Betty Jean Cotton

"At the end of life, what really matters is not what we bought but what we built; not what we got but what we shared; not competence but our character and not our success but our significance. Live a life that matters."

I found this quote writtten in a letter I sent to my mother in law about two years ago at Christmas when she first became very ill. She kept it all this time.

I met Betty for the first time when Tim and I were on our honeymoon in California, September 1990. We had already been living together (in sin) for over two years before getting married so had gotten to know her through her weekly calls on Saturday mornings. She called all of her kids once a week.

By the time I finally met her, we were already great friends and quickly grew to love her even more.

We started our honeymoon in San Francisco, then went to Sausalito, Napa and then spent a few days with Betty in Sacramento, taking a trip together to Tahoe to gamble for a day. I bet Tim had to pull her off the tables three different times on the way out the door. The girl knew how to gamble. She insisted on driving our rental car  back to Sacramento since she was more familiar with the way. She gunned the little car onto the entrance ramp to the highway, quickly discovering she was on the ramp leading to the Burger King parking lot beside the entrance ramp to the highway. Tim drove after that.

I don't know how many times Tim and I have laughed about that over the years. Betty was a hot mess long before the term was ever invented. She was a delight to be around.

She couldn't care less about housework. Her house was tidy, just didn't really care much about vacuuming or dusting.

She lived with four big dogs, all giant schnauzers and standard poodles and trust me, they had run of the place. She and Tim went somewhere together one of the days we were there and were gone for most of the day while I stayed home to relax in the sunshine and read. I decided to clean her house for her, as a surprise. I spent about four hours cleaning from top to bottom, scrubbing bathrooms and the kitchen as well.

Betty never even noticed.

Tim and I have laughed about that one too over the years. It simply wasn't important to her. What was important was her yard, her dogs and her painting.

After retiring from the state she relocated to St. Augustine to be closer to her kids and grand kids. She a had a small house that was packed with antiques and was a bric-a-brac museum. She was in her sixties by then but strong as a work horse. She survived breast cancer and after a mastectomy had no qualms about having one flat side, rather wearing it as her badge of honor. She put up an entire six foot privacy fence around her back yard with just help from an old (feeble at best) man down the street. Then she dug two huge koi ponds, lining them and running water to them. Then she built a brook around the side and back of her house with water falls and more fish. She built benches and swings and chairs and awnings and the back yard was an absolute oasis. She had lime trees, lemon trees, a greenhouse she also built and had plants and flowers everywhere.

We'd go visit her every year when the kids were little. She was affectionately called "Grand Mama Mama" by all her grand kids. She always made us Bouillabaisse and we ate out back under all the trees with Spanish Moss dripping from them. It was her own little slice of Heaven. She owned two German Sheperds,  two Jack Russells, three Collies and a couple of mutts. She had about ten cats with about twenty more strays living out front of her front porch door and yard. Betty took care of any creature that happened by and kept them all fed and watered. I guess when you had six children to raise at an early age, animals were easy peasy.

You could have stuffed a king sized pillow with all the dog and cat hair but didn't bother her one bit. I knew better than to try and clean for her...learned that lesson on my honeymoon!

She'd give you the shirt off her back. She was the most generous woman I ever met. She lived a simple life and never wanted for more. She had a heart of gold. She knew how my own mother had loved antiques and gave me so many (really) nice things over the years. We have a storage unit here in Orlando packed to the gills with even more she gave us when she had to give up her house and go to assisted living.

She only came to visit us once in Georgia, too worried about leaving her animals for long but had a good friend come over to sit with the herd one weekend and came for a visit.

That was back when the kids were younger, TJ had just started high school. We had our first Boxer, Rosie back then and Betty was all excited to meet her. We invited all Tim's brothers and the grand kids over for a cook out one afternoon.

She refused to let us make Rosie get off that bench, she said she enjoyed having her grand dog so close. Looks like Rosie was enjoying it as well. I can't tell you how many times we've laughed about this too!

The past couple of years haven't been very kind to Betty. Cancer revisited her once again, this time in her lungs...her non smoker lungs. She never smoked a day in her life.

Massey, Zach and TJ went to visit her while I was still living in Georgia. She was too weak to walk so TJ simply scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his car, borrowing a wheelchair and putting it in his trunk. They took her out to eat at her favorite place and got her out for an afternoon. Have I mentioned what good kids I have?

Massey and I went to visit her a few months ago and she was too weak to even sit up in bed.

 Broke my heart.

Of course she was still alert as ever, sharp as a tack, just trapped in a crumbling body. She had a room mate, also a Betty. Their beds were about six feet apart with a curtain you could draw between them. Room Mate Betty was able to come and go, not bed ridden at all and wasn't there when we first arrived. After about an hour, Room Mate Betty came into the room and our Betty introduced me to her.

