I remember Jane as being the person who led the family get-togethers, whether it was hosting all the Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, or simply being the encyclopedia for family news, events, and general whereabouts.  She actually seemed to like that kind of thing.  But eventually the day came where my wife and I could host the Slagles on a visit to our home in Ann Arbor, MI and we, not Jane, could then orchestrate a trip to relatively nearby Niagara Falls.  Ronda and I had been there before so we were fairly successful in deciding the agenda.  Naturally, if you’ve ever been to Niagara Falls you know to stay on the Canadian side, but a walking trip across Peace Bridge leading to Buffalo, NY is one of the major highlights for the area.  So, as we all walked from the parking lot to the entrance to the bridge I took an extra few seconds to pick up a few rocks along the way and put them in my pocket.  That really seemed to baffle Shawn and Jane.  Why did I pick up the rocks?  I replied the answer was simple and obvious—I was going to sell the rocks.  Jane thought I was nuts despite my reassurances I would make a profit.  She assured me nobody would buy some worthless rocks.  However, everyone dropped talking about those rocks until, the next thing you know, we are all in the middle of our walk across the bridge.  From there we stopped and, fighting a bit of vertigo, looked down over the edge of the bridge.  Way down.  That was also a good place for me to count the number of seconds it took for my first rock to reach the Niagara River way down there.  Shawn and Jane wanted to join in the fun, but they didn’t have any rocks and there weren’t any on the bridge.  Perhaps I could be generous and give my rocks away, they asked?  But no, I said, it’s 25 cent a rock. That sale helped me lord it over Jane, to her chagrin, for days.  I think that was about as quiet as I ever remember her.

Jane and brother Garry.  Both gone but never forgotten

My sister Jane was extraordinary.   She was beautiful, had a remarkable memory, and never cried as a child. She could relate conversations verbatim that had occurred many years earlier. And pain was something she simply refused to acknowledge.  She once accidentally spilled  boiling  hot grease on her chest and she never cried a single tear. Stoic doesn't come  close to describing her reaction to pain, yet she wasn't cold. She was  a warm, loving person who laughed easily.

Our mother dressed Jane and I as twins although we were 3 years apart in age, but we were the same height as children and looked and sounded like sisters.  We got the same presents, we played together, we slept in the same bed and fought together. We built towns and roadways out of dirt and mud for our toy cars.  We must have been filthy. That's probably why we always got dolls for presents in an  attempt to get us to play with something that would keep us clean, but neither of us liked dolls. So, at least we had clean dolls. We had two older sisters,  who were only a year apart. They were the "big girls" while Jane and I were always the "little girls." We shared chores, we shared clothes, we shared lives, until Jane was sent away to live we our father. I never knew why. When she came back she was a grown up and we went our separate ways.

Here’s a drawing my mom did of a pirate ship.

My mom used to tell people that I worked on computers.  She said it in a way that implied I was the only one in the world that knew anything about computers.  I always thought that was funny.  She was so proud.

OBITUARY

Vanetta Jane Slagle

August 26, 1949 – July 1, 2025

Newcomer's White Chapel Funeral Home & White Chapel Cemetery

Show your support

Add a Memory

Share Obituary

Get Reminders

Services