Remembering Betty Haughin
“This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — Psalm 118:24
At Betty Haughin’s memorial service, family and friends gathered to share stories of a life marked by faith, humor, friendship, writing, service, and an extraordinary ability to bring people together. Again and again, their stories returned to the same qualities: Betty’s curiosity about other people, her fierce love of family and friends, her deep Christian faith, her quick wit, and her determination to keep participating fully in life no matter her age.
Rev. Dr. Jean Henderson remembered Betty as a woman who brought together “body, mind, and spirit” and who continued “shining like the sun” even when age limited what she could physically do.
Dr. Henry Mokobe recalled how a friendship that began at Community Presbyterian Church of Ben Avon grew into a family relationship. Betty became “Auntie Betty” to him and “Grandma Betty” to his children.
Jane Miller remembered asking Betty, as she approached 100, what wisdom she had to pass along. Betty simply pointed toward heaven and said: “It’s all God.”
And Betty’s favorite Bible verse offered another fitting summary of the way she lived:
“This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.” — Psalm 118:24
Below are the remembrances shared during Betty’s memorial service.
Bruce Haughin
Good morning, everyone. I would like to say that every Easter Sunday, Pastor Pass used to have a favorite catchphrase, and that was, “How many of you had to park at Shop ’n Save?” What a turnout. This is such a tribute to my mom and our family and everybody who ever knew my mom. While I look out and I see a lot of my friends, a lot of my mom’s friends, but deeper still, a lot of people who became my friends through my mom. That means a lot.
We have a special request. You will notice one of these forms. We’d like to get your opinion, or any sentiment you have—anything you would like to say about my mom. We’re trying to make a collectible item out of the service today and my mom’s life in general. If you can do that, it would be very, very much appreciated. Another thing we would like to do, if you’re interested, is get a group picture after the service in the narthex, in which we would be able to capture the feeling. Also, if you can do that, it would be greatly appreciated.
My mom. I hear everyone talking, and I’ve known my mom for 72 years, and I keep hearing more things—and I thought I knew it all. One thing people didn’t know about my mom was that she had a couple other special friends. Every time I’d get together with my mom, she would say, “How are my grandkitties?”
Judy and I share a home with two cats, an Abyssinian by the name of Mitchell and a gray tabby by the name of Nuggie. My mom loved those cats. I couldn’t go five minutes with my mom without her asking about the cats. She’d say, “What do the cats do?” I said, “They’re easy. They’re like clockwork. Five o’clock in the morning, they get me out of bed to feed them. Then we watch Highway to Heaven. Then they go their separate ways.”
During a recent adventure of Highway to Heaven, a young girl had lost a very, very rough bout to a rare disease. Prior to her passing, she passed along a wish. The wish is in this particular piece. As soon as I saw it, I took the kitty cats and I said, “Hey, we’ve got to do this for your grandma if anything would ever happen to her.” So there are two things in this life you don’t do. You don’t double-cross the kitty cats. And when you hear those three magic words, “Bruce Robert Haughin,” you snap to.
Okay, this is a poem called “Don’t Cry for Me.” It was written by Deborah Garcia Gaitan. And I think this is everything my mom would want to say:
“Don’t cry for me. I will be okay. Heaven is my home now, and this is where I’ll stay.
“Don’t cry for me. I’m where I belong. I want you to be happy and try to stay strong.
“Don’t cry for me. It was just my time. But I will see you someday on the other side.
“Don’t cry for me. I am not alone. The angels are with me to welcome me home.
“Don’t cry for me, for I have no fear. All my pain is gone and Jesus took my tears.
“Don’t cry for me. It is not the end. I will be waiting here for you when we meet again.”
It’s nice to be in the comfort and presence of God. Amen. Thanks be to God.
Rev. Dr. Jean Henderson
In the biblical story of Mary and Martha, both of these women were persons of faith who followed Jesus. When I remember Betty Haughin, I think of her not just as Mary, who seemed only to be concerned with issues of mind and spirit and Bible studies and Bible verses. And when I think of Betty, I don’t think of her just as Martha, concerned only with the issues of the body: You know, what will we eat today? What will I feed these boys? What will we drink today? I would add a new heavenly name for Betty: Betty Mary Martha.
