Elizabeth Jane Ricks

Elizabeth Jane Taylor Ricks, a classic Southern woman who inspired family and friends with her intelligence, wit, stoic grace, and gentle determination, left this world peacefully on May 27 in Oklahoma City. She was 94.

Jane made her debut on Aug. 5, 1930, in Texarkana, Texas, the only child of Joel Arthur Taylor and Opal Burton Taylor. But she spent her formative years in Louisiana, and her subtle Cajun twang was still detectable even after decades spent in Midwestern and Northern locales.

Her personal odyssey took her through 15 cities and nine states, first with her parents, then with her husband of 74 years, William G. Ricks II. “You need to move every two years because your house gets dirty,” she once quipped to her daughter Kathy.

Known affectionately as “Grandma Jane” to her descendants, she wrote in a notebook found after her death that she wanted her grandkids to know she was more than just the silver-haired lady who saw them once or twice a year, sent them birthday gifts and baked her legendary Star Cakes at Christmas.

Jane described her childhood fondly. She recalled using a silver spoon to create elaborate farms in the dirt with a neighbor boy. Going fishing and camping in the woods with her parents. Eating jumbo chocolate bars cut into pieces and served to her on a dish by her dad. Learning to drive the service station Model T with a big Mickey Mouse painted on the side. Visiting her Aunt Ida Belle, who served her sips of real wine in tiny glasses. (“It was red, and I liked it!”)

One of her earliest accomplishments, she said, was a stunt she mastered at the age of 3 or 4. She would climb atop a little stool and shout: “Umpsies and heapsies and sock ‘em in the doodlebug!” Then she would jump to the floor as her parents applauded.

“What a precocious child! What doting parents!” she wrote.

When Jane was about 5, the family moved from Texarkana to Houston. After a year or two there, they relocated to Shreveport, Louisiana, where Joel sold ads for the local newspaper, operated a Conoco service station and eventually became the city planner for Shreveport and several surrounding communities.

In her notebook, which she never completed, Jane cited examples of what her world was like while she was growing up: Unlocked doors and screened porches. Ice cream in Dixie cups “with movie stars on the lids.” Milk in glass bottles with cream floating on top. Radio soap operas. Dime stores. Tap shoes. Bobby pins. Saddle oxfords and broomstick skirts. Trolley cars. Levees and bayous. Muddy ditches teeming with crawfish. Wartime rationing. Home-canned foods that often spoiled. Refrigerators with aluminum ice trays “that drove you nuts.” Doctors who made house calls. Buttermilk tonic “to build me up.”

Jane Taylor met Bill Ricks when she was a senior at C.E. Byrd High School and he was a sophomore at Centenary College, both in Shreveport. She made an instant impression on the ambitious chemistry major, and they began dating.

“There was no comparison,” Bill recalled. “She was one in a million.”

Jane enrolled in Centenary the next year. After Bill transferred to Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge to complete his degree, Jane followed.

They were married on Dec. 22, 1950, shortly after the outbreak of the Korean War. Bill enlisted in the Army. They moved to Petersburg, Virginia, where Bill was stationed at Fort Lee during his military service.

The first of their four children, Becky, was born in 1952. She was followed by Kathy in 1953, Butch (William G. Ricks III) in 1955 and Mike in 1959.

After the war, they trekked from one place to another as Bill pursued a sales and management career in the specialty petroleum products industry: Tulsa, Oklahoma. Ladue, Missouri, a St. Louis suburb. Back to Tulsa. Mount Prospect, Illinois, outside Chicago. Back to Tulsa again. Munster, Indiana, another Chicago suburb. Germantown, Tennessee, near Memphis. El Dorado, Arkansas. Ballwin, Missouri, another St. Louis satellite.

While living in Ballwin, Jane completed her undergraduate degree and earned a master’s in family counseling from the University of Missouri. Because she handled the family bookkeeping, she was able to pay her tuition by filing health insurance claims with the medical receipts Bill had been stuffing in a desk drawer.

Diploma in hand, she began working at a St. Louis hospital counseling families who were coping with the effects of alcohol abuse.

When Bill retired from Amoco Corp. in 1990, he and Jane moved to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. Jane began volunteering at the Broken Arrow school system’s Margaret Hudson Program, mentoring young single mothers who were working on their high school diplomas.

One of the women she counseled was Kiara Leuvano, who was 17 when she met Jane and who stayed in touch with her through the years.

“Jane was a constant cheerleader, a voice of encouragement, and a source of deep comfort. She celebrated every small victory like it was monumental and reminded everyone around her that they mattered,” Leuvano said.

“Jane wasn’t just part of our lives—she shaped them.”

Jane’s work with the program exemplified her ability to blend her devotion to her husband and children with her determination to pursue personal interests and engage with people outside the immediate family.

She was an active member of the Epsilon Tau Alpha service organization. She volunteered to serve on Welcome Wagon committees so she could network with new people. She joined an investment club whose members researched and purchased shares of growth companies. She teamed up with a Broken Arrow neighbor to sew and sell whimsical “She Shirts” at craft shows.

During the early years of their marriage, when money was tight, Jane managed to stretch a pound of hamburger, a can of green beans and a few potatoes far enough to feed a family of six.

“She could do anything,” said daughter Becky. “From sewing my wedding dress, to re-caning Joel's favorite chair, to wallpapering the telephone cord so it blended into her kitchen.”

Jane experienced her share of challenges along the way. Besides the financial strains of early married life, there were the disruptions caused by Bill’s zigzagging career path, the loss of her son Butch in 2016, and the physical and cognitive difficulties accompanying older age.

Jane was raised as a Southern Baptist. Over the years, she and Bill joined Presbyterian, Methodist and United Church of Christ congregations. She told her children she believed God was a loving and forgiving presence in people’s lives, not a vengeful deity who punished bad behavior.

In addition to her notebook, she left behind a small stack of index cards containing “words of wisdom” for people experiencing interpersonal conflicts. Among them:

“I will not put stumbling blocks in my path. I will choose my friends among people I admire. It’s not my place to judge others, but it is my responsibility to make choices that are best for me.”

“Children start out loving their parents. As they get older, they judge them. Sometimes they forgive them.”

Jane and Bill moved to Oklahoma City in 2016 to be nearer to family members. In recent years Jane experienced a series of minor strokes and began having memory problems. Her death was caused by a sudden, severe stroke.

She is survived by her husband Bill; daughters Becky Burchart and Kathy Vieth and their spouses Gary and Warren; son Mike; 10 grandchildren; 13 great-grandchildren; and two great-great-grandchildren. She was preceded in death by her parents and her son Butch.

Even as she was losing her memory, Jane never lost her wry, self-deprecating sense of humor. When a son-in-law asked her recently if she had been causing any mischief, she flashed a sly grin and said:

“Oh, you know me, I’m just Sweet Little Ol’ Grandma Jane.”