My Aunt Betty Did Not...

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Look like this 

but I wish she did.

In the shadows of the  Whitestone Bridge,

One block from the last  exit on the Long Island side, there was  a house...

It was on a block with 47 other houses: 24 on each side.

All of the houses looked identical from the outside.

The "last exit" of the Whitestone Bridge (3rd Avenue) 

was mis-named because the moment the exit was taken, 

the first cross-street was  6th Avenue. 

One of those houses was

147-75 6th Avenue.

That is where Linda and Paul lived.

Their photograph is below.

Every evening, they would sit down for dinner 

with Mom and Dad and Baby Judith and

an alarm would sound at exactly 6PM.

But it was not an alarm clock. It was the telephone.
 

It was Aunt Betty who lived in the Bronx.
She would talk about this, that, or the other thing
but mostly about her parakeet, Lucky.

Baby Judith proved to be the best listener.
...
...
... 

For the first forty years of my life, no woman–who did not 
live at 147-75 6th Avenue–had a greater impact 
on me than Aunt Betty.

I cannot write anymore about her at this time.

I just want to cry and think of her and her sister 
who was my mother and her first niece 
who was my sister and her brother-in-law

who was my father.

To write more about Aunt Betty...I vow to do so
but will close with this:

The most reliable car I ever owned was named Betty
because my Aunt's death resulted in an inheritance
that paid for a brand new car without 
having to take out a loan. 

I would like 

to thank 

Betty Draper

for inspiring

this page

which begins

with her silhouette 

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