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The Betty Blog

Special Note: Scroll down and see the entries below. The most recent is the first you'll see, and the earlier ones are on down. You are welcome to reply by e-mail to: BettyS@bettyslist.com.

The Betty Blog Anthem: "There's No Letter Better Than B" performed by The Dixie Chicks.

"Characters" mentioned in multiple entries: Miss Louise, Betty's mom now deceased; Pop, father now deceased; Stan, big brother; Liz, daughter; John, son-in-law; Audrey, first partner & Liz's other mommy; Tonda, second partner; Sherrye Garrett, colleague, business partner & friend; Margie Adam, singer/songwriter; Barb Rush, longtime friend and co-founder of the "Party Women"; "Tha Girls," Dixie Chicks: Emily Robison, Martie Mcguire, Natalie Maines; Mary Juanita, childhood best friend; Ed Brownson, tech consultant & confidant; Kathleen McGuire & Tha Guys, Artistic Directory/Conductor San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus and the 200 guys who do what she tells them; David Perry, PR guru; Miss Frances & Louie-the-Great, attack cats guarding this site.

(Photos 1 & 3: Cynthia Lee Katona)

Cock Sucking Mother Fucker

April 13, 2008

Cock Sucking Mother Fucker, Leave My Drag Queen Alone
. . . and a Dixie Chicks Guest Appearance with Bart Simpson

What is this world coming to?

A number of the most loyal fans of The Betty Blog have made it known they are not happy that there’s been a dearth of new entries lately. So, I’m writing here . . . well, sort of . . . babbling is more like it.

I do not have writing on my mind these days. Or much of anything on my mind these days - that I can tell about . . . other than creative thoughts about designing some events. What’s this about events? Who cares and why? Well, events are where we come together to find each other and to experience community.

Now, what do I know about The Simpsons? Nothing. And, why am I watching this show tonight? Because the Dixie Chicks are included somehow in tonight’s episode and I’ve got to find out how and will do so as I write this. Have I lost my mind?

Back on December 26th, I was writing an entry here in this blog about the trip coming up in March on the Fun Train to Reno. "The Biggest Little City in the World" did turn out to be a lot of fun, thanks to those who welcomed us: Reno Out publisher Laura, Adrienne, Meredith at La Bussola & Center Gallery . . . and all of those who went with us on the trip, everyone of them in good spirits. Thanks, also, to the care and feeding we enjoyed from our AAA Travel pro Matt Kohls and his very own Kevin.

It was a lot of fun, except for when I got sick from something, threw up multiple times . . . all behind closed doors so I didn't totally embarrass myself. That action happened in my room at The Eldorado Casino & Hotel, subsequently ended up with very sore abdominal muscles and slept just about the entire train ride home, thereby missing the Sierra views that were #1 on my list of reasons for going to Reno in the first place.

Yes, we must go back again so I can enjoy the scenic panoramas from the vantage point of the dome car. Throwing up is such an humbling experience, like standing in line at DMV.

But, we . . . our group . . ., by all accounts, had a really good time and many have already asked that we make this an annual adventure on the “Fun Train.”

The darnedest thing though . . . no, make that the damnedest thing . . . about the whole trip, was not me throwing up or losing money on the slot machines, it was your-own-private-Pride-Parade that we put on escorting Empress Donna Sachet, our famous drag queen friend, who was a traveler in our group. We escorted her up and down the train because the heterosexual men on board could not keep their pants on and their mouths shut at the same time. Yes, Donna was in her top form, decked out in a very very red, very designer suit, red hat and red high heels, of course, and wearing that impressive Empress pin.

“Cock sucking mother fucker . . . Go back where you came from and stay there . . .!” If he said it once, he said it a dozen . . . every time he saw us. He said it louder each time, or maybe it just seemed louder because we knew exactly what words were coming . . . I was struck by the idea he could easily play the role of quintessential red-neck from my home state, except for the biker logo on his vest which most rednecks down there don't wear because they drive pick-ups.

All of us with Donna became protective, proactive and proud. Lesbians guarding a drag queen. We may have been quite something to see, Donna and her entourage, parading up and down that train, meandering through the cars, all of them crowded, some of them friendlier than others, some of them louder, making comments like "What's your name, honey?" or "You're a tall glass of water" or I've got something for you . . . "

Grace and Kathleen and I escorted Donna to the dome car, to the restroom, to the bar and back to our seats among our own. We went with Donna, Grace in front and me in back. We learned that the “cock sucking mother fucker” fella was named Rick, and that he was part of the Harley Davidson group on the Fun Train.

Now, is this fun? Well, Grace placed herself squarely in between Rick and Donna every time we went passed ole Rick who was straight from central casting. Grace said later how she was never afraid of Rick because he sure wasn’t going to do anything in front of his friends to harm a “potential grandmother.”

We moved through the lounge car, and Rick was sitting there at the far end with his pals and started saying “cock sucking mother fucker . . .” and he went on and on. As we passed into the hallway leading away, Donna turned, looked at me and said “Now, that was a whole lot of words” in her deadpan voice with pursed lips. I felt my really big smile happening and could not stop it, followed by the deep seated giggle that accompanies the smile.

