Tag: Betsy

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Hunting, by Betsy

I am a hunter. I’ve been hunting all my life, at least for that bit of my life that is within memory, I have been hunting for some answers to some very basic questions. I’ve had my sight set for different targets at different stages of my life. But the answers to the more profound questions almost always elude me. Just like the hunter and its prey. Sometimes I get a glimpse of an answer, only to have it disappear until the next time I seek it out, until one day I hit the target—an answer evolves which satisfies me.

Early in life I sought an answer to the question “Where do we come from?” Lately I’ve been asking “Where do we go when we die—where do I go when I die? Do we all go the same place? My current belief is that we go back to where we came from, which is—I don’t know where. Seems logical. So that question cannot be answered really, that is, we can’t know the answer to that question, hence the belief.

Early in life I asked “What is the purpose of my life?” Lately I ask “What is the purpose of any life? Still stalking an answer to that one.

Earlier I asked “What is my place in the universe?” Lately I ask “What is the place of our solar system in a seemingly infinite universe?” Then I ask “Is the universe infinite?” When I learn that the latest information tells us our universe—just as our galaxy—was born and is dying and does have an end, I realize I have no more questions on that subject. I guess a new universe will be born when this one dies—just like stars, galaxies, and solar systems.

Early in life I asked, “Who am I?” Lately I have come to realize the answer to that question changes daily—evolves with each passing day. I also realize that early in life I did not look inside for the answer to who am I, I looked totally to others for not just clues but for answers. Later in mid-life I started looking in a much better place—looking inside myself.

I don’t spend a lot of time searching out answers to these mysteries of life. Because I realize the answers for most people are held in beliefs. Most of these questions cannot be answered empirically. They are only answered by taking the leap of faith and holding a belief. Early in my life I did that. Lately I have not taken the leap. For some reason I don’t feel the need.

In the meantime, I will continue to fill my day with questions I do have answers for; such as,

“Shall I do the laundry today? Shall I water the garden? What shall I eat? What can I come up with on the topic of ‘HUNTING’ for our meeting today?”

Here’s a good question and I often spend a whole day hunting for the answer: “What can I do to bring some joy into the world today. What can I do to enhance my honey’s day?” These are two good everyday questions. Their answers are also worth a good hunt.

© 26 September 2016

About the Author 

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading, writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.

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My Favorite Place, by Betsy

On a mountain trail, riding on my bicycle through a beautiful setting with no traffic, on the tennis court, with family, with my honey especially in her arms–all of these are places I love to be. But favorite means ONE place, not a dozen. So I have to really think about this. It came to me rather quickly actually. My favorite place is IN THE NOW. To be in the now is to be totally present wherever I am. To be in the now means not worrying about the future or evaluating the past.

My partner and I are currently trying to learn what it means to be in the now. So, in truth, I am a long way from mastering the concept promoted by Ekhart Tolle in his book The Power of NOW.

According to Tolle being in the now means being in an enlightened state of consciousness. Letting go of one’s ego and entering a state of elevated consciousness. I cannot say that I have ever gotten even close to this.

It’s not difficult. Do not try to understand this with your mind, says Mr. Tolle. Just FEEL it.

Ekhart Tolle is one of the great spiritual teachers of our time, and I really do want to learn from him. I cannot disagree with anything he teaches. Such as the concept that our minds and our egos get in the way of our reaching enlightenment, the Now. The same question keeps popping up in my head: Why is it so hard for us to get beyond our egos and beyond the interference of our minds, our thoughts? Thoughts just have way of creeping in most of the time.

Back to the topic–my favorite place. What I am speaking of is the NOW meaning the present moment. Put in other words: my favorite place is wherever I am at the moment. Right now my favorite place is here, trying to sort out my thoughts and put them down on paper so you all can get some understanding of what I am trying to say. On Monday afternoon my favorite place will be here in this room listening to your wise words. Oh, oh! There I go thinking about the future, already projecting myself into it. Who knows, I might be sick on Monday and then nowhere would be my favorite place except asleep in my bed.

We do get ourselves into trouble, do we not, when we anticipate the future.

We do ourselves a disservice when we anticipate something in the future. We may be setting ourselves up for disappointment or disillusionment.

And how many of us have ever completely tormented ourselves over something that happened in the past–a few minutes ago or long ago. Or something bad happens a few minutes ago or long ago and we cannot let go of it. We go over and over and over it in our minds. Both past and future are constructs of the mind and are illusions, says Tolle. Only the now is real. I like the concept.

