Memories of Miss Betty

By Shawn Sikes

It was a unique friendship to say the least. There was no real reason we should become friends; we had so little in common. Yet, it happened anyway.

In the fall of my sophomore year, Oklahoma Christian University hired a woman named Betty Clark to help set out desserts in the cafeteria. Her presence was felt immediately – a very distinct high-pitched timbre filled the cafeteria with proclamations of “Love ya,” and “If ya don’t go to class and ya don’t go to chapel, ya don’t get no cookie!”

These two statements turned out to perfectly represent the bookends of Miss Betty’s personality – always full of love, but you better believe she won’t stand for your nonsense.

My relationship with Miss Betty began at the end of that semester. Two students, Bryan Stangeland and Hannah Jackson, put together a Christmas gift for her, and invited others to deliver it to her apartment. I remember the wide range of emotion Betty displayed that first night. She was overcome with gratitude and cried joyful tears. She displayed her traditional playful humor.

The most memorable moment, though, occurred as a male student gave her a side-arm hug. Miss Betty looked at the unassuming student and yelled at him, “Don’t you turn your crotch away from me!” and demanded a proper hug. It was then I realized what a character she was, and knew I had to get to know her better.

I began driving her the next semester. It was awkward at first. Although she was chatty, I didn’t really know anything about her. And when she wasn’t in front of as many people, she would open up about her worries. I had no idea how to respond – what does a middle-class, young white boy know about the struggles of a elderly, black woman? But most of the time she didn’t need a response. She just needed someone to listen.

If I had to pick a particular moment when we finally clicked, it was over a Paul Simon song. Miss Betty appreciated all music and would dance to just about anything. An unusually quiet ride back to her apartment, I played her “You Can Call Me Al,” and sang along. Upon hearing, “I can call you Betty,” she burst out laughing. She was so thrilled to learn her name was in a song. And thus, a friendship was born.

So it took a semester, but we eventually became comfortable with each other. It took her all that time to even remember my name (pronounced by her as “Shauuuuhn”) and it took me that long to figure out she loved to tease and to be teased back. She would often make fun of what I was wearing.

“Do all the girls say you’re bad ‘cause ya got holes in your jeans?”

“You’re outfit is cute, but I won’ lie — you isn’t handsome.”

I would take sharp turns just to hear her yell at me… and occasionally swear.

“What is wrong with you, Shawn! This a new year! You was bad last year! You’s supposed to be good this year!”

Of course, she would make sure I was behaving myself.

“I see ya at church tomorrow.”

“Actually, I have to work tomorrow.”

“I said I’ll see ya at church tomorrow.”

And occasionally she would just give me folksy wisdom.

“If you’re driving someone else’s car, ya better be cool.”

I think the one thing about Miss Betty people didn’t realize was just how funny she was, how witty she could be, and how quick she could think on her feet. On more trips than not, she would ask to go to Arby’s or Popeye’s.

One particular day when I didn’t have time, she was insistent on going. In an attempt to change the subject, I asked her what Pastor Mark preached about last Sunday. She immediately responded with, “Bout how you is mean to me.”

At the end of a conversation I witnessed between her and my friend Brett, he left by telling her he was going to get some milk. Miss Betty retorted, “I hope they out.” Brett, not hearing this, said, “What’s that?” Without missing a beat, “I said have a nice day!” He bought it.

I don’t remember what I did to make her mad this particular time, but one day while dropping her off, Miss Betty told me, “I hope your sister plays soccer.”

I knew something smart-alecky was coming, but I was too intrigued not to take the bait. “Why’s that?”

“So she can kick you in the balls.”

Boom. Roasted. And that was the end of that conversation. I walked her into the cafeteria, both of us laughing the rest of the way.

That was the way things continued for four years. I occasionally took her grocery shopping, or would sit with her at church. Once I was able to take her to Spring Sing, a night she absolutely relished. I was fortunate enough to continue picking her up for another year after I graduated because of my job schedule.

But eventually I went back to school and couldn’t pick her up anymore. Not long after that her eyesight deteriorated to the point she could no longer work at Oklahoma Christian. Her health continued to decline and she had to move to an assisted living center. I wish I could say I stayed close and visited her often even then, but that would be a lie. I thought about it often, but I was always too busy.

On a Friday in early February 2015, I got a phone call from Neil Arter. It was about Miss Betty. She wasn’t doing well. After calling Bryan and Brett, we went to visit her that Sunday. She was awake, but unresponsive. It was difficult to see her lying there, looking around at us, but with none of her flare or charm. So we told stories about her, to her. We sang to her. Told some more stories. Said goodbye. Then left.

I found out a few days later she was supposed to die that weekend, but she pulled through. I resolved to actually visit her and to not repeat the mistake of being too busy again. So I did. But again, she wasn’t the same. She recognized us and said hello, but the spark wasn’t there anymore. We sat with her for a bit until she dozed off. Brett and I said we’d come back again next month.

Nine days later, I awoke to a text sent in the middle of the night. It was from Miss Betty’s caretaker. Miss Betty had passed away.

It’s a strange feeling. I’ve had a few people reach out to send condolences. And I appreciate them for sure. I am, indeed, sad. And I will miss her – I do miss her. But just as much as that — I’m happy for her. Miss Betty lived a difficult life, the details of which I will not exploit here. And I do think her final years – her Oklahoma Christian Cafeteria Dessert Lady years – may have been the most enjoyable, happiest, peaceful years. But she was still in pain, both physical and emotional. Again, life had been so unkind to her.

But now she’s free. She’s gone home to be with Jesus. To finally get some much deserved rest.

And for that, I am so happy.

Goodnight, Miss Betty. Get some rest. It was a privilege to be your friend.

Love ya!

 

Shawn Sikes graduated from Oklahoma Christian University in 2012.