by Carote Anne Scott

The title of this article, taken from a movie made in the `70's, appears to be particularly appropriate. Whenever "Heart Beats" founding member and ace reporter, Betsy Robichaud, wrote a story, she started it with a song or movie title because she was, among so many other wonderful things, an expert on music, musical theater, and films. It often seemed as though there wasn't a song she hadn't heard or a movie she hadn't seen. Herself a consummate musician, she originally took piano lessons from Sr. Mary Gerald at Sacred Heart School, eventually becoming a percussionist at the urging of Sister Cornelius.

On Saturday, March 27, Betsy's life ended at the too tender age of 55. Diagnosed with colon cancer only eight weeks earlier, she had in that short time undergone major surgery, including removal of a brain tumor and a colostomy.

Despite all these tragic ailments and a hospitalization that lasted virtually the entire period from diagnosis to death, on most days, Betsy maintained the sparkling wit that had also been one of her trademarks. She astonished her many visitors with her ability to remain cheerful, even under such trying nurse eared for her had tears in her eyes when she told me of her ability to make the staff laugh. In a macabre touch of gallows humor, Betsy even referred to her colon tumor by the name of yet another film, "Rosemary's Baby."

Elizabeth Frances Robichaud, daughter of Kathryn (nee Bench) and Louis Robichaud, came into the world on August 26, 1948. Her parents were fixtures at Sacred Heart where Kay sang in the Choir for many years and Louis served as an usher until he became ill, well into his eighties. A working Mom, Kay was a saleslady at Cummins Men's Store in Roslindale Village. Louis drove a cab.

They all lived in the same house on Hyde Park Avenue that had been in the Bench family for many years. Betsy would often remark that she had been carried into her home when she was three days old and never left. The house itself was quite historic, as part of it had. originally been the stationmaster's toll booth at Forest Hills and had been trucked down the street to its current address via horse-drawn wagon. Its location on the train-tracks side of the street had often prompted Kay to remark, "It's the only house where you can take a bath and shake hands with the conductor at the same time."

A child prodigy with a mind for facts and figures, Betsy, would astonish her Dad's friends when she was just a toddler by being able to recite correctly the Red Sox lineup along with each player's batting averages She entered Sacred Heart School where she gained notoriety as being the only student constantly to be awarded the honor of sitting in the "first row, first seat" by successfully answering Sr. De Pazzi's famous recitation questions. Betsy and her classmates graduated in 1962, making them the first students to have spent all eight grades at the then newly constructed Sacred Heart grammar school on Canterbury Street.

Edged out of a scholarship awarded by Sacred Heart to Fontbonne Academy, Betsy nonetheless attended high school there, distinguishurgherrself academically. During that time, however, she never lost touch with parish activities, spending many hours as a member of the Sacred Heart Drill Team, a precursor to the current Color Guard. Betsy and her team were often championship contenders. Together they carried "Sacred Heart Pride" to performances across the country. It was during one of those competitions that Betsy turned "sweet sixteen." She and her friends celebrated her birthday, poolside at a hotel in Cleveland. It was a memory she treasured, the same kind of memory that so many Sacred Heart Color Guard girls sham.

Love for Sacred Heart ran deep among Betsy's ancestors. Her grandmother and her great-uncle were among those participating in the famous "ox masts" held by the parish's first pastor, Msgr. John F. Cummins, to raise funds for building the church. Betsy's relatives sang and played the mandolin at the festivals. Inheriting that love of parish, Betsy could have vied for the title of "Miss Sacred Heart." In addition to writing excellent articles and editing our not so superb ones for "Heart Beats," she served a term on the Parish's Pastoral Council and chaired the Oral History Committee for the Parish's Centennial celebration, while also serving on its Publicity Committee. She was a Eucharistic Minister, sang in the Adult Choir, judged the lip sync contest at Sacred Heart School each year, served annually on the Golf Tournament Committee, and on the Parish Barbecue Committee, which planned the celebration of the feast of the Sacred Heart. She was so parish-oriented that even though she was not Italian, she joined the Italian Society!

Extremely active in the local community as well, Betsy was a member of the Roslindale Historical Society and served on the Board of the Healthy Roslindale Coalition. She was a fixture at just about every local community event from Jazz Concerts in Adams Park to the Easter Egg Hunt to the Broom to Bloom Clean-up. Pen and paper in hand, with camera at the ready, she covered all these stories for "Heart Beats" and told them in her inimitable fashion, with incredible wit and humor that will sorely be missed.

