Maureen K. Finkelstein

Maureen Beades Kiernan Finkelstein

August 6, 1939 – January 14, 2026

Maureen Beades Kiernan Finkelstein was born on August 6, 1939, in the hamlet of Rahara,

County Roscommon, Ireland, to doting parents Margaret Fox Austin Beades and

Thomas Anthony (“Tony”) Beades. A rascally lass from the start, Maureen spent her

formative years on the expansive family farm—bought by her great grandfather with

proceeds from his time in the States helping to build the Brooklyn Bridge— herding sheep,

tending crops, and running the till at the Beades family country grocery store and

pub. When not offering a lending hand, or getting into mischief, Maureen pedaled her bike

the three miles to the thatched cottage of her beloved Aunt “Moggie,” cycling home hours

later in the dark, joyful and content after soul sessions with the cherished confidante who

described niece Maureen as “the daughter she never had.” Back at home, Maureen and

siblings Sean, Patricia, and Christine explored the ruins of the centuries old castle in the far

fields of their vast acreage, pilfered the odd sweet from the shop, and engaged in all

manner of good-natured hijinks and “craic.”

The small, two-room school that even today still educates the children of Rahara was the

locus of Maureen’s elementary education; there she developed the love of geography that

would fuel a life-long love affair with travel and global exploration. At age thirteen, Maureen

began attending boarding school at the Convent of Mercy in Roscommon town, spending

weekdays trying to evade the nuns’ knuckle-rapping canes; between semesters and over

the summer she was able to return to her beloved Rahara. After completing high school,

Maureen attended a local college training in home economics, followed by two

years studying business at Rosse College in Dublin. Although she could not know it at the

time, her higher education journey would resume decades later, on the other side of the

Atlantic.

An invitation to visit America from stateside Uncle Tommie changed the entire trajectory of

Maureen’s life. Accompanied by older brother Sean, Maureen in November 1957 boarded a

Cunard luxury liner from Cobh, County Cork, bound for New York. Once in the Big Apple,

Maureen secured a legal secretarial job with Cunard, mastered the byzantine New York

subway system, and rented a flat with Sean and cousins Colette Austin and Mae Geelan.

On weekends, the quartet would frequent Irish dance halls, the popular social hubs for

recent immigrants, tripping the light fantastic and connecting with fellow Hibernians.

At one such dance Maureen platonically befriended Bill McLoughlin who, a few weeks later,

invited her to a 1960 New Year’s Eve party where he introduced her to his college pal John

Kiernan. Maureen and John fell in love, swiftly and completely. Six weeks later, on

Valentine’s Day 1961, they became engaged; they married on September 23, 1961. The

newlyweds relocated from New York to Fort Lee, Virginia in early 1962 where John, a recent

law school graduate, served in the Army JAG Corps as the Cuban Missile Crisis

escalated, and Maureen worked as a legal secretary.

In 1964, Maureen became a mother, joyously welcoming daughter Virginia Ann, who arrived

prematurely in November 1964. The trio moved back to New York in February 1965, settling

into a cozy storybook home in the Holliswood area of Queens. Daughter Rose Mary joined

the family in May 1966. Six years later, in June 1972 twins Eileen Margaret (“Margart”) and

Sheila Marie arrived, completing the Kiernan half-dozen. In August 1972, the family moved

to Harrington Park, New Jersey, where they spent many happy years. While the new house

had ample room and a big backyard (which some passersby thought might be part of

a nursery school given all the play equipment and outdoor training potties), the basement

flooded regularly and life was frankly overwhelming. Her parents Margaret (“Peg”) and Tony,

who had relocated to the U.S., were a saving grace, coming every weekend to the Garden

State to help out, planting a robust vegetable garden and helping to mind the crew of

headstrong girleens.

On March 17, 1975, the luck of the Irish ran out on the Kiernan family; on that day, then

nine-year-old Rose was diagnosed with Type 1 juvenile diabetes, a cruel disease that

ravaged her body and shaped the arc of her life, and that of the Kiernan family. Navigating a

child’s tempestuous chronic disease back in the 1970s and 80s was not easy, particularly

when coupled with helping manage a spouse’s serious illness. Those were challenging

years for Maureen, but she tried to meet the moment with her characteristic pluck and can

do attitude; her faith too was a source of great comfort and succor.

