Tag: Betsy

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Still Learning, by Betsy

I recently learned that I
am not good at doing things at the last minute. 
That is why I am writing this piece now–after the date that the topic
was to be shared.  We got home Saturday
from a trip to California where among other things, Gill and I were married. I
could not get a piece on “Still
Learning”
together in a short two days.
A couple of things I
learned on this recent trip come to mind now that I have had time to process
the experiences for a week or so. Here are a few items of note.
On the subject of
personal relationships: After 26 years together with my partner a marriage
ceremony and a license do not make a big difference in our lives, but I have
noticed that since making my vows I feel a deeper level of commitment to my
partner.  Perhaps commitment is not the
right word, rather more of a reminder to love and to cherish.  Speaking aloud and hearing these words in a
ceremony gives more true meaning to the words and reminds me of their
importance and the value of the commitment.
I am reminded of the
topic “Straight Friends Who Love Me?” 
These friends of whom I wrote back in 2012 really do love me.  My cycling buddies with whom we had the
reunion were truly excited about our marriage. 
They were so excited they wanted to be there for the ceremony.  They wanted to be there so badly that we had
an extra ceremony–albeit unofficial–in their presence. 
The straight women on my
tennis team from the Denver Tennis Club were so excited about our marriage that
they are giving a party for Gill and me. 
Every one of them is coming. Every one of them is straight.  They have shown extraordinary support and
acceptance and are going out of their way to do so.
On the subject of
geology: In our travels to Southern California we came across many geologic
phenomena. When traveling west on the ground, one always does.   We spend a couple of days in a place neither
of us had every visited before; namely, Death Valley.  I have never thought much about Death
Valley.  Considered it to be a “dead”
place in the desert–a small valley between mountain ranges.  First, I learned that it is not small, it is
not dead, and it is surrounded by mountains on all sides.  The towering peaks surrounding it are
responsible for its extraordinary and unique geologic characteristics. The fact
that it is surrounded by mountains is the reason it is the hottest place on
earth and the driest place in the U.S. Death Valley is huge–140 miles long and
15 miles at its widest point.  Death
Valley is also the lowest place in the US. 
Furthermore, it is sinking faster than it is filling up.  The valley once was a lake, only 2000 years
ago.
On the subject of
spirituality: In the last few days I have also learned that we create our own
misery.  How and why?  Because we have egos which want to be fed
constantly.  Our egos are not our true
selves.  If we identify with our egos, we
are looking at a false image of ourselves. The image is a reflection of how
others see us.  This is a false image of
who we really are–our true selves.  Once
we understand this we are on the road to identifying with our true selves.  Our true selves–our souls, if you will,
cannot be controlled and manipulated by others or by society as our egos can
be.  The next time I have a negative
feeling because of the way someone has treated me or something someone has said
or not said to me–the next time that happens I am going to watch my ego, not
feed it, not deny it, just watch.  Then I
can tell myself that I am creating my own misery by having a needy ego.
A young brain may absorb
information faster, but I believe some things are learned only after, and as a
result of, decades of experience in living. 
I’m glad I’m still learning every day. It’s never too late for an “aha”
moment and we can never have too many.
© November 2013 
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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Eavesdropping by Betsy

To eavesdrop means to deliberately listen in on words not meant for you to hear and to do it secretly. I cannot recall a time when this actually happened to me or a time when it was carried out by me. Plenty of times I have overheard things accidentally, things not necessarily meant for my ears, but things making no difference whether I heard them or not.

