On My Friend Betsy

My friend Betsy had HER birthday on Friday. What with the Spain bombings, I forgot all about it.

Betsy and I have been friends since 5th grade. I do not remember how the friendship blossomed (Bets – do you?) – but it must have been a pretty instantaneous connection.

The main thrust of the start of our friendship was our shared love (should we say OBSESSION) for the musical of “Oliver Twist”. We went into a world of our own with this obsession. We would sit on top of the jungle gym at recess and sing through the entire score, song by song, with a crowd of children listening to us. We were a Rhode Island version of Maria Von Trapp, apparently.

Betsy and I wrote a book together. It was called “What Lies Below the Well”. I wish I still had that manuscript. It was a mixture of Lion, Witch and Wardrobe, and Oliver Twist.

At one point, one character peers down the well and says, “I see something down there!”

Another character says, “What do you see?”

First character replies, “A long thin winding staircase without any bannister!”

(It’s a line from a song in Oliver, for those who are, sadly, not in the know.)

Imagine how thrilled we were when, in 6th grade, the school musical was announced, and it was going to be “Oliver”.

Betsy (11 years old) was cast as Nancy, the whore with a heart of gold.

I was cast as the Artful Dodger, the mischievous pickpocket who acts as Oliver’s guide. “Consider yourself – AT home – Consider yourself – one of the family…”

I even did a Cockney accent. I was committed.

Betsy and I leapt up and down in the hallways at school, when we heard the news, and cried, and hugged.

Our friendship has spanned the decades.

Other jokes through the years:

— We always spoke in English accents. We thought people would be impressed. Why, I have no idea.

— We would walk from her house to the gym on the University campus after school and go swimming for an hour. Chattering the entire time to one another in English accents. For some reason, we liked to pretend that we had to walk 20 miles to get to the gym. That was part of our game. One or the other of us would sigh, in a British accent, “10 more miles!”

— We used to sit in her room after school and tape ourselves doing skits which we thought were supremely hilarious. Betsy would play her autoharp and I would sing. Now THAT is a funny image. The autoharp!!

— Betsy’s father, an Episcopal priest, ran a camp in the north of Rhode Island – a work camp. It was a tree farm, and kids would flock to the camp every summer to work the tree farm. A work camp where you would have Bible study classes, and go out and cut trees down all day. I know, it sounds so fun, right? I went every summer. Even though I am Catholic. It was so freakin’ FUN. There was one week called “Music Camp”, which was hilariously fun. The whole camp took music workshops, acting workshops, put on a musical … All while living in little cabins in the woods, and working on the tree farm as well. We would wake up at 7 in the morning and all run to go to church, which was held in a huge drafty barn. I guess you could say I had some of my first intense spritual experiences at camp. God seemed realler there. And now – in a beautiful “all is right with the world” kind of way: Betsy runs Music Camp.

— There have been times when I laughed so hard with Betsy I thought I might perish off the face of the earth.

— One day, in high school, during “spirit week” (did you all ever have spirit week? School spirit week – where one day would be Hawaiian Day, one day would be Pajama Day – and you would come to school in costumes?) Anyway, Betsy and Mere, another great friend, were hanging out in the school library in their pajamas, during study hall. They were in a slapstick mood. Wearing your pajamas as you ride a school bus will do that to you. They had waterguns, and they began to chase each other through the stacks, ambushing each other in true Charlie’s Angels style. Mrs. Wood, the rather imperious librarian, came around the corner and said, sternly, “Girls. Do I need to send you down to the principal’s office, or do you need a babysitter?” Bad move – to give the girls a choice. Betsy and Mere glanced at each other, then looked back at Mrs. Wood and said, in unison: “I think we need a babysitter.”

— Betsy made her own dress for the senior prom. A lace extravaganza the exact style of which, unfortunately, ended up on a Leeza Gibbons show many years later, entitled: “Embarrassing Fashions from the 80s.” It’s okay, Bets. You looked great.

— Betsy is one of the most loving supportive and friendly women I know. She is “good people”, you know what I mean? She understands struggle – she is one of those people that you can go to with your problems, or when you’re panicking about something stupid – because she will understand.

— She never really says what you might expect her to say. Her wisdom is her own.

You’re the best, dear Betsy. Happy birthday.