Betty, her husband Harold and my folks met before I was
born. For years they spent New Years Eve and Day together, took part in many
social activities together and both couples built cottages on the same lake. In
the summers our families intermingled almost daily. We kids swam together,
played cowboys and Indians together, walked to the store for ice cream
together, built forts together, and on rainy days we’d all sit around Betty’s
huge table playing board games or poker. How did Betty put up with a gang of
kids bringing sand and too much youthful energy into her house, not to mention our
need for an endless supply of drinkable liquids? She put up with us with a warm
smile and a heart that was always looking for ways to make us more comfortable
in her presence. And no one ever went hungry at Betty’s house.
When I was young and still trying to figure life out I asked my dad why Betty and Harold and my folks were such good friends. I wanted to know what held them together because they all had such different personalities---even held different views on politics and social issues. Dad told me if we’re looking for friends who think just like we do then we’re not going to have any friends. “Friends,” he said, “are for having fun with and to respect for their uniqueness without trying to change them.” Oh, and did these four friends have fun. When they’d get together there was always laughter and lively, easy-going conversations. There were summer parties, too, where the foursome could be found singing, dancing, or just sharing a work project and making it more fun with a picnic thrown into the mix.
When I was young and still trying to figure life out I asked my dad why Betty and Harold and my folks were such good friends. I wanted to know what held them together because they all had such different personalities---even held different views on politics and social issues. Dad told me if we’re looking for friends who think just like we do then we’re not going to have any friends. “Friends,” he said, “are for having fun with and to respect for their uniqueness without trying to change them.” Oh, and did these four friends have fun. When they’d get together there was always laughter and lively, easy-going conversations. There were summer parties, too, where the foursome could be found singing, dancing, or just sharing a work project and making it more fun with a picnic thrown into the mix.
Betty’s service is the first I’ve been to since Don passed
away and they say that first funeral post a spouse’s death is hard for a widow,
often bringing flashbacks and tears for the wrong deceased. Betty’s service wasn’t
like that for me. Not even for a second. It was a celebration of her life,
filled with joyful tales about how upbeat, positive and giving Betty was. I
could tell by the memories her family shared that Betty in her later life
hadn’t changed much from the Betty I’d known in my youth.
Once upon a time there was a woman named Betty. She was a
loving daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and a
dear friend to both of my parents. She knew how to love, laugh and enjoy life. She
knew how to make everyone around her feel special and welcome. She knew how to work
hard, knit, play cards, cook for a crowd and dozens of other things too
numerous to list. But she probably never knew that she was part of a foursome who
taught the world around them about the power of deep and lasting friendship.
.
.
As all stories go, Betty’s had to end and in my imagination
she now lives happily ever after with her family and friends who’d passed
over before her. My parents, I have no doubt, have been saving a place for her to
sit at a gold-gilded pinochle table. Rest in peace, Betty, you deserve it. It
was a privilege to have known you. ©
“Friendship isn’t a
big thing. It’s a million little things.”
Author Unknown
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