Have you ever been in a place where you wanted desperately to capture the moment and make it last forever, such as a place of indescribable beauty? Visiting some of our national parks lately, I have noticed that everyone has a camera. This is a way of making the beauty last–taking it home with you. I am very glad that Gill and I have thousands of photos and I enjoy looking at them just as much as anyone.

But what you cannot take home with you is how it FELT to be surrounded by awesome natural beauty. The memory is not the same as the feeling itself. Tolle speaks of being one with the universe. Surrounded by incredible natural beauty and really taking it in is perhaps the closest I will ever be in my current human form to that feeling.

Tolle’s concepts are the same that have been handed down through the ages by many of the great spiritual teachers. Just spelled out in a different way. I will continue to read his books. That’s the easy part. Applying the principles to everyday issues and happenings is the hard part. But it’s a good place to be.

© June 2013

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading, writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.

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Believing, by Betsy

For the first two decades
of my life I religiously recited a creed almost once a week affirming a
belief.  Later in my 30’s I stopped doing
this because I realized I really didn’t believe the things I was saying I believed.
I had no hard feelings about the church, I just stopped believing. I’m
referring to the liturgy of the Episcopal Church where I was baptized and
confirmed.  The creeds recited in the
church liturgy—the Nicene and Apostle’s—were so familiar to me that I could
recite both from memory at an early age.
Why are children taught
to claim beliefs which they are too young to understand, accept, or
reject?  Could it be that IF it is etched
deeply enough into your psyche, you will hold on to it for life, never
questioning it. It becomes “yours.”  It
feels good and it keeps us “safe.”
I recited as I’m sure
most of us did, the Pledge of Allegiance every day in school hundreds of times
before I ever pondered to what it was that I was pledging allegiance. Around
third  grade I thought it odd to pledge
to a flag, a piece of cloth hanging on a pole or a wall even while
understanding that it is a symbol of our country.  But still why the rote recitation? I think we
all know the answer to that question.  By
recitation it becomes part of us, we own it and hopefully, later in life, we
understand and embrace its meaning. 
Never once did an adult explain to me what I was reciting and what it
meant.  Just that the recitation was not
only important, but also part of one’s life—part of one’s day—like brushing your
teeth.
 The next question that comes to mind is why do
some examine their beliefs and others go through life never doubting?  I cannot answer that for others, only for
myself. I don’t remember my parents teaching me to think critically about
anything. They were good parents and I loved them, but they did not question
the standard cultural beliefs—at least not out loud. They were not ardent about
spreading the teachings of the church, but they accepted those tenants more as
a matter of being good Christians and good citizens. I pretty much went along
with them, I guess. I really don’t remember. Believing was not “big” in our day
to day life. At the same time doubting and challenging was not big either.
I think my mind became
“ripe” for critical thinking when I was in college. Or maybe I simply was not
mature enough before then. A light came on when I realized I could not will
myself to have faith that something was true simply because I was told to do so
or because I was told the consequences would be painful for me if I chose not
to. One teacher, Professor Jaffe, taught me to question everything. I suppose
that’s because that’s what one does in Philosophy class.  But I learned from Professor Jaffe that what
is important about learning is thinking for oneself, as well as being exposed
to the information. What one does with the information is the whole point.
Thinking back, it seems
that it was my husband who put me up to applying critical thinking to   my religious beliefs.  They may have been faintly held beliefs;
nevertheless, they had been a part of me for a long time. He simply raised the
question one day, “maybe Jesus was just a good man and not divine. How do we
know for sure?”  That’s when I made a
conscious decision not to take that leap. 
We started discussing the power of the church historically. How most of
the wars fought throughout history were fought over religious beliefs.  From then on, I questioned everything, my
feelings as well as my beliefs.  It was
years later, however, that I took any action regarding the feelings I had been
questioning in regard to my sexuality.
I am not trying to say
that critical thinking is good and faith is bad. They each have a place in my
life. But what I do say is that when believing gets in the way of accepting
facts and blocks applying information to form one’s opinions, there is a
problem. Believing versus gathering information and forming a point of view
seems to be the conflict going on today in some political situations. When I
see Trump supporters interviewed on the evening news, what I see is people full of fear holding a belief because
of that fear, and holding it in disregard of the facts. For example, the belief
that ISIS is the greatest threat to life in the U.S. today. ISIS is coming and
therefore we all must have guns to protect ourselves and our families. One look
at the numbers would make anyone question that belief: in 2013 deaths from
ISIS-16; deaths from gun violence-33,000. The numbers speak for themselves if
one is willing to take a look at them.
For me it is hard to put
my faith in something a book says, even a book considered sacred, or something
a person or institution tells me to believe. Yet until I grew up this is what I
did and what I was taught to do. This is what most people are taught to do. If
it works for them, more power to them. 
But it does not work for me and I cannot imagine it ever doing so.
© 12 Jan 2016 
About
the Author 
 Betsy has been active in
the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old
Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been
retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major
activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a
volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading,
writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage.
She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren.
Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her
life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.
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Clubs, by Betsy

