Jeanette LaCourt

To write a tribute for someone touched by the evils of dementia and memory loss is a perplexing task. Even though we were together almost 24/7, I’m left with the lingering uncertainty of whether she knew and felt my love and compassion for her, which breaks my heart. My prayer is that she left this world knowing the positive impact she had on me and on so many others. Because of her health decline, I had been losing her for some time, but it is still difficult to envision life without her. The house feels so empty. Her contributions were countless, and the lessons she taught me will stay with me forever. She loved unconditionally and taught me to do the same, and I will always be grateful for that. Since my childhood, she frequently said, “God only gave me one child, but He gave me the best one,” which, of course, made me feel unique and special. My mom was always my advocate, always in my corner, and always willing to listen to my woes, big or small. What child doesn’t need to be heard. Jeanette was born at a time when women didn’t have many career choices, so it was important to her that I get a college education and have more opportunities than she had. She taught me to judge others by their character and actions rather than superficial means. She advocated for the underprivileged and underserved and had disdain for the greedy and power‑hungry who trampled the less fortunate. She felt especially passionate about empowering women—in her day “women’s lib.” A strong work ethic was important to her and she taught me to always give 100%. My mom was an animal lover, a trait she definitely passed down to her family. When our beloved 15‑year‑old dog died while I was in middle school, she had me pulled out of class, telling the school that a family member had passed away. (I think they were surprised when I returned the next day.) As an adult, I could always count on her to babysit our fur babies and spoil them rotten whenever we went out of town. Patience was one of her many gifts. When Savannah was a baby, Mom babysat every Wednesday evening when my work schedule and Tim’s overlapped. Savannah would cry as I left for work. My mom discovered that Savannah loved a certain music cassette, so she would play it and dance to the Beach Boys while holding her in her arms as I quietly slipped out of the house. It worked every time. She lived by example and wasn’t one to give outward advice, but when Ryan was born, she offered one of the few pieces I clearly remember. She told me to make sure Ryan felt just as loved and important as Savannah did. As a second‑born child herself, she wanted me to be mindful of his perspective. I tried my best to heed her advice. One of the greatest gifts she gave me was being a devoted, loving grandmother (“Nana”) to Savannah and Ryan. I always knew that when they were in her care, she would love them unconditionally and care for them as I would. I don’t think she was ever unavailable to babysit, which meant I never had to leave them with a paid sitter—and I always knew they were safe. We were all spoiled by her. She dedicated her life to being the most devoted wife, mother, mother-in-law, and grandmother. How lucky were we. Although she was soft‑spoken and kind, she was also quietly strong and fiercely independent. She might not have been outwardly confrontational, but she would quietly and determinedly do what she felt was right. She was definitely not a pushover. Those of you who knew my parents knew the strength of their relationship. They met as teenagers, married at 19, and spent all of their adult lives devoted to each other. When my dad passed away in 2015, it devastated her, and she never fully recovered. She did her best to move forward and prided herself on living independently, but there was always a sadness in her soul. My prayer is that they are now reunited in heaven and that she has found joy again. Maybe they’re dancing to the Beach Boys. Most of all, I want to thank you, Mom, for pouring all your energy into your family. We benefited from your love, wisdom, talents, and devotion. Going back to your quote—God only gave me one mother, and He gave me the best one. I will forever love you and miss you. Karrie

