Tag: Betsy

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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.

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Pushing the Buttons, by Betsy

One thing that pushes my buttons is deception
and dishonesty.
This is about pushing MY buttons when I am
pushing the buttons of my computer.
There is some excellent honest reporting and
investigative work done in the media. But all too often the words deception and
dishonesty bring to mind t certain media sources and motives behind publishing
certain bits of information.
The internet is such a great source of instant
information.  Put in a search word and in
a nano-second you have more information than you ever needed.  Often more information than you know what to
do with. Sifting through it can be daunting. 
Can you trust that the information is true?  To separate the reliable from the suspicious,
I apply this criterion: what or who is the source and are they trying to sell
me something or promote a product or service. 
If the answer is “yes” I toss it out as untrustworthy.   The motive for putting the information out
there is to get me to buy something, not to disseminate information that could
be helpful or to help get to the truth, or to advance someone’s knowledge.
 To
report and promote the truth simply for the sake of truth itself is a noble
cause.  Most people, organizations, and
corporations have ulterior motives for promoting their “truth.”   If this is the case when I am searching the
internet I cannot trust the information I am reading.
We are all familiar with some of the books
promoting certain diets–often promoted as cure-alls for what ever ails
you.  For example the vegan diet will
keep your heart healthy well into old-age. 
It can actually reverse heart disease and diabetes claim its
authors.  The Paleo diet of meat and
vegetables, no grains, no starch will keep you from ever getting any disease at
all.  I truly believe the authors of these
books are sincere and I know they are scientific in their research and
presentations of the facts they have determined to be true.  But I also know they cannot all be touting
the truth. The research they have done and they will continue to do is going to
be exclusively designed to support their truth, not destroy it.
 I cannot say enough on the subject of the media
and its lack of trustworthiness.  Many
mainstream TV programs claim to be reporting the news.  But some are actually making political comments
at the expense of the truth.  The truth
all too often never gets out until it is too late.  Even if the true story is reported, we still
must be very suspicious as to whether it is accurate.
Consider the now known fact that the Iraq war
was based on a lie.  The people and the
news media were told that Saddam Hussein had WMD’s.  We had proof. 
Our government reported this information unequivocally knowing that it
was not true and the media passed it on. 
Yes, the media did report the lie accurately.  And then later reported accurately that it
all was a lie, but some Watergate-type investigative reporting might have been
very useful at that time.   
So how do we know what to believe or not
believe.  People often select one belief
over another because they WANT to believe it. 
This turns out to be simply a case of self-deception.  Try changing the mind of a person who has
deceived himself into believing what he wants to believe.  I personally know very few people who behave
this way.  I suppose that’s because I
prefer to hang with people who value the truth and the ability to think, and
choose to use that ability when searching for the truth.
So when it comes to pushing the buttons on my
lap-top or getting my buttons pushed I try to evaluate as I am reading or
listening, I avoid Fox so-called news, and pick and choose the reporters I read
or listen to.
© 23 June 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).  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.
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Just Don’t Flaunt It by Betsy

The question “What Makes Homophobes Tick?” put in generic terms might read: “What drives human beings to hate or fear other human beings?” That to me is the basic question here. A secondary question is: what drives a hating person to act on that hatred?

Looking into my own heart, soul, and mind the answer that comes to me is that people hate because of fear and their feelings of insecurity about themselves and their power–however great or small that power may be. Power is perceived as control. So the threat of losing power can be potentially very frightening as it means one might lose control of his life.

Homosexuality historically has posed a threat to the established institutions of our society without which we would have chaos, not order, say the homophobes. For example, threaten the traditional family and you upset the family power structure. Threaten the traditional religious beliefs in society and you upset the power structure of the church–not only the church but power structure of the state as well which is based on principles of Christianity–and also you upset the power structure of the culture in general which threatens the power structure in the home and the workplace.