The fun train made it to Reno, we disembarked and there he was on the platform, with his pals. All were about six feet from us in the crowd moving slowly toward the escalator heading up to street level. He saw us, and next came that voice and those words.

“Cock sucking mother fucker blah blah blah . . !“ and suddenly, I'm having a total outer body experience, watching myself, my head turned, looking him in the eye and at the top of my voice for all to hear: “Oh, get over yourself!” His friends laughed and I huffed on toward the escalator behind Donna, carrying her leopard skin hat box.

Some of the straight men came looking for Donna in our train car on the way home, and she was there but incognito and no one blew her cover. We saw ole Rick again as he was standing down at the end of our passenger car talking to our Amtrak attendant and smiling. I made my way down the aisle to introduce myself and check to see if he was drunk this time, knowing that our attendant and I had bonded earlier in a conversation about Dramamine.

I looked Rick in the eye, smiled a southern accent and commented, "You said things to my friend who is a drag queen." He didn't take that well, said something inaudible under his breath, turned and headed off to another train car. Grace shook her head at me and pointed the way back to our seats, just in case I might have wanted to follow, which I never had any inclination to do but Grace was now shepherding me, just the same.

Those animated Dixie Chicks characters are coming on The Simpsons now and they sing and say:

“Said some things that came out wrong
But now we’ve got a brand new song . . .

America’s back and we’re feeling patri’otter again. . .”

I missed the 3rd line, but got three of the first four.

“America’s back and we’re feeling patri’otter . . .” That’s the key line those three animated girl characters sang on the . . . the. . . what was the name of that show? The one I've never seen before but recall Natalie said something about when they accepted that last one of the five on the 2007 Grammys.

“America’s back and we’re feeling patri’otter . . .”

I have now watched an entire episode of what? And, here is recorded my tale about a cock sucking motherfucker on a train whom I told to leave my drag queen alone. We just so cannot return to Reno next year without Donna, who will no doubt once again both protect and entertain us, as the case may be.

(Betty's List Photo)

Entered by BettyS 9:00 PM

Single Again on Valentine's Day

February 14, 2008

Truth is, I've been so busy working on fabulous events that writing blog entries has taken a back seat. But, what wonderful things we have coming up. Check our the new At-A-Glance listing of what all we have to look forward to:
Betty's List Quick*E / At-A-Glace

Now comes time to republish below my favorite statement, originally written in 2006, about what Valentine's Day means to me. Quoth the Raven: "Nevermore!" Salute!

February 14, 2006

It’s Okay-To-Be-Ha . . .
Single Again, on Valentines Day!

A professor I once knew said he was one of the original members of the popular 60s rock band called Paul Revere & The Raiders. He also got my attention by telling a story about what often happens when you mispronounce the name of the place where you are.

The college town where I met him was located in Oktibbeha (ok-TIB-uh-hah) County, Mississippi. There are more than a few place names in my home state derived from words in the language of the Choctaw Native American Indians.

It seems this new-in-town professor had created much merriment among the locals by saying the county name as Okay-To-Be-Ha, and thinking the chief of the tribe must have been trying to tell a visitor that it is Okay-To-Be-Here.

I’ve not been able to verify his claim to rock band fame, but his story has stayed with me and comes again this Valentines Day . . . when I find myself . . . still single? . . . in the Castro? . . . on Valentines Day?

You bet! Not everyone in my neighborhood is rushing around passionately trying to exercise their rights to same-sex marriage. There are some of us, in fact, who just won’t settle until Ms. or Mr. Right comes along, if he or she ever does . . .

. . . and some who actually wish that the future of our Civil Rights didn’t rest on how this issue falls off the fence . . . although many won't admit it in public, so strong is the peer pressure (1) to want to be in a couple, and (2) to want to participate in an outdated non-secular institution (my words) and have it sanctioned by the state . . .

I've heard all the arguments about equal access, but I'll never truly understand why my commitment and belief in long-term monogamous relationships is somehow questioned if I don't want to call it marriage.

Now, how do you recognize her or him when the right one comes along? They say you will “just know.” But, I don’t know about that either. I’ve been totally convinced more than once that I “just knew” she had arrived only to find out how deeply into "ir-reality" I could be.

In the final assessment, I don't believe finding connection is about running around trying to find Mr. or Ms. Right . . . looking for her or him in 'all the wrong places' with no context other than a cocktail. And, no, I cannot say I never tried.

It’s about just letting things be, and knowing they are as they are suppose to be. It's about enjoying being with yourself and all the things you love to do and be and the good friends who share triumphs, joys and sadness when they come. It's about participating in community and thereby attaining context and hope of an actual relationship that dares to be healthy. It's about recognizing that a good friendship just might be most valuable relationship of all.

Have I made mistakes? Some I cannot change and always will regret. Have I learned anything along the way? One would only hope, yet what I do with that knowledge remains to be seen.

These are my thoughts and secrets of being . . . of being Okay-To-Be-Ha on Valentines Day and on every day, no matter what the calendar says.

