I am Jeanne Varnell’s eldest grandchild. We called her “Boo.” A perfect, unique grandparent name that makes everyone smile as much as she made us smile.

If you know anything about Jeanne Varnell, it’s that she was generous. She — like the generations of Hyde women before her — changed the lives of many Memphians with her charitable donations. In fact, Jeanne Varnell probably gave away more money in her lifetime than we will make in ours. And her generosity did not stop at good causes.

Her home was rarely without guests. Staying for a night, or maybe a mid-life crises. Her kitchen was the epicenter of every Thanksgiving, though I can’t recall if I ever saw her cook. She was happier to let us take it over. Her pool was filled by as many neighbors and children as it was by Henry’s beloved pH balancing chemicals. She even let her 17 year old grandson take her burgundy red Jaguar XJ to his junior prom — an act so generous, it took some persuading to get the cops who pulled him over that night to believe him.

Boo was blessed. But Boo was most generous with the good things we are all blessed with in equal measure.

She was generous with her time and her attention was perpetually interested. In Memphis. In youth. In you. And she was always buzzing to share good news about her community. Her city. Her family. A family she defined generously to include blood, step, adopted, chosen, and happenstance. She drew us all in and blessed us with her example. Though there was one gift that was uniquely Boo’s to give.

Ralph Waldo Emerson writes in his essay on gifts, “the only gift is a portion of thyself… Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb… the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.”

Boo gave so many so much. But her unique gift — the portion of herself she gave you — was her joy. Screaming your name — “MICHAEL!” — when she answered the phone. Piling your plate with breathless questions. About you. Your life. Your family. Your city. Your news. Stuffing your pockets with her enthusiasm for whatever happiness you had come across. A new job. A new friend. Maybe even something as small a new start. Boo’s unique joy would coax your joy out. That little gift of herself that never wavered in its optimism. That good things are in store for you. Because people are good. Because you are good. And God is good. And with a gift that special how would you not believe her? Who wouldn’t smile… at Boo?

Euripides said that good gifts persuade even the gods. I miss my Boo. But the next time I have good news, a good meal with my family. Or a little extra money to spare for a good cause. I’ll know it is a little portion of Boo — her gift, her joy — still persuading even the gods to smile on me.