Marion Harrington passed away on May 12th, 2025. She is preceded in death by her father (Charles “Sonny” Ray), mother (Viola Ray), brother (Ted Ray) and the love of her life Tim Harrington. She is survived by sons Tim and Rob (wife Lisa), her sister-in-law Carol, nephews, nieces and countless friends.
Marion was born to Viola (nee Amundson) and Sonny on October 26th, 1941 and immediately got after it.
When she was in 3rd grade her friend, Ginny Burgemeister (now Holton), nicknamed her Peewee to Viola’s chagrin - the name stuck, along with the friendship.
When Peewee was in middle school, she was the only girl on the boy’s baseball team. The little daddy’s girl played third base while her father cheered relentlessly, “Go get ‘em Pee!” – I told you, the name stuck.
Peewee liked to say, “my brother Ted and I are very different.” She needed a new lens. They were salt of the earth, give you the shirt off their back, do anything for their family, friends, neighbors, and community types. As Peewee’s friend Ann Mcloed said, “Don’t tell me, show me. Peewee always showed up.” She wallpapered people’s kitchens when they couldn’t afford to hire someone and was available for anyone when times got hard. When Ted retired, he worked for the Salvation Army, became a Crossing Guard and was the neighbor delivering gifts to people during the holidays. They would do anything for those they loved and an awful lot for those they barely knew.
Peewee went to UW Madison, but instead of hitting the books, she spent her freshman year sneaking out of the dorms after hours. Not surprisingly, she dropped out and later became an X-Ray Technician. It’s how she met her friend, Carol Jaeck, who she introduced to her brother Ted; in 1971 Ted and Carol became husband and wife.
“Hey, your belly button is off center,” Peewee said, introducing herself to Tim Harrington at a party at Lake Nagawicka in the 60’s. Apparently, that passed for flirtation. Tim and Peewee began dating, and in spite of some bumps in the road, fell in love. “Tim was so nice and humble,” Peewee would relay long after Tim’s death. “He never told me what a good athlete he was.” They married in 1965.
Peewee’s family moved frequently when she was kid. Her favorite childhood home, which resembled the Alamo, was at 7117 W. Wells St. in Wauwatosa, WI. In 1969, Tim purchased “The Alamo” – the place they called home for 32 years.
After Tim jr. was born, Peewee became a homemaker. She was never much for heart to hearts, extolling life’s lessons, but Peewee showed up. She stayed up all night typing papers for Rob when he took three classes simultaneously, each with a ten-page paper due weekly. She made her boy’s school lunches every day, drove them to countless soccer games, helped with their homework (which didn’t go so smoothly, patience wasn’t her virtue), and was in tune with who they were and what they did – always providing them the support they needed. She couldn’t stay mad at them. Once, in anger and frustration, she chased them and tried to strike them with a tennis shoe, which her boys found hilarious. The scene ended with the three of them on the ground laughing. Peewee showed up.
Peewee loved playing cards. The family played marathon games of Sheepshead and Cribbage where, let’s face it, Peewee was always the best. She played Bridge religiously until dementia made it impossible.
2025 is the Harrington’s 56th summer of renting a cottage at the Eagle Springs Golf Resort. For years they shared a cottage with three families: The Cain’s, Hoffmeisters and Kischefsky’s and later one with the Passmore’s. The kids swam, caught frogs, put on plays, played flashlight tag, caught fireflies and went on tiger hunts. The parents played golf, (Peewee was a very good golfer), drank daquiris and, seemingly, discussed what was for dinner the remainder of the day. Seriously, dinner was the main topic of conversation. “Should we get corn?” “Which corn stand should we get it from.” “How about a pork roll?” “We could get steaks.” “Hot dogs for the kids though.” “What kind of dressing for the salad.” “Who’s making the salad?” “Are the Passmore’s having dinner?” Seriously, this took up their entire day. Peewee loved the cottage, socializing at the beach, golfing and swimming – she was in heaven.
Peewee loved to be active and athletically was born in the wrong era. For girls, Shorewood HS only offered swimming. Peewee would have excelled at pretty much any sport. When she was older she became a decent tennis player, a better racquetball player and a heckuva golfer.