In 1950 when I was 15 years old our family moved from New
Jersey to Louisiana.
I have often said a comparable change would be moving from
Earth to the moon.
In this case, however, the moon would have been populated
with humanoids who had their own culture and language–very much different from
anything I had ever encountered in my young life. However, I was young and I
had much to learn and experience. 
The first difference that I noticed in my new home was the
blatant discrimination and racist practices carried out against people of
color. I’m not so sure the same thing was not going on in New Jersey. I suspect
I just didn’t see it. It was hidden. In the deep South, it couldn’t be hidden
because of the large population of African Americans.  Almost every household in my new hometown had
at least one black person working for them. These family servants had to have
their own toilet facilities usually outside or in the garage, their own private
glass from which to get a drink of water (never would a white person want to
drink from the same glass!) We all know about the public drinking fountains.
Of course, the schools were segregated as was everything
else. I left the South to attend college in New York State in 1953 never to
return except for visits with my parents.
After federal legislation made segregation illegal in the
1960’s nothing changed much in Louisiana. These southern people are slow moving
indeed.  It was not until the late 1970’s
that they finally were forced to allow black people to use public facilities
such as restaurants. On one occasion when I returned to Hammond for a visit, my
high school friend suggested we go out to dinner. She assured me they had
solved the problem of integration by making the city restaurants into private
clubs. Most whites belonged to all the clubs and there were many of them. We
would have to take our own liquor since it was no longer a public place. The
private clubs could or would not get licenses to sell liquor. 
White folks continued for decades to claim that the culture
of segregation is justified because everyone is happy with the status quo
including blacks. That’s how we want it and that’s how they want it, was the
claim.  People want to stay in their
place and keep to themselves. Keep to themselves, maybe, but stay in their
current place–please!
The last time I visited Hammond, Louisiana was in 2003 when I
attended my fiftieth high school reunion. I had no family there except in the
cemetery in the church yard.
I was happy to see that the public places that had had a
brief existence as private clubs–they had all become public places again,
businesses now open to all people. The college in Hammond–a branch of
Louisiana State University–included many black students, and many higher
paying positions previously unavailable to people of color were now occupied by
African Americans. Change comes slowly but change for the better had indeed
come to Hammond Louisiana albeit at the expense of the lives of many good
people and many hard-fought battles lasting for decades.
It saddens me more than I can say to watch the evening news
and see that racism is alive and well today in the United States of
America–land of the free and home of the brave—and not just in the South.  At the same time, I am happy to see that
public places are not changing into private clubs in order to avoid the law of
the land. The law of the land has made segregation in public places illegal as
it should be. In spite of this institutional racism is prevalent. A young law
abiding African American or Latino male in some locations is suspect simply
because of who he is. Racial profiling is common practice in some areas. Our
prisons are filled with men and women of color in numbers disproportionate to
the population. In recent years, we have witnessed the passage of laws in some
states designed to make it almost impossible for certain people to vote. Those
laws, in my opinion, target low income people of color. 
While being white, I have not had to experience the horrors
of decades of discrimination I have described here. I have, however,
experienced on a very few brief occasions the hatred felt toward a person who
is perceived as being different and a threat to the power structure. We have
seen that progress against discrimination and hatred can come quickly when our
leaders pass laws making discrimination illegal.
I want to believe there is a basic innate goodness in all
human beings on this planet–our leaders, law enforcement officials, even the
wrong-doers and criminals.
Let us step back and consider our place in the universe–so
small, so isolated, so seemingly vulnerable. 
At the same time, we must consider that we are creatures who have the
capacity to love each other and to love this tiny speck of rock we live
on.  Love is the means to peace on Earth,
I believe.  Let us look beyond our egos
and other constructs of the mind. It is our egos that drive us to create clubs
so we can segregate ourselves from each other. Let us all look inside beyond
our egos and awaken to our very core, our being, which is love. I do believe
love is the answer for us humans.


