In Loving
Memory

Susan Bauchner Charlas and I had been friends for many years and though we lost touch in recent years, I want to say what a beautiful and amazing person she was and how sad I am that such a force for good is no longer in the world. When I think of Susan, I think first of her generosity and her fierce sense of fairness. Then I think of her love of nature and art, no less fierce.

She was generous to a fault and literally would’ve given anyone the shirt off her back if they needed it. She never visited me without bringing something — a plant, a book of photographs, a mirror from the fabulous store she and Jacques had owned in Millertown back in the day, a scarf, whatever, but she never came empty-handed. And once, when we were living in New York City, way back in the day, and Susan was in Europe — and I was in a dark time in my life and needed a place to stay, she told me to stay at her apartment. When I thanked her and said I couldn’t because of the cat, she told me to take the cat to a shelter. I knew she loved that cat, so it was a great sacrifice for her but a great help to me at that time in my life. There are so many instances of her generosity to me and to everyone she knew, that they could literally fill a book.

And the anger she felt at the injustices that she witnessed, read about, heard about, saw films and photographs about — in short, whatever and wherever it was, it outraged her to the core of her being. There is a quote she once sent me that I’ve been trying to find and can’t — but I remember it had to do with all the money and resources our country wastes when it could go to helping people in need. Her sharp sense of injustice wasn’t just aimed at big picture political issues, but at any individual who did something she deemed unfair to another person, no matter how minor the incident. I can easily imagine the choice words she had regarding the current administration. Again, there are so many illustrations of her sense of justice in action that they, too, could fill a book.

When we were younger, I didn’t fully understand the depth of her love of nature, although back in New York City and in Brooklyn, when we were in our twenties, she always surrounded herself with the most glorious plants — and was way ahead of the curve when it came to organic food. And when she moved to Millerton, she was in her element, in the midst of nature in all its glory. I remember walking down Cooper Road with Susan and Eudora, Faulkner, and Homer, her three goats. I think being in nature was Susan’s spiritual home.

As for art, I wouldn’t know where to begin — she had such an extraordinary eye — in painting, photography, architecture, fashion — and such a fine ear for language and music. And, once again, she always seemed to be ahead of the curve. We would often meet at a museum, and it would be an artistic adventure to observe what she noticed. To sum up (as if I could), Susan’s sensibility was a thing to behold, as was her intellect. It was impossible to have a boring conversation with her — though keeping up with her was a whole other thing. And I would be remiss in not mentioning Susan’s decorating sense: to my eye, it was utterly amazing — I marveled at how she could create such beautiful, eclectic, thoroughly imaginative spaces, always with plants, vines, flowers as a major element in the décor.

Susan went through so much in her life and yet she was one of the bravest people I ever knew — no sugar-coating for her and, if you dared try, she’d call you on it in no time flat. One last thing, Susan could be absolutely hilarious and there were no holds barred.

It is with regret and sadness that I write this. There are no words that I could summon to capture the essence of this amazing woman. Not only has the world lost a force for good, it’s lost a force of nature. I have never met anyone like Susan and I know I never will.