Yesterday's calendar page was brought to you by a dog channeling Brownie:

Today's page showcased a pillow-eating dog, a more typical entry.  Except for mangling the strings of Alex's favorite pair of sweatpants (we never did figure out why Brownie did that), in the almost two years since his rescue Brownie has not destroyed a single item.  NO complaints there!  

It's possible (probable?) that Brownie may have some separation anxiety, because no matter how briefly I've been gone, he always acts like he's surprised (and definitely thrilled) that I've returned. But at least he hasn't felt the need to take it out on innocent house items - or bark out his feelings.

I finished The Pull of the Stars yesterday, which I enjoyed despite the serious inclusion of medical procedures and descriptions.  Donoghue is very readable, and the story, which takes place over just three days, definitely threw some surprises at me.  Today I plan to return to Talking to Strangers so I can finish up that one also before my next trip to the library, where another book awaits me. 

Some of today's excitement <g> includes taking a shower.  Other 'activities' involve the usual: playing on the computer, watching TV, reading poolside, and generally watching paint dry and grass grow.  Still haven't been brave (or foolhardy!) enough to risk getting in/out of the hot tub, when my early morning soaks included a whiff of skunk.  Though we have yet to capture one on the motion camera (which Alex keeps trying out in different locations) that distinctive 'aroma' did present itself yesterday afternoon when I was reading outside. 

Last evening I sent off my final draft of Mom's non-traditional "obit" to family members.  It's meant to be more of a memorial to post on a site like Legacy.com, and is much like the one Mom wrote about Dad for the program at his Celebration of Life at Riderwood11 years ago.  Marilyn has voted for a "less fluffy" rendition, though Andy responded "initial thoughts were that you did a nice job of capturing who she was.  I will do a more careful edit tomorrow.  Taught tonight."

I end this post with that draft - though a later post may include the final version.

Harriet Zinneman Levy, born in NYC on May 5, 1927 to Morris and Hilda Zinneman, died in Silver Spring, Maryland on December 22, 2020 of Covid-19.  She is survived by her three children: Bobbi Levy-Dodge (Tom), Marilyn Murrmann (Don), and Andy Levy (Sandy), as well as five grandchildren (Jeff Murrmann, Zach Murrmann, Lily Dodge, Alex Dodge, Ed McGill) and seven great-grandchildren (Charlie McGill, Harry McGill, Sierra Philips, Gordon Phillips, Maggie McGill, Greta McGill, Lillie Gent.)

On September 11, 1949, Harriet married Stanley Levy. They had met on a blind date, and she often joked that he had originally agreed to meet her mostly because she lived conveniently nearby.  Their honeymoon trip was a move to Fayetteville, Arkansas where Stan started teaching at the University of Arkansas Law School and Harriet taught Spanish.  When the Korean War decimated enrollment in the law classes, Harriet and Stan moved to the Washington, DC area, where they remained for the rest of their lives. (Sadly, Stan died suddenly in 2009, less than three weeks after the family had joyously celebrated his 90^th birthday.)

 

Harriet received her B.A. degree from Milwaukee-Downer College (now Lawrence University), her Master of Library Science from the University of Maryland, and furthered her education with a Certificate in Medical Librarianship from the Medical Library Association.  Her work history included positions of responsibility at a number of libraries, where she received glowing assessments for her job performance: Technical Reference Librarian at the Naval Medical Research Institute; Librarian for the Naval School of Health Care Administration at the National Naval Medical Center; and Supervisory Librarian for the General Accounting Office.

 

Harriet and Stan shared a great love of travel.  In 1978 they purchased a motor home, and once in full retirement spent several months each year exploring the country in depth.  Harriet’s book, The Great Affair, is a delightful memoir of those experiences, a time she spoke of fondly as one of the happiest times in her life (despite the learning curve of RV ownership in the beginning.)  They also were fortunate enough to be able to take many foreign trips.  Those travels took them to all of the continents (except Antarctica), and their itineraries were often skewed to out-of-the way places. Harriet’s stories of those adventures were often humorous, even her tales of stressful or dangerous moments - including a flight on a low-budget airline when their flight took off late because the airline had had to scramble for gas money… which certainly makes one wonder about their maintenance budget! Harriet was still in the editing process of her second book, about those international travels, when she died.  

 

Bana (as she was affectionately known to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren) took her ‘responsibilities’ seriously, and was very involved in their lives.  Over the years she took her grandchildren on many wonderful trips that included a wide variety of destinations (and also ‘just happened’ to be educational) passing on her love of travel to the next generation.

Needlework, particularly counted cross-stitch, was Harriet’s creative outlet. Over the years family and friends were the lucky recipients of her beautiful work, a number of which won well-deserved ribbons, and she continued making what will be cherished heirlooms until just a few years before she died.

In 2002 Harriet and Stan moved to Riderwood, an active adult community in Silver Spring, where they were involved in a multitude of activities and made many good friends.  Both lifelong learners, they attended a wide range of Community College classes on topics ranging from literature to current events, took advantage of trips to various museums and concerts, played duplicate bridge several times a week, continued writing books, and where Harriet served as an editor for the literary magazine Tales From Riderwood.