 © 23 Mar 2015 
About the Author 
Betsy has been active in
the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old
Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been
retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major
activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a
volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading,
writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage.
She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren.
Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her
life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.
Posted on

Public Places, by Betsy

I recently had occasion to kill some time in downtown Denver. Gill and I were meeting family for brunch one Sunday morning. The restaurant was on the 16th St. mall so we took the W line train to Union Station, hopped a mall shuttle and arrived on time, fresh, unstressed, and hassle-free— made possible by our choice of public transportation—no fighting traffic, no searching for a place to park, etc.

After breakfast and visiting, Gill returned home on the W line. The others went their way. I had two hours to wait before attending the 1:00 pm performance of Carmina Burana by the Colorado Symphony Orchestra and Chorus at Boettcher Concert Hall.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning so I decided to amble down 16th St. mall and see what I could see.

I was immediately reminded of how I love downtown Denver. I was struck by the numbers of people bustling about on a Sunday morning. Half the stores were closed it seemed. So, what were all these people doing? Going somewhere and most of them in a hurry. Many were sitting in restaurant patios drinking whatever or eating, but mostly just enjoying the environment, the clear blue sky, and warm temperatures.

I immediately realized that the magic about this mall environment is made possible by the fact that there is no automobile traffic. Only and occasional shuttle bus, bicycles, skateboards, and scooters. Even the hand/foot propelled vehicles are not allowed to be ridden on the mall. Everyone is required to be a pedestrian.

There appears pop art at every turn of the head—the buffalo herd near Wazee St.—six or eight life-size buffalo silhouettes standing on the side walk, musicians at almost every block playing guitar on one corner, flute on the next. And then there are the brightly painted upright pianos sparsely scattered throughout the mall waiting to be played by anyone who cares to try.

The center of the mall strip is a cultural center of its own: people playing board games on the stationary checkerboards, permanent concrete fixtures in the center of the mall strip, people reading the Sunday morning paper, people reading a local map, people playing the pianos. I’ve often wondered what they do with those pianos when it rains or worse when it hails which we all noticed it has a tendency to do here.

In spite of its location in the heart of downtown, the mall is amazingly peaceful, at least one gets that sense. The benches and chairs and tables and especially the plantings make it so. The trees, grown to maturity now, are plentiful complemented by the ever-present giant flower pots displaying a splash of color here and there.

I almost ran into a steer on the mall. Beautifully painted light blue with colorful depictions of the Denver skyline, DIA, some trees and mountains representing our beautiful area parks. These words were written clearly on its rump.

“DIA Denver International Airport is the nation’s largest—53 square miles

Denver has the nation’s largest city park system with more than 200 parks within its city limits.

Not to mention the 300 days of sunshine each year.”

No wonder I love this place. Especially in the summer. I love the park-and-ride bicycles standing neatly in a row on their racks waiting for the next rider to jump on. What a great idea. I’m glad to see this grab-a bike-program being used and persisting. If I were in a real hurry, I could pay the fee pull a bike out of its stall jump on and pedal to Botcher, deposit my borrowed vehicle and be in my seat in 10 minutes. But I have plenty of time so I continue with my amble.

Arriving at the DCPA I am struck immediately by the awesome view straight ahead of me—the snow-covered peaks of the Front Range between a bright blue sky behind and the green foot hills in front. All this from a vantage point in the midst of downtown Denver. Takes your breath away. Again, now on the main concourse of the DCPA, I realize that it is the absence of traffic that makes this environment so special—relaxing and hassle free in spite of the numbers of people moving about.

It was time to go into the concert hall and take my seat. Soon I was again transposed momentarily to some other world by the awesome beauty of this powerful piece of music by Carl Orff, Carmina Burana. There is something so special about listening to live music. The performance was inspiring. I felt a wave of pride in MY orchestra, MY chorus, MY concert hall—all mine because we all belong to MY hometown.

I have been to many awesome public places most in this country and some in other countries. On this day, I could easily say that downtown Denver is just about my favorite.

© 6 June 2016

About the Author

Betsy has been active in
the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old
Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been
retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major
activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a
volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading,
writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage.
She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren.
Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her
life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.
Posted on

Scars, by Betsy

I can hear it now. “She will be scarred for life if she tries to live a lesbian life-style.” Had my mother not died as a young woman, had she been present when I came out, I believe this is what she might have said. Her mother, my grandmother well may have said this too. The two women had a great deal of influence on me as I was growing up. Neither knew I was homosexual as they both died well before I came out.

They may have been right in making that imaginary statement, however. We all have scars—physical and emotional or psychological. Growing up gay in a homophobic society will inevitably produce wounds. Even after wounds heal scars can be left as evidence of the damage.