Plenty of times I’m sure people have accidentally overheard something I said, but words that did not affect them. Or likewise, I have overheard others’ conversations. For example, I recently heard a discussion coming from the next room. The follow-up was that I chose not to join that conversation. It was not interesting to me, or I simply was too tired to join in, or perhaps I was more interested in what I was doing at the time.
So I don’t have much to say about eavesdropping really. Eavesdropping follow-up is a different matter. To my way of thinking “eavesdropping follow-up” means gossip—pure and simple. What fascinates me about gossip is what drives people to do it.
It seems to me that people like to tell secretive things about other people’s private lives because it makes them feel superior to the people to whom they are gossiping. “I know something about so and so that no one else knows. That makes me better informed and smarter and more powerful than all y’all.” In my opinion that is what drives people to gossip.
This all may be sour grapes on my part because I am always and have always been “out of the loop” so to speak—the last one to know the latest gossip. Why is that, I ask? I guess it’s just because I’m not listening, not interested, or maybe I just have bad hearing. Anyway I seem to be hearing impaired when it comes to gossip. Often it’s about people I don’t even know, so who cares? If the gossip is about someone I know and care about, I usually already have the information.
As for eavesdropping, I honestly can’t imagine where I would be if I were secretly listening in on a conversation I was not supposed to hear. I would be too afraid I would get caught. I don’t think I’m very good at spying really. If I had a reason for getting information I ostensibly wasn’t supposed to have, I would ask for it and ask why I wan’t supposed to have it. But I know that would not ever happen because I would not be aware the information even existed.
I like to think that I can mind my own business and just “keep my nose clean” as they say.


© 17 July 16


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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In the Zone, by Betsy

As one member of this group has mentioned, Mozart may be an exception to the statement “any writing is experimental.” True, Mozart was writing music not words. But there is no reason that the statement which is today’s topic cannot apply to the writing of music as well as the writing of words. Mr. Mozart is said to have been divinely inspired never having to go back over his work to correct or improve it. His writing was perfect the first try. Some might say he was continually “in the zone” at least when he was writing music.

It’s hard for me to relate to always being in the zone when I am writing. Although, I must say, some writings have come a lot easier to me than others. On occasion, depending on the topic and/or depending on my state of consciousness, I have felt myself “in the zone” as I was writing. Mostly, it is the experiences I have had that have given me awareness or knowledge which make it possible to be there. Being in the zone could be equated with being mindful—a state of complete awareness. Also a requirement for being in the zone when writing might be an element of passion for the subject and a clarity of one’s feelings about it.

I best relate to being in the zone when I am immersed in a sports activity. Some days—though they may be rare—it’s as if you can’t make a mistake in a tennis game. Or the body flows particularly easily, gently and rhythmically through the moguls on the ski slope. Those days might be rare, but we remember them—at least I do. Probably the sun is shining as well on that day, and there is little or no wind and the temperature is just right for perfect conditions.

I can recall also being in the zone in a beautiful spot surrounded by nature—feeling part of nature or one with one’s natural surroundings. Being in the zone and being completely immersed in the moment, I believe, are one and the same thing.

As for being an experiment, I’m quite sure writing falls into that category. I often set out to write about something related to the topic of the day and I find I am completely surprised at the outcome of that writing. The piece may take a totally different tack than what I had first intended.

This can apply to other art forms as well. I have attempted to draw or paint an object, a landscape, a tree or what have you. In this case I know when I start out that it is an experiment.

I have no idea how the project will turn out. I suppose that’s because I have very little experience in creating visual arts, and almost no confidence. Yet I find that to draw a tree or paint, even try to copy an object or a landscape is an adventure, and most certainly an experiment. I start out with no idea where the effort will take me, how I will feel about it, or what the outcome will be—other than either boosting my confidence or totally obliterating what little bit I had to start with.

The fact is that most active things we do—that is active vs. passive—most things we do are an experiment. Even everyday activities. That is, if we define an experiment as a course of action taken and followed without knowing the outcome. Cooking certainly can fall into that category—at least MY cooking does. Even the laundry, shopping, etc. What the heck, which outcomes CAN I be sure of. Even when I sit down to watch television who knows, (I certainly don’t)—who knows how long I will be awake.

© 24 July 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.

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Aw, Shucks, Good Enough Is Great, by Betsy

Until later in life I never gave a lot of thought to making choices. I had my rules of conduct and, I suppose, used that as a guide to choosing. I did make choices everyday of my life, but I never think of it as “shall I do this or shall I do that.”

It all seemed to come quite naturally and was part of a routine or structure. Back in those days we didn’t have the options that present themselves today. I do believe life was simpler. We chose a path to follow and took whatever came along on that path. We made the most of what was good enough and we made good enough work for us.