(Pompidou Center Photo)

Added by BettyS @ 5:00 PM

The Cat Peed on the Keyboard . . .

January 1, 2008

The Cat Peed On the Keyboard . . . Or,
A Glass Half Full on New Year's Day

Roll out of bed and find the computer. That's true on most days. Check the telephones and get underway.

Happy . . . New Year's Day!

But, something's not right: “n” gives an “m” and not just one, but many . . . “mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . .” and so it goes.

Restart the software. No change. Restart the computer. No change. Troubleshooting, this seems familiar and it looks like keyboard weirdness. Once in a while, something like water or Diet Coke has been spilled on the keyboard . . . either by the big guy, Mr. Louie-The-Great - who is known to turn things over and sometimes sends e-mail out, mid-sentence before it is ready; or, by me in my own clumsiness.

However, just a few hours prior, everything was fine, working well and no liquid was left out when the computer said goodnight.

Troubleshooting. Take the corner of a business card and run it along between a row of keys. Sure enough. There's moisture . . . and cat hair. The cat hair is not a surprise. But, how did moisture get in there?

I think one of them, either Mr. Louie or Miss Frances, must have peed on the keyboard. That's a great start for 2008, isn't it? Plus, I will not be happy if I can't get online today. The thought of why that new spare one hasn't yet been ordered from Apple comes to mind.

What store is open today that might sell keyboards? Nothing? Can I get online to order one for delivery? Probably not. Might . . . just might there be an old one down in the laundry/storage room that would work? Go see.

Well, here I sit typing. Not one but two new keyboards are now on order with an expedite delivery request. This glass is not half empty. It is half full. I called and told my friend about this. She laughed and ask me if it smelled. I told her I did not try to smell the keyboard and would not because it is now in the trash. She laughed a lot and hung up the phone.

The mantra for the year 2008: The cat might pee on the keyboard, so be sure you have a spare.

Saying Goodbye . . . Legacy of 2007

December 31, 2007

Saying Goodbye . . . Legacy of 2007

I knew this one had been a difficult year, at least for me personally it surely was. Now comes waves of global sadness following the death of Pakistani leader Benazir Bhutto. I never knew I would even care in the least about her nation.

May we all remember her and the unmitigated dedication to freedom for her people that she stood for. May we all remember her name and what it means for all time to come.

I was already deeply moved by this woman and news accounts of her life’s work and tragic death. Then, I saw there the year 1953 noted for her birth, the same year as my own. How it is, the question is begged, that I can continue to live and she cannot? Then, just today, I saw her young son called upon too soon to assume leadership.

How frail are we standing on the stage, and how quick the candle is stuffed out.

Living every day, experiencing every encounter with another as though this may be our last . . . That is my hope for each step going forward as the old year ends so sadly, and a new year is begun. My toast at midnight will be a memorial one in honor of Bhutto.

Then, I am reminded of the Hopi poem sent to me by Trevor Hailey's sister, here in this year when in June we lost Trevor, friend of the Castro, and in December, we lost Bhutto, friend of the world.

A Hopi Prayer

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamonds glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn’s rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.

Added by BettyS 1:00 AM

A Toast to Reno and the 45th Annual "Fun Train" . . . Or

December 26, 2007

Grandpa Jack Knight Was a Railroad Man . . . Or
A Toast to Reno and the 45th Annual Fun Train

Read about the Betty's List Fun Train to Reno . . .

YouTube: A Toast to Reno

Love trains. Always have. Grandpa Jack Knight worked on trains his whole life back in Mr. Bill Faulkner’s country. The pre-1900 house he built by the tracks right there in Taylor, Mississippi was home base for the clan of Brits Miss Louise sprang from.

Fast forward . . . 1995. Time was, during years 1 California, 2 California, 3 California, new friends taught me about the Iron Door Saloon and the old hotel in Groveland, on the way out to Yosemite. Taught me about the killer view from the old Dining Room at the Cliff House and the Camera Obscura and Laughing Sal at Musee Mechanique and how to spot surfers in the water any time of year.

Things like the Tennessee Valley Trail and the Indian princess looking up at the stars who gave her name to Mt Tam. About the food at Greens restaurant and gifts to buy at the annual Celebration of Craftswomen at Fort Mason. About nude sun-bathing at Baker Beach, off-trail hiking at Lands End and the buffalo herd in Golden Gate Park. There’s more.

Fast forward . . . 2003. Time was, I settled in to work at my desk in the back of a Victorian flat in the Castro and didn’t go out to explore so much, not anymore. But, this must change. Time for new adventures.

Fast forward . . . 2008. Five years passed. This must change. Time for new adventures and discovery. California trails and tales and the Sierra Nevada.

Matt told me about the “Fun Train” to Reno and 45th season of a rolling party, an adventure waiting for discovery. It leaves from Emoryville, Martinez . . . on toward Sacramento. I said “Okay!” and away . . . we are going there, by train, for the fun of it or the heck of it, to smile and laugh and dance in the aisle and maybe to see a show. It's goes through Donner Pass, the Fun Train does.

