I have a reputation among those who know me well as someone who has an adversarial relationship with shaving instruments.  Whenever anyone asks me about my stubbly face, I tell them “I only shave for two people – my wife and my mother”.  Look at me , mom.  I found my razor.

If you are here today, you know that my mother was kind, thoughtful, self-effacing, bright, well-informed, and curious.  She always wanted to know how things were going in your life.  When Gary and I were young, she did all the usual mom things: den mother, carpooler, Halloween costume creator.  Married in 1950 and with three men in the house, she believed it was her duty to handle all the domestic chores.  We weren’t asked to do so little as rinse our dinner plates.

Then, when I was 12, she decided to resume her abandoned college education, and life changed for us as it was changing on the campuses and in the culture.  Over time, as she became more earnest about her studies, she asked more of my brother and me.  As a result, we learned to prepare food, do laundry, and pick up after ourselves.  More important, we developed much more valuable life skills: responsibility, self-sufficiency, resourcefulness. 

In the meantime, Mom was carving out a remarkable scholarly legacy.  First, a bachelors degree, then a masters, and finally a Ph. D. dissertation on alcoholism that was published.  She then began an academic career at UCSF which began with joint studies on hospitals and medicine, led to more books, journal articles, lectures and honors from other institutions, and finally counseling and mentoring.

Her reach was much wider than I realized.  When I was going through her emails this past weekend, I came upon a draft message to an aspiring Ph. D. in the Midwest.  Since it was only a few weeks old, I figured that she had either been unable to finish it due to her hospitalization, or that she wasn’t going to send it until it was proofed for accuracy and grammar.   When it came to her writing, she was a perfectionist: nothing went out until she had parsed every last word and thought. 

I decided to go ahead and send it to the student, since I know mom would be mortified to have the reputation of an inconsiderate academic.  In her response the woman told me that of the twenty students in her class who emailed a theorist, she was the only one to receive a response.  She also said this:

‘’She even reached out when it took me a little longer than normal to respond.  She wanted to make sure that I had received her email and that I had it in time to complete my assignment.”  That was my mother.

There was one recurring theme in her life that was the bane of her existence.  Who knew when she married in 1950 that one day you would be able to watch sports on tv 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  She abided the games that we watched during dinner, the meals delayed until the game was over, and the departures delayed while the last minute of the game played out over the course of an hour.

Then, the craziest thing happened.  She discovered that she enjoyed going to track and field events.  It didn’t hurt that the ones they went to took place in London, Paris, and Tokyo.  A meet in Helsinki meant visits to Stockholm, Copenhagen, and Amsterdam.  But she really did find the competition exciting.  Plus, she made a host of friends on the tours they took, regulars who sat together in the stadium and at meals, sometimes traveling together as well.  She even took a liking to the Giants over the past few years.  There was the excitement of their title runs of course.  But she had no problem sitting with my dad watching weeknight games, and got a kick out of the theatrics and strategic observations of Kruk and Kuip.

When it came to family, mom was not judgmental, but she was not shy about sharing her thoughts about what was the right thing to do, and behaviors you might change to make you a better person.  She taught us manners and courtesy, to be considerate and to be a gentleman.  Other than my wife, there was no one whose counsel I valued more, and no one with whom I more enjoyed a good chat on politics, family, idiosyncrasies of life.

I was 13 when my grandfather died, and I was devastated.  Of course, so was my mother, but she figured a way to channel her grief.  She had taken up needlepoint, and still had time to take on projects at that point.  She found a proverb that spoke to her feelings about her father’s death, and made an art piece of it.  It still hangs in the living room of the family home, and I read it from time to time to give me perspective.  I have asked the rabbi to recite it.

Fear not death; we are destined to die. We share it with all who ever lived, with all who ever will be.

Bewail the dead, hide not your grief, do not restrain your mourning. But remember that continuing sorrow is worse than death. When the dead are at rest, let their memory rest.

As a drop of water in the sea, as a grain of sand on the shore, are man’s few days in eternity. The good things in life last for limited days but a good name endures forever.

- After Ben-Sira

It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of mother, sister, grammy, great grammy, and beloved wife Carolyn Wiener. She passed quickly and peacefully after shouldering a variety of illnesses with strength and courage. She recently celebrated her 67th anniversary with her husband and soul mate Stanley. She is also survived by her sons Gary and Joel, and daughter-in-law Jeanne. Her loving daughter-in-law Linda predeceased her. Also mourning her loss are her brother Norman and wife Carolynn Licht (nephew and niece Ron and Diane); niece Debra Wiener Hanavan and nephew Sandy Statner ; grandchildren Aaron (and his wife Kendal), Jaimey (and her fiancee Justin), Sarah, and Jacob; and great grandchildren Katie and Kai.

Born to Mayer and Sarah Kirschenbaum Licht, Carolyn was a native San Franciscan and graduate of Lowell High School. After assuming the role of housewife and mother during the formative years of her family, she decided to return to school to complete a college degree she had initially pursued at UC Berkeley. Beginning with a couple of classes at San Francisco State, she eventually earned a Ph. D. in Sociology from the University of California. Mentored by Dr. Anselm Strauss, a world renowned sociologist who she had met through their shared political activism in the 60's, she authored published studies on alcoholism, hospital operations ("The Elusive Quest"), and along with Dr. Strauss, "Where Medicine Fails". She also taught, lectured, and counseled at UCSF, wrote a number of articles for professional journals, and was honored by a variety of academic institutions.

Nothing gave her greater joy the than the love, success, and company of her family. As well, she took great pride in her professional accomplishments. She was also proud of the pamphlet she wrote in protest of the House Un-American Activities Committee, for distribution on the steps of San Francisco City Hall, when the Committee met there in 1960. Slightly less so was the letter she received from Art Hoppe in thanks for proposing a story idea for his column in 1968: that framed letter stills hangs on the wall of the family home. While she will be missed by so many, we are comforted in knowing she felt her life was a greatly fulfilling one, and that the pain is gone. At least, there will be no more half hour waits to leave the house for a social commitment, while the last 30 seconds of a sporting event are played out.

Carolyn would be most appreciative of a donation to the Sarcoma-Oma Foundation, P. O. Box 16693, Phoenix AZ 85013. Special thanks to Dr. Kevin Saitowitz, whose efforts to treat her ailments knew no bounds. A memorial service will be held on Thursday, November 30 at noon at Sinai Memorial Chapel, 1501 Divisadero Street (corner of Geary) in San Francisco.