Rest in peace.  Passed away May 23, 2016, after a long battle with ovarian cancer.  

Let me tell you about Julie Main, a downright dandy D-day damsel who fought the good fight by “giving to the living” right up until May 23 when ovarian cancer cut her life too short. She was born to Beth and Richard Main on June 6, 1965, in Houston, Texas, and passed away in Rio Rancho, N.M., outside Albuquerque, just a week shy of her 51st birthday. And she thumbed her little turned-up nose at Father Time by living six years after the medicos projected in 2010 that she had only two years of life remaining ahead of her.

Backgrounding a bit, Julie’s mom is my wife Pat’s next-younger sister, and younger than Beth is Paula, while the only sister older than Pat is Carol. If you have trouble following that rundown, just suffice it to say that the Shilcutt family was paternally front-loaded with females.

Julie’s passions? Mom Beth outlined several. There was protection of the environment and health of the populace by promoting responsible stewardship of our planet Earth’s resources and her habit of furiously advocating good nutritious eating habits … photography – she was “an awesome photographer,” Beth said, who was active on a photographers’ website, with honors awarded … music, with a special affinity for 1980s-style singers such as James Taylor, Eric Clapton, Carol King, Carly Simon, John Denver, etc. … and she was a whiz at writing poetry and songs.

“I think that Julie’s legacy is that she impacted every single person she encountered,” Beth pointed out. “The reason she has so many friends is that there was something special about her – she could leave a little of herself with everyone she met.”

That manifestation was echoed by Julie’s brother, Todd, who informed a Facebook crowd, “Last year when Dad died, I kept thinking about ripples on a pond … how he managed to make friends with everyone and ‘pay it forward’ with generosity and kindness. Julie always had that gift as well, turning strangers into friends and friends into family. Don’t look too far for Julie’s legacy – YOU are her legacy!”

And speaking of Facebook, one of Julie’s 600-plus friends was Patrick Mikulin, who – painfully aware of Julie’s deteriorating health situation – penned this paean this past Feb. 3:

“Jules: Tonight the moon won’t show … doesn’t want the world to see it’s crying too. But when I look to the west the night sky will be a little brighter – a new jewel in the sky – the warm winter tears will wash away the pain, though paradise would never be the same. But we remember with a smile the songs we shared and the plots we conspired … the love strewn around … the burning midnight fires and the love that will remain.”

Julie’s exuberant presence will be sorely missed by her immediate family – Beth, Todd, her son Charlie and her little chocolate-colored Chihuahua, Kona – along with other relatives and her host of friends. In an email acknowledging her death, Beth announced that “our precious Julie has joined her daddy in heaven. We are incredibly sad, with her passing, but she is finally in a better place.”

Yes, I figure that Daddy Richard and Julie are experiencing a whale of a reunion, maybe in a sing-along. A harp, though, simply won’t work for accompaniment. However, I figure that angel Gabriel might help out on a ukulele while Julie – who probably knows all the lyrics to John Denver’s jumpy “Grandma’s Feather Bed” – could clue Richard in on the words. It might be worth a try.

Meanwhile, enjoy eternity, Julie. After all, there are scads of new friends for you to meet and greet up there!

So much for the hereafter, and one note regarding the doings of Julie’s non-New Mexico earthly friends back in Texas who are holding JAMstock gatherings  in her Houston birthplace and in Austin celebrating her life. Her brother Todd suggested same via Facebook and it’s a “natural” in that Julie’s initials are JAM and, according to her mom, her daughter simply LOVED Woodstock!”