About Wild Betty

Wild Betty was my mother. She died Feb. 3, 2016, three days shy of the anniversary of my father's death from brain cancer ten years ago. She outlived "the bastard," as she called him, but she never got over him. She was 85 years old...not in this picture of course. In this picture she is 25, either pregnant with me, or soon to be. Yes. She was frequently mistaken for both Jacqueline Kennedy or Priscilla Presley (Elvis' first wife), depending on whether you followed politics or music.



I wrote her obituary, but didn't put in the newspaper. I believe newspapers, as a whole, charge way too much for obits and they're crooks — taking advantage of the grieving to capitalize on the $300 to $500 it would cost to publish — .75 cents a word and a $31 "set-up fee." Those who make a living off of the dead are ghouls.

Anyway, this blog is about my quest to fulfill her last regret — never having convinced her married boyfriend to leave his wife long enough to take her on a two-week cruise down the Tenn-Tom, the Tennessee Tom Bigbee Waterway. The Tenn-Tom, as people apparently call it because the whole name is too big a mouthful to use in any conversation where you're probably holding a beer if you're having the conversation to start with. Mother was, I'm sure, more interested in spending two weeks with "Randy" (his true name), than with the idea of living on a houseboat. Either way, I know she truly loved the water — having purchased a lake lot on a bluff in North Carolina, and planning to build there, but never having the money to do so.

Another of her regrets, and one that I can't really do a damn thing about. However. I can buy a live-aboard sailboat (my dream), and ferry her ashes in a wine bottle (or any bottle) down the Tenn-Tom. Her favorite movie of all time was "Message in a Bottle," thus the bottle. She was a hopeless romantic who dreamed of a prince who who could and would spoil her forever. She found him once but his father was filthy rich and thought "Murray" could do better. He threatened to cut Murray out of the will, so Murry had the marriage annulled and I think it broke her heart, but also a peace of her spirit. She never, as far as I know, got over him. Later he regretted his decision and after his father died, and the money was secured, asked her to marry him again. She declined. She was a proud woman and the romantic ideal that "love conquers all" - even financial greed, had been shattered. She would keep looking and never find that kind of love again, even when she married my father.

This blog, if I can pull off my wild dream, is to sail Wild Betty's ashes down the Tenn-Tom, or the Intracostal Waterway, or both, and find a suitable place to send her off into what I hope is good resting place for us both. I don't think she is in heaven looking down. This, selfishly enough, is for me and my peace of mind.

When my father died 10 years ago I did something equally as impulsive. I quit my job, bought a 1975 Chevy Van and took to the road, only to end up homeless a couple of months later. Long story. Watch my TED GLOBAL talk from 2009 if you want the gist of it. Must be a thing, me and my parents. They both hated me and often told me they wish I'd never been born. After you hear the full story you'll wonder why I don't just flush her ashes down the toilet. But there's more to mothers, daughter, love, hate, abuse and mommy dearest than you know. And THAT is what this blog is really about. The sailboat, the adventure, the journey, that's all just the vehicle. This is a journey of the heart, the soul, the spirit. The ocean is the backdrop, like a laugh track or musical sound track in the background. Or maybe it's not. We'll figure it out as we go eh? I hope you join us.

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