In the winters, Jackie and my Pawpa would head out West. They owned land with a metal hunting lodge in Utah. Together, they built this simple shelter. The structure was basically an oversized tool shed. Jackie hunted with a Winchester .308 Mauser Rifle, a prized possession. She could tag a mule deer as quick as any, help Pawpa gut it, and prepare the meat.
Jackie was an adapter.
To love and adore my Pawpa, you had to be a very specific kind of woman. He was tough. My Jackie’s life called for self-confidence and decisiveness. If you were going to be with a man like Dick Kyle, you had to believe in yourself or trail from behind in the wake of his boldness — undefined. My lady was not one for following; she chose to stay with a challenging man. My Jackie joined in the celebration of his wild ways. She never pretended it was easy; she was never lost. She grew into the woman she wanted to be…right by his side.
She could blend, become, and understand. She watched people from behind her gentleness, kindness, and affirming approach, all while finding alternative routes in life. Watchers are knowers. Talkers are distractors. Jackie taught me about deep knowing.
Petite, Jackie was a natural, quiet observer; she was fearless. This composed little lady would camp in their sheet-metal shed with no plumbing, no insulation, and open land for an outhouse…all while sheltering by the warmth of a wood stove. She wasn’t one for complaining.