Enjoy the piano lounge car, the dance car's live band, the great dome sightseeing car . . . I have read all I could find about the dome cars on many a website.

What happens in Reno, stays in Reno? I read about the Fun Train in SF Chronicle and Mercury News, and an article about Reno published July 10, 1909 in The New York Times. I looked to see what the City of Reno says about itself, and compiled a list of attractions and sites there.

-   Nevada Museum of Art
-   The Reno Arch
-   Nevada Historical Society
-   River Walk along the Truckee River from Virginia Street to Arlington Avenue
-   Wingfield Park on an island reached by bridge, offering vantage points for viewing whitewater rapids and kayakers
-   Sierra Tap House bar
-   Bernie Beauchamp's marionettes
-   Antique stores
-   Fleischmann Planetarium
-   National Automobile Museum
-   Sierra Safari Zoo
-   Animal Ark Wildlife Refuge
-   Golf Courses & Clubs
-   Woody’s BBQ Sauce

I need to know more about the history of Reno and have found an overview of historic bars and one on Reno history per se and another one for travelers headed to Nevada.

It truly is time for new discovery. I did not know Grandpa Jack Knight and so have no idea what he would say about me going to Reno. I would surmise, though, he'd approve that I am going there and back by train. I may launch anew my love affair with trains. He'd probably approve, and maybe tip his hat. I hope so, anyhow.

Read about the Betty's List Fun Train to Reno . . .

(Photos: Nevada State Historic Preservation)

Entered by BettyS 8:30 AM

How I Spent Thanksgiving II

December 9, 2007

How I Spent Thanksgiving . . . or
There is a Lot of There There – Part The Second

I have never been particularly good at managing nostalgia. The college town down home called Oxford, it is a tiny blue dot in the great red sea that is my original home state. 'Twas ever thus?

Grandmother Sarah Elizabeth, but they called her Bettie, she lived in Yocona, a small community outside of Oxford, echoed in the place name used by Williams Faulkner for the fictional area he wrote about: Yoknapatawpha County. Grandmother Bettie knew Mr. Bill Faulkner from time in days gone by she'd spent up around the Oxford town square.

Grandmother Bettie married Jack Knight and they lived in a house Jack built in Taylor, yet another small town near Oxford. Grandfather Jack was a railroad man, a foreman for the Illinois Central RR, and he went to work just by walking outside and catching the train that ran down the long track in front of their house there.

At the shoppe there known as Square Books, about a decade ago, I found reference in an historical overview to my great, great grandfather Knight, saying he'd come from England to oversee a plantation owned by Senator L.Q.C. Lamar.

Generations later, Miss Louise was born there in that house in Taylor, in the Mississippi county actually named Lafayette for the great French general. But the natives have their own pronunciation sounding nothing like the general’s name - accent on the second syllable (La-FAY-et) - and, yes, we descriptivists know the correct pronunciation is exactly whatever the natives say.

Miss Louise married Pop and they lived for more than 40 years in a Mississippi River town about 200 miles sound of Oxford known as Vicksburg. That's where I was born but it is mostly known for being where General U.S. Grant led a sixty-day siege and rode his horse through an antebellum home.

Brother Stan was born in Vicksburg seven years before I was. As far back as I can recall, there were Stan and me in the back seat of Pop's car all excited about going to see Grandma Bettie Knight, being able to put out pennies on the railroad in front of her house in Taylor and hoping to find them squashed into keepsake items. And we hoped also maybe we'd get to go with Pop over to the campus that was famous for its football.

I remember on those visits to Grandma Bettie's how cold I thought it was taking a bath or going to the bathroom in her house. The bathroom was just off the enclosed porch and had one light bulb hanging from the ceiling, like all the other rooms in her house did. And, I do remember those great big biscuits fresh from the oven served at breakfast there and she had a fluffy feather bed that was fun to jump around in and hear the springs squeaking. That was when springs on a bed were not yet enclosed inside your mattress, you know.

Miss Louise was the first in her family to graduate from college. She earned her way through Ole Miss working in the University Library, a place where as a college student, I would years later spend hours and hours and hours and more there. Pop earned his masters degree there.

When Stan finished high school, he went off to Ole Miss on his football scholarship. He graduated several years later, and since then, has missed few football games, season after season after season there.

Time came and I went off to Oxford for college. We all did. Liz’s father and I moved away from Oxford after graduating, then moved back, and Liz was born there.

They say that the Confederate soldier atop the statue on campus will tip his hat to any girl who graduates from Ole Miss still a virgin. They say that, but I’ve never seen it. Riding around the Courthouse in the middle of the town square on this trip, I was reminded my name is on a marriage and a divorce certificate recorded in that very building. There were some antics we pulled living on and off campus back in the early 70s, but suffice it to say, I've never seen that soldier tip his hat.