I have some scars on my physical body as well as my psyche. Most people do. One I acquired early in life represents a wound caused when I lost control of my bicycle going about 20 MPH down a hill hitting a curb head on, and landing completely unconscious by a street lamp. I was rescued by my dentist who happened to be looking out his window when the accident happened. I had a bad cut on my face which had to be sown up by a surgeon. The scar is still visible, but barely.

I suppose analogous to that might be that I was born into a world which had no understanding, certainly no acceptance, of gays or lesbians—most certainly not of their lifestyles. One might say the accident was that I was born homosexual, but I don’t see that as an accident—just the way it is. There are most definitely scars left from being born into and living in this non-accepting environment. As I have written before I have a passion for the truth and a great respect for living honestly and with integrity. Yet I lived half my life in a life-style that was a lie.

It was not an unhappy time of life, but it was basically flawed. That flaw of the fraudulent lifestyle is the wound. The wound is now healed, but a scar reveals that there had been a wound—a wound caused by an accident?

While I’m making analogies, allow me one more. Another scar is in the middle of my lower back, about a 10 inch line right down my spine. The reason I have this scar is because I had pain brought on by spondylolisthesis. Because I had pain a surgeon cut into my back and treated the source of the pain. The corresponding scar in my psyche might be represented as the result of treating a deep emotional hurt. The pain in this case I see as the years of self denial and the fear of rejection brought about by my unwillingness to express my true self that resulted.

All in all I think it is safe to say some scars, probably most scars, are good. Why? Because they are the result of healing. They are what is left of a wound or an adverse condition which causes pain. A scar implies that a fix has been made. The wound cannot fester and the pain is just a memory.

It is said that one cannot remember pain. I translate that to: one cannot reproduce a former pain, however one can remember that a particular wound or experience was painful. In this case HOLD THAT THOUGHT. Living freely the life style of one’s choosing is a precious thing.

It can also be a precarious thing. Never to be taken for granted.

© 22 June 2015

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver women’s chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change). She has been retired from the Human Services field for about 15 years. Since her retirement, her major activities include tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with National Sports Center for the Disabled, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and enjoys spending time with her four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 25 years, Gillian Edwards.

Posted on

You’ll Never Know, by Betsy

I’m always fascinated by new information, new knowledge, new
happenings. There have been a lot of new things to think about particularly in
recent weeks— dramatic events taking place across the globe—much of this has
gotten everyone’s attention.  In recent years,
new knowledge about our universe, our solar system, galaxy, and outer space has
gotten my attention.
Take the universe, for example.  Science has recently learned that our
universe is expanding at an ever-increasing rate of speed.  It is because of this expansion, that our
universe will eventually die, they say—latest estimates are about 300 trillion
years from now. That will happen, of course, long after the death of our solar
system.  And that death will come long
after the death of our planet. Scientists believe the energy for this expansion
comes from dark matter. We used to think that space—the darkness between the
stars and other bodies we see in outer space—we used to think it was just
that—space, emptiness.  But now it seems
it is some sort of energy now called dark matter. The nature of this energy,
unfortunately and most likely, we will never know. Or maybe we will learn some
things about it in our lifetimes, but not much. 
What I do know is that in this current life I will never know, you will
never know, we will never know all there is to know about dark matter. Come to
think of it we’ll never know what it is that we don’t know, will we, or even
how much we don’t know.
Just as engaging are some of the recent events that have
taken place in the U.S. and around the world. 
The events are not so fascinating to me—horrific as they may be.  It’s people’s reactions to the events that
intrigue me—especially some of our leaders.
I am more than mystified that over 30 governors have stated
that no Syrian refugees will be allowed into their states. The rest of the
country says they are welcome. The 30 say it is to keep their people safe. I
understand wanting to keep your people safe, but I don’t understand why it is
Syrians who are the ones to be kept out. The Syrians are not the terrorists.
They are the refugees, most of them widows and orphans trying to escape the
horrors. The terrorists are from other countries. Yes, the ISIS headquarters
are in Syria at the moment, but don’t our governors understand that the
perpetrators are not necessarily Syrians?
If refugees are to be allowed entrance into the U.S. they
must be screened, re screened and screened again. This, I understand, is the
current process. But it does not make sense to me that while a Syrian family
sits waiting for 2 years for numbers of background checks to prove they are
harmless to Americans, anyone in the U.S—anyone and everyone—regardless of who
they are—almost anyone can buy an assault weapon—a weapon designed for killing
people. No questions asked.  Why do we
have a system like this?  I will never
know, you will never know, and we will never know.
Also on the list of mysteries is the responses of most of the
Republican presidential candidates to the acts of terror happening around the
world and how they would keep their people safe were they, God forbid, to
become president.  Rounding up all the
Muslims and kicking them out is probably the most outrageous. Again, that only
feeds the conflict, which  is what ISIS
and all the terrorist organizations are hoping for. 
How ‘bout we only allow Christians into the country. I don’t
need to describe the problems with that plan. What I will never know is how to
answer questions like: do they really think all Americans are Christians. I’m
mind boggled. 
What are people thinking? Or are they just not thinking? Or
are they just playing politics.  I wonder
if I will ever know, if you will ever know, or if we will ever know.
© 23 Nov 2015 
About the Author 
 Betsy has been active in
the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old
Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been
retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major
activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a
volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading,
writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage.
She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren.
Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her
life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.
Posted on

