Miz Betty From Brooklyn by Wanda Bridgeforth

The little lady in the print dress and her hat perched at a saucy angle descended the train steps, our eyes met. I knew it was my mother, Ruby. We hesitated, called each other’s name then clung together as if we were trying to make up the 32 years of separation. Then both of us started babbling and crying at the same time.

During the next 32 years we visited back and forth. She had a personality all her own and I filled in some of the gaps of her life story. She and a twin sister were born in Kingston, Jamaica to a black cobbler father and a French-Scottish mother.

After she and her twin attended secondary school in England they went to Hamilton Ontario, Canada. They made friends with my Uncle Jim and his wife Mary who introduced her to Jim’s brother Albert. A romance began. Here the story gets fuzzy. I have heard several Reader’s Digest versions of the events that led up to me and my coming to America.

We visited back and forth. I enjoyed a warm association with the little lady with the Jamaican, British, Brooklyn, and Yiddish accent. Her name was very confusing. And, was often frustrating. What is your name? Ruby Betty. Your last name? Betty. Ma’am your last name. Betty. (In a condescending tone) NO, NO, DEAR, I mean your LAST name.

My LAST name is B-E-T-T-Y. BETTY. The lady looked at me and I said her last name IS Betty.

I discovered she was very prompt, neat, organized, outspoken and had a very vivid vocabulary.

On Monday we paid her Edison bill.

Tuesday the gas bill.

Wednesday the telephone bill. That night I realized all three companies were in the same building. I asked why she didn’t pay all bills the same day. She said that single trips gave her a reason to go out. On her schedule were weekly trips to downtown Manhattan, Downtown Brooklyn and Harlem to visit her sister, Lovena.

She lived in a third floor walk-up on the corner of Macon & Stuyvesant in Brooklyn for 45 years. Everyone on the two blocks knew her a Miz Betty the little lady with the hats and tote bag.

She never used the speaker for the front door, she hung out her window and shouted “Look up, Sweetie, Who You?”

During the 32 years of our friendly relationship I realized our personalities were at the opposite ends of the pole. I have no regrets and am happy for the life I had with Mama Geneva.

March 2, 2016