There it is again. It’s in our face every day. What is behind most conflicts old and new? So often it is our religious beliefs and religious institutions at the root of our conflicts. Take a look at history. Most wars have been waged in the name of a religious belief. Take a look at the evening news. Most of the conflicts going on right now have some basis in religion. Does anyone think this pleases God? I don’t. The beliefs and institutions that are the source of the conflicts are not God’s. They are the creation and contrivances of human beings. Everyone knows this. But the hate mongers forget it and they refuse to be reminded because it does not serve their purposes.

We hear this all the time from homophobes: “The Bible says…” these words are followed by a perfectly quoted verse from the old or new testament. Most homophobes I have known are religious fundamentalists who reference the Bible whenever they have a need to defend their stance. But it seems they reference only those words which serve their purpose.

I do not believe all religious fundamentalists are hate mongers. But I do think taking the Bible literally and as the ONLY truth gives one, oh, such a narrow vision of reality, and is often at the root of conflict and discord.

Holding opposing beliefs does not HAVE to end in conflict. There are examples throughout history and in everyday life–examples of people with strong religious convictions who conduct their lives according to those convictions. Their beliefs may be totally contrary to the establishment, or contrary to those with whom they come in contact every day. One would have to say they are acting on their beliefs all the time. They are living their beliefs. But it seems that these (I will call them) peaceful people are not fearful nor do they have a need to control others. Why is this? I think it is because the peaceful people are not threatened by opposing beliefs nor do they require others to believe as they do. They are completely secure and in control of their lives As a result and most importantly, they do not hate anyone. You will not act on your hatred, if you do not hate. I believe this is why freedom of religion and freedom from religion is so important.

Many of us have heard straight people say something like this: “I don’t care if a person wants to be a homosexual. That’s his/her business. Just don’t be public about it. Stay in the closet. JUST DON’T FLAUNT IT!”

By the same token, if one fears and hates homosexuals, or any other group of people for that matter, what I ask of them is that they keep their hate feelings to themselves. I say to them go ahead, think and feel the way you do if you have to; but put away your guns and hate signs and just don’t FLAUNT it.

© 1-12-2015

About the Author

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver women’s chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change). 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.

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Passion, by Betsy

Passion: an intense desire or enthusiasm for something.
Passion is energy, – feel the power that comes from focusing on
what excites you. – Oprah Winfrey
I have a passion for a few things:  First, for certain people; namely, my loved
ones—my partner, my children and grandchildren.
Second, I have a passion for music–not all music.  Mostly for the classical of the baroque, classical,
and romantic styles and a little contemporary. 
I am very limited in my ability to perform music.  I do like being a part of a choral group and
have been doing this for much of my life. 
But listening is stirring and inspiring. 
I use my iPod when exercising. 
Nothing like a Schubert or Brahms quartet to keep me moving and working
hard on the stationary bicycle, elliptical or rowing machine. Some music does
excite me and gives me energy. Often fellow exercisers ask me what I’m
listening to.  When I tell them, they
give me a very strange look as if to say, “Don’t you know about rock!  You poor thing.”
My greatest passion is for sports. That is doing, not
watching. I am a mediocre spectator fan—well, that’s probably an
exaggeration.   I don’t pay a lot of
attention to which teams are winning or losing. 
Occasionally I’ll watch a tennis match on TV or even a Broncos
game.  But given the opportunity I would
a thousand times prefer to play, compete, or do most any activity
involving  physical action, motion,
skill, and/or a desire for adventure.
I must mention one other passion I have.  Now in my later years, I have become aware
that I have a great respect – I think it qualifies as a passionate respect for
the truth.  Perhaps that is because I
spent a good portion of my adult life living a lie.
I have noticed that what may appear to be a person’s passion
turns out to be short lived and it is no time before the individual appears to
be passionate about something else.  This
is particularly manifested in children and young adults.  They jump from one interest to another, I
suppose, exploring different areas of interest until one of those areas becomes
their deepest passion.
As I was giving this subject further consideration, I came to
the conclusion that passion and obsession are very closely related.  I had this thought when I realized that I had
made a glaring grammatical error in last week’s writing and I actually read it
using the wrong part of speech and didn’t even notice.  The realization hit me in the middle of the
night the next night as I lay in bed. I thought, “Surely I didn’t write it that
way.”  So I jumped out of bed at 3:00Am
and checked my paper.  Yes, I had written
it that way and read it that way.  Very
upset with myself, I had to wake Gill up and tell her.  “I can’t believe I did that,” I said.  At that moment I realized I have a passion
for the correct usage of the English language and its rules of grammar.
Understand.  I DO NOT have a passion for
writing, but the use of the language definitely intrigues me. This goes back to
my high school days when my English teacher, who taught me for all 3 years of
high school English, exposed us to very little literature.  Mostly we studied grammar and a little
writing.  Most in the class thought the
grammar was rather boring, but I loved it. 
I guess I have the kind of mind which loves to analyze and that’s what
we did.  We analyzed sentences most of
the time and learned rules of grammar and word usage. So…..When does passion
become obsession?  At 3:00AM.  Ask Gill. Passion becomes obsession when one
becomes dis-eased over what she thinks she has a passion for.  (Oh, oh, there I go, ending a sentence with a
preposition.) 
© 22 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).  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.
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Role With the Flow: The Women in My Life, by Betsy

