On my daily trips to the Woodstock Post Office in these later years, I would many times pass Lowell Bair’s car in the parking lot. Sometimes he would just be preparing to go into the Post Office and I would get to greet both Lowell and Susan. Or sometimes Susan would be napping as she waited for Lowell. (She was in a great battle with agrave illness within her own body.) At those times, I would move slowly and just look at that beautiful, vibrant friend and think about her. Memories from an overladen memory basket marked “Effects.” Unique gifts and effects.
We met during her time working in The Woodstock Library. No matter whenever, or whatever our mission, we would always stop for at least a brief exchange and you could bet, that whatever tidbit occurred to her, it would be extraordinary and presented in a most imaginative manner. Innately intelligent, with a will well-nourished and a mind which she fed “with both hands full,” she traveled her life of curiosity.
When her oldest Child, Christian, all these years later tells how wise and “fun” her suggestions usually proved out along the way, ponder here the power of that tribute from a Son to his Mother of all his years!
She was not only knowledgeable and educated but was also astute to all the varied needs the moment might produce.
She operated a “hands-on” bail fund “for her church.” I’m sure she met with everyone who called and offered some colorful word of encouragement and if they would decipher her meaning, the message would be one of both hope and humor, softening the tension in the transaction.
One year she started a little business of her own, hand-chiseling bluestone “memory markers” (grave stones). I wanted one! She asked me what I wished to have on it. I said, “Simple, a line for the mountain and a cloud for the spirit.” That stone waits for me at my family plot at the cusp of the hill at the edge of The Artists Cemetery ... (And that is another Story!) Shortly after Susan delivered the Stone I had a gravestone party. It was fun and I hoped leavened the subject. Misty and Eric wore very sombre mourning clothes; we had hearty refreshments and many interesting friends, and hoped it would be good for her business!
It came to her that Woody Broun must be lonesome since he had lost his family and asked him, “Wouldn’t he like a cat?” Woody was adamant not to take on that responsibility! Would that stop Susan? Oh, no! Now we began the search and looked carefully at every cat that crossed her path.
She found the perfect one and left it close to Woody’s house, obviously wandering homeless and crying with hunger. I would ride over with Susan while she surreptitiously fed the cat, carefully removing all traces of a lunch time “stop.” She wanted Woody to believe in the larger “Deity” or at least a compassionate “Chance.”
Then one day she found empty cat food cans and a water dish and assumed the adoption was completed and she moved on to other missions.
Sometimes she would catch a swim in the Broun’s pond ... such a beautiful sight and so delighted with herself! I thought of her last summer when a friend and I spotted six swimmers with Florida license plates cavorting in Cooper’s Lake. As the authorities drove up, they explained that someone in town had suggested the Lake as a good place to cool off. My friend whispered to me, “I bet someone on the Village Green is having a good laugh right now!”
Susan woulud love that story. Only now, I think I could have called her. So careless of me...what could possibly have been more important? Now all chances are missed and I am missing her completely.
After my second little Son arrived, Susan would come many a Monday for lunch. It was always fun. She approved of the whole idea of the baby and we were all happy. I would prepare a fine lunch and she would bring me stories from the village. She often broght some translations from the French done by her husband, Lowell, to my Father-in-Law, who lived with us after his wife had died. He loved those books and the chance of her sitting over next to him, talking directly to him, laughing together. Made him feel valid and recognized. So my son John knew her presence from his beginning and was astute enough to value her. When she was still driving around she would circle town until she spied me and would invite me to climb into her Jeep and join her in any adventure we might find.
Susan was outgoing and sociable. Like a wild garden, perfect plan and order among haphazardly and gloriously colored “bouquets” of blooms.
Mentor to my spirit, you made me wealthy.
— Jean Lasher Gaede