Where Do We Go from Here?, by Betsy

If you take this to mean where do we go when we die—I don’t
have much to say about that. People have many different beliefs about an afterlife, beliefs which require a leap of faith. 
Although some of the beliefs I have heard of have a certain comforting
appeal to them, I do not actually believe in any of them. I don’t deny that
anything is possible, but I always seem to end up going with what I know to be
a fact. The only thing I know about where we go after death is that I don’t
know.  That I know to be the only truth
that I am currently capable of understanding or of knowing.
Where we go from here, in my view, is a question better
applied to our life here and now as mortal humans.  I like to know where I am going. For example,
after story time today I will get in my car and go to my daughter’s house after
doing a bit of shopping at Sprouts on the way. After that I will go no where
until tomorrow morning when I will go to my closet, put on some tennis clothes
and drive to the Denver Tennis Club and I will have no trouble finding my
court. After tennis I will do certain things most of which I had planned ahead
of time so, let us say, I know where I am going in my own world in so far as I
am in control of it. Now if the weather does not permit, then I will not do
what I just described. So I guess where we go from here often is conditional.
I like to at least have a sense of where my group is going as
well. I believe it is important for citizens and their leaders to know in what
direction their community, state, and country are headed. A good thing to know,
but not always palpable.
There are other factors that make our futures uncertain and
therefore make us feel a bit uneasy. This is an uncomfortable time for our
country, I believe. It must be because so much campaigning is going on we are
all very much aware that our leadership will be changing soon. I must admit, I
am more than uncomfortable about where we would be  going if Mr. Trump is elected, or any of the
Republican radical extremists who are running for president.  Then the question becomes “Where do I go from
here?”  Europe? Canada?  I don’t think so.  Bad leadership is a good reason to stick
around  and fight for what I believe in
and to be sure to vote in upcoming elections, including the local ones. 
I like some structure in my life and so I am a tad
uncomfortable not having a plan for my day—even if that plan is to sit around
and read a book all day long.  I like to
know where I am going both in the short term and the long term. I’ve noticed
that when I don’t know where I’m going—one of those brief lulls in the day when
I have finished something and don’t know what I am doing next—I often find
myself going to the refrigerator and not because I’m hungry.  Now what good does that do?
 I play tennis year
round outdoors. I have to admit I am not comfortable in the winter and bad
weather not knowing from week to week whether we will  be playing or not.  So much for short term planning. I’m not
averse to spontaneity, but generally I like to know where I am going.
I haven’t always known where I was going. There was a period
of time looking back when I was not too sure how to put one foot in front of
the other. Growing up gay certainly added tremendously to the confusion. Our
adult role models help guide us as to where we are headed, but growing up gay
in the 40’s and 50’s there were no lesbian role models—at least not in my life.
Of course there were lesbian women out there, but they could not allow
themselves to be known publicly as Lesbians. 
Once I accepted, and acknowledged to myself that I was a lesbian I had a
lot to learn suddenly about where to go from there. I didn’t even know any
lesbians. Once I started looking, however, I did find some friends who helped
“show me the ropes” so to speak. Soon I had many friends, but also I was part
of a movement. Nothing like being part of a movement to help you find your
identity and your place in society. Mostly ‘though where I went after
acknowledging my sexuality was in the direction of the coming out process. This
in itself has proven to be a journey, 
quite a long one—at times both rough and arduous as well as smooth and
easy along the way.
As I said in the beginning, I know where I am going from here
today and maybe tomorrow I know where I’m going or supposed to go. But thinking
about it I realize that except on a day to day basis, I haven’t known where I
was going.  Especially going into
different phases of life.
When I married my husband, I didn’t have any particular plans
for the future. Only for the short term. 
I don’t remember even planning to be a mother—not until I became
pregnant.    As for a job, I sought a job
in the field of work I wanted, but mostly I took what was available at the
time.
When I retired, I did not know in the long run where I was
going except to say that I would now engage in the things I like to do and
pursue my interests only now in retirement, full time rather than only when I
had a chance.  I didn’t really plan where
I was going. I was going to live life as best I could.  I honestly think most people conduct their
lives this way.
 When and if one does
make the choice as to where to go from here the question arises: “Do I ever
arrive?”  I don’t think we ever know our
destination—just the direction to take, the road to take. And that choice is
determined by our basic character—our morals, the strength of our convictions,
our sense of justice,  our values.
Some have said the
journey is more important than the destination.
The way I see it life is a journey with no ultimate
destination. It’s more of a journey with pit stops where one perhaps chooses a
new direction or a different road from time to time.
In my old age I would like to take the road that keeps me
healthy and happy. But roads often have their barriers and their potholes.  So again for the long term I
don’t know where I go from here. But I do know the direction I want to go.
Beyond that I don’t know what happens after this life, but whatever it is I’m
quite sure it’s good.
© 4 Jan 2016 
About the Author 
 Betsy has been active in
the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old
Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been
retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major
activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a
volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading,
writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage.
She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren.
Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her
life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.

