The morning of the memorial I was nervous. This was nothing new. I always get nervous when I\u2019m about to go to a big event. That day, however, I was going to be a part of something that thirty-three years ago was unimaginable. I was going to an unveiling of the Jonestown memorial. And I had no idea what to expect.<\/p>\n
At first I was going to wear black, but an email from a Jonestown survivor told me to wear bright colors. I decided to wear a green shirt with a jeans skirt. I grabbed a book to read, along with my iPhone, and headed to Evergreen.<\/p>\n
On BART I put on Sofia Talvik\u2019s song \u201cJonestown\u201d<\/a> on my phone, and her voice echoed in my head. Put your troubles in a box, just look at your shoes, so you can be fine be fine. <\/em>Outside the Oakland hills were still green after an unordinary cool spring. Thoughts drifted in and out, one of them was: how did I get involved in this? <\/em>Well, the obvious: I was writing a novel<\/a> about what happened. Yet what had attracted me to such a large story that was still evolving? This was a good question.<\/p>\n I was six in 1978, yet I didn\u2019t really get the impact of Jonestown until ten years later. My mother and grandparents made sure I didn\u2019t see any of the news coverage. This was pretty easy to do; there were only thirteen channels and no Internet. The only part of the newspaper I liked to read were the funnies. I have vague memories of Mayor Moscone\u2019s and Harvey Milk\u2019s murders. At my Catholic school, we prayed for Moscone\u2019s family but not for Milk\u2019s. Six months later, my mother had the chance to sit in the gallery for Dan White\u2019s trial. What struck her about him was he looked so ordinary<\/em>. He looked like someone she could\u2019ve dated. Years later, I had the same realization about many of the victims of Jonestown: they looked so ordinary. They could\u2019ve been my friends.<\/p>\n I got off BART and caught a bus. I put my earbuds on again. The song changed to Judy Collins\u2019 \u201cAlbatross.\u201d<\/a> The lady comes to the gate\/dressed in lavender and leather. Looking north to the sea, she finds the weather fine. <\/em>I loved this song. And yet it was ironic: Along with the Cudjoe<\/em>, the other PT boat was called Albatross. <\/em>An English major couldn\u2019t make this up.<\/p>\n While listening to the song, my mind drifted to the first time I went to Evergreen five months before. The first time was by accident. It was a Sunday afternoon, and I decided to go see the latest Harry Potter movie. Because of track delays on BART, I missed the movie. I was at MacArthur BART, debating what to do next. And then I knew what I had to do. I kept on waiting and waiting to go to Evergreen, but put it off. I was in Oakland, I had money for a cab\/bus, why not?<\/p>\n I grabbed a cab and we headed to Evergreen. Here\u2019s the ironic thing: Evergreen is near Mills College, where I graduated. Yet I had no idea it was so nearby. So when we saw the green trees of Mills, I was comforted. Then we reached the black gates of Evergreen, where, with a white Sharpie, someone had written: Don\u2019t come here at night<\/em>.<\/p>\n I paid the driver. \u201cAre you sure you have a way back?\u201d the driver asked, looking concerned. I understand his hesitation. I am a Caucasian woman from an affluent suburb. I\u2019m in an area that they told us at Mills not to go in by yourself. Yet here I was. I told the driver I would be fine. He still looked concerned when he drove away.<\/p>\n It took half a hour to find the grave. I was the only person there. It was so quiet, so still. Finally I found it, sloping up a hill. I looked at the grave. This was where the people I researched for a year were buried: John Victor Stoen, Kimo Prokes, Terry Carter Jones, Liane Harris, Malcolm Carter, Judy and Patricia Houston. So many people, and I only knew a handful of names.<\/p>\n I kneeled down at the grave. Did the Sign of the Cross. Then I started to talk: \u201cHi, I guess I should introduce myself, my name is Jennifer Gibbons.\u201d I talked about my novel, what I did for a living. I told them I would obey one rule: First Do No Harm. That (with the exception of Jim Jones) I would try and be respectful, for they\u2019d been through enough. I made the same promise to their family, the survivors. \u201cI promise I\u2019ll tell a good story, but I\u2019ll make sure people knew what happened.\u201d Before I left, I lay down a daisy I\u2019d found, plus a 12-step coin I\u2019d found that said \u201cI put your hand in my hand.\u201d I brushed the grass off my jeans and left.<\/p>\n \u201cMacArthur Blvd!