Welcome to What We Remember, our reader-submitted obituary series. Submit your story for next Sunday’s installment here.
Polly Liss, 98
Cute and dandy
In the last part of her life, my mother had one answer to “How are you?”: “I’m cute and dandy.” She said it at 85 and said it at 98, in the hospital, in pain. Her caregiver told me, “I always believed her.”
She’d earned the right to a sunny answer the hard way: rocks thrown at her as a Jewish girl in 1930s North Carolina; three sisters lost to breast cancer; 50 years promoting STEM and career programs in Virginia schools, mostly without pay. At 94, she wrote to the White House: “I know that you are very busy people — just the kind of people who can add one more thing. I am a 94-year-old activist.”
She was also campaigning to save the word “dandy” from extinction. Her great-nephew printed her words on buttons. We wear them now.
The word “dandy” lives on, and so does her memory.
Pauline (Roush) Liss was an education advocate and editor. She died June 24 in Ashburn, Virginia. — By her son, David Liss
Tom Badal, 71
Kindness and time
Tommy is gone. He always said, “Besides love, the most important thing is kindness and time.” He endured Merkel cell carcinoma and a rare leukemia, was trached on a ventilator and underwent dialysis. He loved to engage with people in story, history and humor. Immediately a person would disclose everything about themselves. He would have been a great interrogator, but he became a terrific actor, filmmaker writer and acting teacher instead. He could draw Lyndon Johnson, worry lines included.
“Celebrate everything,” he would say. “When you get the job, when you lose the job.” He made the process of radiation therapy a celebration. Years ago, during the first round of Merkel, he got the radiologist and nurses laughing, playing music and dancing. The radiologist, inspired by Tommy’s creativity, positioned Tommy‘s arm so he would not lose the use of it. A quiet disengaged setting turned into a joyful human experience.
Tom Daniel Badal was an actor, writer and filmmaker. He died July 4 in West Covina, California. — By his wife, Thea Blue Badal
Edith Rothenberg, 101
‘Life is what you make it’
My grandmother Edith was a grand lady of inspiring fortitude. The daughter of immigrant parents, she was a child of the Depression and became a young widow following the early loss of my grandfather. She found work as a bookkeeper, and as a single mother she raised two beloved children, Ronald and Amy.
As health challenges rendered Grandma nearly immobile, the library’s talking books became her lifeline. Last year we lost Amy to cancer; Grandma, in her hundredth year, became a grieving mother. Still, she maintained her singular fortitude. For 100-plus years, she was both a realist and an optimist, a remarkable achievement.
She wrote me in 1993: “Most everything in life depends on you alone. Life is what you make it. You can’t depend on others to make you happy or strong. You have to learn to be a survivor.”
Edith Arrick Rothenberg was a mother, grandmother and bookkeeper. She died July 31 in Wellington, Florida. — By her granddaughter Dana Arrick Mirman
Shaukat Sultan, 83
Not too late
Abu came to America from Pakistan in his mid-20s with the dream of teaching. He quickly realized how little workers in this worthy profession earned and spent most of his career in sales, rising to become a small-business owner while raising six children with my mother. They wed in an arranged marriage in Pakistan and remained together for 53 years.
Abu taught me and my siblings to believe in ourselves, and cried when the space shuttle Challenger exploded, killing the crew, including schoolteacher Christa McAuliffe.
Long after he retired, in his 70s, he became a full-time substitute teacher in an underserved school district. His students adored him and called him “Abuelo.” He showed us it was never too late to achieve a dream. Ten days before he died, his eldest grandchild completed her first year as a high school teacher.
Shaukat Sultan was a teacher, car salesman and small-business owner. He died June 8 in Houston. — By his daughter Aisha Sultan
Grieving a loved one? Tell us what made them special.
The Post is publishing reader-submitted obituaries as part of a weekly feature, What We Remember.
The post The 98-year-old activist who always felt ‘dandy,’ and other lives we’ve lost appeared first on Washington Post.