God gave Betty Mary Martha a special gift. She had the ability to weave together body, mind, and spirit into this one amazing woman. She was a complete child of God. First, the gift of God for her body. Now, Betty was a beautiful woman at every age and every stage of her life. She walked in beauty: warm, welcoming, caring, lovely smile, and her eyes always twinkling, and her hair always done up. We got our hair done at the same place in Cranberry for years.
And she created beauty: a beautiful family with her dear husband Ken, her sons. She was surrounded by men in her life, and she loved men, too. She created beauty wherever she lived—in Ben Avon and Bellevue and Zelie. She created beautiful homes where she enjoyed entertaining and being with her large and lovely family here today, her myriad of friends, all of you. She was the Pearl Mesta of Ben Avon for a long time.
And then the gift of God for her mind: a razor-sharp mind with a very quick wit that sometimes bit you. Betty shared her love of the written word not only with her own family and her friends, but with all the North Boroughs citizens through her column in The Citizen. Her mind was open to other people’s ideas as well, to learning about new cultures. She was gifted with the ability to synthesize her thoughts into one Chit Chat article that would benefit and entertain all of us. Betty used her mind, a gift from God, to improve the minds of every person that she knew or that met her through her written word.
And, of course, the gift of God of her spirit. Betty Mary Martha had the heart of a true servant of God. How many hours did she give? How many programs did she plan? How many events did she carry out through her decades of service at this church? Her strong faith allowed her to be a courageous leader with vision for the future of this church. No matter what stage we were in here at Community, even when our dear pastor Brent Dugan died, Betty’s strong faith helped us keep our faith during those days 20 years ago.
And God gave Betty a sweet, sweet spirit. Well, usually—you knew that spirit. You knew her. We all knew that spunky spirit that she had, a spirit that was joyful and kind in the midst of illness and all the issues that come with aging that many of us are experiencing. And we were all lifted by her sweet, sweet spirit. Do you know that wonderful quote by Thomas Merton? “There is no way to tell people that they are walking around shining like the sun.” Even when Betty was no longer able to walk around, she was still shining like the sun, and you and I basked for years in that sunlight.
Body, mind, and spirit. What a wonderful weaving together of Betty’s life. Now, before it sounds like we’re nominating Betty for sainthood, remember that she was not perfect. No one is. There’s one thing that we Presbyterians all agree on—not much, but one thing for sure: all of us have sinned and fallen short of God’s expectations. One of my favorite sayings, I think, is true for Betty: “Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.” And it’s also true for each one of us. Thank goodness. Thank goodness she knew, and we as Christians know, that Christ died for our sins on the cross.
Jesus Christ was Betty Haughin’s Savior throughout her whole life and is her Savior now. And she always reminded us of that, and she always will as we remember her. Thanks be to God. So be it.
Brian Haughin
Hi. I’m Brian, number two son. So if you grow up a Haughin, you learn to answer to anything that starts with a B. I wanted to share with you something my mother asked me a long time ago to write for her, and I found in one of her emails that she sent it off to a bunch of people. So I’m going to start with her words:
“Hi, friends. Our late, loved pastor Brent Dugan had the youth group write their own obituaries as a little exercise. It wasn’t to be morbid, but just a way of having them realize their roots and what was important in their lives and would be remembered about them if they weren’t here anymore. I guess I’ve been thinking about my own obituary.
“For my recent 88th birthday, I reached out to our kids to write my obituary. Most of them wouldn’t, but, oh, dear son Brian. He wrote the following using the form Mr. Reed told me to use when I first wrote the Lamplighter for him: Always put people’s names in capital letters because they are important. Brian gave this to me at our family birthday party for me at Elaine and Brian’s, and I read it out loud with many tears from me and a lot of laughter as we remembered along with Brian’s words.”
Okay, here we go.
