Phyllis Steen quietly passed away on the morning of October 24, 2025 after being ill for the past several years.  Earlier that week, she told her caregiver she was tired and wanted to “go be with Harvey,” her husband of 69 years whom she lost unexpectedly in 2021.  She was also predeceased by her older sister and her husband, Doris and Jack Guttentag.  Phyllis is survived by her brother-in-law and his wife, Paul and Donna Steen; cousins, Damien and Carol Steen; nephews and nieces with their spouses: William and Marina Guttentag, and Adam and Susan Guttentag; Jennifer and Brian Booher, Sandra Bartholomew, David Steen and Amy O’Malley, Joshua and Molly Weinman; her children and their spouses: John and Liz Meyers, Tricia Steen and Alan Smith, and Jonathan and Carole Steen; her grandchildren and their partners: Nicholas West, Tory Zakarian and Chris Chappell, Solomon Steen, Edmund and Joanna Steen, Timothy Steen, and Emerson Steen and Vanessa Ramirez; and her great-grandchild, Emanuel.  Phyllis’s many lovingly-assembled photo albums (dating back to 1952) reflect her commitment to capturing the changing faces of her family, as well as preserving the personal history of everyone she loved.

Phyllis was born in 1931 in Bronx, NY to Sadie and Norton (“Nat”) Wallach, the latter an immigrant who arrived in New York at the age of 12, leaving behind the poverty and pogroms in what was then known as Wallachia.  Her mother, Sadie, was a second-generation New Yorker whose relatives had immigrated from Eastern Europe. Nat taught himself English by reading newspapers and became a tailor in the nearby Garment District, while Sadie went to work as a medical secretary for a major medical center.  Nat would at different points leave the family in order to pursue money-making ventures, leaving Sadie to support the family with her full-time position.  Phyllis was often left on her own from the time she was very young, which gave rise to her fierce independence, pragmatism, and resourcefulness.  She was grateful for the times her older sister, Dorry, would look out for her, once even making the arrangements for Phyllis to attend summer camp so that she could have an enriching experience.  The two girls were a study in physical contrast:  Dorry was the dark-haired beauty admired by their parents, while Phyllis was the freckle-faced kid with orange hair who spent as little time in the apartment as possible.

From early on Phyllis would bicycle or ride the subway on her own all around Brooklyn where she grew up, branching out to the rest of the city, too.  She was nicknamed “Red” in the neighborhood, a moniker that boys would use in later years to get her attention.  One of her favorite pastimes was visiting her beloved grandmother, Yetta (aka “Bubbe”), who lived out on Coney Island by the ocean and famous boardwalk.  Yetta was a sweet, short-statured woman who spoke mostly Yiddish to Phyllis, which she quickly came to understand.  Her other favorite place to be was the majestic New York Public Library.  There she could read to her heart’s content, borrow books, then head home to curl up on the fire escape, losing herself in the world of her imagination.  Despite the family’s financial struggles, Sadie arranged for Phyllis to have piano lessons with a humorless teacher who would close the lid on her fingers if she made a mistake. Thus began what would become her life-long love of music, playing the piano up until the age of 81 when a stroke in 2012 robbed her of the ability to read music.

For Phyllis, going to school was the most exciting thing to happen in her young life. She loved being there to learn, but it also gave her a break from the tensions of life at home.  She was such a good student that the school system skipped her two grades, allowing her to graduate at 16 from Midway High.  Afterwards, she went to work as a secretary and attended Brooklyn College at night.  The summer she was 17, she worked as a camp counselor in the Catskills where she found herself quite taken by a dark-haired boy named Harvey, shelling shrimp in the kitchen.  She summoned up the courage to talk to him, and her initial fascination quickly became mutual.  After that summer, they remained steadfast in their affection for one another while each pursued a college degree.  In 1951, they both graduated.

The two married the following year and settled in northern New Jersey.  Phyllis stayed home with their young children and took psychology classes at Rutger’s.  The family then relocated to Ohio for several years for her husband’s career.  After moving back east to Andover, Massachusetts, she worked for a while as a substitute English teacher, later completing a master’s degree in social work from Salem State College.  This allowed her to pursue her passion: helping children and adolescents experiencing significant hardship.  Her own childhood experiences played a big part in her decision to become an advocate, especially her own family’s struggles and the historical event she lived through as an adolescent:  the Holocaust.  In New York, many people in the Jewish community still had relatives in Europe who were being persecuted by the Nazis and sent to the death camps.  This had a profound impact on her, stoking her determination to become a voice for the vulnerable and a champion of social justice.  With her fierce and unrelenting personality, she became a powerful ally and protector of countless young people.  Phyllis continued in her field after she and her husband moved to Virginia Beach in 1982, working at a local organization until she retired in 1996 to help several members of her own family.

After retiring, Phyllis trained as a docent and volunteered at the Chrysler Museum and Museum of Contemporary Art.  Although she experienced balance problems caused by her earlier stroke, she refused to give in or give up dancing with the Silver Tappers with whom she performed for many years at local nursing homes until she was 90.  In addition to gardening, photography, Zumba classes, bridge, and volunteering on the Samaritans helpline, Phyllis loved to cook, clipping recipes and attempting cuisines from all around the world.  She also placed a lot importance on staying in touch with family and friends.  She especially valued her friendships, as it could take a bit to see past her “tough city girl” persona to the sensitive, even shy person she was inside.  Phyllis never took any of her heart-connections for granted, and those close to her recognized the extraordinary person she was.

Even as Phyllis’s illness progressed these past few years, her personality continued to shine through.  When she would see another resident that needed help, she would find a staff person and let them know.  People would come up to her to tell her they were lost, and Phyllis would try to help them out even though she had a hard time finding her own way back to her room.  She definitely recognized the irony in that!  She never lost her courage or determination, or her compassion, or just her kindness to the vulnerable…  She certainly never lost her innate intelligence or her wry, sometimes snarky sense of humor.  And at the last, she hoped to be reunited with the one man she truly loved for the biggest part of her long life.  Please post your condolences and favorite memories to the family at the Cremation Society of Virginia website in this difficult time in their lives.