Deborah Phillips, gardener, swimmer, scientist, teacher, sister, friend, mother, volunteer, baker, reading enthusiast, died on March 2nd, 2023 in her home that overlooked the water.

Deborah was a pioneer in the eco-friendly movement before it became popular, growing her own vegetables, composting her tea bags, and re-using ZipLock bags by washing them by hand and hanging them over her plants to dry. She believed in the power of hanging your sheets outside in good weather so they smell like the sun, and never driving anywhere she could walk instead. If you ever got to try the tomatoes she grew in the summer, you were lucky indeed.

The adventures she chased were numerous, and she died with many more future plans in the works. Traveling to over 50 countries in her life and always seeking out a new "adventure of a lifetime", she embraced the full potential of life and how beautiful the world could be. She loved getting up in the morning before the sun rose on vacation to take it all in, finding local tea she could try, and spending hours in museums looking at every single piece. She was unafraid of anything she saw on her travels, especially the TSA and border control agents who she frequently tried to persuade to allow her to bring contraband (fruit or sewing scissors) on airplanes. She never backed down from a challenge, traveling to Peru and scaling Machu Picchu right before the age cut off. Her favorite place was Portugal, where she learned to cook paella and embrace the love of her sister.

Gone before her were her parents Francis and Frances Smolak, and her "soul-dog" Desmond. Remembering her on this Earth are her sister Darlene Dwyer and brother Michael Smolak, who grew up together in a small house on Berkeley Street in Stamford, CT. They taught her patience and grace (sometimes the hard way), and she felt protective big-sister love for both of them her whole life. She adored her nieces and nephews Hilary, Jeremy, John, Sarah, and Michael, each of whom she had a special bond with and loved being with. She married two men who didn't deserve her, and leaves behind a daughter named Kasia with the same eyes and full-body laugh.

She excelled at needlepoint, finding quality historical fiction media, making soup and Christmas cookies, getting Molly to go on walks with her, deflecting conversations she didn't want to have, speaking her mind, Mahjong, using as many coupons at once as the store allowed, having the best themed socks, and taking on DIY projects she knew nothing about. She once re-painted the whole outside of her house in Stamford by hand during the summer. She also crafted all of the centerpieces at her daughter's wedding—if you looked close enough you could see she painted all the pumpkins white herself.

She loved going out with her teacher friends from work and "fitting in" by ordering water or cranberry & ginger ale in a cocktail glass. She took extreme pride in the strong women she had around her, and wanted all of her friends and family to think highly of themselves because that was the way she saw them. As a former teacher, she remained a life-long learner into her short retirement. Found on her phone were dozens of tabs of Wordle and articles from the New York Times. She loved a jigsaw puzzle, liked to hum along to NPR or classical music while she cooked dinner, and joined at least three book clubs (only one of which she caused to implode). Most numerous of her whole legacy are the students she taught—she got so much joy in bringing her female students to science fairs and connecting them with her contacts at NASA where she was trained in STEM education.

She had a life-long love affair with the beach, the ocean, the summer, and there she shall return one last time. A celebration of life will be held for her in June 2023, details and invitations to follow.

In lieu of flowers, her family would like to request that donations be made to The National Parks Service, the Bartlett Aboretum of Stamford, or The Ferguson Library of Stamford