I could say that Sue and Bill have changed. Sue passed in 2003, and Bill passed in 2024. For many years, Sue and I had been the best of friends.
I met Sue in December of 1978. At the time, I was a Claims Representative in the Social Security Office on the South Side of Milwaukee. My supervisor, Larry Alt, had told me that I should meet his wife. He thought we could be friends. When I arrived at the Social Security Office on Fond du Lac Avenue on Milwaukee’s North Side to help adjudicate a back load of SSI claims, I managed to scout out Sue, hard at work at her desk. One day, after the rest of the office had gone home and both Sue and I were working on claims at our desks, I sat down across from Sue. She and I started a conversation that day; in my mind, that conversation was the beginning of one long conversation that ended with Sue’s death in 2004.
When Sue and Larry moved to the Chicago Area a few years later, Sue would come up to spend a weekend with me from time to time. Those weekends had a familiar routine. From the moment she sat down in my living room in the red velvet chair that faced the couch on Friday night until she left early on Sunday afternoon, we talked and talked. At the time, Sue was a smoker, and I’d sit across from her as she lit cigarette after cigarette, the smoke rising in the room along with our laughter. When the evening had come, we’d go to dinner at some good restaurant and sit there, too, talking and talking some more. On Saturday, Sue would sleep in, and I’d rise early to do some weekend cleaning in the apartment until Sue was up. And then – the conversation continued. Sometimes we’d teach one another a new makeup trick, or try on one another’s clothes.
All dolled up again in the evening, we’d find another good restaurant where we’d have dinner and talk – and talk.
I think Sue was surprised when I decided to go to seminary, and left Milwaukee in late December of 1981 to move to Berkeley. But her surprise and my move didn’t matter; the conversation continued. I listened to the details of her life as she divorced Larry and as she moved up in positions in the Federal Government, eventually becoming District Manager of Social Security Office. That position suited her political instincts and her intellect – and her ambition. As I sat down to write about her now, I googled her name and discovered other local community positions she held when she later moved to Milwaukee to be head of staff in a large District Office.
A few years later, after she had dated many men in the years following her divorce from Larry, she met Bill. I knew something was different about Bill from the way Sue talked about him. She had a lift in her soft voice with its Southern nuances. And I was right. A couple of years later, they were married. I flew from the Bay Area of California to Midway Airport in Chicago, where Bill picked me up to drive me to where I’d stay for the weekend. I had the honor of officiating their wedding ceremony. On our ride through the city, I remember Bill saying: “I’m standing on solid ground.”
Indeed. Sue was finally happy. Bill was happy. Together, they formed a large blended family.
On Friday, February 6, 2004, I received a message on my answering machine from Sue’s mother. She happily relayed the news that Sue was in recovery from surgery, and that she had done well. I was surprised. I had not known about a surgery. Later that day, I received news that Sue had died. I don’t remember who relayed the news of this second announcement.
That spring, I returned to Milwaukee to take part in a Memorial Service for Sue. Bill had taken care of the details. I led the service, delivered a eulogy. Her daughter Meredith said a few words. Then, the room opened to the people who were there to remember and honor Sue, her life and achievements. I sat and listened for a long time. When the service had ended, Larry Alt came up to me in the narthex of the church. Larry said, “Sue would have liked this.” I hope he was right.
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A couple of years after Sue’s death, Jeff and I were staying with Randy and Michael in their home in Pewaukee. Bill took the opportunity to see me again. As he and I sat together at the kitchen table, looking over the beautiful yard, Bill turned to me and said, “I have to get on with my life, Mary Elyn.” I looked into his eyes: “I know you do, Bill,” I answered. Later, a friend suggested that Bill’s announcement to me had been important to him.
From time to time, I saw pictures of Bill in his new life with a new wife – also Sue – in Florida. My warmth for Bill remained. I had hoped to see him again. One day in 2024, he left a message for me on Facebook. “I’d like to see you again, Mary Elyn,” he wrote. “I’d like to see you again, too, Bill,” I answered. My reunion with Bill did not happen; Bill passed in December of 2024. Meredith left a message for me on Facebook.
“There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed,
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends, I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I’ve loved them all…” words and music, John Lennon and Paul McCartney
“All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall…” photo by Mary Elyn Bahlert, Mountain View Cemetery, Oakland, 2026.
