DAY TWO HUNDRED TWENTY SEVEN - Betty Irene

But I bespoke myself . . .  no sooner had I thought that progress had been made, that life had gotten substantially better because of finally having adequate hotel staff – when we are back to square one. Hurry, hurry, hurry up, AGAIN – guests are on their way and rooms are undone! And you, honey bee, are needed more than ever! Back to crazy, stressful chaos. I had reminded Loraine that I had an appointment this morning to go with Malcolm to visit Betty. ‘Can you do it later – or on a different day?’ Well, no, mornings are best for her – napping in the afternoon, you know. I thought in all the pressure just to cancel and suggest Malcolm go on his own, but I knew she was counting on me coming to visit. She, like many in England, are excited to converse with a ‘foreigner;’ I’d feel just the same if the tables were turned. Started to text Malcolm when I thought outside the box (yeah for me!), that I would go ahead and go – just make it shorter than I the couple hours I had allotted originally. (And, of course, in the end, me being gone turned out just fine. In the tension of the moment, I often forget that Loraine ALWAYS jumps right to ‘worst case scenario’ from the outset.)

How welcome ‘Malc’ (what Betty called Malcolm) and I were in Betty’s home – how glad she was to see us. We had a wonderful visit, about this and that. She has been widowed from her dear husband, Jerry, for over 30 years; Mandy’s son, Dave, is her caregiver, besides his mom, Betty’s daughter, Mandy. (How do you like that convolution?!) She is awfully fond of this kind, late 20s, grandson of hers. Our time together flew by, understandably, as we talked and talked. Can’t wait to go back another time and have an even longer chat. I want to pick her sharp brain about her past experiences – as far back as she can go, especially about when she was a young woman and then newly wedded, and then as a young mom.

As I was around town on another day I came to the realization that here in England there are still old-fashioned ‘grannies’ – and by that I mean the look, the demeanor.  Even my own mother, who by now is getting up there in age, has never looked like what I think of as a ‘granny.’ She has always been modern and up with the times and fashions. The last I can remember was her mother, who was my last personal association with a ‘granny,’ in the past sense of the word. Even Stephen’s step mother, Ethelyn, and Aunt Elsie, as well, have never been the type of older woman to which I am referring. Our children and grandchildren will never experience them in just that same sense – unless they come abroad. I’m sure they have them in places like Italy or France – because I’ve seen pictures.

In the evening we went to church for the ‘leave and do’ for Joe – mission departure reception, held during Young Men and Womens’, a brilliant idea, I thought. This great big huggable teddy bear is the friend of everyone he has ever encountered. Even Celeste and Hannah, as well as other friends who are now estranged from the church or who have never been associated with it in the first place, wanted to be present on this occasion to honor and say goodbye to Joe. This type of get together feels very much like the environment of a wedding reception – minus the bride and groom. You eat and you chat – with people you know who you enjoy chatting amicably with.  Today, and the following Sunday, he gave me several hugs. I had leaned in to give him a little pat when he reached out and gave me a great big hug. It is clearly evident that he is going to have an enjoyable and successful mission, as he is full of enthusiasm, the spirit, and love. (His sister, Rosie, is going to miss her best friend like the Dickens! We decided that for now she is going to stay in denial – that the date of his leaving {in six days’ time} is nearing WAY too soon!)

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Me and Betty - like being back with my own grandma