Barbara and Judy: Sidekicks for Life

2004 – A Beginning Story – Crossing That Bridge: Barbara

As we walked along the path, I felt a quiver of carefully concealed excitement. Who was this woman walking next to me, and did we really have anything in common?

I felt comfortable and relaxed with our conversation, other than feeling sixteen again and knowing that I sort-of liked someone who sort-of seemed-to-maybe kind-of like me too. Even my vocabulary had taken several steps back into stammering insecurity!

This was the second time we had met each other, away from the security of the women’s group. I had suggested a walk along the river. We’d crossed over the water once already and were now walking along the path of what I thought of as “the wild side—” the unmanicured, more natural side of the South Saskatchewan river in Saskatoon.

As we neared the train bridge, I had a sudden realization. Actually, I had several of them that clambered over each other in my mind, like a pile of puppies, each squirming to get to the warmest spot.

“Were we going to cross the train bridge? I have never crossed it before! In all the years I’ve spent in Saskatoon, I’ve avoided it because I’m scared of crossing it! Oh heck, now what?”

I briefly considered lying and saying I wanted to walk on further, but I really didn’t want to walk the extra kilometers that crossing over the next bridge would entail. It was time to face the music and confess my trepidation.

“I’ve just figured out that there’s a reason I’ve never been on this bridge,” I began, “It freaks me out a bit, being able to see down into the water underneath my feet.”

Judy didn’t laugh at me. She seemed to be understanding, and perhaps even a bit protective. She agreed to walk on the ‘river side’ of the wood-and-metal bridge and offered her arm for much appreciated moral support.

I stepped onto the bridge and walked a few steps, trying not to look down at what was solid wood under my feet, but below which would soon be a deep, flooding, incredible force of water. I took hold of Judy’s arm, my dread drowning out my embarrassment at showing myself to be so irrationally fearful and vulnerable.

I knew logically there was nothing to fear. People; bicycles; and great, heavy, hulking trains thundered across this bridge all day, every day, without incident. The thought of a train roaring past, inches away from me, stopped me in my tracks— that noise and shaking would escalate my fear into downright terror.

I looked behind me and then far ahead, along the line of creosoted ties stretching away in a tidy receding pattern. No trains coming—yet! I took a deep breath, fixed my eyes on the platform at the other end and sped up to get over as fast as possible, Judy keeping pace with me.

My legs trembled as we descended the stairs at the other end, and I held tightly on to the cold, tubular metal railing. I felt a sense of accomplishment at having forced myself to make it across, and looked over at Judy, who smiled at me as we stepped down onto the solid surface of the asphalt path.

There was a calm, easy, certainty about this woman; not the kind of brashness or cockiness that always turned me off, rather just a quiet confidence that was reassuring and very, very endearing.

2024 – Twenty Years Later

We are choosing words together to tell a story about us and our lives.  That initial frisson of excitement on our first walk grew into a deep fondness, followed by even stronger feelings, and then that scariest and best of phrases, “I love you!”

Barbara (left) and Judy in their front yard on their wedding day, August 2012.

Growing Up: Judy

I was born into a farming family near Shaunavon, Saskatchewan, where I went to school. I graduated from Shaunavon High School in 1979. Throughout that whole time, I knew that I was different, but couldn’t put my finger on just why I was not like all the rest of the people in my class.

I moved to Saskatoon and went to the U of S for a few years, and then to Kelsey and graduated from Renewable Resources. But, in the early 80’s, there were no jobs in that field. So, I moved back to my small town and drove the school bus and ambulance.

I played softball, bowled, and curled in my spare time. I still knew that something was different about me, but being back in my conservative home town, I couldn’t even fathom the fact that I might be “gay.”

After a few years, I went back to school, got a diploma in Computer Aided Drafting technology, and moved back to Saskatoon. Once there, I decided to continue towards my university degree (which I still haven’t finished).

During this time, I met some very interesting and supportive people. One in particular is now my very best friend. She knew before I did, that I was, in fact, a lesbian. Once I figured that out, things changed for me.

I was in search of community when I went to the Gay and Lesbian Health Services (GLHS) women’s group for the first time. I spotted Barbara and felt an immediate connection. I decided that I would like to get to know her more, and well, the rest is history. Barbara sometimes teases me that she had to wait for twenty years for me to come out.

Growing Up: Barbara

I grew up in my family of Mum, Dad, three brothers and one sister. We lived in Hampshire in the south of England, and it was there, when I was seventeen, that I first met Larry, a Canadian man from a Quaker family who had moved to England as a teenager. We later married and lived in Okehampton in Devon, England.

By the time I was twenty-three and our children were aged four, three, and one, I realized that I was a lesbian. ‘Coming out’ to everyone at once was a terrifying thought, so I initially only came out to the people to whom it really mattered, and who I thought might understand. I gradually came out to others if and when I felt safe and comfortable about their possible reactions.

