The heartfelt condolences of ULI and its members go to the family of Trustee Susan Hudson-Wilson, who passed away at the age of 60 on Oct. 5, 2012, while traveling in Nairobi, Kenya.
Susan served in many prominent roles at ULI during her 28 years as a member. At the time of her death, she was on the Membership Task Force and in the middle of a four-year term as a trustee. She was also a trustee from 2001-07, and she previously served as a ULI Foundation governor and on the Program Committee and the Policy and Practice Committee.
“She asked the tough questions, and challenged us all to think deeper and smarter,” ULI CEO Patrick Phillips said.
Susan is survived by her husband of 41 years, John D. Wilson, and her three children. Donations in her memory can be made to the Animal Refuge League of Greater Portland.
In addition to posting an online tribute to his wife’s life, John D. Wilson wrote the following letter to ULI members:
Dear ULI members/friends,
When you live with someone for over 40 years, you’d think that you’d not only know their views, but that you’d also know how others viewed them. In the wake (and she certainly left a big one) of Susan’s untimely death last week, I was overwhelmed not only by a powerful flood of my own emotions but also an emotional and most wondrous outpouring of sympathy, support, praise, war stories, and love from her colleagues in the real estate industry.
Granted, I was aware of her constant communications with old and new colleagues. I became very well-acquainted with the names of the players, the arguments, the cajoling, agreements and disagreements, kind words, humor, admonitions, encouragement, and unique Susan-style lingo, so much so that I had to vacate our joint home office and relocate my desk to the log cabin across the road for some peace and quiet.
I traveled with and knew so many of you personally, but I came to know a huge number of you intimately by name in spite of never having met you by listening to Susan speak of your ventures, adventures, and, yes, misadventures in often excited, always spirited, frequently warm, and, on rare occasion, infuriated tones. Well, maybe not so rare.
Susan’s dedication to real estate, economics, and her colleagues was not simply part of her job, her career… it grew to be part of the very essence of her life. She remained engaged even after she had sold her beloved PPR, and had absolutely no intention of fading away like MacArthur’s old soldier. People here on Chebeague Island would laugh when Susan called herself “retired”.
I grew to accept Susan’s devotion to her industry friends as I heard her speak of you as brothers and sisters. I now comprehend the depth and value of her relationships as I read and hear your kind words of solace and love. Susan died as she lived, curious and constantly seeking new experiences and adventure; she went out on a very high note after seventeen days we spent together, deeply enjoying every moment.
As I write here in her office, I look up at the sign over her desk that reminds us, lest we most foolishly forget, “Free the Damned Data!”
Thank you, from both of us, for your friendship.
Chebeague Island, Maine