Bette Anderson, 94

A good friend of the family just passed away a few days ago (Dec. 17, 2020); I read it in the obituary section online of the  Hoosier Times, based in my hometown, Bloomington, Indiana. I have not seen or spoke to her in years. She suffered from dementia or Alzheimer's, and most likely would not remember me as she was the last 10 or so years. I am not sure if Bette had COVID-19 or not. She lived a good, long, life. Six children and multiple grand and great-grand children that I know of.

Bette was a good friend of my mother's, who passed away in 2014 at age 73. It is going on seven years since my mom died (she would be 80 now); the chapters of my mother's life that are living go on through me her son, her daughters, her former husbands and her older siblings and my cousins, her surviving nieces and nephews, and the friends and associations accrued over time.

Bette is another chapter in my mom's life now altered, now relegated to some data points, and random stories, some pictures and micro-fiche converted to digital histories. Now stowed haphazardly in the memories of those that survived and recalled things related to her.

I recall Sister Anderson from my earliest childhood memories. Church attendance, personal home visits, conversations between her and my mom as I sat or lounged nearby. Bette had a son who was troubled, and grandson who also had some issues. I also learned that Bette had one of her twin daughters precede her in death by many years. She is survived and beloved by many, and I am sorry that during this pandemic more people could not celebrate her life.

Life is not all peachy, not a bowl full of cherries, nor any other fruit-based metaphor you can think of. Southern Indiana is not the land of milk and honey, but it was home to Bette and those that knew her, like me. I feel part of that down home past and present, and seeing her go reminds me of the past and present that we may reflect on but never quite grasp, never quite attain but enetertain in pure emotions, memories, and thoughts.

Perhaps a blog entry.

 

A small anecdote related to Bette, for which I am thankful. 

 

When I joined the military in the spring of 2007 it was bittersweet to go away to isolated Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, while my wife and small children had to be left behind. The good part was that they spent two months with my parents in Indiana while I was traipsing through California, Virginia, and southern Missouri. They spent time with family, while me the dad was far off. Our oldest daughter finished off her year of kindergarten there in Bloomington, attending close to my old middle school and church. My dad got to be an up close father figure surrogate, picking her up from the bus stop until her studies were interrupted by a tonsillectomy.

In the first week or so of Basic Training, they put us in barracks housing called Reception. It is a bit of a limbo while taking care of paperwork, obtaining some gear and limited training, and passing those wonderful medical checks and vaccinations. At one point they take a picture of us, a close up with us in our newly issued uniform and patrol cap.

I am not sure if we individual soldiers choose how many copies will be produced and paid for, but I received a few and passed them through the mail back to Indiana. My mom shared one with Bette Anderson, who posted my photo in her small country house, which was prominent due to the size of the print. When my mother, my wife, and eldest daughter went on a visit to Bette's, who lived some 10-15 miles from town, my kindergarten girl who had not seen me in weeks or perhaps over a month remarked,"Wow! Dad is kind of famous!"

Thanks Bette, for being a kind friend through the years and being a true Christian, a Latter-day Saint, and a shoulder to cry on.

We love you and miss you; you are part the saga of my mother, my roots, and the way things are and have been for generations. We mark your passing with appreciation and gratitude.

I cannot tell all your story, but it is a special one indeed, to be recounted and eulogized in the generations to come. You are re-united with all your loved ones, and I am sure my mom has a specially saved hug for you and your new found presence with God above.

Thanks for living a long, good, decent life. May we all be so blessed, as we have all been blessed by your presence in our lives.