Jynx Legan

Beloved Jynx G. Legan of Lebanon, ME, born 9/7/1962 to Beverly Durant & David Legan went to rest on 1/1/2025 at 62.

Jynx’s walk through life was as unique as her trademark flowing curly red hair; 

In her youth, Jynx loved touring with the Grateful Dead & losing herself in the freedom of dance. A talented artist, she expressed herself through many medias; cross-stitch, painting & mastering beadwork. In downtime, she was never too old for coloring books. Jynx had many careers; she was a hair dresser, preschool teacher & taxi driver but her fondest memories were from her time working at the renowned restaurant, Blue Strawbery, in Portsmouth, NH, in the late 80’s. She often reminisced about honing her culinary skills among friends & experiencing the charm of Portsmouth before it became the bustling town it is today. Jynx was a talented cook at home as well. Friend’s of Jynx knew her for her spicy cooking & fiery attitude, both of which she served with love, leaving a lasting impression on anyone lucky enough to experience (and survive) either. 

Jynx loved learning, reading thousands of books in her lifetime. She also loved thrifting and was quite the “magpie personified,” with an uncanny ability to spot treasures among the ordinary. Jynx’s love of nature was evident in her green thumb, willing plants to thrive with ease. Animals, too, brought her great joy, especially squirrels whose acrobatics always made her laugh. Her affection of animals extended to the many pets she loved in life. It would be remiss not to mention some of those that gave her such happiness: Bagheerat, Luis, Benjamin, Bobby, Babbette, Max, Aaron, Lady, Jack & so many others.

Jynx is survived by her daughter, Sara Ramsay; her stepdaughter, Corinne Hatchell; and last but not least, her stepson, Joshua Hatchell, who stood by her & looked out for her in life’s toughest times.

 “An Irish Farewell”
“Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain. 

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there, I did not die.”