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| RIDE THE WIND Soar with the eagles Roar past the lions And call the heavens home May you rest in God’s arms Walk in his garden and Drink from his fountain I shall feel your spirit In the carefree breezes And hear your song When the wild birds sing. -Author unknown |
Betty Davidson, my mother, was a truly unique lady. A combination of great intelligence, inquisitiveness, stoic presence, and warmth gave her an innately pleasant demeanor. More keen to listen than talk, and always quick to smile, she made friends wherever she went.
As it was with almost any child raised in eastern Kentucky in the first half of the twentieth century, she possessed the skills of the pioneers and the strong mind of a person firmly grounded in reality. These things never left her. She could do anything and excel at it but never felt the need to compete. This meant others always respected and admired her for her abilities. However, the wise knew better than to taunt her. The witty end of her sarcasm gene could be deadly – one of the many things my dad loved about her.
As scandalous as it may seem today, when she married my father, a man who was her high school teacher and 14 years older, locals considered it a fairy tale wedding. Together they lived a largely traditional and happy life of marriage until he died in the year 2000. Up to that point, despite working as a full time teacher, she had never really been alone without anyone to look after her the way she looked after them.
Silently, myself and my siblings wondered what she would do. What she did amazed us.
She took up golf and excelled at it. “Ran the roads” with the energy of a kid, driving regularly for hours on end to see family and friends. Soon her clothes took on more color, she purchased the red convertible she always wanted, and bought herself a place in Florida. Refusing to wallow in misery or grow old, instead she adapted to expanding boundaries. She didn’t give up; she gave life a run for its money, and it was impossible to do anything but admire her for it.
However, through it all she was there if you needed her to be..
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| Many of you knew her as the lady who ran the fly-in store. Meeting everyone on hand was something she always enjoyed. |
When she passed I was tasked with describing her and found it to be strangely impossible. Sitting here days later I still do. She did so many things with intent and so little self-promotion that nothing stands out even as I list them. I think about that and wonder how it can be.
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| I never thought of her and style together but she certainly had it. |
She was a textbook housewife of yesterday, reliable friend, and hard worker. She also loved sporty little cars, had a closet full of color, was always where things were happening, and everyone loved her. Modern women would hoist her image as a poster child for feminism if it weren’t for her insistence on logic and reason and women of yesterday would find her too progressive. Men and women both said she was beautiful yet she never graced the roll of any pageant. She was always there, whatever “there” was, but never the focus.
YES! Now I see it. That’s who she was and I am disappointed in myself for never seeing it before.
She was the universe to our stars - the scenery upon which we imagined ourselves framed. In a world of portraits, she was a landscape.
Betty Sue Davidson
Novermber 16, 1938 – January 7th, 2022
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After my mother passed, we found out (through Ginger) that mom had a poem written to her by my dad that she carried everywhere. Had Ginger not snuck a photo of it one day we would never have known it existed. Here it is below.
Until I met you I just wandered around,
searching for something hard to be found.
searching for something hard to be found.
Searching for someone who maybe like me,
was searching for someone who would always be
Honest and faithful, and true, and kind,
One who in trouble would always find,
Time to listen and stop falling tears
To protect and defend from bewildering fears.
One whose love was as sure as the dew
I was searching for someone until I met you.
- Eldon E. Davidson
was searching for someone who would always be
Honest and faithful, and true, and kind,
One who in trouble would always find,
Time to listen and stop falling tears
To protect and defend from bewildering fears.
One whose love was as sure as the dew
I was searching for someone until I met you.
- Eldon E. Davidson
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