After a lot of soul-searching, Larry and I decided to move to Canada in 1982. After several months in Canada, due to our level of unrest, and increasing arguments, it was time for me to leave the marriage. We were able to stay friends though, and co-parented our kids in ways that I am proud of.

The Saskatoon house my kids and I moved into was very close to a small hall where women’s dances were held once a month. My kids and I would attend these regularly. There was some muttering about kids being there, but I was used to all-ages community dances in England. I always said that if the dances were too weird for my kids, they would also have been too weird for me.

In March 1983, I met a clown in a bar. I was fascinated by her enthusiastic description of her work, and she offered to call me when the next series of clown workshops would occur.

Two days later, when I got home from my first day at my Women in Trades class, there was a message for me. The first workshop was happening that night. I screwed up all kinds of courage and made it to the workshop. I was hooked from the very start.

My clown name stuck as Ara because I was always having to correct people who called me just ‘Barb.’ I worked at festivals, libraries, and schools, at a few birthday and Christmas parties (my least favourite gigs), and produced and performed a show for the Saskatoon Fringe Festival.

A librarian once complimented me after a show. He said, “Five minutes with nothing but one red balloon.” It was the first five minutes of a forty-five-minute show, and I have always appreciated his words.

After twenty years of raising my kids, and working as a clown, I was hired as the Volunteer Co-ordinator at Gay and Lesbian Health Services. I also led the Women’s Group. One Tuesday evening, Judy made her “scary walk” down the long hallway to attend the group, and we met for the first time.

Judy and Barbara on a Pride-decorated tricycle in the Pride parade, June 2017.  In 2018, they upgraded it to look bubble-powered with a bubble machine on the roof!

Getting Together: Barbara

I was not that tuned-in to subtle signals, like the ‘accidental’ knee-touch under a table; or even less subtle ones, like the day Judy turned up to my house with some flowerpots in the trunk of her car because she was ‘in the neighbourhood’ and knew I needed some pots for giving plants to other people. I have to say, persistence was her middle name. I finally “got it” and we became a couple.

For the first seven years of our relationship, we were the antithesis of needing the “Lesbian Second Date Moving Service” (as the joke went in queer circles of that era). We each owned a very small house, with no room to fit another person and all their stuff.

A common conversation between us at ten o’clock in the evening was to ask who had clean clothes for the morning – it was one way we decided whose house we would sleep at that night.

Eventually, we decided to buy a house together. Judy sold her little house, and I remortgaged mine, and fixed it up to be a rental property. Judy’s house sold in nine days, and we found a house to buy three weeks after her possession date.

Soon after, on our way back from a trip in the country, Judy “popped the suggestion.” I thought she was joking at first and laughed. I had to work hard to redeem myself by “popping the question” to her a week later – we had a meal in a nice restaurant, and even a ride in a horsedrawn carriage!

I have never regretted us following up on her suggestion.

2012 – Our Wedding: Judy

Our wedding was a melding of families—our biological ones and our chosen ones. People from many different communities were a part of, or attended, our wedding—a melting pot of personalities and backgrounds, so to speak.

Our goal for our wedding was for both us and our guests to have fun. We were blessed to have many family and friends who were willing to chip in to help us. We didn’t have to worry about things like mowing the lawn, ironing our clothes, decorating the hall, cooking the meal, providing favourite appetizers, and cleaning up at the end of the night.

Our vows included promising to remain goofy to make each other laugh. That promise has stood us in good stead.

My welcome to the family became more of a roast of Barbara by her kids and brothers. I was offered a lot of really good advice from them that still holds true, like “if you want Mum to do a job, pick up the tool, look pathetic and she will take over and do it.” That works to this day!

Everyone had a very enjoyable day, and our families melded together nicely. One of the grandsons went up to my sister’s table and introduced himself, saying “Well, I guess we are related now!”

We’d asked three women friends who play in a band to perform a couple of songs for the dance part of the evening, and they would not stop! They played the whole night – what a wonderful treat! The song, “Chocolate Jesus” by Tom Waits was a big hit.

“More bubbles!” Judy and Barbara in their back garden. Wedding day, August 2012.

2024 – Barbara and Judy

Life has been good. We are happy in the home we purchased together, and the kids and our friends visit often. During Covid, we made an oasis in our backyard so we could host our “bubble.” We love our oasis, especially now that Barbara has had hip surgery and can bend down again.

Barbara is retired and Judy is retiring fairly soon, so we are fixing a few things so we can stay in our house for as long as we want to.

Barbara is busy with her volunteer work, art, and writing. Judy still works fulltime on work-related activities. She is also making “a list” for when her retirement becomes a reality.

We no longer have that ten-o’clock nightly conversation about where we are going to sleep. In fact, we are often asleep by ten, so it’s just as well. We feel very lucky—living in a cosy home, with our kitty Suzy—among our various circles of family and friends.

Barbara & Judy.

“people stories” shares articles from Folklore Magazine, a publication of the Saskatchewan History & Folklore Society. A yearly membership comes with four editions per year, plus Special Editions from time to time. Click below to learn more about the Magazine and to find out how to get your story into the blog!