Delano had the idea. We were talking through the details of Zurn’s celebration when he laid it out for me. A Legacy Calls, customized around everyone sharing their Zurn stories. That’s what we called it. Zurn Stories. He came up with a few questions, and I took it as a mission to protect them. To find the best way to get them answered. To make this audio a contribution to her legacy. To keep her name alive.
Always loved. Never forgotten. Forever missed. A life well lived.
Listen To Zurn Stories:
Over twenty people sat down at the microphone. Family. College roommates. In laws. Co workers from fifteen years deep. Neighbors. Board members. Teachers who taught her kids. Friends who met her in the late nineties and friends who met her last October. I came in not knowing what to expect. By the end of the night, the same things kept coming back, in different mouths, in different stories. That’s how you know they were true.
Her smile was the first thing. Almost everyone led with it. The smile, then the laugh, then the hug. People described feeling important in her presence, like the room had narrowed down to them. One of her closest friends put it best. She was with you when she was with you. No phone. No watch. No half listening. Just there.
She was a connector. A human Rolodex, somebody called her. The kind of person who already knew the new restaurant before you knew it existed, and had already brought your wife. The kind of person who, when you wanted to start a story time on the east side of Harlem, would pick up the phone and basically program the whole thing for you in five minutes because she knew everybody. One friend called her impact on Harlem a puddle with the ripples. People she connected went on to connect more people, and on and on. You can’t really count it. You just feel it.
She was the calm in a crisis. A college roommate talked about driving herself to a parking lot, distraught about her son, and getting Zurn on the phone. Said it felt like Zurn was in the car with her. Patting her back. Bringing her back to center. Another friend called her a spiritual sister, the kind of person who could see right through your poker face from a distance. You’d be home stressed about work, your wife would mention it to Zurn in passing, and the answer would come back through your wife the same day. Like she’d been in the room with you the whole time.
People who’ve fought serious illness talked about her showing up. Sitting in chemo sessions without being asked. Taking a friend out to a real dinner afterwards and pushing her to get her family affairs in order, gently, the way Zurn did things. One of them said it plainly. I am still here because of her inspiration.
She was a worker. Harlem for Kids. Harlem for Families. Harlem Children’s Zone. Story time. A bus to Philadelphia for the Obama campaign while she was heavily pregnant with Grace. People described showing up to meetings and finding out Zurn had already conferred with five other people beforehand, and the meeting was basically running on her agenda. She was two steps ahead. She set the table, somebody said. Now we got to serve it.
She didn’t take no for an answer. Try, and if you get no, ask again. What’s it gonna hurt. Persevere. That was the thing. And she pushed everybody around her to do the same. Say yes to what makes you happy. Don’t carry what isn’t serving you into the next day. Be present. Stay outside. Stay in community. Stay open to the next experience.
Almost every person, in their own words, came back to the same closing thought. She was still thinking about everybody else, even at the end. Still telling people to travel. Still telling people to enjoy themselves. Still smiling. Her sister in law remembered one of the last things Zurn said to her was you gotta get out, you gotta travel. Even then she was giving advice.
There are details on this audio that I want you to listen for.
Cool Breeze. The nickname Zurn gave her best friend’s husband out of nowhere one night on the phone. It stuck for life. He says he’s going to hear it in his head forever.
Hootie hoo. The call and response chant Zurn had with her college roommate from when they lived together on a hundred and twenty ninth between fifth and Lenox.
Chicken and broccoli, white rice. What Zurn told her son’s best friend Sebastian to eat when he was sick, back when he was little. Now, every thirteenth of the month, he orders it. Every month.
Frozen rice from Trader Joe’s. A Harlem mom on the audio talks about how Zurn told her years ago to always keep some in the freezer. The day of the celebration, she found herself at the Trader Joe’s on a hundred and twenty fifth without needing anything, just because it felt like Zurn was calling her in there.
It’s a lot of people. It’s a lot of love. Press play. Let them tell you.
Always loved. Never forgotten. Forever missed. A life well lived.
Want to capture your own story? A Legacy Call is a one-hour recorded conversation that preserves your memories, wisdom, and life experiences. Click here to learn more or email social@amonfocus.com for custom requests and details.