“Betty Haughin arrived in heaven today to a tumultuous welcome. Leading the happy crowd inside the pearly gates were her mother, Elizabeth Besser, and husband, Kenneth Haughin. Other prominent faces in the throng included neighbors Marge and Rich Milliken, Kenny Loop, Bill Johnston, Alice Brown, and many familiar faces from Betty’s class of 1941 at Bellevue High School.
“Heavenly officials speculated that the unusual size of the crowd was the result of a front-page announcement in today’s Heavenly Gazette. Heralding Betty’s imminent arrival, editor J.C. Reed urged that anyone who has ever seen his or her name in Chit Chat and smiled should be on hand to welcome Betty. Publisher Lyn Watson commented, ‘After over 2,000 columns and almost 44 years of writing, Betty has touched a lot of lives.’
“Betty was ushered into the main reception hall, where a huge banquet was waiting. Dan Pupard and the Eternal Shy Guys supplied music and dancing, with comic relief provided by Allan Sherman and Charlie Weaver. Dinner was catered by Bob Espy of B&J Catering and was only slightly delayed when Bob went back for the roast beef.”
That actually happened once.
“In typical fashion, Jesus arrived unannounced. Slipping up behind Betty, he folded his loving arms around her and whispered in her ear, ‘Well done, my good and faithful servant.’”
Excuse me.
“Tears of joy were followed by waves of applause as the Master led Betty to the dance floor. After a few quick turns, he delivered her to Ken, along with a long line of dance partners waiting their turns, including Jim Jones, Bill Gutenorf, and the ever-nimble Jim Casey. As usual, Jesus provided the wine. Brother Elmer Besser handled bartending duties. Tom and Alice Haughin, my dad’s parents, grew the flowers for all the beautiful centerpieces.
“Among the happy revelers observed were Alberta Robottom, Bill and Barbara Lewis, George Naylor, Ruth Heimbecker, and Annie Meikler. As always, George Madden, the Haughin boys, and their sister Sally had the place in stitches with an endless stream of jokes and comments. The Reverend Charles W. Brown and the Reverend Brent Dugan shared the blessing and benediction. The Heavenly Choir provided background vocals with an exceptional solo by Bob Mosley.
“The celebration lasted long into the night, but Ken and Betty slipped away early to the mansion that the Lord had prepared for them. Friends are encouraged to visit them there and will easily recognize their mansion by a large screened-in porch. Back on Earth, Betty’s family was surprised to find her apartment left immaculately clean and tidy. A handwritten note found on the kitchen table read, ‘Welcome home. Love, Sarah.’”
Okay, we go back to Betty’s words:
“The ending I’m amazed at. Sarah Casey and I always had a pact that whoever died first, the other would go to her house and clean her oven, so people didn’t find a mess when they came to the house after her death. I know there are people you folks don’t know and some family things that may not be familiar, but most of the content you can appreciate. I just felt I wanted to share this with you cherished friends.”
That’s it. Thank you.
Dr. Henry Mokobe
Thank you. Yeah, I’m Henry Mokobe. Betty was my family.
We met Betty for the first time here in the church in 2003, when we became members here. My mother also was here with me when we moved from Minneapolis to Pittsburgh. So Betty got connected with my mother. They became very close friends thereafter because they shared certain things, not only being Presbyterian. My mother had seven boys and Betty had four boys. So she said, “Aha, this is my friend. We have a common interest.”
So they became friends, and she used to come every time to my house to pick up my mother. She’d say, “Freda, come, let’s go and see Pittsburgh.” So she would take her. They’d go around Pittsburgh, go to the mall, go everywhere. She’d come back so happy. She didn’t have anybody around, you know, so she was so happy with her. And they were doing that for a long time. Once in a while she’d come, pick her up: “I have something interesting to show you.” They’d go there, and she’d bring her back very happy. So she went back to Africa, to Cameroon, and we still had that connection with Betty.
My kids called her Grandma. I called her Auntie Betty. So that’s how the relationship had been since then. Even when I became a U.S. citizen in 2013, when my mother had gone, I told her. She said, “Okay, I’ll come and represent your mother because you are my son.” So she came, and we had a celebration thereafter.
