Anne (Brown) Myer ’67

14 April 2005

Class: 1967

Major: English

Deceased: February 22, 2005

Alumni survivors: Jean B. Peterson, LCSW, ATR-BC, TEP ’65 (Sibling)

(Deceased 02/22/2005)

Daughter of Dr. Robert L. Brown and Alice J. Brown, Anne was born in Atlanta. She graduated from Spring Street School, Westminster High School, and Carleton College. She received an MA from Georgia State University. She was highly respected and much loved. She was an Early Childhood teacher for ten years at Cliff Valley School and twenty years at Paideia School.

Anne was strong, gentle, loving, steadfast, generous, and creative. She was a private person, appreciating stillness, silence, and solitude. Treasuring and treasured by her many friends, she was the quiet center of a large circle of people. She brought out the best in all of us.

Anne is survived by her long-time partner, Maurice LeCrow; her brother, Dr. David Brown and his wife, Linda, of Chapel Hill, NC; her sister, Jean Peterson and her husband, Dick Grachek, of Mystic CT; her nieces, Emily Werner and Robin McCurdy; her nephew, Eric Brown; and her great nephew and great niece, Luke and Ava Werner.

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Anne Kathryn Brown was originally assigned to room at Carleton with Ann Black, but apparently (and luckily) it was decided that it would be too confusing to have Anne Brown and Ann Black in the same room. It was only then that I was assigned to be her roommate. We ended up living together the whole time we were at Carleton, except for the term she spent in England our junior year. We went through all the traumas and joys of college life together, and remained in touch for the rest of her all-too-short life. In the late summer of 2004, when Anne’s cancer was in remission, she came to New England. One of her best friends from childhood, Margaret Edwards, lives in Vermont and Anne came many times to ride horses with her. She usually came to visit me in New Hampshire, too. Anne’s last visit was quite unique and wonderful. It turned out that she had brought along a thick file containing all the letters I had written to her, starting from when we were assigned to be roommates together at Myers 408 in the summer of 1963. I somehow managed to find the letters she had sent to me. My husband, David, was out of town on business. Because of this, Anne and I ended up spending several days alone together, probably for the first time since we had left Carleton. We sat outside in the garden and read all of our letters aloud to each other. I read mine to her, she read the ones she had written to me. It was an amazing experience. The letters started when we were both 17, writing to introduce ourselves, and went on for more than 40 years. Over the course of that day, we laughed, cried, and drank a bit of wine. More than a bit, actually. We chuckled over how naïve and sheltered we both had been at the start of our friendship. We hissed (mostly me – Anne wasn’t a hissing sort of person) and cheered at the mention of various people who made appearances in our missives. We reflected on how much we had learned over the years, both good and bad. Finally, we realized how complex our lives had turned out to be, in ways those two young women could not have envisioned in the summer of 1963. I will never forget this precious time we spent together revisiting our past. Every moment, of course, was poignantly underscored by the fact that we both knew the rare form of cancer Anne seemed to have conquered was likely to re-occur. When she left, Anne gave me all the letters I had written, and took home the ones she had penned to me. About six months later, Anne passed away, A few weeks after that, her longtime partner, Maurice, sent me all those letters she had read aloud to me. Heartbroken by her loss, I put them together with the ones I had written – and read – to her. This epistolary archive, now complete, has come to an end. My gratitude for having known Anne, and my grief at her untimely death, however, will never end.
Deedy Dorothea (Johnson) Jensen ’67

 

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  • 2016-09-27 11:24:17
    Dorothea Jensen

    Anne Kathryn Brown was originally assigned to room at Carleton with Ann Black, but apparently (and luckily) it was decided that it would be too confusing to have Anne Brown and Ann Black in the same room. It was only then that I was assigned to be her roommate. We ended up living together the whole time we were at Carleton, except for the term she spent in England our junior year. We went through all the traumas and joys of college life together, and remained in touch for the rest of her all-too-short life. In the late summer of 2004, when Anne’s cancer was in remission, she came to New England. One of her best friends from childhood, Margaret Edwards, lives in Vermont and Anne came many times to ride horses with her. She usually came to visit me in New Hampshire, too. Anne’s last visit was quite unique and wonderful. It turned out that she had brought along a thick file containing all the letters I had written to her, starting from when we were assigned to be roommates together at Myers 408 in the summer of 1963. I somehow managed to find the letters she had sent to me. My husband, David, was out of town on business. Because of this, Anne and I ended up spending several days alone together, probably for the first time since we had left Carleton. We sat outside in the garden and read all of our letters aloud to each other. I read mine to her, she read the ones she had written to me. It was an amazing experience. The letters started when we were both 17, writing to introduce ourselves, and went on for more than 40 years. Over the course of that day, we laughed, cried, and drank a bit of wine. More than a bit, actually. We chuckled over how naïve and sheltered we both had been at the start of our friendship. We hissed (mostly me – Anne wasn’t a hissing sort of person) and cheered at the mention of various people who made appearances in our missives. We reflected on how much we had learned over the years, both good and bad. Finally, we realized how complex our lives had turned out to be, in ways those two young women could not have envisioned in the summer of 1963. I will never forget this precious time we spent together revisiting our past. Every moment, of course, was poignantly underscored by the fact that we both knew the rare form of cancer Anne seemed to have conquered was likely to re-occur. When she left, Anne gave me all the letters I had written, and took home the ones she had penned to me. About six months later, Anne passed away, A few weeks after that, her longtime partner, Maurice, sent me all those letters she had read aloud to me. Heartbroken by her loss, I put them together with the ones I had written – and read – to her. This epistolary archive, now complete, has come to an end. My gratitude for having known Anne, and my grief at her untimely death, however, will never end. Deedy Dorothea (Johnson) Jensen ’67 (Picture by Marga

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