Judith Marks-White — a longtime local newspaper columnist and writing teacher — died earlier this month. She was 84. (Click here, then scroll down for her obituary.)
Her friend Alina Rodescu-Pitchon wrote this tribute, and read it during Judith’s shiva:
Judith was 17 years my senior, but was really way younger than I.
Through the triumphs and tribulations of life’s journey, she always managed to keep the spirit and wonder of an ageless soul.
She was feisty, sassy and proud — a force to be reckoned with. She was my dear friend, and I thought she would live forever.
We gallivanted around town, met for lunch at Aux Delices almost daily, and shared our deepest and darkest secrets, things we couldn’t tell anyone else (except perhaps our shared doctor, Jill Denowitz).
Judith Marks-White (left) and Alina Rodescu-Pitchon.
We celebrated each other’s birthdays with festive dinners, numerous cards and unique presents. She was a beautiful, witty, talented and loyal friend. And we had a way of savoring life in good times while making each other feel better in trying ones.
Most know Judith as a Westport icon, greeting everyone with a bright smile and cheery words. Her humor writing, gracing the likes of the Westport News, “Chicken Soup for the Soul” and her 2 published novels, “Seducing Harry” and “Bachelor Degree,” portrayed a light touch that would tickle the funny bone while gently poking fun at everyday life.
But what most people didn’t know about Judith is that she was also a brave warrior and survivor. She felt deeply and profoundly the preciousness of life, and the value of her family and friends.
She had a fight in her that enabled her to not only survive illnesses and physical challenges, but losses and disappointments as well.
After her husband Mort died, the love of her life, she picked herself up and started teaching at Norwalk Community College. She so loved her students and did such a fabulous job that she was voted Teacher of the Year. She never did anything halfway.
Judith Marks-White
She dressed for stress, as we used to say, and bright red lipstick was always applied, even in the darkest of times. Visiting her at Waveny where she was convalescing, she never failed to greet me with a red smile.
Judith was more than my friend; she was a part of my family. We laughed, we cried, we laughed till we cried, we fought and made up.
Sometimes we would yell at each other at the top of our lungs, only to settle down and end the conversation with ”phew, that was brutal. We really know how to be dramatic. But you know I love you no matter what.”
She adored Westport, and I saw Westport through her eyes. So I loved it too.
In losing its grande dame and her sparkling personality, Westport lost some of its luster. She was a part of a generation that appreciated fine art, classical music and living with grace.
Go gently to your beloved Mort, my dear friend. You will always be loved, and terribly missed.