I don’t remember choosing between a man and a woman until many years later when I became aware that I had the choice. Even though I was attracted to women, marrying one or even spending my life with one was not an option for me back in 1950. So I, a homosexual woman, married a man. Nevertheless, you will never hear me saying today, “Aw sucks, darn! I spent 1/2 my adult life with a man.” No, I will never say that; those years were good enough, and good enough was great then. I still feel that good enough was and is great.

It serves no purpose to regret any of the paths I followed in my younger years. Had I felt I had more choices, my life would be different and that is hard for me to imagine right now. I love my life the way it is and the way it has been. I love my children and my grandchildren as well as my life partner and spouse. I would not have my children and grandchildren if I had chosen differently in 1950. I probably would not have my beloved Gill had I chosen differently back then. So, I’m glad I went with “good enough,”

I often hear contemporaries say, “I lived in the best of times.” Aw shucks, I’m going to go ahead and say the same thing. If I suddenly, magically became a young person, I would be mind boggled by all the choices presented to me every day. Not just among the plethora of consumer products put in front of us daily, but the choices of life style, career paths, subjects available to study, places to visit, etc.

I am aware that there are many people in this world who have no choice except to take the easiest path to survival. Mind you, I do not believe that desperate situations, inaccessibility to basic, life sustaining resources is good enough, by any means. Such inequity that exists in the world is very wrong. I am blessed that I have never been in such a situation. So I am keeping the discussion here to choices that have been made available to me throughout my life and that have affected my life.

I never spend too much time choosing the right consumable product because I honestly do not feel it’s that important. I like to think my time is better spent in other areas of life which may or may not require making choices. For example, I know I should exercise so, if it is time to do that, It is already on my agenda, I do not have to make a choice about that. The choice is merely between the gym, the bicycle ride, the walk around the neighborhood, etc.

When it comes to choosing clothes for myself at the store, I confess I am not very diligent. Often I come home with something that is not good enough. Then standing in front of my mirror it’s “Aw shucks, this just isn’t what I thought it was.” I think the stores have trick mirrors that make things look better on you than they really are. I have learned in my later years that my lovely wife can pick out clothes for me much better than I can. So I don’t go shopping for clothes unless she will come with me. Usually I get her article of choice home and realize it’s not just good enough, it’s perfect. I don’t buy too many clothes anymore ‘though. Most of the stuff I have held on to are the things that were good enough when I bought them so they are good enough now, even if they are 20-30 years old.

Fortunately as I approach my 80’s I have everything I need and do not find myself having to make choices about what to buy. The choice of what to do comes up occasionally, but that usually has been predetermined and I simply follow an already structured agenda. I like structure. Maybe that’s because I don’t want to be making choices all the time.

I’m afraid I have almost driven my lovely wife crazy with this characteristic or mine.

“Shall we go to Mexico or Hawaii for our vacation,” she asks. My answer is truthfully, “I don’t care, or I don’t know.” “Well, which would you rather do?” she asks. “How do I know,” I answer. “I’ve never been to either place.” Poor Gill.

On the other hand I hate being wishy-washy. If a decision has to be made, I will gather as much information as I conveniently can and just pick one. Too much deliberation just complicates it. It usually turns out that it was good enough and it was great. I can’t ever remember coming home from a pleasure trip and saying “Aw shucks, we should have gone to that other place.” This “aw shucks” situation should be avoided at all cost. But I truly belief it is totally unlikely to occur in my life, because I’m sure most any other choice would have been good enough as well, and therefore the perfect choice.

© 6 April 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 wife of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.

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Acceptance, by Betsy

These
words represent thoughts that have occurred to me over the past couple of
weeks—mostly while on our recent trip to Nicaragua.
Acceptance
is growing
old and embracing it (being literally led by the hand so to speak through
airports, hotels, car rentals, etc. by children and grand child, I realized that
this is okay. I can embrace this)
Acceptance
is greeting every new day with gratitude, enthusiasm, and joy
Acceptance
is knowing when to keep your mouth shut
Acceptance
is understanding your shortcomings and imperfections and still loving yourself
Acceptance
is acknowledging when you are wrong
Acceptance
is accepting things you don’t want to accept
Acceptance
is putting words from the heart to paper
This
is not to say I don’t have a long list of things that I do not  care to accept but that will have to wait for
another day.
© 21 Dec 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

