Betty Theresa Gallant

by her daughter, Chris Mitchell

Four words describe the essence of my Mom, Betty Gallant – energetic, intelligent, fun loving and family-oriented. She grew up in the Buffalo, New York area and was the youngest child in her family. She and her closest sister, Milly, had a tough time in their early years. Their Mom died of tuberculosis when Betty was 4 years old and Milly was 6. Fortunately, they had an older sister, my Aunt Edna, who was 20 at the time. Edna took over the care of the house and family.

When Aunt Edna was 22 she married Andy Klein and moved to Lackawanna, New York. Betty and Milly lived with their father for a while, but he wasn’t much of a nurturer. When Betty was 8 and Milly was 10 their Dad dropped them off at Aunt Edna’s house to stay for a couple of weeks. Those weeks turned into years – Betty and Milly remained with the Kleins until they each got married and moved in with their husbands.

In fact, moving in with Aunt Edna and Uncle Andy was probably the best thing that could have happened to my Mom. Those were the Depression years, but there was always plenty of laughter in that household – Betty and Milly fit right in. Aunt Edna and Uncle Andy eventually had 5 children of their own in Lackawanna. Josie, the oldest, became like a sister to my Mom. Then came more siblings: Eugene, Norma, Mary Jane and Ellen.

Betty remembered one time when Aunt Edna went out to church and left Milly and her in charge of the younger kids. Milly and Betty took the littlest one, Mary Jane, outside and -- before they knew it -- the other kids had locked them out of the house. They coaxed and bargained, but those kids refused to open the door. Finally, Betty and Milly cooked up a plan. They told the kids inside that little Mary Jane had to go to the bathroom. They were sure the door would open then. But the inside kids simply opened a window and pulled Mary Jane into the house over the windowsill by her outstretched arms. I’m not sure how Betty and Milly got back in – but I’m sure Aunt Edna never heard about the escapade. School days were enjoyable for Betty. She was a good writer and reader and she liked her teachers. When she was a teenager, she worked after school cleaning houses for a few of her female teachers. But she said she never shared personal stories with any of them. In those days, teachers and students kept each other at a distance.

1941 was a year of change for the family. Milly became engaged to Rich Timm, and they got married in Buffalo in September of that year. The previous summer, Uncle Andy had landed a job as a machinist at the Navy Yard in Washington, D.C. By July of 1941, he had saved enough money to rent a house for his family in Colmar Manor, Maryland. Aunt Edna and her five children left Lackawanna, New York and joined him in Maryland.

When Edna moved away Betty stayed in Buffalo and went to live with her older sister Irene. Betty worked as a typist at Our Lady of Victory. But in October 1941, she got a phone call from Uncle Andy asking if she could come to Maryland and help with the children for a short while. Aunt Edna wasn’t feeling well. Mom packed her bags and went to Maryland and that changed her life.

In December 1941, she went to work for the C&P Telephone Company in Washington, D.C., as a long-distance operator. The following spring, a friend and co-worker set her up on a blind date with a good-looking Marine who was stationed in Quantico, Virginia – Joe Gallant. They were the perfect counterpoint for each other. Joe was serious and introverted. Betty was fun loving and outgoing. Betty introduced Joe to Aunt Edna and Uncle Andy and he was welcomed into the Klein clan.

In December 1942, Joe was transferred to a Marine detachment aboard a troop ship, the USS Monticello. World War II was in full swing. Joe’s ship ferried troops from the U.S. to Europe, Asia and Australia, and brought prisoners of war back to the U.S. Betty and Joe wrote to each other. They only saw each other when the Monticello came into its homeport, New York Harbor. Joe would send a telegram to Betty at the Klein’s house where she still lived. Betty would pack her bag and board a train for New York City. There were always lots of servicemen on the train. Betty would be dressed in a suit and high heels, but she often had to stand a good portion of the way from D.C. to New York. Servicemen got first priority on the seats.

During one of his leaves, Joe took Betty to Chelsea, Massachusetts, to meet his parents, his four younger sisters and his younger brother. Betty fell in love with the Gallants. They embraced her too and made her part of the family.

Joe and Betty were engaged in June of 1944. They got married in August of that year, when Joe’s ship was in New York for repairs and Joe had a ten-day furlough. Their wedding Mass was at St. James Church in Mt. Rainier, Maryland and their reception was held at the Kleins’ house. Joe’s Mom and two of his sisters, Eileen and Emily, travelled to Maryland for the event.

After a brief honeymoon in New York, the couple had to say goodbye to each other again. Joe went out to sea with the Monticello and Betty returned to the Kleins’ house in Maryland. Finally, 13 months later, the war ended. In September 1945 Joe took his discharge from the Marine Corps and Betty and Joe started their married life together.

