Hoping everyone is staying as warm as possible, and that y’all will indulge my thoughts on this frigid Tuesday morning. This column has nothing to do with the current sports landscape, but this is to me at more important, and it’s all I can think about at the present time.
I’m already missing a special lady that many others are missing as well. You can read her obituary elsewhere in this edition, but I also wanted to add my thoughts about the matriarch of a rather large family, Betty Purdon.
Betty, known as “Mamaw” to many who knew her well, passed away Saturday morning at her home in Maysville, the town she adored for many years. She was born on July 22, 1932 in historic Washington, another place she had great memories of, and loved as well.
As I continue my thoughts, it appears the word “love” is a constant when I think of the life Mamaw led. She loved the school she graduated from in 1950, St. Patrick, she loved St. Patrick Church, she loved her husband Tommy, who she married in 1954 and passed away in 1996, and she loved her children with all her heart.
That is only the beginning of all the love Mamaw possessed. As the years unfolded, she also loved her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, as well as her extended family and friends.
She came from humble beginnings in Washington, and a couple of years following her graduation from St. Patrick, she discovered another love. That was what eventually became her long career as a nurse, and taking care of those folks who needed it most.
On a personal note, while she was working in pediatrics at Hayswood Hospital, Mamaw very likely spanked my little bottom after my birth in 1954 in Hayswood. We used to enjoy laughing about that after I met her 13 years ago. I was only fortunate enough to meet Mamaw because I was beginning to date her granddaughter, Angie, at the time.
That brings to mind another anecdote about her sense of humor, and hoping Angie doesn’t mind me sharing this. I’m quite a few years older than her, so Angie asked Mamaw what she thought of the age difference at the time. Her response was she was fine with it, but that I was too old for her.
Mamaw was seldom, if ever, at a loss for words, and if you asked her for her opinion on anything, she would express it in no uncertain terms.
Mamaw also loved to razz Angie just to get a response, and at times I would join in to “double team” her. That’s just one little thing I’ll miss about Mamaw, although Angie probably won’t miss it too much.
That doesn’t mean Angie won’t miss her, quite the contrary. It could be argued that Angie will miss her more than anybody; the two, along with Angie’s son Andrew, enjoyed a special relationship. Mamaw had a special affinity for her great-grandson, and helped raise him following the passing of her husband, Tommy. Mamaw’s loss is going to be a huge adjustment for Angie after the two lived together for three decades.
Mamaw also loved to attend Andrew’s basketball and soccer games and while cheering for Saints, she was known to give the officials an earful on occasion. I didn’t know her then, but I imagine she let the refs know just how she felt while her son Tim was playing at St. Patrick in the 70’s as well. She enjoyed sports — maybe even a bit more so when I came along — never missing a Bengals or Reds game on the tube. She especially liked to watch basketball, even though we disagreed on which team to root for at times.
The love Mamaw gave to everyone was reciprocated; there is absolutely no doubt she had a positive impact on lots of folks in the Maysville area during her 93 years. As mentioned earlier, her initial influence on this guy occurred a very long time ago in the hospital. I feel extremely lucky to have gotten to know her much later in both of our lives, and I have Angie to thank for that.
Rest in Peace, Mamaw, I love you and miss you.
