I went to Betty’s funeral yesterday. She probably didn’t realize it but she had a profound impact on my teenage years. That’s the problem with funerals, they make you remember all the things you should have said, when they would have mattered. Betty was a very disciplined lady and could come straight to the point faster than an Army Drill Sergeant. She liked me and I liked her, but we didn’t ever tell each other. We just sort of, bantered. She was my best friend’s Mom and was not always convinced that my presence was good for her son. Especially when she wanted him to practice his piano lessons and I wanted him to play basketball.
My Mom would give my a list of things she wanted done that day and if I completed those tasks eventually, she was satisfied. His Mom gave him instructions she wanted done that hour and the order in which to do them. I found humor in the necessity to empty all the trash cans immediately upon arriving home after school. After all, trash pick up was not scheduled until the following day. I smiled when she presented the demand that all record albums would have to be returned to the closet shelf before we left the bed room. I was not so tickled when she suggested that were I to join in the performance of the task, it could be completed in half the time.
She also began to suggest to me, her idea of what would make me a better person. “You may not realize it, but I know what is best for you and you will thank me when you become an adult”, still rings in my ears fifty five years later. Her opinions weighed in, from time to time, on subjects as far ranging as my taste in clothing, to my choice of girlfriends. Since I was at their house almost daily I was used to the casual suggestions like ” does your Mom know you are wearing that?” Eventually, I realized that the sarcasm was an invitation to intellectual discourse of which I was almost always the loser. She was always one step ahead of me no matter where the conversation went. My intentions came from the impulsiveness of a 15 year old teenager, the depth of her viewpoint came from being a Mom.
Since we lived in the same neighborhood, it was not uncommon to eat dinner at my buddies house. I wanted to eat there as often as I could, not because of the quality of the cuisine, although it was great, but because it would get me out of doing dishes at my house, which was one of my assigned daily chores. Somehow, my secret was discovered and she began to invite me to share in the washing of the dishes after my customary second helping of dessert. To decide where to eat, I began to ask what was on the menu when I would smell the preparations. I would say something like “Betty, what’s for dinner?” “What would you like?” she would ask. “Steak and French Fries, I would answer.” “We’re not having that” she would respond. She was always one step ahead.
Eventually, girls, cars, and part time jobs came between my buddy and I. But, for some reason the thought of his Mom would come to me at the most odd of times. In my mind’s eye I would see her looking up at me and saying “you will thank me when you are an adult”. I came to realize that she had helped shape my decision making. Her integrity and mother’s intuition helped get me through some decisions later in life. My Mom, loved me and accepted me, his Mom expected more of me. The combination of those two factors helped give me a strong foundation upon which to build my life.
My buddy buried his Mom yesterday at the age of 90 years. In her hand she was clutching a wooden cross. As I said good bye to her, I wanted her to know how much she meant to me a long time ago. Most importantly, I wanted her know that I did become an adult and I do thank her.