Donna and Jacque happily skiing, too many years and places to recall where??  Those were the best of days and of times to recall.   

Most of us can post some of Donna’s  exquisite acts of kindness and community caring.  She happily stepped up at my urging to host a large welcome party for a new, out-of-state, principal at Vista High, back in the late 1980’s.  And, like an undercover agent, Donna could affect minor acts of kindness that would never be known, nor exalted.

I once showed up at her home for one of those lively dinner engagements and non-stop buzzes of beauty, brains and business echoing in every corner, when she noticed that I had just gotten a run in my stocking!  “Follow me upstairs, she said.  Minutes later I was offered a drawer full of packaged nylons and asked to select my size and color preference!  I did.  I swear she had about 25 packages to choose from!

Another time she called me and said, “Oh, guess what”?   “I don’t know, what”,  I said.  She continued,  “I have this lovely personal assistant I have trained, and she will be ready to assist you next week.  Would Monday work for you?”  I was touched at how much she cared that I was raising 5 children and working full time for my husband!  She wanted to make my life more efficient and less busy.  How many of us have ever had a friend like that, or have been that friend?  That was Donna:  the ultimate hostess and heroine in big and small matters!

 When I looked for photos documenting these great trips and memories with Donna, I found very few with her in them- she was always the one taking the awesome photos of us growing up, living a great life in Vista, traveling around.  We have her to thank for documenting all these great moments. 

-       I recently went downstairs in the Jaoudi house, and saw the hundreds of photo albums that Donna had and all the wonderful photos, and I realized that’s why I have those same albums in my place in SF (with much of the same photos).  And I was reminded of all the white envelopes she sent me over the years, with photos inside, with a sticky- hi Mac, photos for you. love, dj

-       I loved how she would always sign her notes ‘love and hugs, dj’

-       Back in the 80s, she took 6 of us (all in high school at the time) to Rosarito on vacation. No idea what prompted that, but we had so much fun!

-       We all went to Toronto, Canada for a soccer tournament, where we were celebrities because we came all the way from California- I think it was this trip that Donna let a few of us stay with her in her hotel, rather than with our host families, and we learned how to order room service.  That was awesome, and my Mom really appreciated that :)

-       The Jaoudis invited me go to Jamaica for vacation the summer between High School and College, and I couldn’t go because I had soccer training for college.  But Davis went, and Donna took all these professional photos of Davis, in this tropical setting, because she was going to be a model.  We recently found those photos and had a good laugh. 

-       Donna and my Dad were pals.  As Julie would say ‘kindred spirits’.  They had a similar sense of humor and quick wit.  I am not sure if my Dad just couldn’t hear Donna or what, but my Dad would just kind of chuckle and so would Donna, and I am not quite sure what they ever talked about. 

-       I wrote a column in my college newspaper after the Rodney King riots in ’92 and I sent Donna a copy of my published article.  She wrote me back and said she was proud of me and only wished she could be as good a writer as me.  What an amazing compliment to get from her.

-       I loved her photographs, as did everyone.  I especially loved the ones with the blue doors in the photos, so she gave me one.  It’s in my apartment and I am so thankful I got that from her.

-       I loved how she was such a bad driver.  I laugh when I think of the Range Rover she had with the BIG Band-Aid sticker on it.  That was so funny.  I remember this one time, I was at the intersection across from Lincoln Middle School, and I saw Donna pick up dry cleaning at the place across the street.  She had fit her Range Rover into the smallest spot, in front of the dry cleaning store, that was not a parking spot, and it was on the edge of the intersection.  I saw her get into the car, reverse the Range Rover, practically make a 3 point turn in one of the smallest spots ever, drive over the curb and then drive away (Band aid was front and center on the back window). 

-       I always loved the red grapes she would constantly have on her kitchen counter.  I would always pick at them, grabbing one at a time, and she would say ‘MAC!!!’ Don’t pick at them- take a bunch at a time!”  She didn’t want her grape bunches looking sparse. 

