My father’s sister was fourteen years old when I was born. I don’t remember a lot about her during the early years. She was simply a lovely image floating through my life. However, at around the age of five she became my role model. I absolutely adored her. She had a beautiful voice and she sang “Que Sera Sera” to me. She bought ice cream for me. She owned a gorgeous doll that usually hung on her wall, but she took it down and let me touch it. She drew wonderful pictures of clothes. She had a quilt on her bed that had little squares of velvet and we would stretch out across it to laugh and talk.
Betty Jo was so beautiful, at least in my eyes, that I thought she would surely grow up to be a movie star. I carried at least one photo of her in my wallet until I was about twenty years old. I loved to tell people “that’s my aunt Betty”, as though some of her beauty would somehow be transferred to me by association.
Aunt Betty had a career, and as I grew up I realized that she also had a future- something I couldn’t say for most of my relatives who were toiling in fields or stuck in dead-end jobs. Here is what I wrote about her in my 1964 journal:
“My Favorite Artist- To be really truthful, I would have to say that my favorite artist is my Aunty Betty. She is a draftsman for the state, but she sketches and paints in her spare time. My aunt studied mechanical drawing during her senior year here at Central. She took the course as a joke at first, when she was unable to take P.E. during her last semester because of a back injury. The “joke” now pays her $600 a month as a draftsman for The California State Division of Highways here in Fresno. She is just one step below a supervisor and has already passed her written test for supervisor. Someday, with practice, I hope to draw as well as she does. Right now that day seems very far away!”
If you read my short story, “Sweet Peas” (Stories Too Long), you’ll see that it is based loosely on an incident in her life. I actually did introduce her to her second husband and I was a flower girl at their wedding. However, their marriage didn’t last and I had one more uncle before he too, left the family. I could never understand why men didn’t appreciate her, even worship her the way I did. It was years before I quit playing match-maker. I actually met my husband at a hospital party I attended with her and her date.
Aunt Betty didn’t grow up to be a movie star, but she has been successful. She had a long career. She’s been as busy since she retired as she was when she was working. She has lots of friends, and travels the world. She seems happy.
Over the years Aunt Betty and I have had a rocky relationship. Time, distance, and changes in circumstance have made us “polite relatives”. I still love her, but I don’t worship her. I’m still interested in her, but she isn’t my role model. I still enjoy talking to her, but her life and mine, her interests and mine, her values and mine, are now as opposite as East from West. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up. Even the people you once kept on a pedestal become human beings. And human beings, even related ones, can’t always be best friends forever. I guess it’s a fitting tribute to us both that this was “our song”.
Que Sera Sera lyrics by DORIS DAY
When I was just a little girl,
I asked my mother, 'What will I be?
'Will I be pretty?
'Will I be rich?'
Here's what she said to me:
'Que sera, sera,
'Whatever will be, will be;
'The future's not ours to see.
'Que sera, sera,
'What will be, will be.'
When I grew up and fell in love,
I asked my sweetheart, 'What lies ahead?
'Will we have rainbows
'day after day?'
Here's what my sweetheart said:
'Que sera, sera,
'Whatever will be, will be;
'The future's not ours to see.
'Que sera, sera,
'What will be, will be.'
Now I have children of my own,
They ask their mother, 'What will I be?
'Will I be handsome?
'Will I be rich?'
I tell them tenderly:
'Que sera, sera,
'Whatever will be, will be;'Que sera, sera,
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