Olan William Jeffery was born in April of 1957 and died in March of 1995. He was my brother-in-law, and he was my friend. I first met Olan in early 1983, just a few months after I started dating his brother, John. The first time I met him, he came to pick up a friend of ours to go hunting in the early morning on New Year's Day. He was married to Becky Jeffery at that time. They had a daughter named Sarah. Becky and I were pregnant at the same time for the boys. We had Shawn in January of 1984, and they had Brian in August of 1984.
Above is a picture of Olan, Becky, Sarah, and Brian.
When John and I got married in October of 1983, none of his family came to the wedding. They really did not believe that John was getting married. They all thought it was a joke. After we got married though, and we showed them the marriage license, they were all very surprised. I guess they thought John would never get "caught"... I don't know. Olan welcomed me into the family, along with the rest of them. John's family thought maybe it would settle John down, I guess, to be married. Over the years, Becky and Olan split up. After a while, Olan got custody of his kids.
Olan worked for many years for Iowa Roofing, but that was before I met him. When I met him, Olan worked for the State of Iowa Department of Transportion. He had a good job, and he worked very hard. Eventually, Olan got remarried to Sally. I don't have a picture of Sally. They built a beautiful new home outside of Dexter, Iowa.
Over the years that I knew Olan, him and I went around and around a few times. One thing I can say about Olan, he was always pretty honest with me, even if he knew it would make me mad. I didn't always appreciate that at the time, but I understood it and respected it. Olan was a person I respected, and that's about the biggest compliment I can give to a person. I grew to love him as a brother. He was not always perfect, but he was my friend and my brother.
When John died in 1990, Olan was devastated. They did not always get along perfectly, but they were close as brothers; and they loved each other. Olan offered a reward for John's murderer. He investigated every tiny lead that came in on the case. Olan and I sat at my kitchen table, poring over what we knew, what we heard, rumors, the autopsy report, and sifting through to figure out what made sense and what did not, what fit and what did not. Olan was obsessed with the idea that someone had shot his brother, and they must be made to pay for it. Back then, I guess, I felt the same way. I did worry about Olan, though, because I didn't want the same thing to happen to him.
In 1990, I moved to Missouri. I moved back to Iowa in 1991. Olan kind of took my kids under his wing. He took a particular interest in Shawn, and he tried to help me out with him. He did pretty well, too. In 1994, after the floods of 1993 when we lost our home, we moved back to Missouri. We kept in touch with Olan by mail, of course. In January of 1995, the kids and I moved back to Iowa temporarily. In March of 1995, Olan took Shawn and Shaleen to his home for spring break, so they could spend some time with him and with Sarah and Brian. He and Sally had split up and filed for a divorce, but it was not final yet. On about the last day of that spring break, Olan was killed in an accident in his Bronco. He did not return to his home that night. Grampa Jack went to pick all the kids up in the morning and inform them of Olan's death. All four were devastated.
Jack and Val had custody of Olan's kids for a while after that. Eventually, Becky, Sarah and Brian's mother, got to a position financially where she could take them; and they now live with her just a few blocks from Grampa Jack and Gramma Val. They have learned to cope with their father's death as have my own kids. I guess you don't ever get over it, you just get used to it.
There was some speculation over Olan's death, but it was brief. The Dallas County Sheriff's Office stated that there were some marks on the driver's side of the Bronco that may have indicated that Olan had been forced off the road at high speed. However, that was only speculation; and Olan's death was ruled an accident shortly after that. The last photo I have of Olan was taken in his Bronco in my driveway on Maple Street. It is one of my favorite photos of him.
Over the years, Olan and I came to respect and admire each other. I even came to love him as a brother, and I know he loved me as a sister. Olan was sometimes a hard man. He was tough, but he loved his kids and mine. He was good to my kids, and he was good to me. He loved his parents, and he was good to them too. Olan was stubborn, and he was hard-headed; but he was a good guy, and he had a lot of heart.
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