By that time, Aunt Edna and Uncle Andy had a sixth child, George, and Betty had become his godmother. Uncle Andy gave his two youngest children nicknames, George became Buddy and Ellen was Babe.

Betty and Joe rented their first home, a tiny house right next door to Aunt Edna and Uncle Andy in Colmar Manor. That’s where Mom and Dad lived when I was born in March of 1947. When I was about 2 we moved to an apartment in Greenbelt, Maryland. Later we would live in a Greenbelt row house. But that road from Greenbelt to Colmar Manor was well traveled. Every weekend, we would be at the Kleins’ house for dinner. That big dining room table was always noisy with jokes and laughter. Buddy and Babe became like a big brother and sister to me.

My Mom and Dad always expected to have quite a few children of their own, but it wasn’t meant to be. After I was born, Mom’s body wouldn’t allow her to have any more. I know this was a disappointment for them, but they made sure I never lacked for family members. On both my Mom’s and my Dad’s sides, we always stayed close to extended family.

When I was still a toddler, Dad’s youngest siblings, Jeanne and Bob, were invited to come from Massachusetts and stay with us for a few weeks in the summer. Throughout the year, Mom went out of her way to plan children’s events at our house. Buddy and Babe came to decorate Christmas cookies and dye Easter eggs. On the Fourth of July we all went to Greenbelt Lake to see the fireworks; afterwards, back at our house, we each got sparklers to wave around.

When Aunt Edna and Uncle Andy’s oldest child, Josie, married Paul Knight their home was in Greenbelt, in the row house right next door to us. Their first baby, Jo Ann, was born when they lived there – and she became like my baby sister. I remember Josie knocking on the wall between our houses to signal Mom that it was time for a coffee break. We’d go next door. Mom and Josie would sit at the kitchen table and talk, while I entertained Jo Ann.

Every summer, my parents and I would drive to Chelsea, Massachusetts for our vacation with Dad’s family. When we entered that flat on Spencer Ave, we were greeted with the open arms of my grandmother, Eleanor Gallant. Mom loved her in-laws and the feeling was mutual. In the evening, my Nana would watch me while Mom and Dad went to the flat below and played cards with Aunt Eileen and her husband, Henry. Soon I had cousins there to play with. Bobby Shea, Buddy Sienkewicz and Patricia Denning were the closest to me in age. Mom’s outgoing personality meant that everyone in the family was invited when we took our lunches and our blankets to Revere Beach for the day.

And then there were the trips to the Buffalo, New York suburbs to see my Mom’s family there. Mom and Aunt Milly always seemed to be having more fun than anyone, sitting at the kitchen table, telling stories, and laughing till they cried. I had my cousins Pam and Eileen to play with. Milly’s oldest child, Ricky, was a frequent visitor to Maryland. He and Bud Klein were close. When Ricky or any other cousins came to town, my Dad always took us sightseeing in Washington, D.C.

As for Mom, she always wanted the out of town relatives to stay at our house -- and they usually did. Before they arrived she would get to work in the kitchen baking and cooking. Even after Mom and Dad moved into Brightview assisted living, Mom wanted to start baking whenever she heard that relatives were coming to visit.

There seemed to be no end to my Mom’s energy. In addition to all of her home-making skills, she did an enormous amount of volunteer work for our Catholic Church in Greenbelt. She washed and ironed the white altar cloths and the priests’ vestments. She edited and typed the weekly church bulletin. And she sang in the church choir for many years. Years later she joined the Sweet Adelines.

Music and dancing were always important to Betty Gallant. At family parties in the Kleins’ basement, she and Josie danced the polka together. At Thanksgiving, Betty and Josie got a jumpstart on the Christmas holidays. While they were doing the dishes at Aunt Edna’s kitchen sink they sang Christmas carols. I remember Josie getting down on her knees with a dishtowel in her hand singing “Oh Holy Night.” In later years, Mom made sure we all sang the 12 days of Christmas together. She wrote the words for each day of Christmas on slips of paper and handed them out to family members. Even those who couldn’t carry a tune had to sing their solo part.

When I was a teenager, Mom worked part-time for a while in the office of a local insurance company. But that job never tapped into her true talents. If she had lived in an era when women were encouraged to have careers outside the home, she could have taken any number of paths. I like to imagine her as a convention planner for employees of the Disney Corporation. Again and again she organized fun-filled events for large groups of family members. She had the knack for getting those around her to join in the planning and have a good time while they were at it.

For years, carloads of us went to Patapsco State Park for a Labor Day picnic. Mom would reserve the same large picnic area months in advance. Dad would borrow a heavy duffle bag of horseshoes and badminton equipment from the local parks department. On the day of the event, all of the men in the family had to carry supplies from the cars to our picnic area that was located across the creek from the road. The men stepped gingerly from rock to rock as they balanced heavy coolers of food and drink. Someone always got wet.