Maureen faced a new set of challenges when she and John divorced in 1981. Although her

confidence in her own academic and intellectual capabilities was then on shaky ground,

she mustered the courage to go back to school, attending Bergen Community College

while her girls were at elementary school. There, she met an English professor whose

encouragement and validation changed the course of Maureen’s life, helping instill in the

wobbly adult student a well-earned sense of confidence in her smarts and abilities.

Maureen earned an associate’s degree with honors from Bergen Community College, an

accomplishment of which she was immensely proud. She went on to earn a bachelor’s

degree in business from Montclair State College in 1985, where she also enjoyed

studying English, psychology, art history, and economics. After graduation, Maureen joined

the firm of KPMG/Peat Marwick as a Risk Manager, a role from which she derived great

professional satisfaction.

A beauty and charmer, Maureen did not lack for beaus or would-be suitors throughout her

life. But it was not until 1992 that Cupid’s arrow landed again for keeps, true love gracing

her life a second time when she met Harvey Finkelstein—her knight in self-described

“dinged armor.” A Brooklyn born-and-bred engineer, Eagle Scout, bon vivant, and raconteur

blessed with a capacious laugh and huge heart, Harvey swept Maureen off her feet. They

wed in July 1994 at a beautiful outdoor ceremony at their home on the shores of

Greenwood Lake, New Jersey. They remained in that house, in later years on a part-time

basis, until Harvey’s death in July 2019. During their many years on Greenwood Lake, they

delighted in hosting family and friends for rides on their pontoon boat, meals at the

Emerald Restaurant, and flowing bottles of wine – Kendall Jackson Chardonnay for Harvey

and a muscular Cabernet Sauvignon for Maureen, who was famous for cautioning that she

didn’t want to drink any of the “wimpy stuff.”

Maureen and Harvey shared a love of travel, crisscrossing the globe on cruises, safaris, and

sundry adventures. Favorite destinations included the Amalfi Coast, Egypt, China, Russia,

Kenya, Belgium, and, of course, Ireland. The travel bug maintained its bite until the very

end; indeed, she was so grateful to have just traveled to Ireland in September 2025 with

children, their spouses, and grandchildren for niece Mairead Beades’s jubilant nuptials.

Although Maureen had seen so much of the world, often accompanied by her

descendants, she remained forever ardent and eager to experience other cultures and

countries, enthusiastically embarking on whatever journeys might present themselves. In

recent years, mishaps such as an expired American passport (no problem with dual

citizenship!) or misplaced Euros did not phase her; Maureen always found a way to make

things happen, whether with some gentle cajoling or outright asking for what she wanted.

Her favorite truism, perhaps modified a bit from the original, was well known by many in her

orbit: “What do the meek get?” she would ask. Before the respondent might note that the

Good Book suggests they inherit the Earth, Maureen would declare with certitude,

“NOTHING! The meek get nothing.” Maureen was not wrong that it can’t hurt to ask directly

for what we want in this life.

Perhaps her most cherished role was as “Glamma,” a jazzy, spunky, pattern-mixing, feisty,

blinged-out, forever-39-year-old version of a grandmother who broke the mold with her

boundless love for her grandchildren and her tremendous generosity. She loved singing

traditional Irish songs with the grandkids, especially when they were young, never tiring of

crooning about Molly Malone’s cockles and mussels or Killarney’s blue lakes. As the

grandkids grew up, she delighted in hearing about, and attending, when possible, their

various activities, games, and performances. Taking grandchildren Mariah Rose Bice,

Matthew James (“Jimmy,” to Glamma) & Anneliese “Jean” Peerbolte, Ronan & Kelsey

Kiernan-Johnson to Ireland so that they too could experience the magic of her homeland

gave Maureen immense pleasure and gratification; it was her fervent wish that her

grandchildren share her pride in their Irish heritage. In recent years, when the politically

attuned and liberal minded Maureen lamented the sorry state of affairs in the U.S., often

gleefully joining daughter Sheila at protests with signs declaring her opposition to the most

recent downturn of events, it heartened her to know that many of her descendants were

pursuing dual American/Irish citizenship.