\u201d<\/p>\n The bus driver\u2019s loud voice interrupted my reverie. I knew the Evergreen stop was coming up. Two minutes later I was walking towards Evergreen. Two friends who had also written about Jonestown \u2013 Katie and Jane \u2013 were going to meet me there. Katie had just seen the Stanley Nelson documentary. I knew Jane through my job, plus she\u2019d published a short story<\/a> that revolved around Jonestown.<\/p>\n Walking up to the cemetery, I was greeted by several security guards. There were rumors of protests, so I wondered if I should show them my ID. A bit nervous, I told them my name and who invited me. They smiled and told me to go ahead.<\/p>\n I walked up the hill to the memorial. There I saw a smiling Laura Kohl (whom I\u2019d met the year before and become a Facebook friend) who gave me a hug. Tim Carter shook my hand. I saw people from the documentary: Neva Hargrave, Claire Janaro, Juanell Smart. My friends came, and we sat in the back.<\/p>\n I sat down on the grass. Ahead of me a woman sat already crying; she lost two children in Jonestown. Several young girls are taking pictures; I later learn they are John Cobb\u2019s grandchildren. There are Kleenex boxes handy, along with water bottles. After days of unordinary rain in the Bay Area, it is a perfect day.<\/p>\n The speeches started with Reverend John Moore giving the benediction. Other speeches followed, yet there was one that made me cry: Juanell Smart\u2019s speech. Smart lost her four children, her mother and her uncle in Jonestown. Later, she found out she lost a son-in-law, Poncho Johnson. And yet she could finally listen to a song Johnson sang often (and once dedicated to Marceline Jones), \u201cThe Greatest Love Of All,\u201d and find comfort in the lyrics: And if by chance that special place\/leads you to a lonely place\/find your strength in love.<\/em> I was the first one to admit I\u2019d made fun of Whitney Houston\u2019s version of the song. And yet, hearing Smart read it was so moving, my tears flowed.<\/p>\n After the speeches, people came forward to search for the names of their relatives, their friends, their loved ones. Paper and crayons were given out to make rubbings of names. Children made impressions of their grandparents, great-grandparents\u2019 names. I watched as survivors and family members alike hugged, crying. It could\u2019ve been incredibly sad, but it wasn\u2019t. Healing was all around. Katie and I managed to see the most controversial name of all: Jim Jones\u2019 name was half hidden with red dust. Somehow that felt so, so right.<\/p>\n As pictures were taken, I looked at everyone. I only truly \u201cknew\u201d a handful of people there, but I felt connected to every single person there. We all were a part of something bigger than ourselves, something beautiful. Judy Collins\u2019 song floated in my head again: Day and night and day again and people come and go away forever\/While the shining summer sea dances in the glass of your mirror\/While you search the waves for love and your visions for a sign\/…And in the dark, the hard bells ringing with pain. Come away alone, come away alone with me. <\/em><\/p>\n The bells rang with pain, but the pain was going away. The albatross was disappearing in the summer sea. What was left was people searching for, and finding love.<\/p>\n (Jennifer Kathleen Gibbons is a regular contributor to <\/em>the jonestown report.\u00a0Her other articles in this edition are Finding Jeanette McDonald’s Pool<\/a> and My Mike Wallace Moment<\/a>. Her complete collection of stories for this site may be found here<\/a>. She may be reached at jenniferkathleengibbons@gmail.com<\/a>.)<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The morning of the memorial I was nervous. This was nothing new. I always get nervous when I\u2019m about to go to a big event. That day, however, I was going to be a part of something that thirty-three years ago was unimaginable. I was going to an unveiling of the Jonestown memorial. And I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":0,"parent":29507,"menu_order":5,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-29299","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/29299","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=29299"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/29299\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":53073,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/29299\/revisions\/53073"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/29507"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jonestown.sdsu.edu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=29299"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}