We’ve been doing this for a long time. When my kids would go to school, I’d talk to her on the phone, but whenever she heard that they were around, that they were back, she’d say, “Henry, switch that thing to FaceTime,” so she could see them and talk to them. So she would talk to all of them. The last one was January 2nd or so, when they came. She said, “Oh, they’re here? Okay, switch it to FaceTime.” So she talked to all of them. She was really very instrumental to all my kids, and we really miss her so much.
The last thing, which I have to thank Bruce and Judy for, was on the 14th of June. We were in church here, then I saw—we were talking outside—and Bruce and Judy told me, “You have to go and see Mom.” I saw it in their faces. I knew that I could not wait. So after church, I just went straight to where she was in Zelienople. They said, “You will not be able to talk to her.” But I went there. When I introduced myself, I called my name and so on, she turned around—just turned around her body—and stayed like that. So I was talking to her, though she was not awake.
Thereafter, I met Brian. Brian, too, came with his wife. So I happened to see him for the first time. We talked and stayed there for some time, not knowing that was the last time I would ever touch her. Bruce told me that she passed the next day. So I was so happy, and I really thank Bruce and Judy for having given me that heads-up.
She still remains in my heart always as my aunt, and my kids know that that’s their grandma. We call her Grandma Betty. Thank you so much. May her soul rest in perfect peace with the Lord. Thank you. Till we meet again.
Remembrance from a Confirmation Mentee
Betty was my mentor when I got confirmed, and that was a blessing. I don’t need to reiterate all the wonderful things that she did, but I just need to say that the way that she was, the way that she loved—with humor and fiercely—was proof of God’s love. Just fierce and real and always there—and there still. Thank you.
Jane Miller
Hi. It is so good to see so many friends from a long time ago. I knew Betty Mary Martha for a lot of years, but she was 99 before we ever played the kazoo together. I loved reading Chit Chat when we first moved to Avalon in 1984. I even sent her a few ideas to write about. But Betty planted in me the idea of becoming a newspaper writer.
And even though that happened, we didn’t meet until 2006. And that was when I came to Sunday school here at Community Presbyterian Church for the very first time. Betty sat across the table in the Sunday school room upstairs and said, “Jane, how’s your dad? I’ve been praying for him.” She heard my father had terminal cancer and had moved in with us. The following year, after her beloved Ken died, Betty moved to Zelienople, and after she found her new church community, we only stayed in touch with notes and Christmas letters. I loved her Thanksgiving epistles.
We didn’t see each other again until three years ago. My two hip replacements and our move to Butler County brought me to aqua therapy in a building across the parking lot from her apartment. Our weekly visits began June 14, 2023, in the “tiny cell,” as she called her cozy home. I told her I hoped she could pass on her wisdom, because I had read that women like me who have had babies in their 40s are more likely to reach age 100. Why, that was her, too. After—let me get the order right—Barry, Brian, and Bruce, she and Ken never imagined the blessing of one more “goooo,” as they called them. They named him Bert.
Betty said she had no advice to pass on. She simply pointed heavenward and said, “It’s all God.” She was concerned she would pass on before her 100th birthday on August 30. Her milestone was to be commemorated at Passavant Retirement Community with a televised interview.
Betty’s faith always inspired me. She shared that day that she gave up driving the year before. One day, she said, it was like Jesus himself was sitting beside her, and he said, “Betty, you’ve been driving more than 70 years without even a speeding ticket. Don’t you think it’s time you hang up your keys?” She said, “Yes, Lord.” And just so she wouldn’t change her mind, she called her mechanic right away when she got home to ask his help to sell her car.
You never knew what to expect when you saw Betty on any given day. If it was Friday, the sister of her friend across the hall came with her grandchildren. They played games. Betty had decks of cards and dice to send home with her visitors. She sent me home with kazoos for all five grandchildren. She also always had chocolate.
Betty introduced me to her friends in the apartment building. “She was the glue that held us together,” says her friend Betty Ann Foss. “Before she came, we never had dinners, game nights, and hymns. Betty always sang the loudest,” she said. And now all those things are traditions.