Seemed like a really nice woman, and they seem to get along well, which is a good thing when you live six feet from each other waiting to be six feet under.

So Room Mate Betty goes over to her side and draws the thin curtain, I suppose to give us some privacy. I was laying on the bed next to  our Betty, stroking her head and holding hands with her. I remarked how nice her room mate was. Betty didn't skip a beat, she said "You know, she's a Republican...but a nice one."

Jeez Betty! It isn't an iron curtain she drew shut.

But that was Our Betty.

You see, Betty and I have exactly the same political views. Tim is a Republican although lately has been leaning Independent. I'm so far left I'm almost back to the right! Tim and I don't talk politics, never have.  Well maybe a couple of times, but didn't turn out so well. We do our political talking in the polling booth, as it should be done.

I'll never forget the time we went to visit Betty when she first moved to St. Augustine. We pulled in her tiny driveway behind her little truck which had a bumper sticker which read "No More Bushit". I thought it was funny, Tim declined to comment.

Tim borrowed my brother's big Ford truck today and moved the last of Betty's things out of her room today. I didn't go. He told me when they were there, Room Mate Betty was beside herself crying about our Betty's death, and told Tim:

"She was my best friend in the world."


I think we could all learn a lot from how our Betty and Room Mate Betty (both white) lived together, in a tiny cinder block room in a tiny cinder block hospice which was formerly a tiny cinder block hospital for African Americans Only in St. Augustine in the 1900's. (another travesty)

We're all different, and should embrace that as a good thing instead of butting heads over it.

So happy for Betty's release and know for certain she's in a better place. She was a wonderful person with a wonderful spirit.

You will be missed by this world, which truly needs more people like you in it. You led by example and we should all stand by yours.

Till next time... COTTON

Praise God!

Got the text  early today. God  finally took Frances. The text  wasn't  from God but the blessing was.  Every  time my sister and I went to visit these past couple of weeks the people from  the nursing home were nice and said "She's fine, she's doing okay and isn't in any pain." Well number one they didn't know Franny like we knew her and number two the woman laying in that bed not even able to recognize us at  the end wasn't the Franny we wanted to remember and know Franny wouldn't want to continue this way.

My sister sent me a simple text "Frances slipped away today, PTL."

She never wanted to be a burden and she never wanted to waste  away in a nursing home. Maybe a few weeks is a pretty short demise but Frances would have never wanted it. She wanted to remain in her house and go peacefully. That wasn't in the cards so even though painful to watch we alternated visits and sometimes went together. The first couple of weeks were okay, the last few not so much. When it makes my twenty one year old son cry, you know it's bad.

Halleluiah, God took her today. The instant her heart stopped she was whole again. No more heart problems, no more kidney  problems, no more deafness. No more worrying about people having to look after her. No more worries about the horrible pain she was in from  the bleeding bruising  on the back of her calves from losing circulation.

Once she took her last breath, it was a whole new ball game. I can just see her strutting through the pearly gates and with her raspy voice asking St Peter where my Diddy (her cousin) was and demanding to be introduced to my Momma. I can hear her saying in that scratchy voice of hers to God, "What took Ya so long? I've been ready for a while. Where do I go and what do You need me to do?"

Does it sound bad I am thrilled she has passed onto her reward? I don't care if it does. I'm glad she is gone. I will miss her, but being a Christian and knowing she is now flying high and bossing around the angels makes me smile. The last few weeks seeing her have made me sad and that's not the way she should be or would want to be remembered.

Her funeral is Monday and believe it or not  my youngest  son , Zach wants to go with me. The last time she was coherent was when Zach went with me to visit. It was the last time she cracked a joke. It was the last time she seemed like Franny. She was in pain but though her pain still cracked a joke with Zach and even asked about Massey and asked how she liked college?

This woman was dying in a nursing home and smart as she was , knew it but still cracked jokes with Zach and asked how Massey was doing .  She was and IS an incredible woman. The stories we have about her are endless and hoping to share a few at her service. If they don't ask me to speak, no worries. I have no qualms about raising my hand to speak or interrupting the service. Frances was a marvelous amazing woman. She deserves to have stories told about her and laughter be abundant.

She would never want tears unless they were tears of joy and laughter. I think I can take care of that for her, it's the least I can do for a magnificent human being like her. I swear if I can be half the eighty two year old woman she was, I'll be doing it right!

Praise The Lord...Frances hurts no more.

Til next  tome...COTTON

It's Me Friday!

Finished up about an hour ago at  the mattress store for the week. It wasn't  as busy  as yesterday but made a few sales and made a few contacts who I think will be back.  My last sale was to a tiny lady who walked with a cane. She bought a twin mattress for a day bed she bought on Overstock.com. She was all worried about how to get  it home and wanted to know who was there to load it? I told her she was looking at  the Loader! She said she drove a SUV and asked if it would fit inside? "Heck yeah!" was my instant enthusiastic reply.

