Cynthia’s Eulogy

Cynthia Hecker, Betsey’s Friend

Through sheer good luck, in the fall of 1963, Wellesley College assigned me a dorm room next door to Betsey Thresher.

At the end of freshman year, Betsey asked me to room with her. She figured out the complicated process, did the research and presented her findings to me. All I had to do was visit the proposed new dorm with her and, as it turned out, we were set for the next three years.

Betsey was a fabulous roommate and a treasured friend. She exuded positive energy. She entered our room, seemingly floating on tiptoes, buoyed by a breeze. She was funny and playful. She would not allow either of us to wallow in negative moods or self-defeating attitudes. When the stress mounted and felt overwhelming, we devised a therapy. The stressed person would pull her legs up to her chest and put a thumb in her mouth. We called this “assuming the full fetal position.” Even a verbal reference to the fetal position made us smile and eased the stress.

Betsey amazed me with her skillful time management and determination to pursue personal interests. We were exploring her dilemma about fitting a non-credit dance class into an already full schedule and, when this looked nearly impossible, she did her Betsey flick of the hair and declared, “I’m going to do it anyway.” She also was a member of a campus drama club that staged Shakespeare plays.

In addition, Betsey worked on widening my horizons –

My studies were focused on the social sciences, hers on the humanities. A left-brain/right-brain difference in perspective. Betsey loved the hands-on labs of her Art History classes where the students used materials of the period being studied. I enjoyed her stories and enthusiasm, but didn’t believe that I was capable of understanding or appreciating art. She met my resistance head on. When cajoling and “you can do it” talk did not work, she brought a stack of art picture books back to the dorm, set them on the floor and told me to leaf through them. She said just look at them without trying to understand. After this, I took the introductory art class. It, along with the introductory music appreciation class, turned out to be the most meaningful and personal universe-expanding classes I took at Wellesley.

In the years after graduation, we made our homes on opposite sides of the continent, keeping in touch with annual Christmas cards. More recently, after Daniel moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, Betsey and Ronnie visited. Betsey also joined the annual mini-reunion of a group of our geographically-scattered dorm friends. We meet for a weekend in or near one of our homes to share our joys and challenges. This has been a wonderful chance for me to re-connect with her and to experience that the bonds of our friendship, forged when we were in our late teens and early twenties, remained strong into our late 60’s.

We had planned to see more of each other during our retirement. I mourn that she was snatched from us so suddenly and so early. I take comfort, though, in reflecting on how she enriched my life.

Our reunion group has some unfinished business with Betsey. We have a tradition during our reunions of singing together each night before our meal. This came out of our experience at Wellesley in medieval times of singing grace before our evening meals. When Betsey fell ill, we imagined singing to her. And, when she died, we arranged a conference call in which all 12 of us called in with the express purpose of doing so. Technology failed us, we couldn’t hear each other or keep in tune or time. It was a hilarious disaster. But now we are together and Betsey is with us and we have the opportunity to sing it one more time with her. It is a simple song that I will sing three times. I encourage you to join us in singing Dona Nobis Pacem.