Nancy Bower, 66; Harvard research assistant deftly melded work, family

Married, pregnant, and a student at Radcliffe College, Nancy Bower confronted the obstacles many women must surmount when melding their careers and home lives, except that she faced those challenges in 1958.

So she put her life in order. She set aside the cello, which would have been difficult to practice as the birth approached. She stepped away from courses that would have led to medical school; biology and chemistry labs also were not a good mix with pregnancy. And, in a decision that seemed to flow from the precision of her other choices, she turned to the study of mathematics.

``She had a very orderly mind," said her husband, Joseph Bower, a professor at Harvard Business School. ``We were both at school together, and math was so simple for her."

Later, mixing work, motherhood, and the social obligations of a faculty spouse, Mrs. Bower was a research assistant at Harvard who adjusted her schedule to be home when her children arrived from school. As a former cellist, she never lost her sharp ear. And she was a woman of discerning tastes.

``Nancy always knew what she wanted," her husband said during a eulogy Thursday. ``Fortunately for me, I was on the list."

She died at her Cambridge home last Tuesday of complications of a brain tumor. Mrs. Bower was 66 and had previously lived for many years in Lincoln.

``She showed me how to be a smart woman in a family, in a community, in a world of smart, and sometimes not-so-smart women and men," her daughter, Deborah Brodheim of New York, said in her remarks at her mother's funeral. ``What it comes down to, and what she demonstrated through her example, is that it's all about not taking yourself too seriously, while making absolutely sure that others do."

Nancy Milender was a teen growing up in Newton when she went to a mixer at Temple Israel in Boston and met Bower, who was then a Harvard freshman. She was tall, dark-haired, and wearing a turquoise dress. They danced a samba. Three years later, they married when she was a freshman at Radcliffe. ``God we were lucky," he said in his eulogy. ``Looking at pictures you can see how young we were. But we had so much fun and so much luck."

By taking summer courses, Mrs. Bower was able to graduate with her class in 1961. When her husband was appointed to the business school faculty a few years later, she started working as a research assistant. By then they had two children. To many other duties, Mrs. Bower added supervising the design and building of their house in Lincoln.

``She had an astonishing ability to manage the people who worked with her," her husband said.

``And she was fearless," her daughter said at the funeral. ``Not just about killing spiders and diving into the water first. There's nothing to inspire awe and respect like watching your mother as she samples the wild chanterelles she'd found in the woods in Truro, observing her carefully for signs of asphyxia. But we didn't worry; she'd bought and read a book on wild mushrooms and done her research."

More than 16 years ago, Mrs. Bower was diagnosed with a tumor at the base of her brain stem. Surgery and effects from the tumor curtailed her life physically; her mind still moved with grace and exactitude.

``She was a woman of high standards," her son, Jonathan of Wayland, said at the funeral. ``I'll never forget going to Yo-Yo Ma's Silk Road Ensemble with her and hearing at intermission: `Not his best; I don't really like it.' "

The funeral was held at Temple Israel, where she had met Joseph Bower 51 years ago. As Mrs. Bower was dying, he had read to her Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnet, ``How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." He closed his eulogy with the final words: ``And, if God choose, I will love thee better after death."

In addition to her husband, son, and daughter, Mrs. Bower leaves her father, Louis Milender of Delray Beach, Fla.; three grandsons; and two granddaughters.