Introducing Betty Bacobb

I don’t recall when I first met Betty Bacobb. Nor do I remember where she got her name.  

I’m sure that if someone had asked me where her name came from, I would have said that was how she introduced herself—although at the age of four or five I might have simply said, “She told me.” And, I believed her. Why would I not? Of all your friends, the imaginary ones are the least likely to lie to you.

I now question if I might have pieced together her name from my grandmother’s friend, Mrs. Macobb, and, if I somehow heard that her friends called her Betty, Lauren Bacall. Although, I adored Betty White. I might have named my Betty after her.

I don’t remember a lot about Betty Bacobb. I want to say she had blond hair but, to tell you the truth, I can't get a clear picture of her in my mind. I couldn’t pick her out of a line-up. Even when I think about the one event concerning her that I recall best, I don’t see her. Of course, she wasn’t there that night. I don’t think about it often, but cool September evenings bring to mind a walk with my father when we decided to drop by and see Betty Bacobb.

The best scenario I can come up with is that it was a Friday and my father, who didn’t keep beer in the house but did enjoy a beer while watching the Friday Night Fights, walked to a place where you could buy quart bottles of beer. The state of Pennsylvania has tricky Liquor Control Board rules so I have no idea where that might have been. Also, I might be completely wrong about why we were out walking.

Digression 1

Friday night fights during that era was actually a long-running television show called the Gillette Cavalcade of Sports that featured fights from Madison Square Garden. I think the fights came on at 10pm. Watching them with my father (I had no bed-time) imbued me with an intense dislike of the sport. I didn’t last long in front of the TV. I probably never saw Round 2.

Anyway, one balmy autumn evening when walking with my father, I mentioned that Betty Bacobb lived in the house we were passing. My father suggested that maybe we should drop by and see her.

Digression 2

Dropping by was something that people back in the day did. Friends and acquaintances would simply show up at someone’s house and knock on the door. Then, the people who lived in the house would answer the door and invite the previously uninvited visitors in knowing that by doing so they were surrendering any hope of knowing if Perry Mason got his client acquitted.

Digression 2a

Bad example. With one exception, Perry Mason always got his client off.

Digression 2b

There was a possibility if people waited until summer and their show was popular enough it migh warrant a rerun.

Anyway, I was all in for visiting Betty. I led my father up to the front door. We knocked and, as was the custom even after dark, the woman who lived there opened her door wide with no idea of who was standing on her doorstep. These days my father would more likely be viewed through a ring camera as a criminal type exploiting his minor child for his nefarious purposes. Back then? We were greeted with a warm smile.

I don’t recall how my father introduced us. I can imagine him behind me gesticulating wildly over my head in an effort to clarify what he was saying about the friend of his daughter who lived there. I don’t know the truth. After all, he was behind me and I was not much over three feet tall.

I do remember the women’s response. She leaned down to speak to me and, with an apologetic smile, said she was very sorry that Betty wasn’t home right then but she would be happy to tell her we called. (People said called in those days.) I guess I was disappointed that Betty wasn’t home but I was happy we stopped by. 

I don’t recall the last time I hung out with Betty. Eventually, we drifted apart. I suspect she may have ghosted me. I hope she wasn't angry that we dropped by.

© 2024 Jane Kelly