-       I always looked forward to getting Donna’s Christmas letters.  They were entertaining, yet informative and reflective.

I could go on forever, but wanted to share a few highlights.  I will miss Donna a bunch like everyone else, but thankfully I have these great, most hilarious, memories that I can fall back on.  Love, Julie Mac

Donna and I had a long history together.  She was a friend indeed.  I  told my real sisters that she had become another sister in my life.

Many of our memories started when she and Joe moved to Liberia.  She often asked my advice because I was the "experienced" one.  One of my fondest memories is the year we decided to give gag gifts to the adults for Christmas.  She gave me a report card full of F's because I was a teacher.  For George, she chose a comb without teeth for his moustache.

I also remember the many times we took the kids to the beach and came home with our feet covered with tar which came off only by using nail polish remover.

After returning to the U.S., Donna often made the long trek to Lebanon to visit family there.  Her visits were filled with fun and happiness.

When my family came to the U.S. to escape the war in Lebanon, Joe and Donna took us in.  Donna was such a help in getting our lives back on track.  We will always be grateful for her help.

I will miss Donna and find myself picking up the phone to call so I can share a funny story with her. 

Donna was such a fine, considerate woman and always thinking of others. I have so many memories of her - events at her home, dinner group etc etc. One time my mother was up at Donna's and mentioned that she loved carving African masks. Donna took us into the library and pulled out a nice book on African art and gave it to my mother. My mother treasured that book and used it as reference so many times. That is just one of many kind things that Donna did. I am so happy to have had her in my life and treasure the memories that I have. She was a beautiful woman inside and out. Hugs to your family.

Mom wrote this poem as part of her self-portrait assignment when she was taking photography classes.

I am a wife, a mother, nurturer to many

I am a good cook

I am a good organizer

I am an activist

I am fun

But I find that I am more into me as I approach middle age

I nurture me and am learning to spend more time doing so

I am happy with life as it is and look forward to enjoying it even more

Donna Jaoudi, 1989

Who were you?

My Aunt? My Friend? My Inspiration?

You were my Aunt when you opened your home for me and my family.
You were my Aunt when you made sure we were part of every family gathering.
You were my Aunt when you made up occasions just to leave little parcels at my door.
 

You were my friend when we shared our thoughts.
You were my friend when at the darkest moments you made your shocking little comments and made me laugh.
You were my friend when despite all your personal struggles you called me and wondered if I was okay.

You were my inspiration to want to travel the world and embrace every culture.
You were my inspiration to want to see life as a canvas of beautiful photographs.
You were my inspiration to want to give without expectations, and to want to love without boundary.

You were who I would love to become.

Daughters spend a good part of their lives trying to not be like their mothers. I definitely wanted to be my own person and in many ways, Mom and I are indeed very different. In the wake of her death, I realize that I really do wish I were more like her. Mom taught me some very important life lessons and I’m sharing some of them with you here.

Just Give

My Mom was incredibly generous. If she saw a problem, she just stepped in. She didn’t ask for credit. She didn’t tout her generosity. She just did it. Some of the gestures were large and changed the course of people’s lives. Some of the gestures were small. When I was 21, we drove across country and routed ourselves through Kentucky and Tennessee since she was digging into her genealogy and Donna's mother was born in Paducah, Kentucky. As we drove through the Appalachians, she had her camera ready at all times. The imagery was both stunning and haunting. The poverty was shocking. On one of our walks through a small town, she stopped to take some photos and talk with a family. She wanted to give them some of the money they clearly needed without insulting them. She quietly said “please give this to the church.” She allowed them their dignity while helping them. She just knew how to connect.

