In Memory of Dr. Susan Barnes

From the Guestbook: Minda Armstrong on how Susan could make a party

Remembering Susan.

I have to say, I am stunned by Susan's death. I met her, like so many of us, thanks to the Xenaverse. It was about 10 years ago when she first came to my home to participate in a crazy, pre-San Francisco convention, Xena party. Susan loved the parties.

She always brought something to share and helped in every way possible. I was amazed at her special home-baked “chakram” cookies. How did she ever find the time to make them with her busy schedule? I’ll always remember Susan bringing her infamous Gabrielle-esque "ugly green sports bra Game" to the parties to add to the amusement of all of us. How did she ever convince us to play it? That was Susan, with her charming smile.

I think back to our trip to Vancouver and the Canadian Rockies. Cathy has added Susan's picture wearing "Ed the Sock" t-shirt to this site.

Well, that occasion was a complete surprise in our vacation plans, to suddenly be in the middle of the Vancouver Gay Pride Parade. Susan was always game for an adventure.

Tam drove the sponsor car, Susan & Cathy and I walked behind, handing out bottles of water along the route, with everyone begging Susan to give them her Ed the Sock t-shirt. She almost gave in… the shirt off her back. That was Susan. And later that day, several of us joined Susan in several helpings of the local "summer ice" oysters at Granville Island. (She did love her oysters.) At that point, the “summer ice” oyster was her sweet favorite.

I remember Susan’s excitement getting onto a horse at Lake Louise, in the Canadian Rockies. (And her equal excitement to get off!) She was so proud that she could do new things like that after her surgery.

And of new things, I’m reminded of a wonderful dinner the three of us had in Jasper. Susan loved new experiences and she had never tasted 'grappa' before. We were all stuffed after the big meal and I told Susan that she had to try it, just once ("once in a lifetime") because it's also supposed to be a great digestive. She was skeptical, but so curious she couldn’t pass it up. So we ordered a glass and the three of us shared. I can still remember the face Susan made when she tasted it. "It really DOES taste like turpentine!" And she scrunched up her face, then laughed, and after another sip she coughed, "you get kind of used to it." We all laughed. Then, she thanked me for bringing her a new “first experience", dubious as it was. I felt honored.

[Hadas (Helen) Rivera-Weiss sent this great shot of Susan at the Portage Glacier from 1990. BTW, the ice at this glacier has receded so much, you have to hike about a mile or more back to get to it now, in 2006. When I was 5, most of this entire lake was all ice. cb]

Mostly, I remember how in awe she was climbing a glacier and how she wanted to stop for every wild animal and lake sighted from the road, just to observe and marvel at the simple beauty of it all. On one such stop, in the middle of the road, I laughed from the back seat of our car as Cathy and I watched her wrestle with a herd of wild goats, long tamed by other tourists, as they poked their heads in her window, drooling and nudging her, grappling for the bag of treats in her hand. She was absolutely out of control with the giggles and faux-indignation, trying to push the noses back.

This was the part of life that Susan was in love with. This is how I will remember her…always.

You’re in our hearts, Susan.

Minda Armstrong

From the Guestbook: Martha Radetsky remembers swinging and singing bad '70s songs

I've known Susan since we were in our early/mid twenties.... a thousand or so years ago. I just heard this morning that she is gone. It is difficult news. My friendship with Susan has often been a rocky road and we were in the middle (or so I thought) of a rather rocky stretch. I loved her and I know she knew that, but she also knew I was angry at her, and I'm feeling bad about that. I hold on to stupid, petty things for too long, and before you know it it's too late to say I'm sorry.

Well Susan, I am sorry. Sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me most. And I'm angry that you couldn't find a way to let me know. I thought things were better in Haines.

In our youth, Susan and I would go up to the swings at Alamo Square Park late at night and sing really bad 70's songs (imagine "Billy Don't Be a Hero" at the top of our lungs) while swinging madly. It was fun. I mean REALLY FUN!

I first knew Susan in San Francisco and later visited her in LA (UCLA for her MPH),in The Bronx (med school), and finally last summer in Alaska. It was a strained visit as Susan was working a swing shift and trying to entertain me and she wasn't getting much sleep... but we managed to have fun anyway. She took me whale watching and caving and I got to ride in a float plane.

I am not a dog person, never have been, but I've know Shubert since the first day Susan met her and they were so good together. She loved her other dogs too, of course, but they were really initially there to be company for Shubert. It was so much fun to watch Susan with her girls. So much love. I'm so glad they have found a loving home.

Has anybody told Claudine? A friend from med school? And Claud, if you read this call me. You can google for my number.

Martha Radetsky

From the Guestbook: Betsy Book remembers Alaska goofing with a silly scowl in the Xena Palace

I first got to know Susan back in 1997, when she was living here in NYC and helped organize the first NYC Xenafest. She impressed me back then as a sweet and smart person with a great sense of humor.

Alaska then became a welcome part of the Xena Palace community in 1998 and was known for her "scowly" smiley, which I always thought was an ironic choice of avatar for such a sweet, good natured person.

She was fairly active on our listserv this summer, wishing people happy birthdays and helping others through their own difficult times. I wish we had only known what a difficult time she was going through herself.

Alaska was always so concerned and caring about other people.  I can only hope that she has found her own peace now.

Betsy Book