Dr. Carolyn Ellis Staton – a friend of our family, my 9th grade English teacher and later a role model for me when she went to New York to study at Columbia and then on to Yale Law in the same class with Bill and Hillary, well, she is now the university’s provost there, a fact I find amusing in view of how she characterized Ole Miss when she was just out of Sophie Newcome College in New Orleans. Other professors I knew there also pointed me in the direction of my newspaper industry career and on to New York for graduate school.

There are so, so, many memories tied up round or about Oxford, and when I went to visit this time, they came rolling back over the decades and decades down the long halls of time and life and so much of what I tried so hard to get away from, only to find out it was home once more.

Liz left New Orleans when she finished high school and became a young adult going to college there. Liz met John there and they got married standing in that sacred Grove.

Pop died in 2000, and after his funeral, I made my way a few days later with Stan back there to the campus of Ole Miss so we could see a football game together and remark on how much Pop had loved the Ole Miss Rebels. Pop was so relatively liberal in his thinking, I'd have to say his love of Ole Miss is a fine example of how one can believe deeply in an idea or institution and at the same time be totally in the dark about what its underlying meaning or implications may be. He was a thinker but he couldn't think his way out of the box when it came to the symbols and nostalgia lumped up and dumped on the University of Mississippi.

A few months ago, Liz and John moved back to Oxford after three years living in godforsaken Altoona, PA. They moved . . . yes, they moved back to Oxford. So, this year for Thanksgiving, I did indeed go back there to Mr. Faulkner's county once again.

It was just overwhelming, bittersweet and charming all at the same. I was sitting with the thought that we, our family, cannot escape this town. As the week passed, I had to spend a lot of time asleep, I suppose, just processing the meaning. Cannot escape Mississippi nor Oxford nor Ole Miss, so make the best of it. Enjoy the catfish, the barbeque, the fried green tomatoes and okra, grits and fresh-picked blackberries right off the vine.

So much there there is there. Pause for just a moment to ponder and focus. It is obvious that most likely there will be more there in days to come.

(Photo: Unknown)

Entered by BettyS 4:00 AM

How I Spent Thanksgiving

December 8, 2007

How I Spent Thanksgiving . . . or
There is a Lot of There There - Part The First

First of all, we had found Delta's cheap seats. So, I changed planes in Atlanta, and landed in Memphis, where I've never seen anything like it. The sheer number of jumbo jets on the ground is massive.

Always before, it was Kennedy International where I expected to see a maxed out number of planes parked on the tarmac. But no. That prize now is held by Fred Smith's fleet, looking like an airfield filled with purple-tailed sausages or cigars and great purple/orange letters, saying FedEx with the hidden arrow. A rare wow moment, indeed.

Audrey served me barbeque on her front porch, there in the Cooper Young area of the city Elvis loved, where MLK Jr. died and the National Civil Right Museum now occupies what was the Lorraine Motel.

I sneaked a bit of barbeque to that gorgeous yellow tabby neighbor cat hanging out there, making a fort or outpost with his pal cat on her porch. I name him “Louysius” . . . as in Louise + delicious and would have brought him home had that been an option.

Liz took me shopping and we played in the wholesale stores. How fun to see the competence of this young woman behind the wheel and up and down the shopping aisles. How rewarding to think about 25 years ago when we moved from Memphis to New York and she was four and what's come to be as water flows under the bridge. How bemused am I to ponder what may be yet to behold as she and John-son make their way.

Dr. Leon came to town on Saturday and we went tailgating with big brother Stan to the Ole Miss v LSU game. The memories flooded back. I could not escape the memory of our Pop saying I should go to LSU for graduate school rather than Columbia: "Why do you want to go off up there to New York?" he said, years ago, upon hearing the news. Get out to come out, as they say.

Stan, Dr. Leon and I took a walk around campus and I was awed again by how nothing is spared to mark turf in Rebel Land . . . the tents, picnic tables, colors, hoopla and variations in self-presentation among the good ole boys and girls and southern belles and gentlemen and ladies . . . mashed up on a small iconic, sacred acreage they call The Grove.

The very best thing was LSU's campy Tiger Band playing "Tiger Rag," otherwise known as “Hold That Tiger,” and their Golden Girls, a nod to Mardi Gras . . . even though I've never been . . . ever . . . to Mardi Gras . . . or with a Golden Girl, either one. Then, there was that awesome looking player #78 out there on the field that Dr. Leon and I agreed, from our vantage point in the stands, looked really hot. I have always admired big men and probably think, on some level, that I am one.

Ole Miss' Pride of the South Band, one more time, played very serious “Dixie” and that tear-jerker alma mater, sounding right out of a plantation story. Colonel Rebel really was there, but the rule is he's banned from the field. Cheerleaders now run down across the yard lines wagging really big blue and red flags. The Confederate banner no more. Pom-poms flood the student section, where once to be an Ole Miss student was to wave a Rebel flag and use it to stir your toddy.

The good news was the Nation's #1 team didn't totally embarrass UM as could have easily been the case. What's more, no one in the alumni section said anything too rude to Dr. Leon about his silk LSU Tigers necktie, though we did endure some commentary from neighbors, most of it directed at the referees and some taunting the quarterback with "Stupid!"