I met Jeanette in the fall of 1980 when I picked up Karrie for a date. Even though I had only known Karrie for about a year, it was easy to see that her sweet, kind‑hearted nature hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Jeanette and Jack were gracious and accepting of me from the beginning, even though — as my brother‑in‑law puts it — Karrie was the “honey pot” and I was the “bear.” I was not the most mature fellow back then, frequently doing inane things like knocking over their garbage can with my car. But Jeanette and Jack tolerated my childish behavior and never let on how they must have really felt about the guy dating their precious daughter. I quickly became a fan of Jeanette and Jack. Their home was a safe, comfortable place where, for more than 40 years, I have loved spending time. During those early years, one of the running jokes was that if I was having dinner with the LaCourts, they needed to double the amount of food that would normally be enough for the three of them. (In my defense, they all ate like birds.) One of my favorite dishes Jeanette made came from a newspaper clipping for “25‑cent potato bake.” It was essentially shepherd’s pie—and what’s not to love about that? We still have the clipping, and I smile and think of Jeanette every time I see it. Though Jeanette’s personality was quieter and more subdued than Jack’s, she was a strong, independent woman, yet always kind and welcoming, and she seemed genuinely interested in how I was doing. To this day, I still insist you’d be hard‑pressed to find a better mother‑in‑law. Many years ago, I was at their house when Jeanette walked up to me, handed me a piece of paper, and asked, “Is this what you do?” It was a job posting at Best Western, where she had worked for a number of years, for a UNIX system administrator. Sure enough, that was exactly what I did. She was thoughtful enough to make me aware of the opportunity and even put in a good word for me. I applied, accepted the position, and spent eight very good years working there. It became a springboard for the rest of my IT career, and I have always appreciated that Jeanette put her neck on the line for me. After our kids — Savannah and Ryan — were born, Jeanette transitioned from “Jeanette” to “Nana.” She was instinctively warm and loving with both of them, and I don’t think anything made her happier than spending time with her grandkids. When Savannah was born, I was working second shift at Motorola and Karrie worked nights at the hospital. We worked opposite days as much as possible, but we needed help on Wednesday nights, and Nana was always ready and waiting for “Savvy” to be dropped off on Karrie’s way to work. They’d have a great time together, and at 12:30 AM, when my shift ended, I’d pick Savannah up on my way home. Nana would get a couple hours of sleep and then get up and ready for work. Karrie and I both knew Savannah couldn’t be in better hands, and that peace of mind was priceless. Jeanette and Jack were always there for all of us, no matter what we needed. It’s difficult to express how comforting it is to know that people care about you and your family that much, and that they always have your back. They attended every — and I mean EVERY — birthday party, dance recital, soccer game, softball game, baseball game, annual trip to the pumpkin patch, holiday gathering, and graduation. Not because they felt obligated, but because they genuinely wanted to be there. It became a tradition to spend Thanksgiving Eve and Thanksgiving Day at their house, and to this day, that’s still where I’ll always want to be on that holiday. Both Ryan and Savannah attended ASU, and all the campuses are a long drive from where we live. To make college affordable, they lived at home and commuted. They would get up very early, drive to their grandparents’ house, leave their car there, and Nana would drive them — many times before 5:00 AM — to the ASU bus stop so they could catch the shuttle to campus. And at the end of the day, Nana would pick them up. She always had fond memories of those days when she could spend one‑on‑one time with her grandkids. If that doesn’t exemplify love and dedication, I’m not sure what does. Jack’s sudden and tragic passing in 2015 was devastating for Jeanette. She continued to be the best Nana and mother‑in‑law she could be, but there was an unyielding sadness in her life and a void that never seemed to be filled. For her family, it was very difficult to witness. (Although a call or visit from the grandkids always perked her up for a few moments, even in her final days.) The pervasiveness of COVID and the progression of dementia made her anxious and reclusive. For 11 long years, Karrie did her absolute best to honor and enable Jeanette’s wish to continue living alone, but after her fall in April 2025, the only choice was for her to move in with us. And even though Jeanette didn’t think that was necessary, I promise you that nobody else on this planet would have given her the unconditional love, selfless care, and attention that Karrie provided. While she lived with us, I called Jeanette “Nana banana.” Not because I thought she was crazy, but because it usually earned a chuckle — though I’m not sure she actually appreciated the nickname. There were difficult times while she lived with us, but many good ones too, and she was always kind to me and appreciative of “everything we did for her.” It has been a privilege to know her, and I truly appreciate that she never meddled in our marriage or tried to tell us how to raise our kids. She was simply kind, loving, and supportive. I hope my kids feel that way about me when my time is up. We will always love you and miss you, Nana banana. I hope you are free of pain, that you’ve found peace, and that you and Jack are touring heaven in a little red convertible sports car.

I will always cherish the memories of Jan letting me ride her pink and white motorcycle and driving her convertible Camaro! She was a lovely lady and will truly be missed.

Jeanette legally was my sister in law, but in reality I thought of her as a sister. Even though I was 8 years younger, her and John always treated me as a equal. I loved being with them and loved their beautiful relationship. Even though when Karrie was born, I was only almost 18, but they asked me to stay with them and help Jeanette with the new baby. Seeing I had quite a bit experience with a new baby, they trusted me to show Jeanette how to bath a baby and back then to learn how to sterilize and make formula. I loved it and loved them. I read Karries post and agree 100% that she was a terrific mother and spouse. She was as beautiful on her insides as she was on the outside. Jeanette and I always laughed that her and I (82+) were the end of our families generation. I can imagine her laughing because neither of us wanted that honor. I went and stayed with Jeanette and Tova during the time of Savannas wedding. The 3 of us became the golden girls and laughed and enjoyed our time together. Karrie was her love, her and John realized they had hit the jackpot with their daughter. Even though with the alztimers she wasn't the same as she was before, whenever I talked to her she would praise Karrie and Tim on how good they were to her. . I will forever love and miss Jeanette and I know John was waiting with open arms, as she was the love of his life. Even though they were pushing 60 years of marriage, their love for one another never grew old. Love, Izzy