Be Fearless

Mom sent me to France as an exchange student the summer before I turned 16. The last thing I wanted to do was spend that summer with foreigners in a tiny village outside of Lyon in central France. She insisted it would be a life changing experience, helped me over pack (I still over pack) and put me on a plane. After spending the first few days with my headphones on obsessively listening to Sting's debut solo album, counting down my return home with big Xs in my calendar, my lovely host family informed me we would be going to the French Riviera for the rest of my stay. Somehow, Mom knew it would all work out just fine! And what a summer it was. I’ve been to France almost every year since, lived there for four years and have a beautiful French godson (Max Capoulade) in Paris. Every time I’ve considered taking risks, moving across the country or an ocean, a career change -- Donna’s support was constant as a mother’s would be.  But she was so matter of fact about it. It was simply, “Of course you can do this.” She was fearless for me and eventually, I found more and more courage to take risks and reap the rewards of doing so.  

Mom is always right

Donna wasn’t short on opinions. You always knew where you stood and in her short-tempered, stubborn way, she always managed to win.

When I was in high school, I very predictably dated what one might refer to as a “bad boy.” He was remarkably disrespectful, smug, but so charming and handsome to me. No one understood the attraction, especially my mother. Her efforts to point out how wrong he was for me fell on deaf ears. After we broke up and went our separate ways to college, he became a marijuana activist (zealot). He organized protests and opened one of the first medical marijuana dispensaries in California. While his work was sometimes admirable, it was also extreme and generally illegal. Donna would catch local news stories of his activities and hit record on the VHS. She’d then send these lovely bits of news tapes to me in a plain manila envelope with no note. The first time I received one, I had no choice but to watch it since I had no idea what was on the tape. Genius. Deadpan was always best and Donna was always right.

Feel what you’re seeing

My junior year in college, I moved to France to live with a host family and go to school in Aix-en-Provence. I was terrified but once again, Mom calmly said “you can and should do this.” I spent most of that year focused on learning French and eating chocolate croissant. I also spent that time experiencing so many new people, places and ways of life. I remember calling my Mom from a cabine telephonique (phone booth) and through the clicking sounds of an old school overseas call, I shared my wonder and delight of an open air market filled with antiques, spices, books, flowers, fresh fruit and vegetables plus the host of characters who were the market's vendors. I was overwhelmed, emotional and a little confused by my response to what was so mundane to the locals. She said “Just feel what you’re seeing Julie. Embrace all of it. It’s such a special time. You’re growing in such important ways.” I knew this would be one of the most important gifts of my life: Feel what you see.

And through Donna's photography, we know that she clearly felt she what she saw.

Color outside the lines

A dear friend asked why my Mom left the convent as a novice and my Dad said that she simply didn’t like the rules and in particular, the vow of silence. She told me that just before entering, she had discovered boys, Catalina with her girlfriends and the pleasure of driving Sunset Blvd in a convertible. The convent was just too limiting for her. Instead of doing her chores, she’d find herself hiding out in the attic, shaving her legs and smoking cigarettes. Mother Superior wasn't too thrilled with her and Mom eventually found the courage to leave the convent.

Mom did things her way. Even the day she passed, it was on her terms and right where she wanted to be: With her best friend for 54 years, my Dad.

You are rich if you have friends

Donna was popular. There’s no question she was popular. She was fun, spontaneous and blunt. My Mom opened her home to the world . She drew people in and she knew how to connect. When she was recovering from a health scare last fall, she spent a few weeks at an assisted living center. When Donna arrived, she was *not* happy. She made sure the nurses knew she didn’t need or want to be there. She behaved so badly that they gave her a time out in the middle of the night in the main living area. But then something remarkable happened: She embraced her new and temporary environment. Once I knew she was settled in, I went back to New York for two weeks and then returned to bring her home. The day she left was a sad one! The nurses were in tears, hugging her and sharing stories of how much fun they had with her. The other patients were downright upset to be losing their friend Donna.  To give you a sense of how she became the mayor: She’d walk the halls and greet everyone with a personal anecdote, inside joke or just straight up teasing.  One of the more ill patients, Robert, had had a stroke and couldn’t speak. When he was doing his therapy which involved standing up out of his wheelchair, she’d quip “Oh jeez Robert, get up. You can do it.” He’d look at her and you could see the smile in his eyes – that Donna could tease him despite his condition is a testament to her understanding of resilience and humanity.