It’s amazing how many things we take for granted.
“She’ll always be our little Tootsie Roll.” That’s the way husband Willard spoke of our daughter, Linda Gail, so many times. Ah, but so much can change in a heartbeat.
A few weeks ago, I attended a 50-year memorial for Murrah High classmates. I went, but I wasn’t a classmate - I graduated from Central High, 65 years ago.
I was a mom, going to remember her daughter.
When I pulled to a stop in front of Murrah I checked my watch. I was a little early for the meeting, so I sat back and reminisced for a moment, something I find myself doing more of now.
I may not think of my three girls - Pat, Tootie, and granddaughter Brent - every day, but they and Willard are always with me.
Willard’s children, Pat and Tootie were not mine, and yet they were. I thought back to our early days when two little girls, age seven and eight called me ‘Mama,’ even before Willard and I married. Soon Willard was Daddy to my four-year-old son, Bob.
Almost from the first, Tootie, Pat, and Bob were brother and sisters. When I came from the hospital with newborn son Bill, Tootie, who was on roller skates out in the driveway. held out her arms. “Give me my baby.”
Even though the notes from the sweet by and by were sometimes sung in an off-key voice, from the beginning, that’s the way it was with our children. We were family.
They were all ours. In so many ways we grew up together, and that includes the good, the bad, and sometimes the ugly. Oftentimes the roads were a little rocky; along the way there were the teen-age years. To say the least, there were stumbles, staggerings and some falls. When we got calls from a teacher or a note from the principal, “Mama, it’s all part of growing up,” were the words Tootie said so often to me.
Truth to tell, yours truly often climbed up and rode on her high horse during those times, but even though there were some knee-scraping falls for all of us, we always picked each other up.
And now it might be time to pick myself up, get out of the car, and go into the memorial. But, I had mixed feelings. I felt alone. Tootie’s brothers, Bob and Bill, were out of town, but I almost think it was for the best. It may have been too painful for them.
Once again I checked my watch. Still a few more minutes. I was tempted to slip the keys in, turn the motor on and leave, but decided against it and let myself have a few moments for a private goodbye.
I remembered how it was.
All day long Tootie had been helping her boyfriend move.
She ran by the house for supper, and gave me a small piece of driftwood. “This is from his old apartment. It’s for you.”
She set the driftwood on the couch, then picked up her guitar.
Tootie had a lovely voice. She strummed her guitar and serenaded me, closing her song with the words, “A million tomorrows shall all pass away, ere I forget, all the joy that was mine today.” Done, she laid the guitar down.
Walking down the hall toward the back door, she called over her shoulder, “I love you.”
That was the last time I saw her. I heard the door slam and she was gone.
People were going in the building now. I knew that If I was going to be there for the memorial, it might be time to get out of the car.
When I first entered the auditorium, I was uncomfortable, but that didn’t last long. It meant so much for me to find and sit with Tootie’s long time dear friend, Jan Johnson.
When the service began we were told that when a classmate’s name was called, any member of the audience could stand,
And then, “Linda (Tootie) Boggan.”
It had been so long since I had heard her name. And Mitch Monsour, always a member of the family, who was with his wife Jeanne, stood and held my hand.
Once the recognition by name was over, some of the students were remembered personally and Tootie was thought of once again. Skipper Jernigan, his wife Judy and their granddaughter Kayla went to the front of the auditorium. Skipper gave kind recognition and a tribute to my Tootie.
Soon it was over.
It’s been so many years, these moments had meant so much. You tend to feel like the ones you loved dearly are not just gone, but they are also forgotten.
And several days later, I received a lovely e-mail.
“Everyone loved Tootie-she was just so likeable from the day I first met her at Broadmoor Kindergarten. Always fun-loving and good spirited. She never met a stranger and once you met her, she was your friend. No questions, no judgments, no comparisons - just pure friendship. That was Tootie.
“I wanted to speak about her after the service but being an emotional female, knew I would not be able to finish without blubbering my last words. So thank you for allowing me to share my memories with you.” Jean Hendershot Coppenbarger
And I thank you, all of you, for remembering our Linda (Tootie) Boggan.