Aspiring to be one’s
own person is noble indeed.  No one would
doubt that.  But in my experience growing
up female in America in the mid twentieth century this ideal was indeed elusive
and impalpable to many girls.
As a youngster my
mother was my major role model.  Other
female role models were my grandmothers, an aunt, and to a lesser extent some
teachers. I consider these role models to be the most important in shaping my
adult persona because it was from these women that I learned who I was meant to
be–or should I say who I was supposed to be. 
Put another way, I learned how I was supposed to behave and, more
importantly, how to perceive myself going into adulthood. The women were also
the mirror for me which reflected who I was and who I was to become.
These role models I
mention were good people.  They strove to
take good care of their families; that is, to be good wives and mothers. They
were honest and loving.  The roles, however,
were clearly defined.  A woman’s role was
to NOT be in charge.  In fact it appeared
that a woman in that day in this culture was not even in charge of her own
life.
As a youngster growing
up the message I got was loud and clear: your happiness and your future welfare
requires, first, that you get a husband and the degree of that happiness and
welfare depends on who the man is that you marry.   A woman’s identity, her sense of who she is,
is intrinsic in what is reflected back to her from the people close to
her–especially her husband. I have recently come to realize that many females
of my generation have struggled with their true identity; they have struggled
to “be their own person.”
At the same time, my
growing up experience followed a period of time known as the Progressive Era,
the early decades of the 20th century, which saw the beginnings of huge changes
in the roles of women.  My grandmothers
and my mother saw some very obvious changes such as shorter skirts and short
hair, and some movement toward political equality. Women were no longer
expected to be frail and demure and confined to their parlors or their
kitchens.  Spurred on by the necessities
brought about by two world wars, women entered the work force and were allowed
to enter professions heretofore open only to men.  By mid-century women, especially of the
middle class and the Western World had completely redefined their roles in
almost every sphere of culture.
These were huge
changes.  Yet they were mostly all
outward superficial changes.  I still
received the message from my female role models that if I did not marry, I
would end up unhappy, unfulfilled, and lonely. In other words, I, by myself,
could not create my own persona. I had to depend on others to do that. Most
females I knew received the same message. But for some of us that image of just
who we were and who we were to become did not fit. Many of us had to try it on
before learning that it did not fit.  I
suppose this is one reason that so many lesbian woman of my generation were
married and had families and were middle aged before recognizing their own
sexual orientation and their true identity. This and the awareness that came
along with the gay rights movement helped us along.
Even today’s women
struggle for power. Many men are threatened by women who have more power than
they. Not all men, but some, feel emasculated by women who have more control
and become more powerful than they at home or in the work place. Is this a
natural happening or is it learned?  The
evidence, to me, shows that it is learned since not all men have this insecurity.  (I sincerely doubt that any man in this room
falls into that insecurity category.) Again in many cases I suppose it depends
on the role models they followed.  I
contend that the woman role models in my life were married to men who did not
have this insecurity.  They were not
controlling and overbearing at least insofar as my memory and my experience
allows me to make the judgement.
The women in my life,
my mother and my grandmothers, were products of their culture and reflected
that.  At the same time they were
progressive and welcomed the changes and disappearance of the restrictions that
kept them from expressing themselves earlier. Perhaps their progressive
attitudes contributed to my ability to come out later in life.
As it turns out neither
of my parents ever learned who I really was. They both died before I came out.
To me this is a sad fact.  However, only
mothers and grandmothers who outlive their daughters ever learn who these
daughters FINALLY become.
We are constantly
changing hopefully growing and progressing. 
If we make it into old age of course our role models are not there to
see how we finally turn out.  But it is
for certain that the spirit of the women in my life has been traveling with me
every step of the way and will continue to the end.
© 24 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).  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

