Rosa Murray

ROSA MURRAY
Rosa Murray, RN, (Rosa Margurite Dellaro) born Jan. 12, 1916, Mt. Morris, NY. Died May 27, 2010, Ithaca, NY at the age of 94.
Born of Sicilian immigrants; raised in convents, orphanages and foster homes; schooled in Geneseo, NY; graduated from St. Joseph's Hospital School of Nursing, Elmira, NY.
Her first assignment was the graveyard shift on the charity ward where, single-handedly, she cared for 40 patients. From there she went on to work at Biggs Memorial Hospital, a state tuberculosis sanitarium in Ithaca, NY. After several years of long shifts, she, herself, contracted TB and was confined for 22 months as a patient, as prescribed by state law at the time. During this period, Rosa received a commission as a Navy nurse, a long-awaited dream. However, this was not to be; due to her confinement, she was not able to report for duty. While confined, she was convinced to have an experimental surgery to remove part of her right lung. Only two of these procedures were ever performed, since they proved to be of no benefit. For the rest of her life, when she swam in Cayuga Lake she had a definite list to the starboard.
It was in Ithaca that she met and married Bruce Murray. They had four sons, who she raised while working at Tompkins County Hospital. Throughout her career she covered the Emergency Room, Surgery, and the South Medical Ward as a nurse/supervisor, a trainer, and a mentor to a younger generation of medical professionals. She was a taskmaster/mistress and tolerated no slacking when it came to the care and comfort of her patients. When it came to her staff, she backed them to the hilt. For nearly six decades Rosa soothed the pains, calmed the fears, and eased the sufferings of the privileged, the named, and the forgotten.
When she wasn't on duty in her later years, she could be found moonlighting on Bangs' ambulances and doing private duty. Working many a winter and summer night picking up the county's drunk, stupid and innocent off the highways, she made sure all her boys were always wearing clean underwear.
With her sons, she coursed down wild rivers in Northern California and roamed across deserts. At ninety-one, she drove "The Loneliest Highway in America" across Nevada. She ate cracked crab in San Francisco, gumbo in New Orleans, steak in Omaha. She had all her own teeth and showed her kids how to gnaw meat from the bone.
She was irreverent and profound. She had no truck with arrogance and greed. She was 5' 2" and stood up to local bullies and corporations. She stood up to NYSEG at hearings; she stood up to the Army at Romulus; she railed against Lake Source Cooling when she wrote, "Cornell, this is not your lake!"
Rosa didn't play bridge, golf, Canasta or croquet. She was a den mother and a member of the Fall Creek Elementary PTA. She laughed sitting at her kitchen table, whistled standing at the kitchen sink, and sang making her rounds down the hallways at work. And, man, did she love to dance. She kept her boys in line with an occasional wooden spoon to the forehead accompanied by a kiss. She had eyes in the back of her head and slept with one of them open.
Rosa didn't join a garden club or sit on a committee. She didn't raise prize azaleas or orchids. Her basil was pungent and her tomatoes were luscious, growing in her plot behind her trailer at Nates Floral Estates. The seed, the rising sun warming the soil, and the spring and autumn sky: this was her God. She said she would never again kneel and kiss a man's ring.
She leaves three of her sons: David, Mark and Dale; her grandson, Tyler; her sisters Mae and Martha, and niece Linda. She was predeceased by her youngest son, Tyler, and her husband Bruce. She was dear, longtime and close friends with Rita Bangs, and a devoted friend and co-worker with Joyce Vonderlin. She was loved by so many others across generations.
Rosa didn't like being on the other side of that call bell. She did not go "gentle into that good night." Although she left the "Mother Church" decades ago, one of her sons slipped her a rosary wrapped in a lottery ticket into her sleeping hand. No harm in a few side bets. Word was the Lord had the $50 window open. It really wasn't necessary. If there was a heaven, she already was on the shortlist. If she had pallbearers, she'd probably be nagging them to straighten their back and pick up their feet.
Our deepest gratitude goes to Dr. Ann Costello for her dedicated care and to the nursing staff at Cayuga Medical Center. Also deepest gratitude to all those at Hospicare, whose devoted help eased Rosa's transition.
Please don't send flowers, fruits, vegetables, casseroles, canned hams, baked beans, potato salad, cakes or pies. Send a generous donation to Hospicare of Tompkins County, 172 East King Road, Ithaca, NY 14850. Someday you just might need them. As requested, there will be no funeral services.