Betsy Pearson . . .

Living as Art

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Betsy Pearson is a walking lesson in life. Gracious, well spoken and exceedingly kind (but not, I think, to the point of dishonesty), she is inspiring in a time of living otherwise.

Betsy is an artist—some would say, "a real one": She has an art degree, and has shown her work in galleries, worked in New York City, been commissioned, and been published. It’s possible, of course, to go on and on about the beautiful and technical qualities of her art; but Betsy is so much more than this. The way she lives is art. The stories of her life—her family, her log cabin, her writings, her paintings—provide the background, but it is more the way she is loved that explains Betsy Pearson.

The day of our interview, her husband and one of her sons gathered with us around the kitchen table in Bob and Betsy’s sunny log home west of Bellevue. Like sweet sentinels standing guard, the men were hovering not over Betsy, but over her story—fearing she would sell herself short.

Bob Pearson tells me that his wife can be very modest, so he’s going to be sure that I hear all there is to tell. He says this proudly, but without boasting, in a warm and easy way. “Well,” she smiles. “I guess we won’t get away with anything here then, will we?”

Scooter, the parrot, scrambles over to the side of his cage for a little head-scratch, gently lowering his head to Betsy’s finger. He closes his eyes. If parrots can smile, he does. >>>