Multi-Racial, by Betsy

In the New Jersey
suburb where I grew up there was very little diversity in the groups of people
to whom I had any exposure.  My friends
and family, my parents friends, and most of the people in our community were
white and Christian.  Black people entered
our community to do work for the white people–always house work, child care,
or yard work.  This was the extent of my
exposure.
Later in the early
1950’s we moved to the Deep South.  My
eyes were immediately opened to not only the presence of an entire culture made
up of black people, but also to the injustices and insults that routinely were
dealt them.  In Louisiana at the time
everything was highly segregated. I have to say that the denial of access to
public services, stores, parks, recreational facilities, schools, some jobs, etc.
was indeed shocking. This was the highly valued way of life in the South, they
declared.  Always had been, and always
would be.  Everyone, white and black,
wished it to be so, I was told. Every man knew his place in that culture and
every man was content with the status quo. 
Why ever change it?  It worked for
everyone, didn’t it?
I left the Deep South
after three years in high school.  I left
for college and I deliberately chose to leave that part of the world.  I never felt like I belonged.
Given this deeply
entrenched way of life it is no wonder that when I returned to Louisiana to
attend my step-mother’s funeral two decades after the civil rights legislation
had gone into effect, I discovered that what had changed was that many public
facilities had become private, thus giving legality to excluding certain people
from entry.  One positive change,
however, that I observed was that many skilled labor positions previously reserved
only for whites were now occupied by black people.
In college as a student
of sociology I learned that there were three races. White, black, and
yellow.  Detailed studies had been done
to describe the respective features of each race.  The implication, if not the direct message,
was that each race would retain its own distinctive features, and would always
be identifiable if the individuals of each race kept to themselves.  Of course, there was no mention of any social
inequities among the three races–no mention of unequal rights.
Then came the civil
rights movement of the 1960’s.  Being
occupied as a new mother at that time, I did not become active in the movement
except for cheering for the civil rights advocates and mostly observing what
was happening.  I saw that John Kennedy
was on was I deemed to be the right side, so I switched sides and became a
Democrat.  There were Republicans on the
side of justice, too, but they were working much too slowly and not making
enough noise.  Kennedy and later LBJ, became my heroes.
When we moved to Denver
in 1970 I observed a much more multiracial society than I had seen in
Rochester, NY or anywhere else.  Blacks,
Asians, Latinos, and whites all going about their daily business together.  At least on a given day in down town Denver
it appeared that way.  We chose to live
in Park Hill neighborhood because it was an “integrated neighborhood.”  True, it was integrated to some extent.  Apparently those who did not want to live in
an integrated community had been part of the “white flight” that had taken
place years earlier.
I soon began working
for the Girl Scout Council after we became settled in Denver.  The mission of the organization at the time
was to serve the entire community. 
Although the mission was not written as such, those of us in the membership
Department knew it meant we were to change our image from a white christian
organization to that of a multiracial organization with spiritual values not
identified with any specific religion–but all inclusive.  The traditional image of the Girl Scouts is
that it is an organization for   white,
Christian women and girls.  Although in
truth, my experience has been that the organization has always been pro-active
when it comes to including all races, religions, and socio-economic
groups.  In fact, during my 22 year
career with GS Mile Hi Council, a huge part of my job was to see that the Girl
Scout experience was delivered the to girls of all ethnic, racial, and
socioeconomic groups.  For example, I
remember planning how to approach a newly established community of Vietnamese
immigrants to assure them that the Girl Scout organization welcomes their
girls.  Of course, there was no way to do
this successfully at the time.  It would
take a couple of generations before the families had any interest in joining
our ranks.
We have always had a
multiracial staff at the Girl Scouts. 
When I first hired on, my supervisor was an African-American woman.  When she left for greener GS pastures in the
National Council Office, of course I got a new boss.  This time a woman of Hispanic descent. Many
of our board members, the real bosses, and many volunteers who carry out the
programs have been women of color.  When
I became a team leader my staff was multiracial.  In fact, at one time, of the seven of us,
three were white.
My grandfather was a
reasonable man, a wise man.  However he
was a product of his generation and a bit misguided when it came to racial
issues. I remember arguing with him about the injustice of racial inequalities
in our society. My parents had instilled in me a strong sense of justice.
Because of that and, I am sure, because I was becoming sensitive to the feeling
of being different when in the minority, I could not accept my grandfather’s
ideas and had to tell him so.    For me
life was easy though.  My difference
could be hidden; it did not show up in the color of my skin. (Furthermore I had
escaped the dreaded queer-o-meter at birth.)
I have a so-called
multiracial family.  I recently came
across a photo of my daughter with her partner at the time, a black man from
Africa, and my son and his new Asian wife from China.  In another photo next to it, sits my oldest
daughter and her partner of 15 years, an African American woman who calls me
“Mom.”  My younger daughter later married
a black man from Cuba.
Let me tell you about
the importance the concept of race has for me. 
What comes to my mind when someone mentions the word “race” are the
following memorable and multiple experiences: the high school track team, NASTAR
ski racing at Winter Park, a race against my aging body on a cross country
bicycling trip, a swim-bike-run triathlon at Cherry Creek State Park, the Race
for the Cure, and the Cherry Creek Sneak.
© 16 April 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).  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

