January 26, 1922 - October 21, 2009
She was born at home; she died at home. Suitable parentheses for a life grounded at home, one that reached out into the world, yet always came home. On January 26, 1922, she was born to Floyd & Florence (Noah) Boyce in a North Lake cottage, the last of four siblings. Her first job was in the family bakery, baking pies that sold so well she always claimed she never got to taste them. In order to complete high school, she eventually had to live and work away from home, and she held onto that dedication to education: she prided herself on her perfect spelling and skill at Perquackey; her smooth copperplate script filled volumes of riverside journals; she made her living keeping numbers neatly ordered, and saw three of her children graduate from college (and create a lasting Michigan/Michigan State family rivalry). Nevertheless, when her father's death meant that she and her sister couldn't both continue at Michigan State, she left East Lansing and went to work, helping Ruth finish school. It was at work, at a factory making munitions for the war effort, that Betty met her husband, Wilber (Bill) Worden, and began a true life's work: building a marriage, a family, a home. Her training was in bookkeeping, employment she returned to time and again as she moved in and out of the workforce to meet the needs of a growing family. But motherhood her way - fostering both independence and her own deep love of family in her four children - was a full-time pursuit, too. She raised her own kids, knew the neighborhood kids, and cared for her brother's young sons during a difficult year. She was a Girl Scout Troop Leader, repeatedly filling the garage with cookies for distribution, and a Scouting neighborhood chairman, a Cub Scout den mother and a Boy Scout volunteer - sometimes all at once. At Girl Scout Camp, her daughter Diane remembers her sitting with Carrie Eisenbeiser beside their grown-ups' tent, which the Scouts had set up, drinking their coffee, which the Scouts had brewed, watching as the Scouts lashed the table and dug the latrine. All around them, they saw the other leaders doing those chores while their girls watched them! When the other adults came around later to ask how they did it, they replied, "Good training." With three children attending Chelsea High, her alma mater, it was easy to remember the dedication she'd had for that school and the education she'd worked for there (she wasn't in danger of forgetting - she kept in touch with several classmates throughout her life and attended her 69th class reunion). She was an enthusiastic attendee and a very vocal cheerleader at her kids' school athletic events. When one son's teammate turned to him in the midst of a wrestling match to ask who that loud lady was up in the stands, Steve replied: "That's no lady, that's my mother!" - a story Betty loved to tell forever after, always with a big laugh. In 1980, with only one child left at home, Betty retired from her position as office manager for the University of Michigan's Institute for Social Research and she and Bill moved up north, to the cottage on the Betsie River that they'd built themselves. She and Bill loved the natural beauty of their up-north home, with a keen eye for flowers, wildlife, and especially morels. They dug the crawlspace into a basement after they'd moved in; their kids helped build the addition, moving over the roof in flannel and overalls and laughter. It was truly a labor of love - and the best view on the river. Despite the change of venue and a change of name - too many Bettys on the river meant that she became Liz, then Lizziebeth, then Queenie - she was still and always herself, making a home, finding adventure. One cottage evening found one of her boys, who'd gotten his first taste of camping with his mother and her troop of Girl Scouts and was now in graduate school, at her door with 27 friends, rained out of a trip to a nearby campground. She didn't bat an eye, just sent the girls upstairs and Ray and the othe boys downstairs, and in the morning cooked breakfast for them all. Finding that full retirement didn't suit her nature, she began a final adventure in work and service as a director of the Cherryland Electric Cooperative. She became the first member of the Board to receive certification as a director, setting a new standard for those who followed. This was the job that gave her real wings; she flew, for the first time in her life, to a conference in Philadelphia in 1985. Afterward, she made up for lost time, traveling around the country and to England, the Panama Canal and Costa Rica with Bill, then visiting New Zealand, Australia, South America, the Caribbean, Alaska, Hawaii, and Europe after his death. She sallied forth alone or with family, but her genuine warmth and curiosity inevitably won her lasting friendships, remembered long after debarking. She was always happy to come home with memories to share. At Silver Maples in Chelsea, where she lived until her final return home, she again reveled in the company of new friends. She endured sorrows: the loss of a child and the pain of outliving her husband. But she also embraced joy: her four children gave her four grandchildren, and she loved being a grandmother, joyfully sharing games, puzzles, food, and activities as her family grew. She was delighted to greet two great-granddaughters, born four days apart this March. When she died, peacefully, on Wednesday, October 21, she did so in a home she shared with her son, grandson, granddaughter-in-law, and great-granddaughter, a home next door to her daughter, in a room modified for her by her family's loving hands. That is her story, but this is her truth: she was always genuine. She welcomed all comers, she made friends easily and firmly, she asked because she really wanted to know and then she remembered. She fed family and friends and whomever they brought to her door, fed them applesauce and grapple jam and blueberry buckle and pot roast and Christmas confetti. She knew a bargain but wasn't afraid to splurge on beauty. She descended the knotty riverbank stairs to wade in the cold brown water with her grandchildren long after it hurt her knees to do it. She had both style and grace. Her laugh and smile stayed with her until the end. She was an astounding woman. She goes to join husband Bill, son Peter Andrew, parents Floyd and Florence, and sisters Dorothy (Stan) LaSovage and Ruth (Erle) Stewart. She is survived by her children Diane Elizabeth (Marcus) Vale, Raymond Floyd Worden, and Steven Foster (Deborah) Worden, her grandchildren Sarah Elizabeth (Jake) Roth, Brady Peter (Amanda) Worden, Aaron Steven Worden & Noah Foster Worden, and her great grandchildren Elizabeth Marie Worden & Nora Leslie-Davi Roth, as well as her brother Ellis (Elaine) Boyce, brothers-in-law RV Worden & Richard (Beverly) Worden, sisters-in-law Betty (Dan) Cowan & Doris (James) Worden, as well as many nieces, nephews & cousins. A few years back she wrote her own life story, titling it with her childhood adage "Happy, but Never Satisfied." We trust that now she is both, and at peace. A memorial service is planned for Saturday, January 23, 2010 at 11:00 a.m. from the North Lake United Methodist Church. In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to North Lake United Methodist Church or Arbor Hospice. Arrangements by Staffan-Mitchell Funeral Home.
