Sherry. Rhoda. Elvira. GiGi. All nicknames that marked distinct eras for Sharon Fuhrman, who passed away March 20 at Johnson City Medical Center at age 79.

The cause of death was complications from myasthenia gravis, said her son, Chris Fuhrman.

More than a nickname, optimist came to define how she saw herself, and how people gravitated toward her. As Sharon faced her latest hospital stay, she was ready with a charger, essential for her beloved mystery audiobooks, and with good cheer. Both had helped her persevere after being widowed at 25 and absorbing multiple health challenges in the decades to come.

She was born Sept. 21, 1943, in Los Angeles, California, the daughter of the late Lawrence and June Christensen. Lawrence was an engineer with Carnation for more than 30 years, and June was a real estate agent. Sharon grew up in nearby Temple City, an accomplished student and violinist who, after going by “Sherry” in seventh grade and abandoning that a year later, graduated from Temple City High School in 1961. She attended the University of Arizona in Tucson, meeting Peter Fuhrman, the son of a prominent Prescott family, and they married in 1963. After Peter graduated, he began a distinguished Air Force career, finishing at the top of his class in pilot training school in Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Peter flew multiple missions in the Vietnam conflict before, as an Air Force captain, test-piloting fighter jets in the Southern California desert. In summer 1969, his plane crash-landed soon after takeoff at George Air Force Base, leaving Sharon a widow with two preschoolers.

“Money was tight, but we made it an adventure,” Chris said.

Sharon worked as a receptionist at a medical office before her health began to deteriorate. She was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and stopped working. Almost. She performed a bit in local theater, resembling Valerie Harper, the actress best known for playing TV’s “Rhoda” in the 1970s.
She also reveled in delivering singing telegrams as “Elvira,” the early 1980s Los Angeles cable-access Mistress of the Dark. Sharon loved the kitsch of it all, vamping and glamming it up for audiences big and small.

There was nothing small about her love of animals, including a pet parakeet, Oblio, named after the lead character in the spacey 1971 film “The Point”, and of people of all ages, including her grandchildren as “GiGi.” Sharon cared, sincerely, and while it wasn’t the intent, that connection made it easy for those in her circle to do favors for her. As her mobility declined, she sweetly suggested that friends, while they’re out anyway, stop by Taco Bell for a burrito, but only with green sauce. It was ice milk rather than ice cream, and she always needed an extra cup of ice with her ice water. And there was no more endearing pressure than getting everything right on a shopping list.

And no melons, even in popsicle form, as the staff at Johnson City Medical Center discovered a few days before she was no longer able to eat. But Sharon remained able to feel, apologizing multiple times about not promptly getting back to those checking in on her.

“I was more upset by her call than she was,” said David Atchley, the concierge at her independent-living facility in Johnson City, Tennessee. “We all loved her.”

In addition to her son, survivors include daughter Heidi Fuhrman, of Johnson City; daughter-in-law Cindy Allen, of Tallahassee, Florida; brother Terry Christensen of Beverly Hills, California; sister-in-law Patricia Christensen, of Beverly Hills; four grandchildren, Alyssa Fuhrman, of Brooklyn, New York; Allison Humphrey, of Tallahassee; Rachael Neufeld, of Johnson City; and Sarah Campbell, of Johnson City; and two great-grandchildren, Bennett Loven and Melaina Loven, of Tallahassee.