Peewee wasn’t perfect. She could be stubborn, smoked a whole lotta of cigarettes, fixated on her unresearched opinions, expected others to be as open as she was, which didn’t always go well, wasn’t a good cook (pepper was considered spicy in the Harrington house), and on a few occasions had a few too many glasses of white wine and or gin and tonics. She hated shopping and years of dragging her boys through the store like they were fugitives buying supplies has given them consumer PTSD. Despite her flaws, PeeWee’s humanity always shone through. Nowhere was that on better display than with her husband Tim.
She loved Tim, adored him, thought she hit the jackpot and when Tim passed, she entertained dating for about two minutes before realizing the memory of Tim was too much or more than enough for her remaining years. Peewee and Tim were friends, they played cards and golf together. They enjoyed their dinners out, time together and they rarely fought. Late in Tim’s life, when he was in full blown dementia, he was out to lunch for his birthday. As he stood waiting in the parking lot, his memory fogging even the memory of his kids and family members, Peewee walked up and a big smile spread across his face, “There she is,” he said – he never forgot Peewee.
Without instruction, for seven years of progressing dementia, Peewee took care of Tim like she wrote the Alzheimer’s Caregiver playbook, “Don’t disagree, tell therapeutic fibs and meet the person where they are.” Her love had no conditions. The rollercoaster of dementia never stunted her commitment to her husband. Peewee showed up, she did what she had to do and didn’t complain. Despite countless incidents and awkward moments, she’d always say, “I’m lucky, Tim is easy.”
Tim passed in June of 2009 and Peewee, through tears and loneliness forged a new life. She volunteered at the Family Center at Froedtert Hospital, played bridge a few days week, played a whole lotta golf, was in a Book Club that mostly drank white wine and she was their unofficial table clearer (because she couldn’t control herself), went on trips with her friends Ginny, Kay and Becky, read more and more books, (she loved reading books but when her son, Rob, sat down with her to talk about them she said, “I don’t think about books like that, I just read them”), did morning crosswords with Bucky Curran over the phone, and found any reason she could to socialize with someone or provide companionship to someone in need.
In 2022, Peewee’s memory began failing and a new journey began. The good news is her sons, Tim and Rob, had a blueprint – one created by Peewee and Tim jr.’s time working for the Alzheimer’s Association. Peewee first lived at Hart Park Square where she almost got kicked out for sneaking cigarettes in the stair well and garage. “I know I’ve been remiss in my actions and it won’t happen again,” she said to the Director like she was in the principal’s office (her apology seemed a little slick like maybe she’d done this before). She roamed the halls introducing herself to everyone, went for morning walks, visited with her brother-in-law Mike (who lived a floor above her), helped Stacy the housekeeper fold laundry, gave all the employees fudgesicles, drove them a little crazy asking them to fix her unbroken remote and TV and hung out with her new best friend, Emily Moynihan who was her part-time caretaker. “She’s a pistol,” Peewee said. Being a “pistol” is as big a compliment as you can get from Peewee, followed by being a “tough cookie.”
When Hart Park Square was no longer appropriate, Peewee moved into a condo with her son, Rob. Peewee received 24-hour care with the help of sons, Tim and Rob, her daughter-in-law Lisa, Emily Moynihan, and Caretaker, Christine Nielsen. She ate approximately 13 fudgesicles a day, put together puzzles, slept when she felt like it, watched endless episodes of M.A.S.H, Bonanza, Seinfeld, the Waltons, Everyone Loves Raymond and The Golden Girls, made friends with most of her neighbors and really angered one. She still remembered her husband Tim, “He was so nice to everyone and humble, everyone liked him, not like me. I can be difficult you know.” She talked about her boys, “My boys are so kind and gentle and you know they’re best friends.” She loved to talk about her oldest friend Ginny, “She’s a pistol and so much fun. She likes to laugh.” In some anxious moments she called out for her family, “I want to see my brother Ted and mom and dad!” She always believed she would soon be playing golf, bridge or heading to Eagle Springs for the weekend.
After a fall disabled Peewee’s ability to walk, she moved to Elaine’s Hope. She faded fast. We can’t be sure why. Some say it’s God’s plan. Some say the fall exacerbated her health issues and dementia. Some say Peewee Harrington knew her time was up. It was one thing to never play another round of golf or hand of bridge but losing the ability to banter and laugh with strangers, help clear the table, to speak with her kids or friends – it wasn’t for her. Best to move on, to see what’s out there.
And wherever that is, be assured, someone is smiling, laughing and has a new friend, they just refuse to believe her name is Peewee.