So she drove home with her driver's seat pulled up so far she could have steered with her boobs and the mattress was smack up next to her so she had to lean towards the door while she drove but off she went!

My sister and I are going to visit my Diddy's cousin, Frances tomorrow who is in a hospice in Griffin about twenty miles away.

She's a firecracker... at least she was before her kidney failure which landed her in hospice. We didn't meet her until my Diddy  met her about fifteen years ago and she came to a family reunion at my sister's house. She was mentally sharp as a tack. Very computer savvy, paid all her bills online and always contributed to our family website. She was deaf as a post and you had to holler at her to be heard but she had a great sense of humor and we all fell in love with her. After my Diddy died we stayed in touch with her. She lived by herself in a tidy  tiny house off a state highway right down the road from  the cemetery where my parents and grandparents are buried.

A few years ago some idiot doctor botched a catheter and she had to go to rehab for an open wound the size of a postcard on her leg . All her immediate family lives out of state so my sister, Massey, Zach and I went to visit her several times a week during her six week stay. She was always upbeat and never, ever complained. The rehab facility was also a nursing home so it was pretty  depressing to walk in and see people on gurneys in the hallways looking lonely. The more mobile old peeps shuffled about the place on their walkers with  tennis balls attached to  the front legs or in  wheelchairs propelling themselves along with their socked feet. Franny owned a cell phone but you  couldn't call her on it because she couldn't hear you. Massey left for band camp and offered to let Franny use her lap top so she could communicate with family via email, check her bank statements, read the family website and read my "Blob."  You could tell her ten times it was a BLOG but every time she said it, it came out "Blob."

I took the lap top to her on a visit and showed her how to use it. The place boasted  "WiFi" friendly areas but they weren't. The only place we could connect was in the front lobby so we would wheel Franny up to the front lobby and let her do her thing while we watched the other old peeps gaze at her in wonder as they either wheeled or shuffled by  on their walkers.

The next time I went to visit was with Zach in tow. It was a Sunday and we had to wait for her to get out of the church service. It was a glass enclosed room and as we waited outside noticed most all their chins were on their chests. I looked over at  Zach and said "I don't think  they're ALL praying." While we waited a woman beside us mentioned she was waiting on a patient. She was a physical therapist at  the facility. I mentioned that we needed another roll across the bed  table like they had their food served on for my aunt to put her lap top.

The woman looked around her on both sides and said "Well I tell my patients when they come in here, not to bring  their valuables, don't bring  your rings, watches or don't even bring your teeth. Things have a way of walking off. I 'm not saying it's employees but maybe some random visitor walking down the hall seeing something valuable unattended in a room and simply walking off with it."
Well  that freaked me out. Massey's lap top wasn't even totally paid for yet.

The next  day I visited, came in with a hard plastic tool box large enough  to hold the computer with  the shelving taken out,  a bicycle chain to chain the tool box to the bed and a padlock to lock the box. I had the forethought to type up a letter for Frances to read explaining why we needed to lock up Massey's computer when she wasn't in her room. It seemed better than going into her room and having to scream at her "There are thieves around here!"

She looked at me funny when I walked in with all my gear but two of her friends from church were there to visit so I explained it all to them. Then handed Frances the letter to read I had written. She read  the letter with her mouth silently moving as she read the words.  She got to one part of the letter, looked up at her friends with squinty eyes and hollered to them "THEY SAY DON'T EVEN BRING YOUR TEETH TO THIS PLACE!" I held both my hands out palm side down waving frantically up and down to keep her quiet. It didn't work.

Classic Frances moment.

Frances' outlook doesn't look good. She's refused Dialysis. She also had open heart surgery a couple of years back and think she's just tired of being cut open, poked at, worked on and having to be in the hospital.

I told my sister tonight on the phone after firming up plans for tomorrow's visit that if Frances does pass, I am asking her nieces and nephew (all out of state) if Cindy and I can speak at her funeral.  I don't want her funeral to be a sad depressing affair and they better not play Amazing Grace. Don't depress us, lift us up! The Battle Hymn of the Republic would be a much better choice. My sister says she wants that at her funeral and after listening once again to the words I totally agree. I want it to be filled with fantastic funny Franny moments! I want it to be a tribute to what a feisty, gutsy and determined woman she was.

My sister has the most hysterical story  about picking Frances up from the Atlanta airport when she came home from an out of town family reunion. I reminded my sister of it tonight and we both started laughing just talking about it.

That's the way Frances should be remembered when her time comes, with a smile.

Til next  time...COTTON