Lizzie Goes to Sunday Dinner by Betsy

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon in 1939. A large family group of 10-12 people is seated around a long table at the Pudding Stone Inn, a cozy hotel tucked into the side of a hill in rural New Jersey. The inn’s restaurant is frequented by this same family at least monthly during the warmer time of the year.

The matriarch and the patriarch, the eldest of the family, are seated each at opposite ends of the gleaming white linen-draped table. It is by their invitation, rather, by their request, that the family is here all having attended church together that morning.

Lizzie is the youngest member of the group at the age of three years. That place of distinction is soon to be usurped by a cousin whose entrance into the world is expected to take place in a couple of months. Lizzie sits in a high chair pulled up to the table but she has her own tray attached to her chair where her food is about to be placed. A napkin matching the gleaming white linen table cloth is tied around her neck and flattened in front to form a bib. Her father, brother, aunts, uncles and cousins complete the group.

Even at the tender age of three Lizzie knows exactly what foods she likes and dislikes. Ever since she started eating solid food, which was not that long ago, she knew also the foods she did not like. She hated oatmeal. At age 3 she did not know enough to call it by its proper name, but she knew she didn’t want any. At home at breakfast time, “Eat this up,” her mother would gently cajole. “I don’t want my ‘up’,” Lizzie would cry. Well, she would not have to eat any ‘up’ at this meal. ‘Up’ is a breakfast food and this was Sunday dinner.

Sunday dinner. The vision of one of her favorite foods enters her mind–a dill pickle spear. Finally, after waiting way too long, the food is brought out to the table. As usual Lizzie’s mother will share her food with her and probably deliver it to her mouth. It’s the usual Sunday afternoon dinner fare–turkey with gravy and mashed potatoes and some vegetables–probably overcooked–but that’s okay; Most children like vegetables that way–soft and soggy. On a plate, way out of her reach is Lizzie’s favorite food, a dill pickle. It does seem odd for a three year old to be so fond of such a strong tasting, puckery food as dill pickle, but it’s true–it is her favorite.