Stan wore his headphones listening to the radio throughout the game, so Dr. Leon and I had a good talk about whatever came to mind. Ole times there, not forgotten, look away. All that.

I told Stan The Man that we will make this LSU game an annual tradition, which means next year Dr. Leon will welcome us to Bayou Country and the legendary Tiger Stadium down there in Baton Rouge. With the L/J having moved back to Oxford now, I see my accent tune-ups likely to occur more often. More about that . . .

Yes, there is more that I did during Thanksgiving, but it's too much for here, so maybe next time. Maybe in "Part - The Second" when or if that happens.

(Betty's List Photos)

Entered by BettyS 9:45 PM

Unbelievable . . . And So It Goes

November 11, 2007

Unbelievable . . . and So It Goes . . . Or
Who Could Possibly Think Slander, Libel or Hateful Remarks Are Okay?

Unbelievable. That’s what I have to say about personal attacks. How anyone in her right mind could think that it is okay to personally attack anyone else in public and get away with it just amazes me. Call me naive, but I expect more from women in our community.

I learned about personal attacks first hand, recently, when several submissions appeared in the Women2Women section on Craig’s List. One among the posters decided to contact me directly and let me know about it. I was, in fact, grateful for that.

The anger expressed was about “the line” and “the lists” on November 1st and the criticism of our communications – some of which was warranted, I will say – but why does anyone think that beyond expressing opinions and pointing out how procedures could be better . . . how anyone could think that in addition to making points of suggestion or even constructive and appropriate critique . . . how anyone could think that it is okay to say things that are slanderous, libelous and hateful . . . how anyone could think that is okay . . . is beyond me.

I thought I had ceased to be amazed by what went on in angry e-mail messages or postings. I thought that buzz groups making inflammatory remarks, spreading slanderous or libelous statements didn’t happen . . . until I received this one: “Betty, you are the worst thing that ever happened to lesbians in the Bay Area.”

There were other offensive things said, but let’s keep the focus on the ones said specifically about me. I can’t even imagine discussing the ones that went beyond me and attacked others.

At first, I was amused. Then, I wasn’t. Outrageous statements – when their intent is humor - can, indeed, be funny. But, outrageous statements attacking individuals or LGBT community businesses, well they are just hateful and simply reek of juvenile behavior.

At least for tonight, I’m laughing, even as I shake my head. Do I think it would ever be appropriate and okay for me to say to anyone that she is the worst thing that ever happened about anything. No.

Do I think it is okay for someone to say that to me. No. I think it is hateful and quite frankly, stupid. Would I have believed that anyone would think that the Craig's List staff would or should allow such statements to remain on the website they are responsible for monitoring? No. But that very idea was also posted.

In addition to shaking my head, this did bring me a motivation to read the Craig's List Terms of Use statement. It really is there and it really does say that hateful remarks in postings are . . . well, out of compliance.

Below this blog entry is the photo from our celebration of someone to whom it has actually been said in public that she is the worst thing that ever happened . . . Well, let’s let it be known that I have had too much therapy about outrageous and inappropriate behaviors, due to a member of my own family, for the probable desired effect of the recent statements to have even a faint possibility of happening.

Too much water has flowed under the bridge . . . my bridge.

As Natalie would say, my t-shirt replies: "F.U. __ __" but I'll be darn if I would ever say her name or even include her initials. There you have it and so it goes . . .

(Betty's List Photos)

Entered by BettyS 11/12/07

Ladies Night at MECCA Is Back!

Friday, November 2nd:

Ladies Night at MECCA Is Back

PHOTO GALLERIES:

Related Photo Features
(1) MECCA Ready for the Return of Ladies Night

(2) Ladies Night @ MECCA Re-Opening Party

MESSAGE SEND TO LADIES NIGHT E-MAIL LIST:

TO: MECCA Ladies Night List

FROM: Betty

RE: Last Night's Re-Opening Night Party

Wow! That's how I'm feeling after the tremendous time we had last night at the Re-Opening Party at MECCA Ladies Night. You all were so wonderful and I thank you sincerely for the many big smiles, best wishes and good cheer.

So many of you came with hugs and words of congratulations on the re-opening, and I found myself to be beyond words a number of times. I cannot say THANK YOU enough to the women (and their friends of all gender identities) of MECCA Ladies Night who support this event now and have for more than five years since we first began in the fall of 2002.

I'm just too excited to sleep, so here are some thoughts for you!

Thank you for being so gracious and patient with the door “line” or “list” that was necessary in order to meet the City of San Francisco capacity regulations. I cannot say enough about how much I appreciate your understanding, and to answer the question I was asked about this a number of times, we do not expect for staffing of the door or "a line" to be necessary on an on-going basis.

I do realize that there was confusion about the need to monitor capacity and how that was accomplished, and I do apologize for the inconvenience you may have experienced. Most everyone was very gracious, and again, I thank you. I was very happy that we reached the point during the evening when the line was no longer necessary.