At other times of year there were crab feasts and Halloween parties at our house. One Halloween Mom dressed as a mummy, wrapping her entire body in strips of white sheets and scaring some of the little kids. Another year she dressed as Wonder Woman and called herself “Blunder Woman.”

In 1965, my parents and I moved out of Greenbelt to our first single-family house – in the Landover Hills area of Prince George’s County. The location was key. It eased my Dad’s daily commute to his job at the Labor Department in Washington, D.C.; and it also put us within a few miles of Aunt Edna and the rest of the family. On Saturday nights, Mom and Dad could easily drive to Mary and Jack Baker’s house to play cards.

At first there were just three little children in the family to take part in my Mom’s holiday projects – Jo Ann and Kathy Knight and Jackie Baker. She was their Aunt Betty and she invited them to our house before Christmas to make hand-made gifts for their parents. The most memorable projects were always the messiest ones, involving glue, soap powder and paints.

As more great-nieces and nephews came along, Aunt Betty’s creativity blossomed. She took it upon herself to provide the entertainment for our Christmas Eve gathering that was always held in Aunt Edna’s basement. In the weeks before Christmas, 8 or more kids would show up at our house to rehearse for the Christmas Play. The children would learn “Oh Little Town of Bethlehem” and “We Three Kings.” There would be costumes for the shepherds – one of my Mom’s hand-knitted afghans draped over each kid’s head. The kings had paper crowns and gifts to carry. The Christmas Plays continued for years, even after I got married and had children of my own. My daughter Susan was the baby Jesus her first Christmas. My daughter Jeanne and her cousin, Traci, were Little Drummer Boys that year.

This story could go on for another five pages if I tried to fit in all the things that my Mom did for her grandchildren, Jeanne and Susan. In Grandma’s kitchen they baked bread dolls for Easter and made gingerbread men for Christmas. At Thanksgiving, they each got a new Christmas ornament at their place at the table. They went to children’s theaters and visited amusement parks. And my daughters spent many nights tucked in on the sleep sofa in Grandma and Papa’s family room.

One summer my parents took Jeanne, Susan, Dennis and me to Prince Edward Island. That’s where we met my Dad’s Aunt Kate Arsenault and many other French Canadian relatives.

After Dad retired, he and Mom did plenty of traveling. But even then, family members were included. With Mary and Jack, they took annual trips to Sanibel Island, Florida. Then the four of them went to Spain together. They also rented a place at Myrtle Beach and spent time there with Norma Klein and her husband, Al Lucas. When my parents went on Elderhostel excursions they often traveled with my Dad’s sister, Marie and her friend Jean Taylor. For their 50th wedding anniversary in 1994, Mom and Dad went on a community college excursion to the Grand Canyon where they hiked and rafted on the Colorado River. They loved visiting the National Parks and they took a cruise through the glaciers of Alaska.

In 1996, Betty and Joe Gallant moved to Heritage Harbour in Annapolis. Joe joined a group of men who met at the Lodge and learned how to carve duck decoys. Betty took part in yoga classes, art classes and line dancing. She got to know everyone on their street, Painter Court. Soon she was put in charge of Painter Court’s tickets to the Heritage Harbour dining club. Betty went door to door to collect the money from her neighbors. Then she drove to the Heritage Harbor Lodge to purchase the tickets and reserve a table for 10. Afterwards she went back to everyone’s house to deliver the tickets. She continued that job for almost the entire 19 years she lived on Painter Court.

Betty and Joe both made good friends in that neighborhood. People like Dolores Arseneault became like family. And, for a time, family became neighbors. Norma and Al Lucas moved into the townhouse three doors away.

Through those years, my parents also made time to provide emotional support to me during the ups and downs of my life. When Bill Mitchell came into my life they embraced him and his family. I remember Mom teaching Bill’s granddaughters, Anahi and Tina, how to line dance in the middle of our dining room. The girls were about 10 and 12 at the time, Mom would have been 85.

In April 2015, Betty and Joe moved into Brightview Assisted Living. By then Betty had started to lose her short-term memory, but she hadn’t lost her spirit. She still loved to sing and dance when there was live entertainment. She enjoyed chatting and joking with people in the dining room or at Happy Hour. Even after Mom got sick one of her Brightview neighbors told me: “Whenever she comes downstairs she’s always the life of the party.”

Betty Gallant was able to make lots of people happy, including Joe Gallant. Last August the two of them celebrated 71 years of marriage. Just a few months ago, when my Mom and Dad were with me, I played the soundtrack of the movie “Sleepless in Seattle” for them. As soon as one song by Jimmy Durante came on, Mom immediately said that was her theme song. It’s title? “Make Someone Happy.”