“Can I have my pickle,” asks Lizzie. “No, first you must eat some of this food, Lizzie,” she is instructed by her mother. One or two bites is all that is needed for this rather puny child. She manages to down enough to satisfy Mom. Before she knows it dessert is on the way. Ice cream it is for Lizzie and Ice cream she likes well enough. She hardly has any room left for anything but takes a taste or two to please Mom who is coaxing a cajoling her into finishing dessert. Finally Lizzie looks at her mom as she finishes the last sweet, creamy spoonful at the bottom of the dish. “Now can I have my pickle?” she asks.© 29 March 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). 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.

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ABCs of Life by Betsy

A FEW THINGS I HAVE LEARNED IN MY OLD AGE

Respect your elders–even ‘though they may become fewer and fewer in number left on this earth.

Take care of your body–no new models are available.

Make friends with and understand your ego. When it is out of control you will need to counsel it and put it in your pocket.

Take your medicine everyday and know what it is and why you are taking it.

Exercise every day.

Learn something new every day.

Think, think, think—everyday.

Never stop seeking adventure. Never stop dreaming.

Take a nap everyday even if it’s only a two minute one.

Listen–listen to the birds, listen to the wind, listen to your children–even after they have become adults.

Measure your worth and accomplishments according to your own values–not those of others.

© 2 April 2012

About the Author

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.

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Doc Susie, Pioneer Doctor by Betsy

So many women, so little time. This is what I have discovered while exploring the idea of exploring famous women–women in history who were explorers of a sort in their own fields.

There are hundreds of women of whom I have a bit of knowledge, but some I particularly admire; and for varying reasons, women in whom I have a bit more interest than others. One is Susan Anderson otherwise known as Doc Susie. Susan Anderson was a pioneer in the field of medicine. She made no great discoveries nor did she posses any extraordinary medical skills. But still she was truly a noteworthy practitioner and certainly a remarkable woman.

Susan Anderson was born in 1870 in Indiana. She attended medical school at the University of Michigan and graduated in 1897. From there she settled in Cripple Creek, Colorado where her family was living at the time. She had planned to have a practice there, however, women were generally not accepted as capable doctors then so she moved to Greeley, Colorado where she practiced nursing for 6 years.

Meantime she had been diagnosed with tuberculosis and her condition grew worse while in Greeley. So she decided to move to Fraser, Colorado, a very cold and dry area where she could have an advantage against her condition.

In the early twentieth century there was nothing in Fraser but a sawmill and a few shacks.

Many who knew her wondered why a woman would want to go to such a cold, lifeless place. Just getting there in winter was daunting. The train trip over Rollins Pass was treacherous and unbelievably cold in the passenger car.

But she arrived there safely and settled in a small shack. Susan knew better than to announce upon her arrival that she was an M.D. She was there to cure her health condition not to confront prejudice. However, it was not long before the town folks learned that she was, in fact, a doctor. There were no other doctors in the area. What health care there was was provided by the local veterinarian. She found herself providing veterinarian services and doing so with great success. So it was not long before people realized the lady doctor in town was a skilled physician and soon she had built a practice. Her reputation spread and she was soon treating injuries and illnesses of the men and their families in the remote logging camps as well as the folks in town. In winter she would often trek on foot through deep snow to reach her patients.

“Once, Doc Susie escorted a small boy by rail to Colorado General Hospital in Denver. She announced to the intern on duty that the child needed an appendectomy. The intern was about to throw them both out when a doctor intervened. Once examining the boy they found he truly needed the operation. The hospital doctor turned to the intern and announced, ‘Meet Doctor Susan Anderson, the finest rural physician in Western Colorado…the best diagnostician west of the divide.’

“During construction of the 6 mile long Moffat Tunnel, designed to replace the treacherous Moffat Road line over Rollins Pass, Doc Susie was asked to become the Coroner for Grand County.

“They needed a ‘real’ doctor that was able to confront the Tunnel Commission about the accidents and working conditions that faced workers on a daily basis in this dangerous tunnel. It is estimated that 19 men were killed and hundreds injured during its construction. At times, Susie would have to go into the tunnel to care for the injured and retrieve bodies.”*

The Moffat Tunnel opened in 1928. Doc Susie continued practicing in Fraser and Grand County until 1956. She died in April, 1960 at the age of 90. Apparently her efforts to improve her health were effective.

