Sue DiFranco (1970-2023)
Sue DiFranco aka The Ambassador of Happiness, 53, of Enfield, Connecticut, flashed her final peace sign in Hartford on November 11th, 2023, and gallivanted off to make new friends smile. Sue entered the world in Springfield, Massachusetts, on April 8th, 1970, where her birth certificate noted that she contained unique DNA—strands of rainbows, bits of silly string, even a rarely glimpsed unicorn horn—upon greeting her impossibly kind, patient, and generous parents-slash-heroes, Mario and Marge (Griffin), along with her sister, Dee, all of whom predeceased her.
Sue’s ineffable qualities quickly surfaced: she craved watching the love of her life, television, so much that as a six-year-old she penned a complaint letter to President Ford when one of his speeches preempted a Happy Days episode. Childhood saw her sing and dance to Grease in theaters a dozen times, devour S.E. Hinton and Judy Blume books when not writing quirky poems about marine life, and develop a bond with stuffed animals that consumed her until the end, rescuing her brethren from thrift shops and tag sales prior to conceiving back stories about their formative years. Her pride of lions would make National Geographic blush. She also unashamedly worshiped her parents’ company: sneaking off with her mom to buy candy when her father was gone for the day, countless bike rides trailing the Connecticut River with her dad, and eating lively Sunday meals with family.
Sue’s tanning dogma emerged as a teenager in part due to her infatuation with Disney World and Misquamicut Beach, and she fearlessly attended school with a hairdo taller than a skyscraper (thanks to Aqua Net), copious paradoxical flair (trademark eyeball ring, pleather jacket, and skulls in tow), and polite disregard for conformity. It was her compassion, commitment to making people happy, and beautiful soul [Editor’s Note: face, too] that ultimately earned her Homecoming Queen during her senior year at Enfield High School. Around that time, Sue became a vegetarian, transitioning to veganism in 1996, a cause she championed with quiet dignity for the remainder of her life.
Forever fond of Sharpies, notebooks, and folders, Sue graduated from American International College in 1992 with degrees in both English and Journalism, plus a minor in Beverly Hills, 90210. While in college, she created, wrote, and edited the content of CC Gossip (later renamed The UpBeat), a public access show home to her interviews with a variety of artists (Chris Rock, Megadeth, Faith No More, etc.). She subsequently worked for three years as the on-air entertainment reporter at NBC (WWLP) and ABC (WTNH) affiliates—“Sue DiFranco…Action News 8!”—the last time anyone saw her as a (gasp) brunette. When she was laid off, she giddily took her severance pay and moved to the place where she always felt she belonged: Los Angeles.
There Sue reported on entertainment, pop culture, and music for the first online video news magazine dedicated to the teen scene. Sue felt immense freedom out west, recalling how she savored one Christmas alone on the beach and revered palm trees, the sunshine, and easygoing vibes in perpetuity. Constantly chasing fresh challenges, Sue later established a trendsetting scrapbooking business and traveled America giving lectures devoted to launching one’s own scrapbooking company as well as authored several instructional books detailing her comprehensive knowledge of the subject.
She ultimately moved to New York City prior to returning to Enfield, leaving a trail of glitter from the Pacific Ocean to her hometown. Many were surprised to find her back at Music Outlet, the record store where she first worked as a teen and was widely known for her devotion to Madonna and blasting heavy metal (horns up), often headbanging at area shows. It was at the store that she met Adam Harrison-Friday, her boyfriend of the last sixteen years.
The ensuing decade yielded obstacles Sue handled with characteristic grace, caring for her parents after they both were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, never mind her own health issues she defied the odds to conquer (in part via her self-described brain tricks). In predictable iconoclastic style, she waited to return to the workforce until a pandemic surfaced, delighting and being delighted by customers and co-workers she cherished at Garden’s Dream nursery for the past four years, consistently eager to provide commentary about each day’s highlights.
It is impossible to forgo a list of Sue’s obsessions given how deeply she loved innumerable facets of life. Sue’s icons were an unlikely holy trinity: Barbie, Jesus, and SpongeBob SquarePants, three luminaries who espouse the “do unto others” philosophy tattooed on her wrist, constant beacons summoned when being her best for strangers and seeing the best in them. Even her blood type was B-Positive.
Sue’s WHOO-HOO!s: the color pink (brightening her stunning blonde hair in addition to a plethora of tank tops overflowing her closets); the number four; wearing sunglasses, hoodies, and Crocs (teeming with Jibbitz); gardening (but not watering); leaving multiple Christmas trees on display year-round (an annual Santa photo was equally essential); self-help books; zines; french fries, ice cream, and watermelon (all Nu-Salted); flamingoes; attending Taylor Swift and Twenty One Pilots concerts; taking pictures; the “misunderstood”; researching; the sight and sound of a TRAIN! (yelled whenever she saw or heard one); smelling like coconut; painting her nails different colors in the passenger seat; misplacing things (frequently lip gloss) only for them to surface in the most improbable locales; visiting Maine’s coastline; adoring gay men; summoning her photographic wardrobe memory to avoid wearing the exact same outfit twice (seriously); projects fueled by her “DIYdeas”; collecting enough brochures to fill 444 glove boxes; clandestinely chewing gum; Smurfs and Trolls; nicknames; going for walks; tripping; cussing; tripping then cussing; shopping malls and shopping for jewelry; stickers; absurdly trying to bet quarters on questions whose answers she already knew; speaking her gratitudes (offering daily thanks to her car for turning on, to her oven for heating supper, to her house for giving shelter); backrubs; celebrity gossip; celebrating birthdays; cry-laughing (especially during lengthy restaurant conversations); listening intently and empathetically; cheering on her closest confidantes; being true to herself no matter the consequences; and her uncompromising privacy.
She made her long-awaited and glorious return to Los Angeles in August, reacquainting herself with favorite places, the Santa Monica Pier among them, and fitting in just like she remembered. She considered it one of the great weeks of her life and had hoped to move back “when The Universe decides it’s time.” Her go-to adage, “Everything happens the way it’s supposed to happen,” seems cruel now that she’s gone, but anyone who knew her likely suspects she may have another sue-nique sue-prise from beyond. (Oh yes, she found ecstatic fun in puns.)
Sue will be cremated with her muse, a stuffed rabbit, or animal companion as she respectfully christened her, named Hildegard. She must also say au revoir to her extraordinary friends (Nichole, Bugg, Ame, DOB, and Mags), her uncle Carmine and aunt Kathy, and “the cousins”: Tina, Lori, Mary Jo, Mary, Donna, Ray, Mark, Jean, Michael, Lisa, and Lynn.
Per her wishes, no services will be held. In Louise of flowers (sorry, Lou), you’re encouraged to memorialize Sue by using a coloring book, petting a cat, sticking your tongue out, texting emojis and Bitmojis, wrapping someone in a heartfelt hug, and/or donating to Farm Sanctuary (farmsanctuary.org). And when you feel inspired, keep trying like Sue did to help us live together in what she genuinely believed would someday be one big happy world. “Choose joy!” :)