“My father took forever to die,” Jane Fonda said of Henry Fonda. “I’d sit next to him for hours. I realized I wasn’t afraid of dying. I was afraid of getting to the end of my life with regrets.”
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Henry Fonda died at 87. Turning 87 next December, Jane says, “I recommend thinking about death. We’re lucky to get old. I want to be on my death bed surrounded by people who love me.” Preferably wrapped in a simple shroud, she adds, and buried near (2nd husband) Tom Hayden, “to make it easier for our kids to visit.”
Jane was her outgoing, outspoken self at a luncheon given at Detroit’s Franklin Hills CC earlier this month. She spoke from the heart, without notes, and came off more as a pal than a pampered celebrity. The event benefitted the cardiology department of Royal Oak, MI’s Corewell Health Foundation. The Detroit Free Press ran a comprehensive article on Jane’s talk. So I’ll take a different tack.
As Godsigns readers know, I’ve lately crossed the daunting threshold of 80 years. It’s an achievement I doubted I’d reach 20 years ago with Stage 4 cancer. But here I am, thank God–especially interested in Jane’s take on the A word.
Fonda decided age 60 represented “the beginning of my third act. As an actress, I know third acts are really important. I wanted mine to make sense.” At 59, Jane devoted a year to “researching myself”. She says, “To know where you’re going, you have to know where you’ve been.”
Aside from 29 pages of FBI reports, Jane viewed copious home movies her father had made. Her conclusion? “I was brave and worthy of being loved.”
Jane had spent two years “wondering” if her (third) marriage to Ted Turner would work. “I loved him like mad. He’s the most interesting man.”
She visualized an angel on each of her shoulders. One angel said, “Lighten up. He’s funny. He’s handsome.” The other angel warned, “If you stay with him, you’ll never be who you’re supposed to be.”
On January 1, 2000, Turner dropped her at the airport. “We parted.”
Jane went from living on thousands of acres to living in her daughter’s house. There she had a revelation. “God wants us all to become our true, authentic selves. I realized I don’t need a man. Jesus said, ‘Ye must be whole.’ I knew the search for perfection was toxic.”
Reviewing her life, she gave some advice to her 20-year-old self:
“No is a complete sentence.”
“Problems get better.”
“Don’t drink so much.”
Now, with three grandkids (two in college and a 5-year old), Jane says, “One of the most important things I’ve learned: it’s not the experience, it’s how you reflect on the experience that makes you a wise person.”
I appreciated Jane’s remarks about making “On Golden Pond” with her father, who was dying of heart disease. “I did the movie for him,” she said. “Katharine Hepburn didn’t like me very much. She’d invite me for tea and tell me how to read my lines. She willed me into the scene.” She mimicked Hepburn shaking her fists at her, mouthing, ‘You can do it.’ Jane says she spent many hours practicing her famous flip into the cold water of Squam Lake in New Hampshire.
Of Jane’s relationship with her father, Hepburn said, “He doesn’t know he hurt you. Spence (Spencer Tracy) used to do that to me. You’ve made me respect you, Jane.”
(In my own Golden Pond moment, one of my best trips ever occurred with my son, Andy. In spring of his junior year at Cranbrook, we took a road trip visiting colleges on the East Coast, listening to Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” In New Hampshire, we parked the car and climbed over a ridge to see glistening Squam Lake for ourselves. But no, we didn’t jump in.)
(While I’m off the subject, another divergence. I didn’t expect to write a column about Jane but brought pen and paper just in case. She had me from hello. I filled both sides of the one sheet I’d brought. Writing notes, in cursive, focuses my attention. I’m dismayed that schools no longer teach cursive.)
Back to Jane, who’s produced six movies since 2000. After three marriages, she’s finished with matrimony and love affairs.
“Too hard,” she says. “I’ve closed up shop. I get much more done now. I read a lot. I can watch any TV show I want.” She also devotes time and energy to working for “a healthy planet.”
Thanks, Jane, for your candor. For the insights and joy you’ve given us on screen. And for blazing a happy trail for those of us lucky enough to reach our 80s.