Susan Anderson, M.D. was inducted into the Colorado Woman’s Hall of Fame in 1997.

Exploring the lives of extraordinary women is always an uplifting and inspiring experience. Ahhhhh! So many women, so little time.

*ellensplace.net

© 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). 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.

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Lonely Places by Betsy

There are so many lonely places one
could write about, I find it difficult to settle on one of them.  Probably the loneliest for me would be
loneliness of the heart, such as having a secret about oneself–something one
is terrified to disclose–that’s a very lonely place indeed.
Fear makes a person feel very
lonely–fear of violence, abuse, hunger, thirst, etc. I imagine this to be a
very lonely state of being.  Some are
fearful of being physically alone. They want to be surrounded by people–any
people– all the time.  This also must be
an agonizingly lonely person.
I imagine hatred would contribute to a
person’s feeling of loneliness as well. I believe for humans the natural state
of being is to love not to hate. Hatred is a creation of the human mind and is
not “natural.”
These are all states of being.  Right now I am thinking about an actual
place.
Because I have recently returned from
a visit to the state of Alaska I am thinking of a place most of us have never
visited, a place that appears to be very lonely. Most of the area of the state
of Alaska is a vast wilderness uninhabited by humans. The population of the
state is around 732,000.  That’s in the
entire state of 663,268 square miles an area almost one quarter the size of the
continental United States.  More than
half these 700,000 people live in the cities of Anchorage, Fairbanks, and
Juneau.  The other half are scattered in
towns, villages, or solitary homes, many of them reachable only by airplane or
boat.  Alaska is the largest state in
area in the U.S. and ranks 47th in population making it the least densely
populated state with only 1.26 people per square mile.  I imagine that living in the bush in Alaska
would be a very lonely existence for most folks used to living in a world of
people. But there are many people who live in the bush and live off the land by
choice. Perhaps they were born there and their parents lived there, or maybe
they just landed there and loved it and decided to stay. In some remote
villages a piece of fruit such as one orange can cost $5.00.  You would HAVE to live off the land in these
circumstances.
Alaska’s road system covers only a
small area of the state linking the central population centers of Anchorage and
Fairbanks and the Alaska Highway, the route out of the state through Canada.
The state capital of Juneau is not accessible by road only by car ferry.  The northern and western part of Alaska have
no road system connecting the communities with the rest of the state. 
I try to imagine living in the bush
hundreds of miles from the nearest town. Most of the people living in the bush
live in tiny villages or a group of some sort. 
But I know there are some who live by themselves, alone, in such a
place–and by choice.  This would seem
like a very lonely place to many of us, but clearly not to those who live such
an existence.
I imagine them to be so well
integrated into their environment that they never have a sense of
aloneness.  They actually are not
alone–being so completely ONE with your environment I imagine would not feel
lonely.
Loneliness is most definitely a state
of mind and relative to one’s situation. 
In a way it could be very lonely to think of ourselves, us Earthlings,
as alone in the universe, not knowing who may or may not be out there, where they
are, who they are, how close they are, are they there at all.  On the other hand when I think of myself as
PART of the universe, it doesn’t seem lonely at all.  I guess that’s how it is for the lone
Alaskan, family, or even a community of Alaskan’s living in the bush.  They know they are a PART of the natural
conditions in which they live since their very lives depend so totally on those
conditions.
I do not believe that the lonely
states of being mentioned above–fear, hatred, secretive living, I do not
consider living in such a state to be living in tune with one’s natural
environment, immediate surroundings or the Universe for that matter. So perhaps
we humans create our own lonely places. 
Perhaps there really are no lonely places except as creations of our
minds.
I’ll have to give this more
thought.  But for starters I like
thinking about being in tune with my surroundings, my environment, whatever it
may be–being in tune or being at ONE–I like to think of this as the way we
are meant to live. I like to think of being in tune as a source of contentment
and peace–the antithesis of feeling as if we live in a lonely place.
©
11 August 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).  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.