Connie Pearlstein

Services will be at a later date.

Survivors include her husband, Perry; one son, Paul Douglas of Simsbury, Connecticut; one daughter, Ruth Ness of Grand Junction; two brothers, Jay Tanner of Boynton Beach, Florida, and Robert Tannenbaum of New York City; and six grandchildren.

Memorial contributions to the Alzheimer’s Association Colorado Chapter, 455 Sherman St., Suite 500, Denver 80203.

Connie (nee Rose) Pearlstein (nee Tanenbaum) was surrounded by many passions but attached herself to her surviving husband, her one-and-only Perry. She is also survived by her brother Jay, brother/son Robert, son Paul, daughter Ruth and her 6 grandchildren, Jake, Daniel, Matthew, Bianca, Sofia and William (Will).

Her life was crowded with laughter, love, children, grandchildren, A Chorus Line, work, food, Ted Kluszewski, travel, giraffes, A Chorus Line, turquoise, butterflies, strangers, Tony Martin, pottery and A Chorus Line. Put them all together and you get a clear picture of a woman who believed the essential purpose of life was to grab her Peh and enjoy.

By the time she passed away a week short of 80 years old, she relished and lived life more than most. This was probably more the result of whom she lived with than from where she came. The family she married into, the Pearlsteins of Brooklyn did two things really, really well: laugh and make others laugh. There wasn’t a good situation or a sad situation that couldn’t be made better by a collective dispensation of humor that included out-punning each other, insulting each other and certainly outwitting each other. Connie found herself in the middle of this raucous atmosphere created by Perry, his three brothers and his parents. She could hold her own and she surely could contribute, but her true role was to enable it. She was a catalyst in a Petri dish which housed a culture that cursed her children, their children, her brothers and their children as comedians for all eternity.

The life of passions that started on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on April 29, 1935 stopped along the way in the Navy Walk at Brooklyn, Fresh Meadows in Queens before the journey with Perry started in Hollis in 1956, then moved to Bayside, Douglaston and eventually to Henderson, Nev., before resting in Grand Junction, Colo., on April 22, 2015. Forever connected to Perry. Two people who were very different, but who always acted as one. Always giving, going, helping, pushing, soothing, teasing, and caring to family, friends and strangers.

They met, by chance, at a wedding in 1954 while Perry was on leave from the Navy and Connie, the presumptive maid of honor, attended despite breaking up with the best man before the event. When Connie spotted Perry he overheard her ask a friend, “Who is that?” Perry drove his parents home that night and then drove Connie home to Fresh Meadows. Perry went back to the ship, but a spark had ignited a light that burned for 61 years.

After a final year in the service, Perry was discharged and went to college at Long Island University. Connie had graduated from Bayside High School and worked in Manhattan as the world’s most accomplished Veri-typist. They married at the Hollis Hills Jewish Center on June 10, 1956 and honeymooned in the Poconos leaving behind a forlorn little brother. Connie not only helped support the family while Perry obtained his degree in accounting, but trained Perry on the Veri-Type machine as well.

She cared deeply about her brother Jay . We have many, many fond memories of our visits to Jay, his wife Madeline, and their daughters Denise and Lauren both at Bowne Street and in Nesconset where that love for all of them was visible often.

Connie’s relationship with the forlorn little boy who almost didn’t come to be until his big sister stood up for him was beyond that of a sibling. When Robert was born in 1948, Connie was 13 years old and co-mothered him. As soon as she got home from school every day, she took over. They both loved him passionately taking turns biting his tokshe at every opportunity. Connie would later often say that she practiced on Robert so she could get her kid’s right .And she did.

Paul, born Sept. 1, 1959, and Ruth, born Nov. 20, 1961, brought immeasurable joy and anxiety, pride and anxiety, love and anxiety, A Chorus Line and anxiety and respect and anxiety as two children could give to a mother. They didn’t stop there. Ruth gave her Daniel, Matthew and Will and Paul gave her Jake, Bianca and Sofia. Connie could boast occasionally, but never more than about these six grandchildren. She had every right to.

In return, Connie gave Paul & Ruth much of herself. They share, with Robert and Ruth, the immutable force that causes us to reach out to anyone who seems lost, needs help or just wants to talk. After spending their entire childhood and teen years complaining about and frankly being embarrassed by her striking up conversations with every stranger in earshot, they often do the same. Connie never let them get away with anything that was less than their best. She provided the moral compass that won’t allow them to do the wrong thing but sometimes gets in the way of compromise.

Connie was loved by her family and had other family to love. She had a special relationship with all of her mother Charlotte’s sisters, especially Ruth, who tragically died at a young age. She loved spending summers in Charlotte’s hometown of Providence with aunts Ethel, Reca and Irene. She loved Perry’s family, soaking in the laughter and all the craziness. Her mother-in-law Regina (“Rags”) was her favorite and while she would complain about the antics of father-in-law Joe and the three “boys” Irv, Morty and Julie, she loved them and was always there for them.

She worked at Long Island Jewish Hospital for many years in the Continuing Education department where she created brochures for Hospital events, researched health care issue reporting in the media, proofread and became a jack of all trades. She developed deep, lifelong relationships with co-workers and bosses. She cared enough to be on a first name basis with everyone from the President of the Hospital to maintenance workers.

Connie loved to travel visiting Dopey at Disney World and Disney Land and most every place in between in the Continental US, Alaska, Hawaii, Bermuda, Spain, England, France, Italy, the Greek Isles, Turkey and her beloved Cape Cod, amongst other places

She made the greatest Challah French Toast this world has tasted.

Providence smiled upon Connie and Perry when they retired to Las Vegas in 1998. They had quit their jobs, but they didn’t quit growing, laughing or making new friends. They worked, supporting various conventions, fundraising and attended adult education classes at UNLV. They also worked with cancer support groups. Connie made new friends everywhere she went at restaurants, casinos, at bus stops, in bathrooms and on line to see a show. It was on such a line for a radio show at a Vegas casino that she started to talk to a stranger who grew up in New York City and whose father owned a family grocery on the Lower East Side. That father turned out to be Connie’s uncle, and she was unknowingly reconnected with her cousin Judy! She quickly became part of a Thursday club that met at the casino for drinks, entertainment and dinner. It was Connie’s biggest pleasure near the end.

Connie and Perry dealt with the diagnosis and management of her disease as they did every hurdle in their lives, together. Their roles gradually reversed as Perry became the caretaker and conductor of their medical management and social lives. Connie gracefully let go of these roles in a way that was almost unimaginable for those who knew her well. Perry fought long and hard to take care of her at home for as long as he could. When she needed more significant care, Perry continued to spend time with her at her new home and the staff continually remarked about their amazing relationship and bond. Watching the progression of her disease was heartbreaking; however, her children and grandchildren were able to witness selfless love, compassion, dedication and strength in a way that most can only imagine. In her decline and passing, she continued to give her family amazing gifts.

Connie cared about nothing more than caring. Each and every of her acts, decisions, opinions, interactions and even inactions were imbued with emotion. Whether it was her family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances or strangers, she cared.