How Being Lesbian Has Directed My Spiritual Journey – A Journey to Serenity, by Betsy

I was recently reminded of the
huge respect I have for the 12 Step Program when I attended an Al-anon meeting
as a guest.  I had some knowledge of the
12 steps from some previous experiences, but have never actually worked the
program. 
I was amazed to hear a member
share that he was thankful for the alcoholism in his family as it is because of
that that the man had been introduced to the 12 steps program.
For the next couple of days, I
attempted to draw parallels in my life to what I had heard in the meeting and
to apply my experiences to some of the steps. 
It finally occurred to me that I could make an analogy with my
experience of growing up gay and coming out.
Consider the first step, for
example.  “We admitted that we were
powerless over alcohol and our lives had become unmanageable.”  Apply this to coming out, I mused.  I acknowledged, accepted that I was
homosexual and powerless to change that fact.”
Growing up pretending to be
straight, living the life-style of a heterosexual person can be seen as
resistance to nature itself. A self-imposed resistance put in place by societal
norms and the culture around sexual behavior of the time.  Admitting, that is, giving in to the reality
that I am homosexual, not heterosexual, accepting this fact and being totally
aware of it could be seen as the first step to take in managing a large problem
in one’s life. Clearly I prefer using the word “acknowledge” or accept” to the
word “admit” in this context. Making others aware of our true self reinforces
one’s resolve and strength to manage that life and to live honestly.
Being gay, of course, is not a
direct parallel to abuse of alcohol. Although there are those who may see
homosexuality as an addiction and something of which one should diligently work
to deny him/herself and to be rid of.  Fortunately,
it appears that most people today know better. 
Today we are anxiously waiting to see whether our Supreme Court wants to
be included in that majority group.
Step 2: “We came to see that a
power greater than ourselves restored us to sanity.”  I see my sexuality as part of my Being and my
being represents, according to my belief, the power of God within me.  This is not something I control any more than
I can control the color of my eyes, the shape of my face, or any other aspect
of my tangible or intangible form.
Steps 3, 4, and 5 further
reflect the healing effect of acknowledging who I truly am both in word and
life style.
I’m going to skip step 6—“We’re
entirely ready to have God remove these defects of character.”
However, I can see
interpreting this as a supplication to God to forgive me for not honoring my
true self at an earlier time in my life.
The rest of the steps are more
directly applicable to issues other than coming out/being out. However, I see
them as very powerful concepts to put into practice for any one any time.
I also was reminded of the
Serenity Prayer which is used to open and close the Al-anon meetings.  I have a miniature of the Serenity Prayer on
my bedside table.  It’s been there a long
time and I usually forget it is there. I am very happy to be reminded of its
powerful words—very appropriate for GLBT’s—and I hope to remember to utter them
or at least think of them every day.
“God, give me the strength to accept what I cannot change,
The courage to change that which I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.”
© 10 Jun 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.
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Away from Home, by Betsy

Home is where the heart is and my heart has changed location many times. In my adult life that has been on the average every 10 years or so. I’ve noticed that the older I get the harder it is to move—to change my home. I guess we become less flexible in many ways as we age. This is a sad fact for the 3 million elderly Americans who are now living away from home in so called nursing homes because they can no longer take care of themselves. I’m sure that there is not a middle aged person or elder anywhere who does not pray everyday that he/she will not be one of those who must at some time live away from home. I certainly am one of those.

My first move was at the age of 15. I had to move with my parents, brother, and sister from New Jersey to Louisiana. That move in itself resulted in a huge culture shock but I was young and resilient and adjusted fairly easily. I spent three years of high school in small town Louisiana, assimilated quite easily into the culture, but I never felt in my heart that it was my home. Not so for my brother and sister who adopted the southern life style and called it home for the rest of their lives. After the three years of high school, I left the south never to return save for visits to my parents. I returned east to New York State to attend college.

After college I married a man, settled in Rochester, New York where my three children were born. We actually had a house in Scottsville, NY, a rural community near Rochester. All told, we lived in the area for six years. At the age of 20 something that seems like a long, long time. Then came the opportunity to live in a foreign country for a year. So we sold our house and moved to the Netherlands with the 3 children age 2-6. This was not a sad move as we knew from the beginning that Scottsville was a temporary situation, and besides, we were focused on our new adventure in a foreign country.

