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reading tiger

RIP Suzanne Corson

My friend Suzanne Corson passed away suddenly last night.

I have no idea when I first met Suzanne. I've known her for at least 15 years. I might have met her during my On Our Backs period, or even before, but I got to know her through Black Books. We held a lot of events at her bookstore, Boadecia's Books in Kensington, and she quickly identified herself as One Of Us -- that is, kink-friendly, always a touchy issue when it came to women's bookstores. She was one of our staunchest supporters and I always loved hanging out with her.

Later, she became the last editor of On Our Backs before it folded, and we started running into each other at community events like the Good Vibrations holiday parties. We would bond over, well, the experience of working at OOB, let's just say, and over general community issues as well. And also books, because, you know, books.

Which reminds me that one of Suzanne's most special qualities was that she was kind without being that wishy-washy "nice" that minimizes strong feelings and trauma. I could confess my frustrations and conflicts to her and she would listen and nod and roll her eyes and scowl, and say something funny to acknowledge the frustration of whatever situation I was describing, and that would be enough, we'd move onto happier things.

Later she was, all too briefly, my co-worker at FriendFinder Networks. That was awesome. I worked with the best people there. Sparkly. Mollena. Suzanne. Jackie. Among many others. It was another crazy workplace, going through a crazy transition. (I was used to it: see OOB.) The people made it worth it in so many ways.

Later still, she hired me as a freelancer to write copy for FFN. I'm still doing that now -- it's my main source of income, such as it is, and it's been a lifesaver. Possibly literally. She'd just quit her position to move to Nevada to take care of her parents, and we hadn't really completed that handoff (the person she was supposed to hand me off to also gave notice this month). So in addition to my giant load of grief I have that selfish strain of panic "what do I do now?" underneath. I'm just noting it here, it's a small thing compared to the loss of such a really wonderful woman.

She liked to bring books for the kids. Once or twice she babysat, too -- she was on "the list." We were always trying to figure out how to see each other more.



What a heartbreaking post. Especially the part about having just moved to take care of her parents.
I'm sorry, she sounds wonderful, such a loss.
I am so sorry.
Condolences on your loss. Suddenness always punches extra-hard. Kind without wishy-washy nice is a lovely description.