Here We Go Again by Betty White

Author:Betty White
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 1995-03-17T05:00:00+00:00

14

David came home from Andover for the holidays, and it was good to have us all close as a family for our first Christmas under such different circumstances for everyone. It was snowy and beautiful.

Because I am such a devout Californian, people tend to assume my feelings are weather oriented. Not even slightly. I love the winter weather and actually do better when it’s cold than when the sun is excessively hot. Some Californian! I do love to drive, but I learned to have great respect for ice and snow, and paid attention when Mother Nature said to stay out of the car. I can honestly say I enjoyed winter up in Chappaqua. In New York, it was another story—just walking down the street after a snowstorm could be a messy challenge. Didn’t snow realize it belonged in the mountains and the country—not in the city?

Tess stayed with us over New Year’s but then opted to go home and pick up the pieces. I must say, she did a truly fine job of it. Between her hospital work and her involvement with the Motion Picture Mothers organization in support of the Motion Picture Country House, she worked hard, and she made a whole new circle of friends. She was soon off and running on her own two feet.

Allen’s circle of friends was large and diverse. He had lost no time in having me meet some of the close ones. Mary and Grant Tinker were the first—and then I met Elaine and John Steinbeck. Allen and Elaine had been buddies since their early days at the University of Texas. That first evening, Allen took me to their apartment to meet them. Elaine’s ease and warmth soon made me feel that I, too, had known her that long.

It was hard not to be a little in awe of John at first. It didn’t help my state of nerves that at the moment we walked in, John was scratching out his acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize. After a brief introduction, John suddenly asked us to help him think of a synonym for a word he wanted to replace. We should help John Steinbeck think of a word? Don’t ask me what the word was—at that moment I couldn’t remember my name! Later, after receiving his medal, John gave us that rough draft of his speech, to commemorate the night we met. It’s hanging here as I write.

The Nobel medal itself is beautiful and round, about three inches in diameter, and heavily embossed on both sides. Elaine took it to an exclusive shop on the East Side to have it specially mounted so that both sides would show. When she went to give the man her charge, he stopped her, saying, “We know who you are, Mrs. Steinbeck. We don’t do a lot of business with Nobel Prize winners.”

John was a large bear of a man who tended to mumble, but you listened very closely, because you didn’t want to miss a word. And he had a great laugh.

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