By Dana Tatlock
Jane French Tatlock of Lincoln passed away at home on October 3, 2022 surrounded by her family and beloved pets.
Born in Cleveland, Ohio, on Oct. 20, 1940 (10-20-40), a date she was exceedingly proud of, Jane was the third daughter of Charles French and Jeanette Shepard French. Living in what was then the boonies of Pepper Pike, Ohio, Jane attended Laurel School, where her report cards often suggested that while she appeared indifferent to classwork and proper behavior, she delighted in socializing and general mischief. One of her great childhood loves was her home away from home: Aloha Camp in Fairlee, Vt. There, Jane made lifelong friends and proudly achieved the rank of Admiral for her canoeing prowess.
Her move to Providence, R.I., to attend Pembroke College began her life on the East Coast, where she met her future husband, Richard (Dick) Tatlock, in physics Lab.
One could always expect the unexpected with Jane. During the early years of their marriage, Jane and Dick zipped around Cambridge on their vintage Ariel motorcycle with Bentley the cat poking his head out of the Bucknell Bullet sidecar. This theme continued after the young couple moved to Lincoln, where Jane got around town on a green Honda 125 with Wolseley the Jack Russell riding behind in a milk crate, ears flapping. Jane rarely missed an opportunity to push the envelope. In the ’70s, seeing a notice in the Boston Globe for a newly formed women’s ice hockey team, Jane bought hockey skates, taught herself to use them, and joined the Mother Puckers, a team ultimately recognized by the U.S. Women’s Team as paving the way for women’s hockey.
Jane instilled in her children Hugh, Dana and Alexander the love of adventure that she and Dick shared. Lead the kids down whitewater rapids in kayaks? You betcha, despite later admitting she had no idea of the real danger. Extended hiking and camping trips in the White Mountains? Of course. Meanwhile, Jane and Dick embarked annually on weeklong trips in their classic Boston Whaler, cruising the Erie Canal, St. Lawrence Seaway, and Hudson River north towards Montreal or south towards Manhattan. Until recently, she and her friends could be found walking the woods of Lincoln or on their weekly bike rides into Boston, one-way streets be damned.
Jane was a connector and a giver. Once settled in Lincoln, she developed a lovely and close circle of friends, and enthusiastically scooped up new people into her life. When her children were young, Jane helped create the Lincoln Day Camp. She jumped in as a coach for Lincoln Youth Soccer, despite originally knowing nothing about the game. She later worked with the Council on Aging, organizing traditional field trips to museums and untraditional but edifying tours of assorted, random factories.
Devoted to the First Parish Church, a community she loved, Jane dedicated years to gathering and editing the weekly Parish News. Through the church, Jane discovered one of her greatest loves: handbells. The Lincoln Handbell Ringers became not just a source of lovely music but a family to her, as they shared their music at the church, in the community, and at numerous festivals with very good food.
Jane was a cornerstone of her family. She and her French sisters, Mary and Peggy, fondly known as the “Big Three,” were leading lights for their descendants. Jane presided over extended family Thanksgivings and long summers in Mattapoisett, and whenever she was asked, “Should we do this?” or ”Can so-and-so join?” Jane’s unhesitating answer was always an emphatic, “Yes.”
Jane is survived by her husband Dick, her children Hugh and Dana, her grandchildren Ella, Ben, Freddie, and Toby, her sister Peggy, and all of her loving nieces, nephews, and grand-nieces and nephews. She is missed by so many but her joyous and adventurous spirit will live on forever in our hearts and memories.
A memorial service will be held on February 18, 2023 in Lincoln. In lieu of flowers, memorial donations in Jane’s name may be made to The Precious Project.
Margit Griffith says
Occasionally, one wonders if an obituary is more hyperbole than fact – a parting gift to a departed loved one who may or may not resemble the words written. Knowing Jane, this is probably the best representation of a person I could read; though I expect so much more could have been included to honor this enormous life, this remarkable woman. I was one of the people Jane collected, thank God. We bonded over a shared fondness for shenanigans.