We played kazoo that summer for the first time at our farmhouse table. Our Ben Avon church friend Linda Williams brought her. We also went to lunch and shoe shopping, all in the two months before she turned 100. I happened to be there the day Patty Heladio, who assisted with the interviews, came to Betty’s apartment. Betty shared with us the bundle of love letters from Ken during World War II. Betty said she wrote to all the boys, but Ken wrote back the most.
They shared stories about favorite music, and in one, Ken thanked her on behalf of the other soldiers who appreciated the jokes she sent. In the last letter, he proposed going out on a date, provided Betty had the dime for the Coke. During the interview, Patty said she sat off to the side and could see the audience. They loved listening to her and were laughing. “She brought such light and joy,” said Patty.
But Betty was also one to never back down to injustice. In the 1950s, she was a receptionist for Channel 11. A popular program was a dance show that people called to get tickets for. It disturbed Betty and her coworkers that not all callers were welcome, but they would be fired if they didn’t follow an unwritten policy. Betty and her friends came up with a creative solution so that no one lost a job. And from that moment on, every show was racially integrated.
When Betty was asked to write a column for the Lamplighter and then The Citizen and Suburban Life, she told the publisher she’d never written anything before but grocery lists and letters. Her first column appeared, Brian told me yesterday, September 2, 1960. She wrote Chit Chat for 40 years, until she was 80 years old, and was proud to say she never missed a deadline.
“Forty-four years,” Stan corrected.
One of my favorite moments with Betty was after her 100th birthday. A Seneca Valley second-grade teacher wanted to bring her students after school for monthly visits at Luther Court. Betty offered to teach them the kazoo. Her instructions: “You toot or hum as loud as you want.” She was the leader of the kazoo band. I found the noise almost intolerable. But to Betty, you know, it was pure music. The project was a great success, and next month students come back for the fourth year.
Betty was also on KDKA-TV that year as the “Kazoo Lady,” and the Butler Eagle reported on her, too. Even at age 101, Betty never stopped writing. She mailed notes. She journaled. Sometimes I’d check my email early in the morning and there would be a message from late at night. She signed everything “OLD,” in capital letters. Betty, I always told her OLD really stood for “Our Lovely Dear.”
Betty was nearly 102 when a fall landed her in the ER and then St. John’s rehabilitation unit in Mars. She was not happy, but she never stopped being thankful and gracious. She introduced each caregiver to family and friends by name, along with something special they did for her. One day she introduced me to her “lemon lady,” who brought her hot tea with a lemon wedge each day.
Betty’s roommate, Nan McCormick, said her six-year-old granddaughter would hug Betty first. From her wheelchair, Betty danced the hula with Sophia. “You just move your arms and you wear a Hawaiian lei.” I brought my grandchildren, too. We told jokes and played “Happy Birthday” and other songs on the kazoo.
Betty had two prized possessions in her room. One was the book her daughter-in-law Judy created for her 102nd birthday of the World War II letters from Ken. And the other was a gift from the Ammerman family: a really tall fake pink flower with a handwritten note on the pot: “Bloom where you are planted.”
But even Betty was surprised when she got the call that the Passavant community in Zelienople had a room for her. The skilled nursing unit wasn’t what she envisioned, but it had a window. She could sit in her comfy chair, read a newspaper, talk on the phone, and write notes. Even in her final week, Betty was so gracious.
The week before she died—and I’m sorry, I just looked to see where Len Barcousky was sitting, because he had always told me, in the newspaper you never “pass on.” You only die. But the week before she died—I’m so sorry. I should not have looked up and said that—she was writing a thank-you note when I saw her sitting up at the table, thanking the cooks for the delicious bacon.
A year ago this week, children at our Evans City St. Peter’s Lutheran Church made happy 102nd birthday cards for Betty. They wanted to know more about her. What was her favorite color? Her favorite Bible verse? I had to ask. Her favorite color? Black. It goes with everything, and it’s the color of newsprint.
Her favorite Bible verse—and you all know this. So, shall we say it together?
“This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
And that, I think, is Betty’s wisdom to pass on: Bloom where we are planted, wherever we are.
Thank you, Betty. I know where you’re planted.
