Friends, family and community members came together to celebrate Betty Donahoo’s 100th birthday party the afternoon of Oct. 2.
Workers at Vista Grande, the nursing home where Donahoo lives, decorated a main room in pink and white balloons and metallic streamers in her honor.
“It’s not every day someone turns 100,” said Kim McDonnell, a worker at Vista Grande. “She’s a fantastic woman. To live 100 years is certainly a milestone.”
Donahoo was picturesquely positioned under rose gold balloons that spelled out, “Happy Birthday,” with the number “100” beneath it.
“It kind of snuck up on me,” said Donahoo. “I can’t adjust to being that old.”
In the early stages of the party, City Manager Drew Sanders congratulated Donahoo on turning 100. On behalf of the city, he gifted her a black Yeti tumbler with “Cortez” etched into its side.
Not long after, Donahoo stood up and said, teary-eyed, “Thank you all for coming. You made my birthday very special, and I’ll always remember it.”
In an aside, she said, “I’ve enjoyed everything in my life.”
Betty was born on Oct. 2, 1924, in Omaha, Nebraska.
At the time, Calvin Coolidge was president, the world’s population was under 2 billion, and a gallon of gas cost 11 cents.
When Betty turned 5, the Great Depression began, which would inform some her frugal behaviors later in life, said her granddaughter, Lanea Donahoo.
“Everything always had another purpose,” Lanea said.
She even struggled throwing away some of the paper plates from the party, wishing to wash them instead.
Lanea said Betty met her husband of 62 years in Omaha.
At the time, Betty lived in the German area of the city, and the man who would become her husband, Harold “Honk” Donahoo, lived in the Irish part, Lanea said.
When Betty was about 17 years old, she first noticed Honk walking by the house. And so one day, she timed it so they’d cross paths “and she captured his heart,” Lanea said.
While Honk served in World War II, Betty drew blueprints of airplane parts. She’s always loved art, whether it be decorating cakes or painting Easter eggs or practicing calligraphy.
After the war, they got married and eventually moved to Buffalo, Wyoming, where some of Honk’s relatives lived. There, they had their two sons, Dick and Gary.
In 1950, Honk’s job transferred the family of four to Cortez.
“They built their life here,” Lanea said.
When they first got to the area, they lived out of a trailer they had pulled behind their car.
A few years passed, then they bought 20 acres of land on Lebanon Road. Lanea said they used to have to haul water to the house, the area was so undeveloped when they got there.
But it was always Honk’s dream to own property, some cattle and a horse, their son Dick said.
“They turned it into a really nice place,” Dick said.
Honk died in 2007, but Betty stayed in the house, and kept living there until about three years ago when she moved into Madison House Assisted Living in Cortez.
Though she lived alone for a while, Dick said he’d frequent the place and help care for it and her.
Honk would’ve been two years older than Betty if he were still alive.
In 2018, Betty lost one of her sons, Gary, to cancer.
At the birthday celebration, Dick said that above all, his mom taught him to be kind.
“It sounds blasé, but I learned to be a good person,” Dick said.
He went on to describe his mom as a caring, giving and hardworking individual.
Throughout her life, Betty had many difficult jobs, Dick said.
She picked apples, wrapped meat. Her easiest and most well-paid job was as a clerk for Mountain Bell, where she worked for 19 years.
When that company shut down and Betty was laid off, she delved back into art.
“I did a lot of painting,” Betty recalled. “An official looked at my work one time and said it was good, and that made me feel really good.”
At the party, the family brought a photo album which, among other memories, showcased Betty’s art. She created beautiful, realistic oil paintings, primarily of nature scenes, like the mountains, lakes and animals.
Beside a few images of her art pieces were images of Betty painting them, en plein air, canvas in hand, surrounded by paints and brushes and other supplies.
Her vision took a turn for the worse and she struggles seeing now-a-days, so she no longer paints. But her great granddaughter Eden McCluhan said she sometimes plays harmonica in her room.
Sitting beside the family at the party, I witnessed Lanea and three (of four) of her kids remember their great grandmother.
“She taught me how to make bread, tell time and clean houses,” Lanea said. “I spent a lot of time with her.”
Lanea described Betty’s recipe book, which is so lovely it’s akin to a scrapbook, that she now has. It has all her recipes in her cursive, calligraphy print.
“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Lanea said.
Betty’s great granddaughter Althea McCluhan remembered how good of a cook she’s always been.
Chicken noodle soup was one of her specialties, since she made the noodles from scratch. So were peanut clusters, which were a family favorite.
Dick said Betty would make the treats and pass them out to just about anyone, or gift them in tin cans she found at a secondhand store.
Lanea said Betty had always been a “sparkle of health,” having swam, ate well and been able to touch her toes throughout her whole life.
“But she also never compromised on her sweet tooth,” Eden added.
Dick said she’s had her health struggles, but the past 15 years have been kind to Betty.
“Her vitals would make you jealous,” Dick said.
