Betsy Brown

 

"Hi, my name is Betsy Brown, and I'm an emotionally-disturbed teacher," always received a chuckle from attendees at New Games Trainings.

 

When asked how the Hells Angels recruited new members, Sonny Barger explained there was no formal process to join. The Angels just recognized 'em. While the New Games Foundation had a bit more structure, it was clear from the start that Betsy had found one of her tribes. Surrounded and supported by a group of people who were—by the nature of the job—predisposed to be playful, kind, supportive, and inclusive, she was a natural.

 

"Say 'yes' and move the scene forward" is a guideline for improv actors. Betsy instinctively grasped that concept. She easily assimilated the structure and mood of the Trainings and added her own flavor. Her role in helping to spread the New-Games philosophy of Play Hard, Play Fair, Nobody Hurt was significant.

 

One week, in between two Trainings that were in Texas, Betsy graciously offered to put me up. I took advantage of the opportunity to visit her school. Watching a professional handle a class of emotionally-disturbed kids is already impressive. More striking was that these children were Texans. Cowboy boots and oversized belt buckles were the norm for the boys. I still remember one youngster's frequent outbursts of, "Yee haw! Ride me Texas!" Ms. Brown supported and nurtured her students with care, concern, and professionalism.

 

Already a full-time, accomplished teacher, Betsy enthusiastically accepted the challenge to also share New Games with others. This Player for Life continued to incorporate the concepts of fairness, compassion, and fun for all into her varied passions.

 

Decades ago, in the early seventies, I sat in on a friend's pre-med, biochemistry lecture. At the end of the class, the professor held up a blank sheet of paper. After explaining that the paper represented the pool of potential doctors, he proceeded to tear off strips and let them fall. Each torn shred represented a group whose members were not usually accepted to med schools. One after another, a litany of minorities fell to the floor. A particularly sizable, discarded strip stood for women. At the end—while clutching the small, remaining scrap of paper between his thumb and index finger—the instructor lamented, "If the medical profession does not open its doors more widely, we will be condemned to relying on this tiny subset of future medical practitioners."

 

Fortunately for us, by the time she was ready—which was years later than the traditional path for most aspiring physicians—the medical profession was receptive enough to accept Dr. Betsy Brown into its ranks. She brought the spirit of New Games with her. Betsy told me later that coordinating some games at an introductory session for her incoming class resulted in her being elected a student representative. One of the perks of that position was getting to meet, work, and play with fellow medical-funster Patch Adams. She continued to incorporate the idea of play and inclusivity into her practice. For example, holding staff meetings with all participants—from doctors to nurses to receptionists—seated on the floor helped to minimize the traditional hierarchies between the various positions. Much later, her sense of empowerment compelled her to start a fact-based newsletter to distribute current and evidence-based information on the ever-changing (concerns of the) Covid pandemic.

 

Taking up the fiddle as an adult, Betsy's feelings of inclusivity influenced her choice in music. After learning that I, a perennial beginner at the banjo, was planning a visit, she had her husband, Jamie, caution me that bluegrass music would not be welcome in their home. I assured them that people rarely interpret my random plunkings neither as bluegrass nor music. Much later, she explained her love of old-time music was based on the tradition of everyone playing together to support the song and each other, rather than the bluegrass pattern of individual instruments taking turns to show off.

 

If there is a Heaven, please rest assured, Betsy is up there now, helping and caring for those already there while prepping the fields and stages for those of us still to arrive.

 

Todd Strong

 

---from Janet Knock---

Betsy was a force. In her passion for all that was good and just, in the joy she took in music, in her deep caring for her patients, in her love of family and friends, she was a true line of positive energy. Betsy's light was bright and will continue to shine as it is reflected in all of those lucky enough to have known her.