Posted on

Jealousy, by Betsy

Searching my soul I can say that at this point in my life I do not feel any jealousy. It’s hard to be jealous when at the same time I am happy, and at peace, and content. It has not always been that way, however.

From day one I felt like I was in a competition with my brother 1 and 1/2 years older than I.

He was the first-born, he was the ever important son, and, it turned out, the only son in the family. My brother, Whitford, growing up was allowed to go here and there as he pleased. While I, being a girl, had nowhere near the freedom he enjoyed. My jealousy was tempered however by the fact that Whit was assigned by my mother to look after me in certain situations like walking to school, or on the playground, or in the halls of our high school. I loved having an older brother I knew would be there for me if needed. I don’t remember ever being in a situation where I needed him to come to my rescue. But it was very comforting to know help was available if I needed it. In spite of all that I was jealous of his relative freedom, and more important, the abundance of love I was convinced he received for free and that I had to earn. Whether this feeling was justified or not, I am not sure. I think that my sense that I had to earn what he got for just being had to do with order of birth in the family and perhaps our gender difference.

I do not fault my parents for the difference that I sensed. I have written about the compatibility that my father and I had. He and my brother did not enjoy that same bond. Why, I don’t know.

My brother was not excluded. We often did things as a family. But when Dad and I went off on an adventure, Whit simply was not interested.

Sibling jealousy, it seems to me, is a very common family dynamic. I was not jealous of my sister, however. Perhaps I have had twinges of envy in some of my lower moments of adulthood, but I do not remember any jealousy as a youngster. That is probably due to the fact that she is 8 years younger than I. Because of the age difference, I was HER caretaker often being assigned baby sitting duties in her younger years. She was not an easy child to manage either, and I didn’t have much power over her. She could carry on and scream louder than anyone I had ever come across. Alas, ‘though, that was childhood. She grew up to be a beautiful person and she is still that today.

Another object of jealousy I remember was not directed toward any specific person in my life or even a person I was acquainted with. When I began to wake up and become aware of my true sexuality and at the same time married to Bill, when we were out in public places I would always notice when two women were together. I could usually tell by the way they looked at each other or touched—as if I had a super sensitive antenna—I could tell if they were in a lesbian relationship. I can remember this happening a couple of times. I felt jealous of the women and what they had together. This, needless to say, was during the period when my marriage began to fail.

Now, in the autumn of my life (it’s really winter, isn’t it), my jealousy is directed toward simple things like young people who don’t have an aching back, hips, knees, and shoulders, have endless energy to do all the things I still want to do.

And last but not least, there are those moments when I wish I could be as good a storyteller and as good a writer as many of you in this room. But I’m not so sure that what I feel here is jealousy. I’m inclined to regard my feeling in this case as pure, unadulterated admiration.

© 18 April 2016

About the Author

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading, writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.

Posted on

Smoking, by Betsy

I started smoking in my last year of high school. It was presented to me not as an option, but rather as “of course your going to smoke, adults do it and now that you are an adult there is no reason not to be a smoker.” This was early 1950’s and there was nothing in my conscious mind that told me I shouldn’t. I knew my parents would disapprove. They would think I wasn’t old enough. But what did they know? And in a year or so they would realize I was old enough to smoke.

