The Atascadero Writers Group

Roxie's First Letter to Betty
Memoir by Betty Finocchiaro

Dear Betty,

I thought I would get a letter off to you before I receive another one of yours. It’s, of course, always a pleasure to read your thoughts and memories because quite frankly, I can imagine how cathartic it has to be for you. On occasion you have asked me if I remember this or that, and all I can say to you dear friend, is that I recall most everything you do, as though I were a part of you. I hold you in my heart and have felt your pain and your joy over and over again.

In your references to John, let me tell you how difficult it is for me to grasp at the veil of something we call “time.” To have to embrace the fact that we have arrived at the age we are, is unbelievable. Betty, what morning did we wake to find ourselves the age we are now? I remember so well when I heard that you had married John on a trip to Italy. How young we were.

Do you recall what you told me when you returned to the U.S., and were passing through customs? You were asked by an agent,“Whats’a matter, not enough boys here in our country for you to marry?” You were convinced that it couldn't have been true after how your girlfriends reacted. They were ga-ga over John. He sure was a handsome Italian, mustache and all. And I remember your telling me that the first time your Aunt Alice met him in your apartment, she pulled you into the bedroom and whispered not to trust even your best girlfriend with him! I couldn't help smiling over this. It actually gave me pause. And later when he was an intern, how “cute” the nurses thought him too.

By the way, wouldn't you love to go back to that agent at Pier 84 in New York, just to be able to say “Sure there were plenty of boys I coulda had, but this one worked out. Watsa matter, gotta problem witt at?”

It didn't take long for John to acclimate to our ways. And it was the nurses who taught him so much, among other things, words that came as a shock to you. You told me how they loved teaching him because he was “so sweet.” I think it annoyed you. I remember too, how much time you spent alone in your apartment even though you worked in the city, spending a good part of your time riding the subways. I can imagine how lonely the evenings must have been for you too. I also remember how John came home every thirty - six hours, leaving the next morning. It had to be trying. Betty, I've always wondered how hospitals got away with the 36 hour shift. It’s so different today. Interns and residents have a saner schedule, almost more humane.

You stayed in New York for seven years and had your first little girl, Maria. She was two years old when John got sick. He began having a low-grade fever almost every day. After consultations with several doctors and tests, he was advised that he had some kind of inflammation involving his heart. The advice given was to move to a warmer climate. I never understood that one. Maybe my problem was that I really didn't want you to leave. I cried for days, Kid. So, thinking about where to go was a big problem for you. John still hung on to that feeling about not wanting to return to Italy especially now that you had a child. (I'll let you in on a little secret -- I kept my fingers crossed for weeks hoping that there was no place on earth where you could go.) Then, a brainstorm! You turned to the AMA Journal,” where other states were always looking for doctors. There was this place in San Luis Obispo, California looking for a physician to run the clinic in a town in their county called, Atascadero. Where the heck was that you asked me -- of all people?

You left our wonderful New York City on a hot, muggy day in July day, 1957, arriving six days later on a hot, early afternoon in downtown Atascadero. This time I cried for you. I missed you so much, Betty. You wrote me how you missed the east coast and what a culture shock it had turned out to be. It took years for you to acclimate.

John wasn't getting better with this “climate change.” He began diagnosing himself. Maria had an allergy to eggs, so John decided to eliminate them from his diet too. The fevers left as mysteriously as they had come. Problem solved. No trip to California had been necessary. But in the end, acclimate you did.

I was thrilled when you told me you were starting college over in the next town, and as you wrote me later, you were now in a “stimulating environment.” From then on, you have seemed content. Yet even so, I sense your longing for Our Town. I think of you as the poster girl for the expression, “You can take the girl out of the city, but you can't take the city out of the girl.” That's you Betty! That's really you.