Betty is gone ...

I only saw her twice during our adult years ... once, forty years ago at a Bigelow school reunion.  She was amazed that I still remembered her middle name.  Naida.  Marie Naida Hill.   Of course I remembered her full name.  I remembered everything important about those long ago grade-school days, and names were important.  All Betty's siblings had first names that began with an "M" and contained five letters.   I thought that fact was really interesting and in all the years to come I never forgot it. 

I saw Betty again, twenty-five years ago, at a daffodil festival on Wye Mountain.  We scarcely knew each other as adults, but it only took one look, one grin and one hug to re-established the strong bond of childhood ... 

She was so good. 

And so smart ...

She had more a's on her report card than the rest of us ... except maybe Wilbert Chapman ... and Billie Carolyn Eoff.   Betty always  held a place near the head of the class.

Seventy years have gone by and I can still close my eyes and see Betty Hill standing at the blackboard, the chalk in her hand moving at lightening speed as she multiplied some complicated combination of numbers and, without fail, came up with the right answer.  

And she was fun.  

When the recess bell rang we'd go tearing out to the playground where Betty would disappear, briefly, behind the bleachers before hurrying back, dragging our favorite "jumping board" plank behind her.   

It was a weatherbeaten old piece of wood, about eight feet long and ten inches wide ... we'd place it across a big stone, one girl standing on each end of the board, taking turns jumping.  Each time little feet hit down hard on one end, the girl on the other would go flying high in the air ... only to come back down, feet landing hard on her end of the plank, sending her playmate skyward.  

The rules of the game were that each child could keep jumping 'til she fell off, then someone else had a turn.   Betty seldom fell.  She stayed on her end of the plank until recess was over, at which time she picked up the board, put it back behind the bleachers and hoped it would stay safe until next playtime. 

Seventy years ago there was no such thing as proper playground equipment.  Not for us anyway.   No slides, swings or merry-go-rounds, but we survived real well with homemade entertainment.   Some of it ... maybe most of it ... was dangerous but  kids didn't care and grown ups hadn't yet heard of law suits, so life went happily along.  

Betty was brave.  

When we grew tired of  "jump-the-board," we played "pop the whip."   Twelve or fifteen ragamuffins in a long line, holding hands tight, running fast and then stopping short and pulling the line sharply to the left.   The child on the end would swing out in a wide arc and maybe find herself airborne for a few scary moments before hitting the ground hard.  That end position was a dangerous one to fill.  Only the bravest among us were willing to risk skinned knees and scraped elbows.  Betty could fly through the air and land on her feet better than any of us, and even when the landing didn't go quite right, she hopped up, dusted herself off and came back for more. 

Those games happened a long time ago.  

The childhood friend I once knew is gone.

The woman she became - the precious mother to her three sons ... the dearly beloved grandmother, sister, aunt, cousin, friend to so many ... the admired and respected citizen of Perry county - is now in heaven.

Goodbye, Betty ... 

We love you.  


email:  MelindaGerner@yahoo.com