Jane Wall's horn

The horn always sounded at the same times every weekday. At 8 a.m. and 3 p.m., the white passenger van would pull up across the street in front of Bill and Jane’s house and the driver would give a long blast on the horn.

After the horn sounded in the morning, the front door to Bill and Jane’s house would open and out would come Jane pushing her adult, wheelchair-bound daughter, Jane Wall, out to the street. The driver would carefully place Jane Wall in her wheelchair onto the motorized lift, and Jane would say goodbye, tenderly caressing Jane Wall’s face or shoulders. When the horn sounded in the afternoon, Jane – eternally smiling – would come out to welcome Jane Wall from a day at a center for physically and mentally disabled people.

Jane and Bill’s daughter contracted Reye’s Syndrome 30 years ago when she was about 3. A smiling, healthy and energetic child, Jane Wall’s condition left her with immense physical and mental disabilities. The easy way out would’ve been to simply institutionalize Jane Wall, and then Bill and Jane could sink their energy into raising their son.

But Jane and Bill are not cut from that cloth; there’s nothing in their makeup that would allow them to “give up” in such a fashion. I talked to Jane about that a number of years ago, and Jane simply replied, “Well, she was our baby. We couldn’t do that to her.”

So Bill and Jane raised Jane Wall with as much love, devotion and care as anyone. It was awe-inspiring when they would bring her to neighborhood parties, and everyone would be making a fuss over the brown-haired woman with the crooked smile. Jane Wall never said a word, simply looking at people and smiling. On occasion, she would laugh or show her displeasure, but she spent every night in her parents’ house, safe and secure from a world that too often seems cold and cruel.

Last week, Jane Wall contracted pneumonia. Delicate as a rare flower, Jane Wall put up a brave struggle for survival, but in the end she was called to a higher purpose. She departed Monday morning, surrounded by the family who loved her so much. What Jane and Bill may not know is how much of an inspiration they are to friends and neighbors; how their simple grace under pressure for three decades inspired generations fortunate enough to know them and love them.

Mornings and afternoons still will come each day in our neighborhood, but the missing sound of a horn from a white passenger van will signal a void in our lives. But if you open your heart and listen closely, you can hear the clarion call of heavenly horns heralding the arrival of Jane Wall.