Betty and Ed

Betty Rollin and her husband, Dr. Harold Edwards, playing Scrabble. Photo by Marianne Barcellona.

Esteemed journalist Betty Rollin enjoyed a nearly 42-year marriage with Harold Edwards, PhD (whom she called Ed). Betty shared her memories with me via Zoom regarding her 2022 New York Times article which advised others how to deal with widows, based on her own experiences after Ed’s death. Ms. Rollins was spirited, amusing and straight-talking; she sugar-coated nothing.

As a glass-ceiling cracking journalist, Betty Rollin knew quite a lot about life and death. She was a hard-working, female broadcast reporter with NBC News who typified the now outdated descriptor “career girl,” a term that at age 87, she found amusing.

Born and raised in New York City, she was independent and self-supporting. She married and divorced young. She realized that she didn’t need a husband; getting married was what you did back then. But when she met and fell in love with mathematician Harold Edwards, PhD, she thrived in the happiness of her second chance and their decades-long union.

Her life’s work had always concentrated on fact-finding and storytelling to keep the public informed. So, after being twice diagnosed with breast cancer, it was a given that she would write about her experience to inform others. In 1976, she published “First You Cry,” which served as the nation’s essential handbook for dealing with breast cancer by someone who knew it only too well.  In 1985, she published another book entitled, “Last Wish,” about how she helped her mother end her life after receiving a terminal diagnosis of ovarian cancer.

Last year, Betty’s straight-talking approach to life and death led to a well-received column she crafted for the New York Times called, “How To Talk To A Widow,” a lengthy piece filled with advice about addressing the awkwardness that accompanies spousal death. Again, her insightful perspective was based on her own personal experience. Betty wrote the column three years after Ed, her spouse of 42 years, died from colon cancer. She was still navigating a new life on her own.  

‘I have two years. We’re going to be as happy as we can be
…and that’s what we did.”

Much to Betty’s surprise, the first draft she submitted, which she described as “a dreamy piece about widowhood” was returned by her editor who offered guidance. “For the first time in my writing life, I had an editor say, ‘Could you make this longer and tell people what to do, how they should behave and how widows should behave?”

Immediately, she shared in our conversation, a plethora of activities and behaviors flashed through her mind. For instance, she advises that when you’re asking a recently widowed person how they’re doing, “…act like you’re genuinely interested and stay interested instead of moving on to discussing yourself.” And despite the emotional discomfort of it all, widows should reciprocate. “That point was important to me – to widows – don’t forget to ask the person who’s asking you how THEY are.”

Betty joked about cultural differences in how people respond to the surviving spouse. “My Jewish friends sent food and my Christian friends sent flowers. Food is better,” she said, with her quintessential humor. Apparently, Betty’s observations resonated with many.  She was flooded with “hundreds and hundreds” of emails as well as handwritten letters from those who read her NYT article. Indeed, it’s why I reached out to her.

Despite her experience with complicated life and death issues, Betty found she still had much to learn in managing her own mindset and behaviors. She explained that Ed received a late-stage diagnosis because his cancer had been missed earlier by doctors, which infuriated her. Betty said she had to work constantly to fight her anger about the mistake, but Ed made it clear he wanted her to move past it. “He said, ‘I have two years. We’re going to be as happy as we can be’ and that’s what we did,” she stated. It was just his nature to be wise about what to do when you get a two-year sentence of death.” 

Like so many others, the couple navigated around the isolation of COVID-19 and maintained interactive relationships by socializing on Zoom with their friends. Ed, she said, enjoyed the calls because they provided a sense of normalcy during his illness and the pandemic. After his death, she continued to use Zoom as her channel to a social life.

Divorced and having already overcome two bouts of cancer herself, Betty met Ed at a party the late 70s in New York City; she had forced herself to attend. As a network television journalist, she said she just wasn’t interested in dating or remarrying. “I was skeptical of a good thing – like the right man. I had already married the wrong man.”

Betty and Ed were very different from each other. Betty revealed that she was essentially clueless when he told her he was a mathematician. “He later told me not to worry – ‘You will never understand what I do. We will skip it and talk about other things.”

And talk they did; for more than four decades. Betty credited her husband for forcing her to even talk through their disagreements rather than storm off. Ed had worked to shake some of his midwestern upbringing but remained comfortable sharing his feelings, she said, adding that he was “totally honest; he couldn’t lie about anything.”

But perhaps his best trait, which relates back to her opinion piece – “He was the best listener I have ever known in my life.” Betty said, adding that she had to learn to listen as a journalist. It came naturally to Ed.

They were intentional in not having children a decision she never regretted. But she speculated that perhaps life without her husband could be a little easier if she had had kids. “It’s something we joked about. When Ed got sick, we said that maybe we should adopt a 60-year; it could be useful to have a child at this point in our lives.”

She made clear that she preferred facts over euphemisms such as “he passed away” or that Ed is “looking down” on his wife from above. She was comfortable with the word “widow” – “It’s accurate, factual.”

Betty was more than just philosophical about widowhood, she was pragmatic. She didn’t focus on the loss of the “brave and great guy” she married. “Even as he was dying, I started feeling grateful. Listen, 84 is not a tragic age to die,” she said with a shrug. “Even as he was dying, I started feeling grateful. He was not like anyone I had met before or since in terms of his goodness, his brains and his heart. Wasn’t I lucky?”

Despite her directness, it was abundantly clear how much Betty missed her beloved companion, their love, his humor and their conversations. “My job is to remember how lucky I have been. I lived a full life with him.”

Just a few months after several email exchanges, I learned that Betty had died. She had revealed that she had health problems and that she limited her time with others as a result. I am forever grateful that she made time to share her thoughts, her wisdom and her remarkable spirit. May she rest forever in great peace.