Jane Goodall, My Hero and Friend, Forever

From postcards to picnics: my memories of Jane Goodall and her call to keep going

Today, I am heartbroken to share that Jane Goodall, my hero and dear friend, has died.

From my earliest days, I held deep admiration for Jane Goodall. Whenever I was asked about my heroes, I would promptly mention Jane Goodall (and my mom!). Imagine my astonishment when, one day in 1999, I opened my mailbox to find a postcard signed by Dr. Jane herself, expressing a desire to meet. In my teenage bewilderment, I never responded.

Fast forward to 2007, as a freelance camera operator, I received an urgent late-night call asking if I could film an event the next morning: Jane Goodall’s keynote address. Overwhelmed with excitement, I rummaged through old mementos, finding that cherished postcard. The next day, as I stood inches away from Jane, tasked with fitting her lapel mic, the moment didn’t feel right for introductions. My hands shook with nerves.

After her speech, I joined a throng of admirers surrounding Jane. I held back from the crowd when a woman noticed the postcard in my hand. It was Mary Lewis, Vice President of the Jane Goodall Institute. “Bear Boy,” she exclaimed after reading the card. Jane was equally excited at my presence, “We’ve wondered about you all these years,” giving me a long embrace. I was invited to join them the following day for an animal blessing at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, a surreal invitation I never showed up for, unable to fathom the reality of it all. With Jane, I repeatedly hit an upper limit—it never really felt real.

Assuming it was a once-in-a-lifetime meeting, I was content until a year later when I received an unexpected call: Jane wished to meet in Sacramento. Thus began a series of remarkable encounters, from backstage meetings at sold-out talks in Berkeley to impromptu picnics. We discussed my documentary work on orangutans, her experiences befriending incarcerated folks at Pelican Bay, and the challenges of constant travel.

Every time I met Jane, I remained incredulous, yet deeply honored. Jane kept our connection going through written letters and emails, sharing reflections of her life on the road:

Last April she wrote me:

“My schedule has got so absolutely ridiculously crazy. Especially for this, my 90^th birthday YEAR. Yes, it has been decided it will be celebrated for a whole year, April to April, so that all 24 jGIs can celebrate with me (good opportunity to raise money for their / my projects). It will be the toughest year EVER.

I am already exhausted. This last tour lasted 2 ½ month It actually began with Davos, mid Jan. Then Dubai, Qatar, Tanzania, South Africa. Then I DID get 5 days at home to try – and fail – to catch up a bit. Then London for lectures, straight to LA, Carmel, San Francisco, Seattle, New York, Toronto, Ottawa, Brentford and Vancouver. My weary self got home last week.

However, there were two really splendid events, during the American and Canada legs. First when I was greeted by 90 dogs in Carmel. Off leash. All shapes and sizes, and NO fights!!!

She shared these photos with me:

The other, we just happened to be in exactly the right place in Canada - Brentford -to see the total eclipse. Photo is what we actually saw:

Am trying to get ready to set off on next leg of tour. So many videos and emails and zooms. No way I can possibly catch up as leave on Sunday for Italy, Turkey, Slovakia and Prague.

Do stay in touch

Love

Jane

At some point, I learned a truth—Jane sent 500 letters a year to people just like me. She wanted young people to know, deeply, their power. She worked tirelessly to advocate for the natural world, with an unwavering belief in the potential of young people to enact positive change.

When I finally mustered the courage to share my manuscript, Bear Boy, with her, Jane’s enthusiastic response was beyond my wildest dreams. Not only did she read it, but she agreed to write the foreword—an endorsement that surpassed anything I thought was possible. She even joined me for the remote launch of the book.

There among many things she discussed the source of her radical empathy for animals:

In Bear Boy, I wrote:

“Jane Goodall is my hero not because she appears on the cover of magazines, or that she publishes books, or because her films win awards. It’s because she has brought the jungle to us and has allowed us to see that everything is connected. She advocates for human prisoners and zoo animals. She has dedicated every waking hour to spreading her message of peace, equality, environmentalism, and animal rights. Most importantly, though, is her faith in young people and her belief in their power to create a better world.”

Jane embodied the true essence of grassroots activism. Her remarkable ability to cultivate and nurture connections, not just with me but with countless everyday individuals, was her greatest strength. Through her example, I came to understand the profound importance of human connection and what it means to truly be seen and cared for. Over the years, she remained the one person consistently curious about Bear Boy, the young activist within me dedicated to helping animals.

Just a few months ago, Jane invited me to meet her again at a speaking event in San Francisco. I somehow got the dates wrong and showed up the next day. Walking away from the empty hall with my mom, I had a terrible suspicion that it might be the last time I’d ever have the chance to see her. Today, that feeling has become reality, and I am so sad.

It’s an immense honor to have crossed paths with her. Today, as I sit with this grief, I am even more grateful for every postcard, every hug, every moment. Her legacy is a call to all of us: keep going, keep caring, and keep fighting for a better world.