Here are some additional observations:

First, my thanks to singer/songwriter Cathy Richardson and her fabulous “manager / gal pal” Rachel Regan for coming as our featured guests. We will definitely invite Cathy to perform for us once again when the “kinks” are worked out of the new sound system. We enjoy promoting Cathy's performances on “Betty's List,” so you'll hear more about her, and please check out Cathy's offerings and appearance schedule on her web site: http://www.cathyrichardson.com

Also, big thanks to DJ Page Hodel and DJ Gray, both of whom came forward to help us immediately when the sound system glitch happened. I was reminded once again of how truly blessed I am with good friends who are so willing to help.

It truly is a new sound system, as a result of the previous one having been damaged and rendered unusable. We will address that and have a smooth plan in place for the future “Music Showcase” Nights coming up in months to come.

Many of you know DJ Gray who comes to Ladies Night frequently and is a columnist on our Betty's List web site (www.bettylsist.com). Many of you also know DJ Page Hodel who is among the most legendary music spinners in our community and has been for decades. Page hosts Respect, a terrific dance event, every 2nd Sunday - that I personally love to attend - and you’ll see announced regularly via “Betty's List.”

Plus, big thanks to Tim Gaskin, producer and host of the weekly TV show OUT Spoken, for serving an our impromptu emcee. Tim welcomed everyone on behalf of MECCA and introduced me to lead our "Return of Ladies Night" toast. Tim and Kristopher are the handsome guys with the microphone in the photo feature with me during the toast segment.

The full dinner menu at MECCA will return soon. I had a chance to sample numerous examples among the small plate items as well as the famous oysters, much beloved French fries and other items we have come to enjoy: little burgers, meatball sandwiches, romaine salad and many more. Stay tuned for more news to come about Chef Randy Lewis' culinary offerings in days to come.

Praise for MECCA's Wine List! With us last night was wine industry expert Vivien Gay who had wonderful words to share about MECCA's award-winning wine list (Wine Spectator Award). Thank you, Vivien! I so appreciate your words of praise, and I know many who enjoy the libations of MECCA's popular circular bar totally agree with you!

Many of you remarked on the various changes at MECCA. You particularly loved the “lowered” wood ceiling over the bar and the new shelf/rail that separates the front bar area from the tables in the “café” area, making that entire section much more comfortable. You also loved that huge carved pumpkin that glowed “MECCA,” but I dare say it's going to go the way of all great pumpkins. We do have some photos of it, though, that will soon be posted. Other thoughts? Do tell!

Big, big thanks to general manager Kristopher, assistant manager Ginny and the entire new hosting team! What an evening they had with us and I've heard tell they loved meeting so many of you and learning what Ladies Night is all about. Thanks also to waiter Jonathan and his colleagues who took care of us! And a sincere thank you to MECCA's Dave Jennings and Benson with whom I had a great time just getting to know each other.

Much love to our fabulous bartender pal Steve and to the entire bar staff. I know they were working double-time in the effort to serve everyone and provide those outstanding cocktails MECCA is known for.

Thanks to the “Betty's List” team who help me so very much and who share the love: Grace Floyd, Mary Ann Brown, Gayla Schiff, Cathy Blackstone, Michelle Jester, Mary Sager . . . Also, thanks for being with me to those who know me best: Margie Adam, Nanette Miller, Catherine Pinkas, Professor Cynthia Kaona and Rachel Herbert, Christina Allen and the list goes on. You know who you are and I do love you!

* Thanks to the leaders of many LGBT non-profit groups who joined us for the Re-Opening Party, including Matt Kohls, AAA Travel; Laurie Wagner, The Commonwealth Club; Jovida Guevara-Ross and Christiana Remington, Community United Against Violence (CUAV); Hon. Leslie Katz and Mike Marshall, Equality California (EQCA); Rebecca Heaps and Sabrina Riddle, Human Rights Campaign (HRC); Hilary Clark and Leslie Ewing, Lyon-Martin Health Services; Kris Herrmans and Eleanor Placios, National Center for Lesbian Rights (NCLR); Dr. Kathleen McGuire, San Francisco Gay Men's Chorus; Lindsey Jones and Mikayla Connell, San Francisco Pride Celebration Committee; Diane Sabin, UCSF Lesbian Health Research Center; Dixie Horning, UCSF National Center of Excellence in Women's Health; Ellen Goodman Variety Children's Charities/The Preview Room and more.

Personally, I am so appreciative to the staff professionals and volunteers who do so much important work through non-profit organizations in our community. They truly are changing the world and I am honored that they came to be with us at MECCA for the re-opening of Ladies Night.

In closing, I want you to know that we will be back on track in the weeks ahead, bringing the latest information about the exciting special occasions at Ladies Night and new developments as things continue to evolve.

We also have coming up lots of “REPLY TO ENTER” drawings for tickets and other items, so please continue to enter. Sooner or later, you are going to win for your first time, or second or . . .

Finally, each of you is encouraged to send a reply with your thoughts, suggestions and ideas. We are here for you and we do hear you. I look forward to seeing you every Thursday evening as we are back at MECCA for Ladies Night . . . now and forever!

