Connie Brown, 83, of Au Sable Forks, passed away on October 4, 2026, leaving behind a family who adored her, a community that loved her, and an impressive number of people who are probably still waiting for her to crack one more joke.

Connie was born April 18, 1943, and if you knew her, you know there really wasn't any other way she could have turned out.

She was a firecracker.

She was funny. Or at least she thought she was-and honestly, that was good enough for her. Connie cracked jokes constantly. Appropriate jokes. Inappropriate jokes. Funny jokes. Terrible jokes. Jokes at the wrong time and jokes that made absolutely no sense.

Sometimes everyone laughed.

Sometimes everyone just stared at her.

She kept going.

She was goofy, stubborn, fiercely independent, and completely herself. Connie didn't need anyone telling her how to do things, and she certainly didn't need anyone telling her that she couldn't.

That stubbornness served her well.

Connie worked for the Au Sable Valley Telephone Company, later known as Frontier, and became the first woman to work in the Central Office. She didn't get there by waiting for someone to decide she deserved the opportunity. She fought for it-and won a sexual discrimination lawsuit to get there.

She busted her ass, worked hard, and would do just about anything for anybody.

That was Connie.

She was kind. She was giving. She was selfless.

And somehow, without ever asking for the job, she became the glue that held her family together.

She was also loved by damn near the whole community of Au Sable Forks.

If someone needed something, Connie helped.

If someone needed somebody, Connie showed up.

And if someone was having a bad day, there was a pretty good chance Connie would have a joke ready-whether they wanted one or not.

But as much as she gave to everyone around her, her family was always at the center of her world.

She leaves behind her husband, Charlie Brown; her daughter, Tracey Mehan; her son-in-law, Gary Brewer; her granddaughters, Nikki Monique and Megan Brown; and her great-granddaughters, Aaleyah Brown, Haileigh Lamare and Kyah Yarosis.

And then there were her animals, who were every bit as much a part of her family. Connie absolutely adored her dog, Ava, and all of her cats. She had a lot of love to give, and apparently there was plenty to go around.

Connie loved Hawaii. She loved Elvis. She loved telephone knick-knacks, which was probably inevitable after spending so much of her life around telephones.

She loved her crime shows-NCIS, SVU, The First 48 and Unsolved Mysteries. She could happily settle in and watch people solve murders for hours.

She loved Michigans, strawberry shortcake, chocolate ice cream and Pepsi.

Pepsi was basically its own food group.

And she loved Saturdays in Plattsburgh.

When her daughter Tracey and granddaughter Nikki were young, the three of them would head to Plattsburgh every Saturday to shop and get lunch. Those ordinary Saturdays became the kind of memories that don't seem extraordinary until years later, when you realize they were some of the best days of your life.

Connie also spent what felt like an eternity at the salon.

So much time, in fact, that the smell of a perm will probably trigger a very specific kind of childhood PTSD for some members of her family.

There is a pretty good chance she is responsible for at least some of the family's weirdness.

And nobody can prove otherwise.

Connie hated having a fuss made over her. She hated having her picture taken. If she had gotten to write this herself, she probably would have told everyone to stop making such a big deal about it and go home.

Unfortunately for her, she spent 83 years making herself far too important to simply let go without a fuss.

Because Connie wasn't just somebody's wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, friend or neighbor.

She was Connie.

She was the woman who fought when she had to fight.

Who worked when there was work to be done.

Who helped when someone needed help.

Who loved her family fiercely.

Who loved animals without question.

Who could be stubborn enough to drive you completely insane and loving enough to make you forgive her five minutes later.

She wasn't perfect.

She wasn't trying to be.

She was loud, goofy, stubborn, generous, independent, funny, occasionally inappropriate, and completely unforgettable.

And she was ours.

There will be an empty place now that nobody can fill.

There will be jokes that don't get told, phone calls that don't get answered, Saturdays that feel different, and ordinary moments that suddenly hurt because she isn't there to be part of them.

But Connie isn't going to disappear.

She'll be in the stubbornness.

She'll be in the laughter.

She'll be in the people who help somebody simply because they can.

She'll be in the weirdness.

She'll be in the smell of a salon.

She'll be in an old crime show playing on the television.

She'll be in a Pepsi in the refrigerator.

She'll be in every family story that starts with, "Remember when Connie..."

And maybe, every once in a while, somebody will tell a joke at exactly the wrong time.

Everyone will laugh.

And for a second, it'll feel like she's still right there.

Connie didn't want a fuss made over her.

But she spent her life making sure there was always someone else to fuss over.

So we're going to make the fuss anyway.

Because she deserves it.

Connie Brown

April 18, 1943 - October 4, 2026

Loved fiercely. Missed terribly. And, knowing Connie, probably still getting the last word.

Arrangements were entrusted to Heidrick-Zaumetzer Funeral Home, PO Box 127, 3 College St., Au Sable Forks, NY 12912.