Maureen’s many nieces and nephews, along with their children, were another source of joy,

love, and comfort in her life. She felt a special connection with each one, often

recounting how deeply they enriched her life with their love and support, letters, and visits.

Maureen cherished her ocean-view home in Solana Beach. From her patio, she relished

watching the world go by, from surfers catching a wave in Fletcher’s Cove, to basketball

players shooting hoops, to small children gleefully sliding down the play structure before

melting down. A local celebrity, Maureen walked her faithful four-legged darlings—first

Colleen, then Bridie—amidst the hubbub, drinking in the hum of life being lived right there,

right with her. During the pandemic, some theretofore unknown neighborhood folk offered

her a shot of tequila on one such walk; always one to say yes to life, Maureen graciously

accepted the offer and raised her reposado to her new friends with a heartfelt Slainte. Her

dear neighbors were friends who became family, caring for her, sitting in the sun by the

pool, and raising a glass of non-wimpy red wine together. Each Thursday, she gathered with

a group at St. James Church to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for prisoners in

Tijuana, Mexico who might otherwise go without adequate nourishment. Those Thursdays

were sacrosanct for Maureen, and she did not willingly miss a session with her “sandwich

friends.” This crew, too, became family to Maureen. She was unfailingly grateful for their

kindness, inclusion, and service to others.

When Rose passed away three years ago while the two were vacationing in Mexico, a

sizeable piece of Maureen’s heart perished too. Both strong-willed and stubborn, Rose and

Maureen in younger years sometimes butted heads, but in the many years before Rose

died, the two put any strife behind them and found great pleasure in each other’s company,

becoming copacetic travelers and easy companions. As Maureen’s mobility and cognition

declined, she sometimes mentioned wanting to scrap it all and just go join Rose. When in

spring 2025 she lost her drivers’ license and had her “wings clipped,” Maureen, who never

wanted to be fenced in, often voiced a redoubled interest in peaceing out and reuniting

with Rose. And yet, she maintained an unextinguishable vital impulse and joie de vivre.

With optimism and gratitude, she looked forward to the next visit, the next family

milestone, the next gathering with friends, the next opportunity to serve others. All of this

was aided by the unflagging attention and care offered by Virginia, the daughter in closest

geographic proximity and to whom the laboring care-oar fell.

Maureen went to the hospital for a somewhat standard aortic valve replacement in the

early hours of January 13, 2026. Although she was a bit nervous about it, her doctors

roundly expected her to emerge with the renewed vigor our dear “energizer bunny”

had enjoyed for so much of her life. The procedure went as planned and she was expected

to return home the next day. The nurses tending to her that evening in the

ICU (which protocol dictated for recovery from the procedure) remarked that she was

among the most grateful patients they had ever cared for, that she expressed genuine

appreciation for each small kindness. She made friends wherever she went, and few who

crossed her path forgot her. It was a great surprise to all then, when, in the wee hours of

January 14, an hour after her last text to her daughters, and only minutes after the nurse

had walked her to the bathroom without incident, Maureen experienced

a sudden catastrophic cardiac event that took her quickly. And it was, perhaps, a small

mercy for a woman who was such a force of life to not suffer or linger, to avoid languishing

in a facility not her condo that she would have loathed, to spare her from endless rounds of

bingo with the daft elderly in a group home, all of which surely would have driven her batty.

So, perhaps, Maureen seized on an opportunity to execute the ultimate Irish goodbye, on

the sly rejoining her cherished Rosein, the pair surely causing “good trouble” from the

heavens.

Those of us left on the earthly plane will forever dearly miss the matchless Maureen.

Godspeed, mama, Glamma, friend, dear one. Until we meet again, may God hold you in the

palm of His hand.