In college most of us smoked. Between classes, before classes, and after classes, mornings, evenings, and weekends. At parties and in our rooms. The father of one of my classmates was the CEO of Reynolds tobacco. The tobacco companies were “in high cotton” in those days.

All our heroes and heroines smoked. In the movies the doctor consulting with his patient was sitting at his desk smoking a cigarette. The advertisements led you to believe that if you smoked, your image would improve and you would become much more sophisticated and successful. Everyone smoked from the Marlboro man to the savvy housewife. Everyone smoked everywhere from the workplace to any public place including public transportation vehicles, eating places, drinking places, shopping places, the doctor’s office, and, of course, at home.

I don’t actually remember how I got started. Probably someone gave me a cigarette. I do remember how it felt the first time I took a drag and inhaled. It made me dizzy and made me cough. It didn’t particularly taste good either, but I persisted and after a couple of tries I was hooked.

I’ve never done any drugs other than tobacco and I do drink alcohol, but rather sparingly.

Cigarettes were my addiction of choice. I smoked about one pack a day until the early sixties.

I smoked through 3 pregnancies, by the grace of God with no apparent consequences to the babies. Then the revelation that it was hazardous to one’s health started to trickle out into the public consciousness. I remember we started calling cigarettes “coffin nails. I think I’ll have a coffin nail. Ha, ha,” We would say to our friends, not realizing this was no joke.

I read now that the link between tobacco and health problems was suspected in the 1930’s. The link to lung cancer was discovered and confirmed in Britain in the early 1950’s. Apparently the American cigarette companies did a really good job of keeping the information regarding the health effects of smoking to themselves and away from the public. Finally some surgeon general came out with the pronouncement in 1964 that cigarette smoking could cause lung cancer. Finally, our government took steps to make it much harder to be a smoker. But 10 years had passed since the British doctors had linked smoking with cancer and other deceases.

Quitting smoking was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. I did quit by 1964 or so. But when I came out in the 80’s I wanted the comfort of an old “friend” so I resurrected my old friend, cigarettes, and in no time at all was hooked again after two decades of not smoking. After a couple of cigarettes it was as if I had never stopped smoking for those 20 years.

Quitting smoking a second time was at least 2X harder than the first. In fact, it took several years of trying to stop before I was successful in staying quit—as they say.

I tried several different programs designed to help boost one’s resolve or scare one into quitting by relating all the horrors caused by habitual smoking. After struggling many times to quit I realized that what I hated most about smoking was my being dependent on something. Those darn things were controlling my life. My daily activities revolved around when I would have my next cigarette. I hated being controlled enough finally to say goodbye to the horrible things. How many packs of cigarettes did I buy, smoke one, destroy the rest of the pack in my resolve to quit, only to return to the store the next day or so to do it again. In those days a pack cost bout $1.25. That’s a lot of money for one cigarette.

I have seen friends of my age group with the same smoking history quit for a year or so, declare they can quit if they want to, and then return to smoking confident they can quit if they have to.

For one thing one year of no smoking is no where near long enough to be able to say you are free of the habit.

It is not only the drug nicotine that is addictive. Smoking quickly becomes a behavior addiction.

I think this is why it takes years and years to be free of the habit—long after all traces of the drug have left the body.

In my experience after five tobacco free years, I could say I was more or less safe from the danger of slipping back into the habit. As to the damage done to my body is concerned, I have no idea whether or not having smoked cigarettes for one quarter of my life will take a significant toll. But I have no doubt there must be some price to pay, hopefully insignificant. Did I benefit in any way from taking up the habit? That’s a no brainer. NO! Some say it’s pleasant to smoke. What that really means is that when the withdrawal from the drug begins to make you feel uncomfortable it feels pleasant to ward off the encroaching discomfort by lighting up once again.

Today the proven detrimental effects of smoking are known to almost everyone. Tobacco companies are held responsible for the harm their product causes in the U.S. Cigarette sales have plummeted in the U.S. in recent decades and young people do not seem to be taking up the slack and are choosing not to smoke.

Despite what is happening here big tobacco is thriving globally. Smoking rates in developing countries far exceed those here. Population growth and growing incomes contribute largely to the increasing rates of tobacco use in those countries. So cigarettes will continue to be produced and sold in growing amounts.

Because of my love affair with cigarettes I learned something very important about myself.

I learned to stay away from addictive substances of any kind. Once I had quit smoking I never ever wanted to go through quitting anything addictive again. For that lesson I am grateful.

© 15 August 2016

About the Author

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading, writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.