Oh, and before I forget, if you know anyone who does not receive our MECCA Ladies Night announcements who might want to do so, just let me know. It's absolutely true that there are subscribers to “Betty’s List” who are not on the MECCA Ladies Night List, and the Ladies Night List does receive messages that don't go to the “big list” or any of our other specialized lists, for that matter. Anyone who is concerned about not having received full information, please talk with me so that I can make sure you are on all of the lists that you wish. Call me at 415-503-1375 (direct) where I can usually be reached easily on most days anytime after 12:00 noon.

See you next week on Thursday a MECCA when we have another great time now that Ladies Night . . . is finally . . . back!!!

Most sincerely,

Betty

Dr. Betty L. Sullivan
Founder & Host, Ladies Night at MECCA

PHOTO GALLERIES:

(1) MECCA Ready for the Return of Ladies Night

(2) Ladies Night @ MECCA Re-Opening Party

(Photo by Cathy Blackstone)

Entered by BettyS 7:30 PM

My Old Cat, Miss Frances Calico

October 16, 2007

My Old Cat, Miss Frances Calico

Miss Frances grows weaker now. Day by day by day. Or, am I imagining things? She’s been asleep in that wicker basket under the light next to my telephone, right here on my desk. She's been there all day and hardly stirred.

She has been up and down now and then, awakening with a start and squeaking, walking toward me, eyeing the green pottery bowl Audrey sent on my last birthday, the green bowl up on the shelf near the lava lamp, the green bowl that’s filled with Temptations.

She is senile, my old cat. I know that for a fact. She cannot recall she’s eaten or not eaten and always thinks she’s hungry, looking for more food, to ease just some, the ever-present hunger, enduring it, no matter how soon ago or how often she does eat. I have come to keeping water nearby in the antique carnival glass bowl.

She throws up on some days. Others not. Some days she howls out loudly, announcing earp-time is nigh, and up comes partially digested tubes of brownish food from, I'm always thankful, from the front end. How I’ve come to accept these gifts left on the rug, just as once I accepted what a child left me during years of changing diapers. Today, I am mom to an ancient cat with renal failure. In truth, how surprised am I she’s lived this long? She who almost lost an eye, her jaw, her life to someone’s car on the dead end street?

She was a kitten once. Her first time in the backyard, we sat in lawn chairs, watched her dash across the fresh cut grass. Levitating, I said, was how it seemed. Kitten levitates, a flying calico puff of white and spots of black and brown. All a blur, a flying flash of furry whizzed by. I sobbed the day we found her at the City Animal Shelter and they made us sign our lives away that we would take good care. Now, maybe, some 17 or 18 years hence, maybe I have proved devotion. Tonda said it is a sin to throw away a pet. I have not, this one.

She lies there in that basket, twitching, twitching, twitching. A ribcage outlined beneath her still beautiful, mostly white coat. She, the litter runt, always the runt here in my world, where most everything and everyone else is jumbo.

She has, though, a personality, like mine, that would fill a room, and thus, would be my cat for all these years, dominating the house, sitting, a majestic regal creature, presiding in the living room, more than a decade from her white couch where perennially crumpled pillows show she's slept, or if not crumpled, soon to be. Presiding. Welcoming. Watching all. Trying to run out the damn front door to play a game called simply Street. How many times, Miss Frances, have you and I played Street?

She’s certainly a friendly thing and claims as her own all she does survey, with a wipe of a squiggling tail, against you or me or anyone else close by. Marking you to be her latest subject find, she rubs and prances, prisses and says hello, hello, hello! Welcome to my domain. Welcome! Welcome all, and you are mine!

She who one time came striding in a room filled with women sitting together in a meeting. Miss Frances looked around at us. The meeting stopped. Just stopped. We looked her and each other, then watched her jump on the bench against the window seal, lie back and I swear, she joined the meeting.

She lies there in the basket now, weak and skinny, next to me, almost all day without stirring much. I am moved to tears once more, here, years and years later, just as I was seeing her, the kitten in Arlington, Virginia’s SPCA. Moved to tears today by an old cat who has loved me and I’ve loved for longer than anyone would have thought possible.

She who climbed up on my chest as I lay there, one time, my life in disarray that year. She, who climbed up and sat on top of me, looked me in the eye and said meow. I said I am glad you're here to look at me and smile.

She who came west with me one morning on Delta Airlines, before dawn, we left Dulles International Airport in the First Class section. My nurse anesthetist neighbor gave me drugs to calm her, but no, Miss Frances was wired instead. Howled all the way, there in her box under the seat in front of me, howled at least to St. Louis. I was not very popular in First Class that morning. We changed planes in Salt Lake City where she howled her way from one concourse to the other. It was holiday season and the traveling kids, the kids going to see grandsomebody, the kids wanted to see the kitty. Howling kitty. I just rolled my eyes and let them see the kitty. Next time, one of us goes in baggage.

Frances, I do admit: You rock! Even as you are dying slowly, I swear you rock. Even as I have no idea really how much longer you can be with me, I am your servant still, your servant with salty tears, like sweat, rolling cheekward toward the floor. I swear, I am your servant still.