Celeste Smith
As next-door neighbors growing up, my sister Alleyne and I spent so much of our childhood and youth with Janice. My sister likes to say that Janice is the only person who has been our friend for literally our entire lives.
Growing up, much of our time together was spent in serious playtime – double dutch, kick the can, riding our bikes. Often, when I think of Janice, I think back to this time when we were kids, and specifically, one particular day when we were on our bikes. My father was finishing up at the gas station at 130th Street and Conduit.
Somehow, the idea came up to ‘race’ Daddy – with him driving his car, and us riding our bikes – back to our block at Gotham Road.
If I didn’t know before, I learned the lesson that day: that gas station is at the bottom of a hill, and getting back to Gotham Road is a climb up.
I was pedaling behind Janice, and I was struggling. I could tell my father was slowing down so he wouldn’t ‘beat’ me back.
But Janice didn’t need any help, thank you very much. I remember her laughing, legs pedaling strong, climbing up and up, going for it without hesitation.
Thinking about that day now, I see that’s how she lived – embracing moments with strength and zest. Going for things without hesitation.
In her adult years, despite any challenges, she was still all about going for things, pushing through, traveling, making time to do the things she wanted to do.
And she was all about making connections wherever she was and whatever she did. When Janice visited my sister and me two summers ago, we visited the International African American Museum in Charleston. Afterward, we went to a very small, locally owned place for dinner. She spotted two other travelers behind us in line, and without hesitation welcomed them to share our table rather than waiting for a free one. Then she generously paid for the table’s dinner.
I admired Janice so much for the way she lived her life, just as I looked up to her that day on the bike. I remember literally looking up at her, joyously climbing up that hill. She set a standard that day on the bike – of strength, determination and fearless pursuit of her goals. I couldn’t always keep up with my friend, whether it was on the bike that day or with her boundless energy or the way she fearlessly put herself out there in life. And that was OK.
Janice's spirit is like a bright flame – in her favorite color red – always burning with passion and kindness. Her force will never fade. May her light continue to shine in the hearts of all who knew her, inspiring us to live with the same strength, zest and generosity that she embodied.
—Celeste Smith
