My name is Conrad Balliet, and I am Jean's father. In 2006, I published my autobiography under the title cb: Remembrances (available at www.lulu.com). I referred to Jean many times, and at the end, realizing that I did not know a lot about Jean's perspectives on her own life, I ask her and my other children to write their own stories. I introduce that part of my book with this paragraph: A number of other departures began in 1971 when Jean left for the University of Michigan. Until then, the lives of our children had numerous and intricate ties to Marion and me. Both memory and records become weaker as the bonds weakened, and their lives become more clearly their stories than mine. I wrote down my memories of their subsequent lives and invited them to revise or rewrite their own. Jean has written her own story, with some editorial help from Clara June and cbhimself. Jean’s Story: My Life Patterns: Healing, Expression, Insight Since early childhood, plants, healing, stone, creatures and art have fascinated me.: from Audubon Society frog and tree walks to petting kittens at my Aunt Ethel’s, from sculpting clay and drawing to finding beauty in streams, trails, fungi and ice crystals. I had trouble practicing violin as a child, but I now play viola, dulcimer, guitar, recorder, and diverse percussion instruments. I love to play music and to sing, harmonize, even chant, alone and with others. When the likes of sick cats, cruel lovers, rain forest devastation, or hair on women trouble me, I can write a song or poem. Twenty years ago I began by reading music, and now I improvise and play tunes from my mind. My parents let me play in streams and woods, meadows and cliffs; they let me use tools to build and fix things. Although I have matured slowly, my upbringing has helped me to find meaning and grounding in my life, and to earn a living. Tree walks as a child grew into forestry classes at the University of Michigan, and I began to study Chinese as well. As a child I had learned to identify poison ivy, by now I could recognize most woody plants and many wildflowers and perennials. My studies also helped me to look at a site and have some grasp of the processes that formed the landscape and ecological network over time. I found all my classes rewarding, only to realize upon graduation that most jobs open to me would consist primarily of sitting at a desk doing paperwork. Oops! Stress, boredom, entrapment. I took a job at an Ann Arbor design/build firm, K.C. Runciman Landscape Architects and got my hands on wooden tools, plants and stone. My muscles grew strong. I learned to set stone, to lay out plant designs, and to grade the land into graceful forms in ways that inspired me. When I started in 1977, I don’t believe any other women in the greater Ann Arbor area had performed such physical work. One big landscape company where I applied flat out refused to hire a woman. When my boss stopped calling clients to warn them he was sending a girl to do their landscape, clients responded to my appearance on the job by saying “Where’s your crew?” or “Can you handle this job?” With the encouragement of my then boyfriend, I enrolled in the Landscape Architecture Master’s program. My academic training up until then had not included any studio work in design, making for a rough transition. The only other person in my studio with hands-on experience, Rene Albacete, became a close friend, and we are still in touch. After finishing my class work in the MLA program, I decided to write a thesis on Chinese landscape architecture and traveled to Taipei, Taiwan to join prestigious National Taiwan University’s Environmental Design & Planning Studio and to do my research. Responding to my letter of interest, the head of the studio had offered me a research assistant position and a modest stipend. I lived in the hills outside Taipei, commuted by bicycle, and hung out with housemates at the markets and in the parks, practicing kung fu and push-hands. That expression of my fascination with Chinese culture and language on an immersion basis still represents one of the high points in my life. In one of the night markets, while looking at a display of antique knives, I encountered a handsome, personable young Chinese fellow, Zhao Fu Guo (Chao Fu Kuo), now known as Victor, who soon became my husband. When I severely sprained my ankle the next week, tripping on a hole on the road while returning from a rural temple festival, Victor came to my rescue on his shining motorcycle. One month later we married, a court wedding, supposedly to take care of future visa problems. Our first spat came when he bought me a scale as a gift; the food in Taiwan tasted so wonderful my 155 pounds had ballooned to 185! Victor wanted me to meet his parents, who lived in the USA. We soon found ourselves going through customs in Los Angeles in separate lines. We stayed with his father there for a while (his mother worked in Houston at the time), but I didn’t like Los Angeles. We moved to Ann Arbor where I knew my way around and had many former clients. There we formed a landscape design/build company, Magic Garden, which Victor still runs with some help from our daughter Clara. Victor also bought one and then another Chinese restaurant and some real estate to rent as well as live in. His family and I helped with these enterprises. Unfortunately, although we agreed on how to raise Clara, many of our other values clashed, especially regarding time and money. We divorced in 1999. From our Nimrodding days, I remembered that the culture, climate and landscape of New Mexico had delighted me, so I moved to Taos. I continue to feel the delight, although earning a living remains a challenge. The trees and gardens in my yard here grow beautiful and my unique line of cats—abyssinian/ocicat/Bengal hybrids that look like rainbow mini-pumas and leopards—continues to sell in Santa Fe, and I have even sent some back to Michigan with Clara. My landscape clients here love me, just looking for a few more! I have served a few years as program chair of the Native Plant Society of New Mexico, recruiting and entertaining speakers for the monthly meetings. People express enthusiasm for my newest venture called Orchard Rescue. In Taos County we have many neglected and abandoned orchards. My idea is to get grants and volunteers to care for the fruit trees and to harvest, dry, can, sell, or even give away the local organic fruit (owners get a share). Once I send out a public service announcement I hope the local radio stations will broadcast it. Wish me luck! In the summer of 2006 I joined the Taos version of a greater ritual community dance movement called Gypsie Nation. The dancers at our first four events have really enjoyed my creations of a sculptural male altar based on old tools, branches and fabric. We gather in a lovely large wood floored studio to dance for healing, power, peace, and release. We dance for those we care about and for the realization of our visions. This experience takes me back to the freedom and beauty I found in contact improvisation and contra dance beginning in the 1970’s in Ann Arbor. I hope to soon find some kindred spirits in Taos to dance with as well, probably a small working group in my studio here, a 20’ x 20’ space with a wood floor and mountain views. I have not practiced martial arts very much myself since my separation from Victor—it forces me to face my grief at the loss of that relationship. However, I still offer to others in pain the bodywork that forms the healing side of martial arts. It can help in centering, grounding and using that power to smooth all aspects of life’s journey. Mental clarity and easier communication come as fringe benefits. As for my beautiful, sweet and talented daughter, Clara, my stories of raising her could easily become a whole book, as her experiences growing up have helped me to heal confusion and difficulty from my own childhood. Sometimes I tell people they may see a side of me in Clara that they will never know in me because of my inner struggles. She gave me reason to go on after my divorce from Victor and continues to inspire me with her insight, enthusiasm, energy and compassion. I rejoice that we have at least one of our family line of Balliets continuing into the next generation.