Musically gifted, Betsy began her performance career playing in the Sacred Heart School Orchestra and matriculated onto Fontbonne's Orchestra. Eventually, she became a part of the volunteer and non-profit Parkway Concert Orchestra where she served as percussionist and grant writer for almost thirty years. At her wake, one of its longtime members told me that it had taken them several years and four people to replace her. A few years ago, Betsy assisted her former teachers, the Sisters of St. Joseph, by playing the drums in their Nuns' Orchestra. Looking fetching in Colonial regalia, including britches, morning coat and wig, Betsy also served a stint as a drummer for Crane's Artillery Regiment. A highlight of her time with this Revolutionary War reenactment instrumental group came when they were invited to France to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the signing of the Treaty of Paris ending the Revolutionary War.

Her stories about that performance were exceptionally amazing and amusing. She got to play in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, in front of none other than French president, Francois Mitterand. The evening was marred by one embarrassing incident, however. The president of the Daughters of the American Revolution was there and in her atrocious French wished everyone a "Bone Jour" leading to a longwinded, snobby and boring Ugly-American speech, that culminated in a "Mercy bow-coops."

The French half of Betsy was outraged, but was properly avenged when the next day, marching in the big parade down the Champs Elysees, Mrs. DAR's hat flew off in the breeze and landed in a fresh mound of horse manure from the Clydesdales marching up ahead. A young and handsome gendarme ran to retrieve the precious chapeau and return it to the visiting American. Betsy reveled in the memory of the look of outrage on the woman's face as the pooped-on hat was presented to her and she once again tossed it to the wind.

By the way, Betsy's travels were not limited to France. At other times, she also visited Ireland, England, Italy, Germany, and even Egypt, a favorite locate where she walked among the pyramids despite dangers from terrorists.

As her graduation present from Sacred Heart School, Betsy's Dad presented her (and himself) with seasons tickets to the Patriots. Her forty-one-year love affair with the team resulted. When Louis was too old to go to the games any longer, Betsy persevered, keeping her ticket and going all alone to watch her team play. That was in the days when the Pats were not the dream team they are today, but instead were often the losers.

Betsy went to virtually every game, including two Super Bowls, one with her Dad and the other on her own. Getting her to the latter match required the assistance of numerous Sacred Heart friends, myself included. Also instrumental was the resourceful Adriana Cillo. She contacted Father Maguire's friend, a priest from New Orleans who had recently attended his funeral. The prelate kindly arranged "hotel" accommodations for Betsy in a convent, the only place in town that wasn't sold out. Continuing the musical connection, it was located across the street from Fats Domino's home. A night-owl, Betsy actually spotted the famous crooner coming home around 4:00 a.m.

In this, the last year of her life, Betsy's beloved Pats had their best season ever and won the Super Bowl for her again. Although her illness had prevented her from attending three of the games, including the Freezer Bowl, she was able to be there when they won the AFC championship game against the Colts. We will always picture her wearing a Pats' jacket, with a championship cap proudly covering her head.

Highly educated, with a bachelor's degree and two master's degrees, Betsy never realized her full potential in the job market. Originally, she had hoped to teach college and actually had served as the instructor of a summer course on musical theater at her alma mater, Regis College.

As the rejection letters streamed in from various universities around the country, Betsy accepted what was to have been a temporary job at Carl Fisher Music Company in Boston. The temporary post lasted about fourteen years and was followed by another long stint in the tax department of Healthco International. One of the last employees let go after the company filed for bankruptcy, Betsy had served as the preparer of state sales tax returns for the dental products they sold.

Hearing about a job at MacFarlane Oil in nearby Dedham, Betsy rushed to accept a position as their bookkeeper, which she held for the past decade until her death. Her smiling face greeted the customers as they approached her desk to pay their bills, and many of them, including my own "aunt," Sally Nuzzolo, miss her terribly.

Never married, Betsy referred to herself as an "unclaimed treasurer." Although she never had children of her own, she had many protegees among the young, as her friends' children became special to her and she to them. Perhaps because Betsy had never lost that enthusiasm of youth, that deep and abiding belief in the magic of a holiday or the joy of a toy, she was able to connect with the kids on a very intimate and real level, a level they themselves acknowledged. She was one of them. She loved them and they loved her.

We all loved Betsy. The entire Sacred Heart community and particularly we "Heart Beats" members who have worked with her and celebrated with her over these past fifteen years of the paper's existence, will carry the memory of this amazing woman forever in our hearts. Taps and a slow banging of the drum are our accompaniment to the heavenly choir that now undoubtedly serenades our star reporter and dear friend, Betsy Robichaud.