BARBARA SCHEIBER

1922 - 2021

Barbara Ruth Gair Scheiber, 99, passed from this life on Tuesday afternoon, March 9, 2021 in the arms of her loving family. She was born in New York City on January 30, 1922, one day before Walt Scheiber, the boy who would grow up to become her husband, and 30 years to the day after Franklin Roosevelt, her lifelong hero. Barbara's parents, Mollie and Harry Gair, were immigrants from Eastern Europe, and their aspirations for their two children and themselves, as well as their divorce, influenced her deeply. Growing up with her mother and younger brother Donald on 173rd St. in Manhattan's Washington Heights neighborhood, she observed the construction of the George Washington Bridge from her window, spent hours playing in the park across the street, and skipped two grades. While her mother, who'd been forced to leave school at 13 to work in a shirtwaist factory, returned to earn her high school diploma and college and master's degrees, Barbara, though two years younger than her classmates, excelled in writing and literature, especially her beloved Shakespeare, at Birch Wathen School and in her weekend pursuits of modern dance, theater, and art. At Vassar College, she edited the campus paper, "The Miscellany News," and wrote, directed and acted in plays under the tutelage of her mentor, Hallie Flanagan, the former head of the Federal Theater Project. Some of these plays attracted the interest of Eleanor Roosevelt, who attended performances, met with cast and crew, and invited Barbara and other friends to tea at nearby Hyde Park. An idealist who worked to put her ideas into action, Barbara and two friends embarked on an ambitious community-organizing project immediately following their 1942 graduation, to develop a prototype for coordinating small towns' war efforts. Their advisor at the Department of Agriculture referred them to the town of Clarion, Iowa, where they spent the following months working with community leaders, managing a day camp, and giving swimming lessons. Afterwards, in an effort to share the fruits of their work, they contacted Mrs. Roosevelt, who met with them at the White House and invited them to dinner to "tell Franklin" about the work they'd done. Wearing the evening dress she'd worn to her prom, Barbara overcame her awe and found the words to describe the Iowa project to the president. Returning to New York, with no more community organizing projects on the horizon, Barbara committed herself to her dream of becoming a writer. She took a job writing war-related features for the United Press and, later, writing and producing episodes for the Jewish Theological Seminary's radio program, "The Eternal Light," which aired on NBC. She and Walt Scheiber met in 1946, after he returned from wartime service as a radio operator and turret gunner on a B24 bomber over Europe. They fell in love and married on the first day of spring, March 21, 1948, in L.A., where she'd been transferred, and afterward returned to New York City, where Walt finished law school and, over the next five years, their first three children were born. As Walt changed careers from law to city management, the family moved to Clifton Heights, PA, Grove City, PA, Rockville, and then Bethesda. During these years, Barbara devoted herself to mommying, and we kids (and, later, grandkids and great-grandkids) were the lucky recipients of her care. Bedtime stories, Halloween costumes, birthday parties, puppet shows? Of course. Trouble with homework? She stayed up late with us and even set our lessons to rhyme. And when any of us needed a sympathetic ear or a comforting word, hers were always there. Her generosity with encouragement, affirmation, and compliments, not to mention her unfailing kindness, are legendary in our family. Barbara and Walt's fourth child, Bob, was born with Williams Syndrome, a genetic anomaly marked by developmental disability. When Barbara returned to professional life, she focused on advocacy for disabled children. As director of the nonprofit organization Closer Look, while completing grant proposals to keep the work funded, she wrote nationally distributed pamphlets, newsletters, and training programs to inform parents and teach them how to become advocates for their children. The book she wrote for learning disabled college students, "Unlocking Potential," is still available. Her book "Fulfilling Dreams" is the only comprehensive guide ever written about Williams Syndrome. Gradually, in her 60s, Barbara transitioned to her love of writing fiction, through workshops, writing groups, and the work of writing itself, which led, in 2014, to the publication of her wonderful novel-in-stories, "We'll Go to Coney Island." All this, while being present always with loving support for Walt and their expanding family. We could go on. Barbara's achievements were significant. In so many ways, the world is a better place because she was here. She gave freely of her warmth and her depth of understanding, deploying her great intelligence in the service of empathy and insight, dispersed to anyone she could help, but especially to those she held dearest. And she was lively. When there was music, she was up on the floor. When we were singing, she was, too. And did we mention that she was a voracious reader? And a discerning editor? Yes to both. Whatever she did, she gave it her best. All our friends loved her. You can see why. Barbara was remarkable in lots of ways. None more than her strength of heart, which now we hold in ours. We who survive her are her children, Susie Spangler, Miriam Seidel (Steve), Dave Scheiber (Janie); grandchildren, Jenny Lyons, Valerie Scheiber, Laura Waechter, Ethan Seidel, Mollie Young, Julia Scheiber, Emma Scheiber and Davey Scheiber; great-grandchildren, Kevin Lyons, Melanie Lyons, Jeremy Lyons, Matthew Lyons-Bennington; Cohen, Everett and Talia Young; Taylor and Cooper Waechter; and Hazel and Milo Mecca; her brother, Donald Gair and sister-in-law, Joyce; and many loving nieces and nephews. Her beloved husband Walt died in 2014, her dear son Bob in 2018. Due to Covid, a memorial will be held at a later date. Godspeed, Barbara. Already and forever, we miss you.