March 10, 2005


Merle Jensen, 1921 - 2005

Shadow Brook community mourns the loss of an icon

Wife of 56 years left with memories, unwavering support

By Kymberli W. Brady
Staff Writer

It took just two short months for leukemia to invade his body and take his life on Jan. 11, but Merle Jensen, 83, left a part of himself behind in everyone whose life he touched.

Bette Jensen admits she now passes the time inside the photo album memories she and her husband Merle made during their 56 years together.

“Merle’s passing came too fast and left us unprepared,” admits former Shadow Brook president Chris Monahan. “Maybe it was because we could not bear the thought of this remarkable man leaving us. He had been a friend and secondly a neighbor to all of us. In my case, it was for over 33 years.”

In the two months that have passed since his death, Bette Jensen struggles to maintain a balance between losing her husband of 56 years and coping with her own frailties, but she credits the support of the Shadow Brook community with giving her the strength to go on.

“This is a wonderful group of people and everyone has been so nice,” she says. “Almost every day, I get a call from someone asking if I need anything. At least 15 families have been coming over regularly bringing gifts—even before he passed away. It just delighted him. He was so pleased.”

His popularity was evident by the more than 160 people who attended his funeral—one with full military honors and a 21-gun salute. He now lies peacefully.

“It was so beautiful,” Bette says. “I was just in awe. He would have loved it.”

The early years
The young couple met and married in Southern California, where he had quickly fallen in love with and adopted Bette’s daughter Janice, whom she had from a previous marriage. After trying unsuccessfully to have more children of their own, they adopted a baby girl and named her Joanne. In the years to follow, their lives would be further enriched with one grandchild and three great grandchildren.

While in the military, theirs was the typical gypsy-esque life that came with the territory. Where they settled and for how long, depended on his orders and included several different states and countries abroad.

In Japan, Merle flew low-level or ‘Forward Air Control’ missions during the Korean War—a dangerous occupation that Bette admits “put a strain on things.”

“I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, where never lark or even eagle flew, and while, with silent lifting mind, I’ve trod the high un-trespassed sanctity of space, put out my hand and touched the face of God.” —From “High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee Jr.

“The jets were in Japan and couldn’t use the gas to come over and look around for targets,” she says. “So there he was, in a little open cockpit, two-seater plane with only a pistol. He did have rockets and if he found a target, he would drop on into it, then call for a jet to come in and hit the target. It was very dangerous.”

His 113th mission is one Bette says she will never forget, with an eerie coincidental turn of events that quite possibly led to his survival.

“His birthday was also on the 13th,” she begins.

“It was 1300 hours and when he came back, his plane had 13 bullet holes in it. There were so many 13s in there.”

Throughout his career as a ‘lifer,’ Merle’s leadership skills enabled him to easily climb the military ladder, where he focused on Strategic Air Command and was later promoted to commander of a refueling group—just in time for the Vietnam War.

By the time Merle returned, he had devoted 28 years toward service to his country and had been awarded the rank of full colonel before his retirement in 1968. His tour in Vietnam however, was one Bette says left him with emotional scars even she couldn’t get to—an unfortunate and all too common side effect of the controversial war.

“He never talked about it much,” she says. “He never talked to anyone about his war record.”

A new start
In 1970, the Jensen’s decided to settle in Almaden, where they bought their first—and only—home on Shadow Brook Drive.

“It was just about the only house here and that hillside over there,” she says, pointing out the picture window in the dining room. “The hillside was covered in green grass, with cows grazing on it. That’s why I wanted all these windows. Now all I see is neighbor’s trees.”

I remember after one memorable Fourth of July cookout sitting around with Merle and listening to his war stories of flying combat planes in Korea and refueling combat planes in Vietnam,” she says. He had some very interesting stories.

In the last photo taken of Merle Jensen a tender moment is shared with his daughter Janice on Christmas 2004.

Although still under construction at the time, the Shadow Brook pool soon opened and a plethora of social activity ensued on a regular basis, which was the beginning of the now tightly knit community.

It wasn’t long before too much free time got the better of Merle and led to his decision to join the Santa Clara County Sheriff’s Department, where he spent the next 10 years working as a bailiff for Judge Lawrence Terry—a job, Bette admits he loved.

“He was very happy with that,” she says. “It was another place where he could meet all kinds of people and have so many experiences.”

While many considered Merle the backbone of the Shadow Brook community, one position he never filled—or sought was that of association president. Bette admits it puzzled her, as he shone when placed into leadership positions throughout his life.

“He didn’t want to serve in office,” she explains. “Yet, he was always the leader of the group. When we lived on base, we always had to have the best yard. Everything had to be perfect. He was real fussy about that. Still, he had a knack for organizing things and could talk people into doing pretty much anything.”

Among the medals, tributes and commendations that line the walls of Merle’s home office lies one of his most beloved awards—a gold star—presented to him on Sept. 21, 2002 “in appreciation for your dedicated service to the Shadow Brook Homeowner’s Association.”

A tight-knit community mourns, remembers
For several weeks following his death, an emotional display of more than 40 American flags could be seen swaying with the winter breeze along Shadow Brook Drive—patriotic symbols of a community mourning the loss of a patriot and longtime friend.

Bette and Merle Jensen receive a surprise visit from friends bearing champagne and chocolates on their 50th wedding anniversary.

“That’s the highest honor you can give a soldier,” Bette explains, as a lone tear trickled down her cheek. “He would have been so proud.”

If given the chance to speak one last time, Bette says he would say “thank you” to every one of them. “He would say thank you for every flag.”

Now gracing the association Web site are tributes from longtime friends and neighbors, including Monahan.

Referring to the spot where Merle used to stand and water his lawn each day, Monahan admits he never noticed it before, but now understands why perhaps, he never surrendered the daily 15-minute commitment to the modern convenience of a sprinkler system—especially if it meant missing an opportunity to greet a his neighbors.

“Shadow Brook was special to Merle and he watched over the entire neighborhood as he bicycled about,” Monahan says. “He cared about the kids. He knew their names and was interested in them. He was always a source of what was going on in Shadow Brook—I don’t think he ever said an unkind word about anyone.”

“Merle served our Shadow Brook community with the same intensity he served his country,” adds longtime friend and former association president, Georgio Secchi. “Despite his 80 years plus, he was always willing to stand for hours around the grill and cook hot dogs and burgers and make sure that they were properly cooked. He wanted to be sure that those people who came there to eat left knowing that every thing was cooked with loving care.”

“Colonel,” as Secchi would call him was the consummate volunteer who considered pool clean-up days to be equally as important as arriving at the optimal internal temperature that would guarantee the safety of each hamburger or hot dog he served.

Merle Jensen with his mother in 2001. When she died two years later, she was 106 years old.

“He never missed a pool clean up at the beginning or end of the summer season.”

Although the memories are too numerous to count, Secchi maintains that Merle Jensen was special to those who had the privilege of knowing him. But it is his generous smile, respectful manner and zest for life that they will miss most.

“Thank you Merle!” he exclaims. “Thank you for serving our country and our community. You were one of a kind. Sleep well Colonel.”

Others, including Carla and Dan Neumann consider it an honor to have known him.

“The world is a little bit less without this fine man in it. Rest in peace sir.”

For Bette, the road will be a bit lonelier, but not empty, as neighbors—friends continue to give her strength. It gives her solace and the opportunity to allow an occasional smile to escape through the tears, as she reflects on the memories they created after over a half-century together.

“We had a really good marriage and I wish I could just talk to him for one more hour,” she says. “He was always there for me. He protected me. He was big. Ours was a 56-year love affair.”