We ended up staying in Holland for 2 and 1/2 years—not 1 year as originally planned. We lived in three different apartments in the same place, the ancient city of Leiden. Needless to say, the Netherlands never felt like home—foreign language, foreign customs, unfamiliar food, clothes, etc. In spite of this and the joy of returning to the US, we were at loose ends upon our arrival back home in the US because my husband had to complete his deferred mandatory military service of two years and we knew not where that would be. We were truly homeless for a couple of months until he was assigned to Fort Derrick, Maryland, germ warfare center of the USA.

There we lived for two years—on an army post in Maryland—a place with a lifestyle almost as unfamiliar as the deep south or the Netherlands. Life was good at Ft. Derrick, but that place never felt like home either. I can imagine that military families who are jockeyed around frequently without much prior notification feel much the same. My guess is that for military families the post or base culture and lifestyle is their heart home regardless of where it is located.

Our move from Ft. Derrick and out of the army was to Denver. Our home in Park Hill was the first permanent-feeling home I had experienced in my adult life. We actually lived in the same house for almost fifteen years. Park Hill neighborhood, Denver, Colorado was my first heart home. A place I knew I would live for many years and potentially could live there the rest of my life. This, of course, would not come to pass because after 15 years in this home my life changed, my marriage ended, my children were grown and leaving home. This is when I came out as a lesbian. I continued to live in Park Hill in another house. After I met Gill and we decided to live together, we bought yet another house in the neighborhood together and lived there for 12 years. Park Hill had been my heart home for 40 years although I had lived in four different houses in the neighborhood during that time.

It rather reminded me of the backpacking trips in the Colorado mountains we took every summer for a number of years as our children were growing up. We knew we would not be sleeping in the same place more than one night. Every home we established on the journey was temporary, yet the mountain environment was our home away from home. Much the same as the many trips Gill and I took in our camper van. We would search for the perfect campsite and once found settled in and made it our home at least for a night or sometimes for several days and nights. In these cases, however, I think of our stopping place more as a nest rather than a home. The total mountain environment was our home when backpacking and moving on everyday. The van was our home when on the road trips, the campsite our nest.

A few years ago we decided to move to Lakewood. Park Hill was becoming too noisy and too young. I no longer had children in Denver, Gill had no ties to the neighborhood or the city of Denver. We had some friends living in an HOA community in Lakewood and we liked the area, so we started looking at a couple of the units for sale. Next thing we knew we were moving to Lakewood. I did not anticipate that I would feel away from home for the next few years. But I did, in spite of the fact that I liked our new home. Finally, though five years after our move I am well settled in there and love the quiet, peaceful, and friendly environment. It feels much more like home now.

Yet, Gill and I both spend a lot of time in Denver. Since I moved to Lakewood, one of my daughters moved from Baltimore to Denver. She is settled in a house in Park Hill—her heart home. Part of my heart is still there for sure. But Lakewood Green is my home now and it feels like home. I honestly do not think I have it in me to establish another home—at least not a heart home—a nest maybe, but not a heart home. One of my final supplications may well be that my last departure from my heart home be in a box. I do hope I will be one of the lucky ones and not ever be forced to move to a care facility away from home.

© 1 August 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.

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Nothing Is Forever, Forever Is Now, by Betsy

How often are these words
spoken: “I’ll love you forever.  I’ll
hate him/her forever. His/her spirit will live forever. His/her work will go on
forever. Etc.”  Well, I think we all know
what that REALLY means. Forever means as long as the person speaking the words
is here on this planet in human form willing and able to relate to the person,
experience the event, do the deed, or whatever. And that period of time and
place is very small indeed when put in the context of the timeless universe and
even in the context of geologic time as we now understand it. The real meaning
of forever is something I cannot comprehend. Forever can only be in a place
where there is no time dimension or a dimension much different from anything we
can possibly imagine.
As for our world, this
world that we know, forever is a relative term. 
“I will love you forever,” is a much longer forever than, say, “I was on
hold forever,” or “I waited in line forever.” 
Even the forever in, “I will be forever grateful to you for the ride,”
the life of that forever is totally dependent on the life of the memory of the
person who says the words.
The fact of it is that to
me it makes no difference what the real meaning is.  We mostly understand what a person means when
they use the word forever. And I am trying, really trying, to live in the
NOW.  So, in the end, which will also be
the NOW, does it matter what the real meaning is? I don’t think so.  Did I just say that forever is now?  I’m going to stop right here and now.
© 20 Mar 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

