betsyburton.org - Stories & Remembrances

December 15, 2009
After looking at the photos here on the site I so wish I had new ones to post; of you laughing with Ariella (whom you've never met), hiking somewhere in the Bay Area, or just hanging out w/ some good food and friends. Missing you more this year then ever, if that is possible.

-- Love, Andrea

December 10, 2009:
Dear Betsy, Remembering you, as I usually do around this time of year (but throughout the year as well). Thanks for being such a delightful presence in my work life and thanks for supporting my comedy career!

-- Kenny Altman

I met Betsy when she walked into The Lafayette Academy and interviewed to be a tutor for a reading program I had just developed. It was hardly an interview - I liked her so much that we chatted like old girlfriends about our dreams for the future of children's education and the similarities in our lives. (We were the same age, 1 of three sisters, East girls gone west, single, cared deeply about educating all kids - I knew I had found a soul sister.)

Working at The Lafayette Academy was an addition to her regular job and trying to work on her thesis. She would come out from the city (about 45 minutes at least) on many Saturday and Sundays to tutor and test children. I asked her about this once. "You do so much. Why do you tutor way out here in Lafayette when you already are so busy in your week?" She told me she was inspired by helping kids get along better in this world. Tutoring and testing brought her happiness.

I last Betsy in November at my birthday tea. I remember her walking in the tea place with a bunch of beautiful sunflowers. That's how I remember Betsy... peeking through sunflowers. Betsy, I'm going to your memorial service today in Golden Gate Park and will bring you a sunflower. I'll always remember your sunniness. You brought great joy to this world.

-- Ellen Rosenstock

July 3, 2007: Happy Birthday Bets. It's still hard to believe you're gone.

While I have not yet had the emotional strength to submit my photos, and there are so many fun photos of Betsy, I wanted to write about my memories of her from college. What strikes me most was her strength: emotionally, physically, and intellectually. We all knew she was intellectually smart. Kicking our butts (ok, my butt) on those French "dictees" and writing in beautiful prose and non-fiction. She was socially and emotionally brilliant: putting an empathetic and graceful spin on any college conflict (senior year????), caring for her so many friends, and always being genuine, honest, and caring. Her physical strength was impressive. I'll never forget the story where she and her frosh roommate Emily were re-arranging their milk carton size basement Foss 5 1/2 room for the 30th time, trying to eek some space out. Emily tried to help her move the bed and dresser. Betsy said, "um, Emily, could you just move out of the way?" and Betsy siglehandedly picked up the furniture herself and hauled it on out of the way. Betsy had so much strength inside of her in our college days, and I suspect she still had it in her difficult work she did helping the most vulnerable in our society: the children. She is an inspriation, always has been, always will be.

So much of the time together that I've spent with Betsy over the past 20 years has been running through my mind. Our laughter and meals together at Wesleyan. The drive that Jim Mitchell and I took up to Saratoga Springs in summer 1988 to visit her for a weekend. The trips we took together to Lake Tahoe, when she blessed me and other friends with her newly-learned talents from cooking classes -- I will never forget the portobello burgers she made, which converted me to those mushrooms! The many soccer games we attended together in San Jose -- the shouts of "cookie time!!" and the fake crush that she and Rosemary Reilly had on Jeff Baicher (!!). Her infectious smile and her giggle-groan at my jokes.

Most of all, though, right now I am remembering three things. First, Betsy came back from attending the 1998 World Cup in France, which she had attended with her wonderful family, and brought me a gift. She had gotten me a France '98 bag, and I have used that for the past 8 years as my goalkeeper equipment bag. I was using it the day that she died, December 17th, in my last game of the fall season for my new team. Almost every time I pick it up, I think of her and appreciate her simple gift.

With Betsy's loss so present in every-day life, it's difficult to put into words what I will remember most about Betsy and what I would like others to know who may have not been as fortunate as I have been to know Betsy as a close friend. Although my son, Sebastien, is thankfully a huge distraction from the heaviness I feel in my heart and soul, he is also a constant reminder of Betsy's connection with and passion for children. She had an uncanny sense for knowing what even the youngest child was thinking/feeling in the moment and for helping adults (and parents) help their children through difficult situations. She did this for me so many times in the short 16 months that she knew Sebastien and me as a mom. And I know she did this for the children for whom she babysat, her clients at the Infant-Parent Program, and daycare centers she for which she consulted.

Of course, my memories of her, me, and Sebastien playing are most recent, but my memories of her from Wes, our time as roommates in SF, and the many years in between seem just as fresh in my mind. Little things include, "running on Burton time" (aka very early in the morning); being our savior w/ the tarp on our "Women in the Woods" trip w/ Di; cooking on 21st St., helping me plan my 30th birthday bash, our many hours spent on the tennis court (she will always have the BEST backhand-volley-lob in the game!), and holding eachother's hand as we attempted "girly" things like make-up, shopping, and manicures/pedicures. These are just a few of the many, many things for which I will remember Betsy.

It's hard to write about Betsy because to do so brings into still focus a reality my mind tells me cannot be so. I know I will have more to say, but for now this is what I can put down.

I was putting my almost 4-year old son to bed last week and in the dark he says to me, "Momma, you're terrific." This has got to be like crack for mothers. And as I'm basking in the lovefest between mother and son, he follows with, "Momma, you're complicated." I laughed and laughed.

I wish I could have told that story to Betsy. I can hear her laugh. But the reason I mention it is that it reminded me that to be human is to have more than one face. I was having a hard time connecting her passing with the memories I have of Betsy's utter willingness to go to a place of lightness and laughter, no matter what else she might be experiencing. Betsy's laugh was simply a delight, and it always invited you in. She was refreshingly open in discussing her struggles, and I was open with her in return. And while she and I had many serious conversations over the years, I think the closest I felt to her was when we were both laughing. Her eyes were so expressive, so lit up, and she would look right at me, her eyes saying, "Share this funny moment with me!" She was so fun, so light, so giving, and at the same time, she had an inner life that at times seemed to mess with her peace. She was terrific, and she was complicated.

Betsy was so uniquely gifted with children, to witness it simply stopped me in my tracks. It was truly mesmerizing. Years ago we were walking down 24th St. when she stopped to talk with a friend and the friend's young daughter. The way she treated that little girl has always stayed with me: inclusive, respectful, non-objectifying, gentle. She did the same with my son, Roel and every other child I saw her interact with, no matter the age. A couple of months ago I was talking on the phone with Betsy, and Roel wanted to tell her something but was having a hard time getting the words out. Betsy said, "Could you draw me a picture and show it to me when I see you?" He said yes and when we got off the phone immediately drew her a picture, which he then taped to the wall and later showed her. She had an ability to put children at ease and make them feel counted. She had great compassion for me as a mother as well. I can only imagine the impact she made on the children and families she served through her work.

I pray for peace for Linda, Amy, and Carly, as well as for all of Betsy's friends. I pray especially for Betsy, that your spirit is alive and well and that we'll meet again someday, friend. Om Shanti.