Memories of Christina Jordan
Colleen Whitney
When I think of Tina, I think of spending a dreary winter day working together to make Julia Child's French apple tart -- she sliced the apples for the top in perfect thin slices, and formed a rosette that would have made Julia proud. It was, as she would have said, divine.
She was very much her own delightfully quirky person. She had impeccable manners. She used words like exanguinate. She wore a bright yellow rain slicker and had many pairs of gorgeous earrings. She had great taste in literature, music, flowers, food and friends. She had an extraordinary eye for colors, textures, and shapes, and used that gift to create spectacular illustrations.
She was the friend who came early to help before a party, because we knew it would be fun to work and talk together in the kitchen while she turned the appetizers into another work of art. She always arrived armed with the loveliest flowers, the makings for wonderful garlic bread, and sincere compliments.
She found perfect little holiday gifts, like little wooden dinosaur ornaments for Dave, or a catnip heart for our cat. And she would remember to pass along the latest Smithsonian magazine with an article on an interesting ceramic artist she knew I'd like.
What I have noticed most as I've talked to people in the last few days is that she created small personal rituals with each of her many friends. For Tina and Dave, and then the three of us after I met Dave, it was countless weekly lunches in Berkeley (garlic-pepper pork, walnut prawns, chile relleno burritos) catching up on the latest news of cats and work and family. She was always interested in hearing more about our latest trip, my latest purchase at the plant nursery, or Dave's next dig. And willing to tell us about her vacation to the Florida Keys with her sister, her visits home to San Diego, the dinners she made with Carol and Brian, her evening walks with Ziggy. It was mostly small talk, peppered with nuggets of art and politics and whatever else struck our fancy.
She was the kind of friend who made you feel that there's no place she'd rather be, and that you had something wonderful to offer. Which is of course the reason why she had so many friends, who will all miss her so deeply.