Betty

When my parents came from Poland 23 years ago, they were met in San Francisco, California, by a family from church who would be taking them in: The McKay's. Cheryl and Neil McKay were a godsend to our family, and in turn, became my godparents. They took my family in, taught them the ways of American life, and gave my parents the groundwork from which to build their own lives.

Apart from my godparents, my own parents made only one other friend during their lives in America: Betty Rhodus. It wasn't until we had moved to Columbia, South Carolina, and my dad was starting his career at the hospital where he met Betty, who was a nurse. To me, Betty is totally unique, but to many people from the south I'm sure she would be as familiar as an aunt or a grandmother. In way, she become like an aunt to me.

Betty was a devout Baptist woman, and she often took me to church with her on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings. My parents are supposedly Catholic, but I remember only once going to church with them, where my dad ended up snoring so loudly we had to leave. Betty would come and pick me up for church, with her huge blue van and there would always be a cooler inside filled with Snapples, root beers, and candy. She always wore bright-red lipstick, and kept one attached to the visor, so that she could reapply while she was stopped at red lights. She had a nephew the same age as me, and this was the real reason why I went to church; he and I would always goof around before service, and during, we would both collapse onto Betty's lap for a nap (what kid doesn't fall asleep to a pastor's speech?)

I experienced so many things through Betty that I wouldn't have otherwise with my parents. She had a huge family that would come together on Sundays for brunch, and this is where I learned what grits were, and it's where I discovered the wonderful taste of fried chicken and okra. She was a rabid Gamecocks fan, with flags stuck onto the top of her van, and she had dozens of Gamecocks sweatshirts. From her I had learned what it meant to be patriotic, albeit just to a university. At church, I saw people get baptized, I actually read the Bible on occasion, and I met people for whom religion was a lifestyle. I had learned what is was like to have faith in something.

Betty had two homes, one of which was a lake house. In the summers, my parents would often drop me off there for the weekend, and Betty would take me water-skiing and boat-fishing, and sometimes she would even let me drive. In the evenings, she would feed me biscuits with jam and butter and Dr. Pepper, and we would play Scrabble. I would also practice songs like "The House of the Rising Sun" on her keyboard, or I would go through her books, and snuggle up on one of her comfortable couches and get lost in them, or just fall asleep to the sound of crickets and the electric fans.

When I think of Betty's homes and her life, I think of coziness and contentedness. Betty was made a widow at a relatively young age, by a man that I had never met, but from the pictures that were on the wall of them together I had gathered that they were very happy. They never had any children. Though she never talked about him, his presence in her life was apparent. I first read Calvin and Hobbes when she gave me a book to read while I was at her house one evening with my parents and bored. I noticed the inside of the cover page was signed by her deceased husband. I still have that book. She kept all of his belongings, mixed in with her own; she was truly a rat-pack. This was all the better for a curious little kid like myself.

She has been like a rock for us since we met her and she was the aunt I never had. It amazes me to see how she goes on with life with such strength and grace. I think it's interesting that the most generous people in our lives have been people from church; a true sign that there are some people out there who really practice what they preach, and through God, get the strength to give back what they're given.