79. Cousin Betty

My cousin Beth died in hospice in Arizona recently. There was no family present but she was looked after by good friends and caring professionals. Unknown to me, she had fought a long battle with recurring cancer.

Beth and I weren’t very good at staying in touch. Unsentimental she was, rarely responding to my letters or Christmas cards. In fact, I only knew that Beth had retired and moved to Arizona because one time I googled her. So, I learned of her passing from another cousin, Lorraine, who has much more of a knack for keeping up with family.

Beth and I grew up in New Jersey, pretty close in age and of like minds. Our Moms and Dads were great friends so we had lots of good times. Our last time together as families would have been the rendezvous in Disneyland in ’67. After that, we kids got serious about graduating and going to college. Then we pretty much gravitated to opposite corners of America, and chose very different styles of life.

I can think of only four times in the last 50 years when we met: in Boston where she gave Linda and me a special Freedom Trail tour; in New Jersey at my brother’s home for a gigantic family reunion; in Las Vegas for my parents’ 50^th anniversary; and in Seattle about 18 years ago when she was up our way on business, tending to youth education programs for the Unitarian Church.

The following is a piece I contributed for the gathering in her honor in the Arizona desert, where her ashes were scattered by loving friends.

Cousin Betty

I am so saddened by the news of Beth’s passing. I had no idea she was ill as we hadn’t kept in touch for several decades.

I am honored to contribute some words for her memorial. I especially look forward to hearing from others who were close to her recently, as almost all of my memories of my dear cousin Beth are from childhood, so many years and miles ago.

My mother’s three sisters and their families all lived fairly near to us and we gathered during the year at any of the homes for birthdays, barbecues and holidays. There were lots of kids close in age and if you put them all in one rec room or backyard it didn’t take long for a ruckus to erupt. I disliked all that commotion, being a quiet kid. It was usually my simpatico pal, cousin Betty Nuber, who you've known as Beth Williams, who rescued me.

She and I found a calm area to play, and while the house was full of crazy noise, we talked about school, drew pictures and played board games. Another cousin or two might come into our quiet space to enjoy some time out; Lorraine was always welcome, but the disrupters were not! It was so nice, waiting out the storm together, until the sugar high wore off the rest of the kids, or until one of them got mad or hurt and the parents said it was time to go home. Through it all, I had Betty’s serene nature to light the way to peace. That loving smile of hers was all she needed as far as I was concerned.

Later on in adolescence, as I grew to realize that grownups were weird, Betty was on the same page with me, but she had a better way of coping with it. Our moms, Esther and Ruth, used to sit at our piano and belt out—Ethel Merman style—Broadway show tunes and Cole Porter classics.  Naturally, I would cringe. But instead of going along with my snarky remarks about parents, Betty would glance at me with a knowing smile, gesture “come on” with her head, and lead me away to peace in the farther end of the house.  Remarkably, it’s taken until the time of this writing to acknowledge the lifelong value to me of her lesson!

And now, there are two things I would give anything to experience again—Mom and Aunt Ruthie singing “Night and Day,” and sharing a pleasant, quiet moment with cousin Betty!

Sincerely, Robert Sickles

Olympia, Washington | October 15, 2024