Amy Barr Loved the Hell Out of This World

If I awakened to find that my older husband had died during the night, I was supposed to call Amy Barr. Those were her instructions, and I knew that she could glue the pieces of me back together again.

 Dawn Mulally, a friend and a former United Way board member, had the same confidence. “If life had kicked you down, Amy was your cheerleader. She was a woman’s woman in that she saw the good in you when you couldn’t see it yourself. Amy was funny as hell with a true lust for life. When others said “no,” she’d say “yes.” Amy was able to create lovely spells of laughter, mischief and curiosity to crack the most solemn from their general malaise.”

Since Amy died, I’ve been struggling with a malaise of disorientation and loss that makes me want to call Amy. That’s illogical and contradictory, but grief is like that.

Funny, feisty and feminist with a laugh as big as the outdoors, Amy was a tireless advocate for equality, for the environment, for inclusiveness. A champion for social justice and a friend for the needy, she was always ready to write a letter to the editor, raise funds or raise hell – whatever needed doing, Amy got it done.

She was proof of the adage: if you need to get something done, ask a busy person.

I met Amy through our Two Rivers Unitarian Universalist (TRUU) congregation. Amy was a true Universalist, one of those folks who believe in  “loving the hell out of this world” rather than worrying about the hereafter. She had a hand in everything: organizing the auction, creating the winter solstice, putting on the Blessing of the Animals, co-founding our annual women’s camping trip.

But that barely scratched the surface. At Amy’s urging, I found myself dipping drippy ice cream cones and staffing the VIP tent at the Garfield County Fair, attending Democratic Party fundraisers and hopping a bus to join the Women’s March in Denver.

Robin Waters had the same experience. “Spunky, smart, warm and irreverent, Amy was a ball of earthy energy and vibrant life. Amy was the executive of the local three-valley United Way while I ran the Basalt Chamber, and she delighted me constantly with her ideas and observations. As I was transitioning from the Chamber, Amy invited me (nay, twisted my arm irresistibly) to join the United Way Board; shortly after, in one of life’s shake-your-head-and-flow-with-it ironies, Amy moved on to her new “dream” job at the helm of the regional Lift-Up program…That she loved her new job and was poised for her last, great contribution before retirement — her “swan song,” as she wrote me — is another of life’s ironies. She left too fast and too soon.”

Last week, as nine of us gathered to plan Amy’s memorial, we passed around a notepad to capture the ways she created community: She was treasurer of the Garfield County Democratic party. She served on the boards of Third Street Center, the Colorado Music Festival and the Garfield County Human Services Commission. She had been business manager for The Salvation Army’s Glenwood Springs InterValley Service Center. She was a prime mover in Garfield County’s Humanitarian Service Awards, helped judge the U.S. Presidential Environmental Award and organized Skier Appreciation Day at Sunlight Mountain. She rang bells for the Salvation Army, volunteered for the Aspen Valley Land Trust’s annual dinner, recorded for KDNK and put together events for Rotary.

Originally from Nebraska, Amy was a nutritionist with a background in education and communications. She was the first female vice president of Horizon Organic Dairy, director of the Good Housekeeping Institute and an executive editor-at-large for McCall’s magazine. After moving to Boulder, she co-founded Marr Barr Communications.

Everywhere she lived and worked, Amy touched those around her. Doug Kantor wrote on Facebook about his time with her at Horizon: “She could use that wonderful sense of humor combined with a comedic eye roll to communicate “yes, I know it’s crazy and chaotic here” but “this is a startup and this is our kind of crazy.” She had a way of making me feel like I was the important person in the room… She just knew, intrinsically, how to make people feel important and valued, and how to make work fun.”

If you knew Amy, you know just what he’s talking about — and you also know what she’d want from us. An ironic eye roll about life’s injustices, a celebration where everybody pitches in, and a commitment to keep volunteering, to keep loving the hell out of this world.

>>><<<

Originally published in the Seeking Higher Ground column, Sopris Sun, April 4, 2018.