Sports, by Betsy

As a child I was not
involved in any organized sports.  No
soccer leagues, no softball for girls, mostly just playtime and as an older
child “hanging out.”
We did play sports in
school.  I remember kick ball–just like
baseball only you kick a soccer-sized rubber ball–then run around the bases. I
loved that game.  Also dodge ball was big
in elementary grades. 
When I was about ten my
father took me out on skis a few times. Not to a ski area, rather cross
country.  Being in the lumber business he
knew where the old abandoned roads were and I was proud of myself indeed to be
out on skis with my Daddy.  For a few
years the family would venture up to Old Forge in the Adirondack Mountains,
stay in a hotel and ski at the ski area. In those days in NY State a rope tow
was the best means of propulsion to the top of the ridge.
I loved skiing, except
for getting cold.  Today 70 years later I
am still skiing and have no intention of giving it up any time soon.
Also in the winter we had
many opportunities for ice skating. We would skate on the nearby lake, in fact,
I could skate to school at the other end of the lake.  In New Jersey our lake froze over quite often
as I remember. 
On a couple of occasions as a child my Daddy
took me to the local horse stables where we could rent a couple of horses and
off we would go. Just walking an old nag, I’m sure. 
But again, I was on top of the world because I was with my Daddy. That
was probably the best sports experience of those early days and we probably
only went out on horses a couple of times. I was devastated when I had to quit
that because I was allergic to horses.
My mother was not
athletic and did not like sports except bowling which she participated in
weekly for many years.  I do believe it
was more of a social activity for her than a competition. However, she always
went along on the ski trips and was a good sport about it.
Around age 15 my Daddy
taught me to play golf.  He was a avid
golfer and quite skilled at the game. In the ensuing year I came to take it
quite seriously, playing for fun and in occasional competitive events in high
school and college.
As I am writing this, I
keep thinking of more and more sports which were introduced to me by my father.
He really had been quite an athlete himself in college. I know that because at
home in the attic I happened upon some of the medals and certificates awarded
to him.
I am also reminded of
sporting events my father took me to watch. What I remember best are the hot
dogs at Ebbets Field or maybe it was Yankee Stadium.  The game I thought boring to watch, but I
enjoyed the yummy hot dogs slathered in mayo, mustard, and pickles.
Also memorable was the
time we went to see Babe Didrikson Zaharias* play golf in an LPGA [Ladies Professional Golf Association] tournament in
New Orleans. Babe was the greatest woman athlete of her day.  Having competed in the Olympic games in
track, she was now a golf champion. I must have been around 16 or 17 at the
time of that event since we lived near New Orleans. I will never forget
approaching her when she was practicing on the putting green before a
match.  She signed my program for me and
my heart went thumpity-thump.
Another sport my father
taught me was ping pong. We had an enclosed sun porch at the back of our house
in New Jersey which housed our ping pong table. Daddy would challenge me to a
game and start out by announcing that he would even the playing field, so to
speak, by tying his right arm behind him, or spotting me a number of points. As
I grew older and more adept, the number of points he spotted me diminished
until finally we were even. He could not have been happier, which was a message
to me about what is really important in sports.
When I was in high school we were forced to
move from New Jersey, a rather progressive place, to Louisiana, the ultimate in
conservatism and tradition. We, of course, had to give up the winter sports.
After the move in  school my sports
participation came to a rather screeching halt. Girls did not do sports in my
Louisiana high school.  It might cause a
girl to sweat, which is not lady-like.The best I could do was to be a cheer
leader and cheer on the boys.
It was then that my
father taught me to play golf. It was my saving grace when it comes to sports
participation during those three years in Louisiana.
My choice to leave the
deep south and go back north to college was probably driven somewhat by my love
of sports and particularly winter sports.
When I married and became
the mother of three children, I gave up golf and took up tennis.  I found that I could from time to time manage
an hour of tennis, but never could I find a half a day for a round of golf.
Also money was tight. Public tennis courts are free, not so with the golf
course, even public ones.  Also during my
years of mothering I coached my girls’ recreational
soccer league teams.  When that was over
and I was age 40 something I started playing the game until I turned 60. 
I continued playing
tennis for the rest of my life, my Patty Berg signature golf clubs gathering
dust in the attic. I have been tempted but have not found time to get back into
golf.  I’m spending too much time and having too
much fun on the tennis court.
The sports introduced to
me by my father have been very important to me throughout my life and continue
to be so. They have opened up doors, brought me closer to friends and family
simply by being able to play together. Teaching and participating in sports
with each of my three children I know has brought us closer together over the
years.
Some of my best
friendships have grown out of my interest and participation in sports.  I play regularly with good friends at the
Denver Tennis Club, tennis and ping pong. I’m happy to say that my lovely Gillian has
joined me in ping pong.  She is a
formidable player and we have our own table at home.
I still play ping pong,
ski cross-country and downhill. I have taught skiing to the disabled for 16
years at the National Sports Center for Disabled, which has been an educational
experience, and enlightening.
Did I mention cycling?
Like most kids I had a bicycle back in New Jersey as a youngster.  I rode it to school and rode around the area
with my friends.  We pedaled our bikes to
the movies on Saturdays and to the drug store for sodas.
I took up serious cycling
when I retired in 1998.  My ambition upon
retirement had been to hike the Colorado Trail. 
I had worked as a volunteer building the trail now I wanted to hike the
entire length. When the time came, I had to give up the idea because of a
chronic back condition. So instead I took up cycling and have had some of the
best adventures of my life as a result–the ultimate being the trip from the
Pacific to the Atlantic which I pedaled in 2005. 
I am fortunate that I
have an aptitude and a proclivity for sports–most sports, and have had the
opportunity to learn to play, to practice, and the health to participate in
them which is truly the love of my life–well, one of them anyway.
*Babe Didrikson Zaharias
© 13 Nov 2014 
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 in the World is Nowhere?, by Betsy

