Shirley L Weiss

November 24, 1924-November 15, 2025

Shirley (Janawitz) Weiss was born in Detroit to a long-lived family that toughed it out during the Great Depression. She recalled the day the family gathered around their enormous radio for news of President Franklin Roosevelt’s death. Mom said it was the only time she saw her father cry. A life-long Democrat mom voted in every election well into her 90s. She considered it a sacred act.

Mom was just 19 when, toward the end of the war, she met and married my dad, Alec. As kids, everyone we knew—grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins—lived nearby. Ours was the house that kids in the neighborhood would run away to. It was the scene of Thanksgiving dinners and countless backyard picnics on federal holidays when Mom would hang the American flag from the front porch.

Widowed at 44, mom sold the house and got a job that provided both income and an apartment. Independence, foisted upon her by Dad’s death, became a source of pride. She worked full-time until she was 80.

To her three daughters, Susan; Sandy and Erin, mom could be fun and also fierce. She loved throwing parties for us. She was no-nonsense about getting good grades in school. She never failed to attend a graduation.

She never got to go to college herself and our achievements made her immeasurably proud. For years after we were off on our own, Mom would secretly tuck a few folded twenties into our purse or pocket. We knew she had our back.

We had no greater fan.

Mom's memory withdrew in stages. Her feistiness faded as she surrendered to assisted living. Toward the end of her long journey she held on to only a few words. That’s good," "Thank you, and “Wow.” She eventually lost those, too.

Taking mom outside for a "stroll and a roll” in her wheelchair is a treasured memory. She would tilt her head back, breathe in the fresh, cool air; take in the wide Michigan sky, and nod her head approvingly, in gratitude.

Our mom passed away on November 15, nine days shy of her 101st birthday. “I’m the last of the Mohicans,” she would say.

She is survived by her daughters, Susan Ives of Mill Valley, California and Erin Rose Wright of Fenton, Michigan; her son-in-law Rodney Wright and granddaughter Stella Rose Wright. (She’s a good one!)

Thank you, Mom, for sticking around for so long— Wow!