he told me he was glad Jennifer and I were friends, because he wanted to know her better. Time with Jen was always a
treasure. We are certainly going to miss her, but every time I think of her, I smile.
I can't complain about that.
And some of you will smile now when I tell you that Boat has
finally found her.
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In 2001, while on an excursion to Italy, Jennifer and her mother went to the Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi. Jen (who was raised Catholic) knew I admired the Saint, and she brought me back a beautiful piece of parchment from the gift shop, which contains the prayer you have been given. I'd like to read you that prayer, a gift from Jennifer, brought to us from Saint Francis .... It is
A Simple Prayer:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred... let me sow love.
Where there is injury... pardon.
Where there is discord... unity.
Where there is doubt... faith.
Where there is error... truth.
Where there is despair... hope.
Where there is sadness... joy.
Where there is darkness... light.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled... as to console,
to be understood... as to understand,
to be loved... as to love.
For It is giving... that we receive.
It is pardoning... that we are pardoned.
It is dying... that we are born to eternal life.
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Jennifer Taylor was born in 1966. She was 60 years old. Her eyes were blue. Her hair brown. She was taller than me. Her favorite color was purple. She loved cats. Most animals, actually. She loved people. She treasured the planet and fought hard for its protection. She could (or would, whether she could or not) paddle any boat on ANY river. She was never so at home as on
the river and LOVED the American west. Really REALLY wanted to move out there. And she loved Brian Fisher, who loved her back. For many, many years.
You will always be OURS, sweet Jennifer.
