Aunt Betty was married to my Grandmother’s Brother Bill. In earlier years he had been a railroad engineer in Sarnia plying the line over into Michigan. Betty kept herself busy managing a Variety Store. They shared their apartment with my Great- grandmother Elizabeth Watson.
There was a time when the two women held it together with an alcoholic bread-winner. The day did come when Uncle Bill was healed (by Grace and loving support).
That’s when young Doug got to see the picture. Two seniors in retirement and enjoying themselves entirely. Thankful with a capital “T”.
Uncle Bill had a large smile, a broad girth and a booming voice. He would always make a big fuss about my parents’ little dachshund “Otto”. The little pet would always give a happy welcome. Bill and Betty would visit on their way through to the racetrack or perhaps going South for a couple of weeks in Florida in their compact Austin vehicle.
Aunt Betty would probably remind one of Aunt Bea from the Andy Griffith Show on television. Always smiling, bearing gifts for children, baking.
Even after she was widowed Betty would make the trip occasionally from Sarnia to London. I can still recall the sight of that dear little senior with trip bag in hand hopping off at the Greyhound Bus Station on a dreary autumn day, waving and smiling. Courage and character.
I know nothing about Betty’s position in faith. Old Mother Elizabeth would have been a great help. I got to see her a few times before she passed. Sitting in front of the television and watching her beloved Detroit Tigers baseball team, calling out to her favourites. Often the “Good Lord” was a term issuing from her lips.
“One of these days I’m gonna sit down and talk with the three of them.”