Priscilla Schneeberg

.Priscilla Schneeberg in memoriam, as of March 7, 2016

Born October 27, 1915 in Brockton, Massachusetts, to Lithuanian emigrants - her mother Elzbieta a farm girl who never learned English and father Jurgis, once he met Elze, a no-longer-celibate priest. Along with brothers Alexius, George, and Joseph and sister Olga, the Rachun family moved to Kent Avenue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, then a thriving, sometimes rough-and-tumble, Lithuanian community. Elze, displaying the indomitable spirit that she passed on to her children, single-handedly supported the family through the depression with her candy store / bathtub alcohol speakeasy. When her parents separated, Pris wanted to stay with her siblings but felt responsible to her father, so lived with and kept house for him for a time.

Already in her early teens her lifelong qualities were on display: taking care of family, shouldering sadnesses and responsibilities that would break many weaker souls. No matter their burdens, the high-spirited Rachuns always made time for fun, and the vivacious silver-blonde sisters had more than their share of it, from trips to Coney Island beaches to crowds of jostling beaus at the Lithuanian dances. Pris always insisted that it was her sister Olga who drew the boys, but the sisters' shared beauty, vitality, and magnetic mischievousness were obvious early on and then life long.

The rest of her story is a familiar immigrant one no less incredible for its universality. How she worked days, most of every paycheck going to help put her brother Al through medical school while attending Brooklyn College herself nights, then on to earn her graduate degree in Education from Columbia University. Soon after marriage, her husband Edwin saw WWII combat as a radio operator on a Pacific-patrolling destroyer. Pris was left on her own for years with two young children to take care of on the Navy's meager support. She relied on the kindness of family, friends, and baskets of produce from her mother's vegetable garden.

After the war, Ed's career as an original "Mad Man" took off. His colleague Shepherd Mead at Benton & Bowles ad agency swore that the lead character in his book, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, was based on Ed. Priscilla worked as secretary to the Tarrytown schools superintendent and charmed her daughter's gentleman callers, who would disappear into the kitchen for a piece of her famous apple pie and stay for the company.

Priscilla's farm girl genes were evident in the extraordinary gardens she cultivated wherever she went. Her hands were never elegant, even with their finely formed fingers, carefully filed nails and rings. There was always dirt on them, from huge plots of rhubarb and snap peas in Ossining, to fields of iris at the Elka Park mountain farm she shared with her mother, to her crowds of pots on her back porch once she was less mobile, her sure touch with plants connecting her to nature -- her strength and her salve, her literal roots.

And always there was family. She nursed her husband, sister Olga, and brother Joe through their dying days, at their bedsides until the end. She moved then to Ithaca, to be near her last living sibling, Al (doctor to Cornell's athletic department) who had settled there with her lifelong pal, Al's wife Addie, and their extended family. There Priscilla dove into life with her usual zest. She enrolled in classes in German and Spanish and, in her 80s, joined the Lifelong Improv Troupe. She took any writing workshops offered, and turned out dozens of stories based on her memories. Two of these were published in Lituanian Heritage, the leading English language publication about Lithuanians.

Many thought of her as kind and generous, and she was both. But she was also proudly cheap -- a quality earned the hard way living through the depression, years she never forgot. Her idea of a great afternoon was a trip with friends to a 5-dollar all-youcan-eat Chinese buffet and the dollar store.

She was wild, unpredictable, and brave, too, steeped in the earthy humor and way of life of her Lithuanian forebears. At 85 she finally took a trip to Lithuania, reconnected with her cultural home, and revealed that she had never lost her youthful fluency in the language. Distant cousins remarked with impressed surprise on her "colorful speech" (code for street slang so tart it blew your hair back).

At 95 with increasing difficulty climbing stairs, Priscilla moved to an apartment at Longview. She'd stopped by now her daily 50-lap backstroke swims, but went to regular exercise sessions and enjoyed the company at Friday night Scrabble games, especially when she had the high score.

She was an inspiration to all who knew her. Her will was so strong it seemed likely she would never die ... that she was actually and matter-of-factly immortal simply because she had chosen to be and would go on forever in her cable sweaters and colorful scarves, scratching out $10 checks to every random charity solicitation that found her mailbox. But, eventually, she tired, and missed those she loved so fiercely who had gone before her, and decided it was time to join them. She died like she lived, exactly the way she wanted.

Daughter Alix Beeney lives on with husband Craig in Interlaken NY and Cabarete DR. Her beloved son Dr. Ed Schneeberg predeceased her. His wife Lois survives her. She has two sisters-in-law, five grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren with two more coming in the next few months, and ten nieces and nephews. All were dear to her.

A remembrance to Lifelong, 119 W Court St, Ithaca. NY would be appreciated.