Phyllis (Morrison) Shapiro

Loving mother of Caron & Tom Hoder, Michele Shapiro & Eric Epstein and Paul Shapiro & Kristen Vecchi. Adored grandmother of Sarah, Laura and Esme. Dear sister of Leonard Morrison.

Memorial services at Congregation Agudath Achim, 36 Winthrop St., Taunton on Friday, February 9 at 10:00am.

Immediately following the service, the family will receive visitors at the home of Caron & Tom Hoder through 5pm and again on Saturday from 3-8pm.

In lieu of flowers, remembrances may be made to the American Heart Association, 300 5th Ave, Waltham, MA 02451 or the Framingham Public Library Foundation, 49 Lexington St., Framingham, MA 01701.

A TRIBUTE, WRITTEN BY MICHELE

My mother, Phyllis (Morrison) Shapiro, was a student of life. As a young child in Beverly, Massachusetts, she excelled at school and went on to study at Brandeis University with rebellious, boundary breaking classmates, including Abbie Hoffman and Letty Cottin Pogrebin, whose names became synonymous with her generation.

Long after earning a degree in French Literature and marrying my father, Richard Shapiro, whom she’d met years earlier in ballroom dance class, Phyllis continued to absorb information any way she could get it. An avid reader, she checked stacks of books out of the library every week and read newspapers from cover to cover daily. (She also spent Sundays completing the Boston Globe crossword puzzle, and rarely if ever left spaces blank.)

As her kids grew and her interests evolved, Phyllis studied everything from cobalt to medical billing, and in her later years, she enjoyed taking continuing education courses in History and Music.

Of all the subjects she studied, my mother loved Art History and had a particular fondness for contemporary artists. As children, my sister, Caron, brother Paul and I spent many Saturdays at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. She encouraged us to create our own works of art, too, often gifting us with “Rainy Day Fun Boxes” overflowing with paints, markers and crayons for Chanukah and on our birthdays.

Mom found a new calling when she became a docent at the Danforth Museum in Framingham. She loved explaining the motivation behind local artists’ work to school groups and adults alike. Over the years, Phyllis devoted countless hours and energy to the museum, and looked forward to socializing with fellow docents in her free time. In fact, she’d attended a Docent Club outing in early January, and as one woman who had been there attested, “Phyllis looked great. She had a new glam haircut, a great outfit and a big smile.”

Theater was another of Phyllis’s passions. Some of my fondest memories from childhood involve accompanying she and my dad to the community theater productions in which they participated. Mom preferred to remain behind-the-scenes overseeing props or costumes, while dad brought down the house with his performance of Tevye in a production of “Fiddler on the Roof.” Phyllis surprised everyone, including herself, when she auditioned for—and landed—the role of Sally in “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.” Mom had always been a little, well, tonally challenged. But she pulled it off before leaving the spotlight to my father.

When not performing, Mom loved watching plays. She always had a subscription to local theater companies, and often drove into Boston to see what last-minute tickets she could score. It’s no surprise that my siblings and I all performed in dramas and musicals both during the school year and on our precious summer vacations. My mom and dad were a presence at every performance, cheering us on no matter how many times they had to sit through The Sound of Music or West Side Story.

There’s no question that Phyllis loved family. Long before ancestry.com and Wikipedia, she had an encyclopedic knowledge of her lineage, and she loved to talk up her children to anyone who would listen. What I respect tremendously about her now that I’m a mother myself is how she emphasized the importance of education and imparted in us all a love of the arts, but ultimately allowed her children to pursue their own interests, not hers.

As much as she loved her kids, she might have adored her three granddaughters—Sarah, Laura and Esmé—even more. Phyllis was fortunate to accompany Laura, her sister and parents on the trip of a lifetime to Israel, where she was bat mitzvahed on Masada. Mom also just last year watched as Sarah became the first of her grandchildren to earn a college degree. Phyllis also insisted on attending Esmé’s high-school graduation in New York City in June and, while it was a difficult trip for her to make, she wouldn’t have missed it for anything.

Mom cherished her relationships with the adults in her family, too, including her brother, Len, with whom she checked in with regularly and looked forward to visiting in Miami during frigid Massachusetts winters. After her mother, Sue Morrison, passed away in 1989, mom made a point of keeping in touch with the many cousins that formed the Cousins Club, and was constantly updating us on their whereabouts. She also loved to share good news, as when Len’s daughter, Kay, announced her pregnancy recently. When I saw Kay in January, I tried to pretend I didn’t know, but she said, “I’m sure your mom’s told you already!”

Phyllis truly valued the immediate warmth and connection to those with whom she shared blood ties, and she also valued her friendships. Many of mom’s current friends had known her since childhood. Others, she’d met later in life but made them feel as if their connection had been life-long.

There are so many other traits that made Phyllis special. She was outspoken about politics and supported organizations like the League of Women Voters and others that advanced women’s rights. Having grown up on the North Shore, she also loved a good lobster (the bigger, the better) and strong margaritas.

Those who knew my mother at any stage of her life knew that she loved to dress in bright, bold colors. When Phyllis walked in a room, you knew she was there. She was vibrant, headstrong and fiercely independent. If given the opportunity, I’m sure that my mom would have chosen to continue living and learning for many more years. But, like her Brandeis classmates, she made an indelible mark on the world by speaking her mind and continuing to feed it. Her name might not be as recognizable as the other rebels in her graduating class at Brandeis, but to those who knew her, Phyllis Shapiro was just as articulate and outspoken. She lived life on her own terms, and that is perhaps her greatest legacy.