I met the-recently-deceased-person-instigating-this-late-night-blog-post in 2006 when we were both cast in the Black Hole Theatre Company’s production of “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead” (Part of the ’07 Playwright Festival). Of course, Susan was the Queen and I was a mere tragedian. For the unlearned readers – the only difference between a tragedian and a peasant is the ability to recite shakespeare. Despite our facetious social disparity, Susan always treated me as an equal. This is a short story that takes place during the run of R & G that will hopefully portray the Susan that I knew and will always remember:
After a matinee performance at the Gas Station Theatre the non-principal members of the cast walked down the street to the Academy Bistro for lunch. After all were fed and full we got our bills and prepared to part ways. Those paying with cash left it on the table and those paying with plastic lined up to settle up. I was deathly afraid that I had already maxed out my credit and debit cards so I solemnly slipped into the back of the line and impatiently waited for my turn on the digital guillotine. When both cards were predictably declined I shamefully whispered to the other thespians my financial woes and requested a loan to the tune of $20. Everyone just stared at me blankly except for Alan McPhearson, who immediately laughed and ridiculed my lack of funds, and Susan Nisbet, who hurriedly shuffled me back to the cash register and promptly dished out a fresh $20 bill. Being Scottish, she didn’t let an hour pass without reminding me that I owed her $20. The fact that Susan is Scottish understandably makes her generosity agreeably more endearing, but as soon as I mention Alan was Jewish …
“Someone once said that suffering plus time equals comedy. If that’s true you’re in for a real treat.” That was the first thing Susan Nisbet said when she finally took a crack at stand-up comedy. Susan had an unquenchable thirst for truth and knowledge that made her wisdom timeless and her humour irresistibly relatable. The only time there was ever a feeling of disparity in our age was when she asked me to Google something on Amazon. Listen to these recordings of Susan dropping humourus knowledge on crowds of unsuspecting strangers.
John B Duff was the first guy to give Susan some stage time. This is a taping of Susan’s first time doing stand-up. Thank Ian for not recording until 2min into her performance (despite the fact that I was fully able to do it myself). Blame my digital camera for the shitty audio. I’ve added subtitles, just press the “CC” button if they don’t appear after 20 seconds.
Within one year of her first gig Susan appeared in the Winnipeg Comedy Festival. To this day, nobody knows if she got in because Al Rae thought she was funny or because he knew she was an easy lay.
She is mostly remembered for not being able to breath, so it’s hard to believe she once had a voice. But, believe it or not…
absolutely beautiful!
Thanks Tim, awesome remembrance of Susan…will remember her amazing talent and intelligence forever. She inspired me.
I did my very best ya bum!
Thank you everybody. She was a guiding light in my life. Now that she’s gone I feel a little dimmer.
Thanks so much for adding the captioning, Tim. I didn’t even check for that and was disappointed at how much I missed the first time I watched the video.
Not nearly as disappointed as I am that I never saw her on stage. I always loved her wit. I usually only saw her a couple weeks a year, and I miss her.
[...] Thanks to Cheryl Aab for forwarding finding this blog post celebrating our dear friend Susan which also includes this fantastic photo of Susan working security at the Festival Music Store: Check out Susan, My Susan at http://www.shadesofgraydesign.net/grayareaofcomedy/2010/11/susan-my-susan/ [...]
Thanks Tim,
You all have brightened my life, thank you Tim for beautifully articulating and sharing. I miss Susan too, especially Her biting Wit.
Cheers,
Chris