Once a week now for three
years I have sat down to write on some topic for the Sage Telling My Story group.  These are the steps I take to accomplish that
task. First I mull the topic over in my mind and come up with an idea. “Oh, I
know,” say I, “I’ll
write about the time that………, or I’ll
write about my parents, or I’ll
write about my trip to……, or I’ll
write about coming out to my sister, or I’ll
comment on the last election.” Many, many ideas have come to mind. Next, I sit
down at my computer and start writing.
A few sentences appear on
the screen.  The next step is that I say
to myself, “This is going nowhere.”  Well,
now that I’m
writing about nowhere, I find that today my writing actually has a place to go.
Of course, we all know that to say this is going nowhere means there is nothing
more to say about this event or this person or this feeling or this whatever I’m writing about.  However in this case I can at least describe
what “nowhere” looks like to me.
 In the case of composing a so-called story
entitled “Nowhere,” now that I am at stage three of the writing process, I find
that what “nowhere” looks like in a piece of writing is “nothing.” It looks
like nothing, a blank page, an empty mind, no way to tie anything together or
to relate the ending to the beginning thoughts. 
A void.
Speaking of a void, the
question comes to mind: What is nothing. Is there such thing as “nothing?”  That brings me to the subject of the cosmos.
We used to think that space was nothingness. But it turns out that where there
appears to be nothing, there is actually quite a lot. The so-called black holes
of the cosmos are full of compacted cosmic material. The space in between
objects, only APPEARS as nothing.  The
space in outer space, apparently empty, is full.  Beyond that, cosmic space itself is full of “dark
matter.”  Apparently there is no such
thing as nothing, our human senses simply cannot perceive what is there. If
there is no such thing as nothing, then I guess there is no such thing as
nowhere.  What we call nowhere really is
somewhere, a certain place.
I’m am so happy to have come to this
conclusion because now I can move on to stage four and work out an ending for
this composition.  And here it is.  THE END.
© 1 Feb 2014 

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.