She was from Malverne and worked as a supervisor for the New York State Department of Taxation and Finance in the South Tower.
It was her best trait and her worst. She said what she thought, whether you wanted to hear it or not. The habit was so well known that a relative suggested at her memorial service that they all get T-shirts saying, "Diane Urban Told Me Off."
Sometimes the target of her sharp tongue was an underperforming subordinate at the New York State Department of Taxation, where she rose to No. 2 in the income tax division. Sometimes it was her superiors. Once, she told them she was sick of training accountants only to have them leave for better salaries. She said, "If I wanted to be a teacher, I would have been one."
Diane tested the patience of her sister, Terry Corio, who withdrew from their relationship for a few years, drained by her truth-telling. She never backed down. She was a pistol.
But the sisters always loved each other and reunited in 2000. Diane had recently realized her dream of buying a home on Long Island, not far from her sister and brother-in-law. The sisters had their nails done together, recently splurging an extra $5 to have tiny flowers painted on their wine-colored toes. They were looking forward to pizza and rented movies on Saturday nights this winter.
It was her best trait and her worst. She said what she thought, whether you wanted to hear it or not. The habit was so well known that a relative suggested at her memorial service that they all get T-shirts saying, "Diane Urban Told Me Off."
Sometimes the target of her sharp tongue was an underperforming subordinate at the New York State Department of Taxation, where she rose to No. 2 in the income tax division. Sometimes it was her superiors. Once, she told them she was sick of training accountants only to have them leave for better salaries. She said, "If I wanted to be a teacher, I would have been one."
Diane tested the patience of her sister, Terry Corio, who withdrew from their relationship for a few years, drained by her truth-telling. She never backed down. She was a pistol.
But the sisters always loved each other and reunited in 2000. Diane had recently realized her dream of buying a home on Long Island, not far from her sister and brother-in-law. The sisters had their nails done together, recently splurging an extra $5 to have tiny flowers painted on their wine-colored toes. They were looking forward to pizza and rented movies on Saturday nights this winter.
She was from Malverne and worked as a supervisor for the New York State Department of Taxation and Finance in the South Tower.
It was her best trait and her worst. She said what she thought, whether you wanted to hear it or not. The habit was so well known that a relative suggested at her memorial service that they all get T-shirts saying, "Diane Urban Told Me Off."
Sometimes the target of her sharp tongue was an underperforming subordinate at the New York State Department of Taxation, where she rose to No. 2 in the income tax division. Sometimes it was her superiors. Once, she told them she was sick of training accountants only to have them leave for better salaries. She said, "If I wanted to be a teacher, I would have been one."
Diane tested the patience of her sister, Terry Corio, who withdrew from their relationship for a few years, drained by her truth-telling. She never backed down. She was a pistol.
But the sisters always loved each other and reunited in 2000. Diane had recently realized her dream of buying a home on Long Island, not far from her sister and brother-in-law. The sisters had their nails done together, recently splurging an extra $5 to have tiny flowers painted on their wine-colored toes. They were looking forward to pizza and rented movies on Saturday nights this winter.
It was her best trait and her worst. She said what she thought, whether you wanted to hear it or not. The habit was so well known that a relative suggested at her memorial service that they all get T-shirts saying, "Diane Urban Told Me Off."
Sometimes the target of her sharp tongue was an underperforming subordinate at the New York State Department of Taxation, where she rose to No. 2 in the income tax division. Sometimes it was her superiors. Once, she told them she was sick of training accountants only to have them leave for better salaries. She said, "If I wanted to be a teacher, I would have been one."
Diane tested the patience of her sister, Terry Corio, who withdrew from their relationship for a few years, drained by her truth-telling. She never backed down. She was a pistol.
But the sisters always loved each other and reunited in 2000. Diane had recently realized her dream of buying a home on Long Island, not far from her sister and brother-in-law. The sisters had their nails done together, recently splurging an extra $5 to have tiny flowers painted on their wine-colored toes. They were looking forward to pizza and rented movies on Saturday nights this winter.
Sponsored by Ancestry
Advertisement
Explore more
Sponsored by Ancestry
Advertisement
