A MESSAGE FROM A Hike for Gail Koppman
My mom. Where to begin. One of my earliest memories of my mom is of me sitting on our hideous '70's green linoleum counter while she made pancakes on the weekend. I would sit on the counter in my nightgown and "help" her. We would talk and I would make her pat my back between batches while I said "ahhhhh" so the sound comes out kind of funny (if you have ever done this, you know what I am talking about). I would get to eat the first "bad" batch of throw-away pancakes which were deliciously soaked in butter and meant for the garbage...but they were really good....and those were some of the best talks we had - just a little girl sitting with her mom, over butter soaked, throw-away pancakes.
On school days (and early weekend swim meets and practices), she would wake us up every morning with a song: "Good morning to YOU! (emphasis added for those of you who knew her and want to hear this in your head) Good morning to YOU! We are all in our places with bright shiny faces and this is the WAY to start a new day!! Time to rise and shine!!" (I didn't own an alarm clock until I went to college, because I had Moots).....and we always sat down to a full breakfast that always started with a perfectly cut grapefruit half - each little section sliced for easy access...probably so that we would actually eat it ;-)
My mom would drop us off at school with the same parting words each morning and, when we were driving ourselves, she would walk us to the door with the same words (up until my very last day of senior year): "Have a good day, do good work, get good grades and remember that I love you all day long...because I do!"
My mom was at every single swim meet, field hockey game, ballet recital, track meet, band concert or other performance no matter how minor the role (my brother was once a pole (yes, a pole) in a play and the rest of the family had to get there early to be there front and center to watch him hold/be a pole. She thought he was the best pole ever and I am sure we went out to dinner to celebrate his stellar performance).
That was my mom: It didn't matter if we won or lost, if our fingers stumbled in our piano recital songs, if we had the most minor role in a play or just were plain terrible at whatever it was we were doing - all that mattered was that we did our personal best...and if that meant I was the comic relief in the show choir because I couldn't actually sing or dance (but love doing both) - she didn't care - and proudly supported me 1000%. (another Gail-ism is coming to mind, but I will spare you)
My mom always put her family first without a second thought for herself. She was my biggest cheerleader - both in times of success and in helping me pick myself up when I stumbled or flat out failed. I always knew that, no matter what, I was loved immensely - just as I am.
When I was living in NYC, Moots and I spoke almost always every day (usually more than once)...sometimes to say nothing more than "Hi," or "I love you." However, we would often talk about her students - how excited she was that [x] did an amazing job on his notecards, [y] did a fantastic job on her presentation, and [z] was an outlining whiz!!!
She was so incredibly proud of her students and genuinely cared about each and every one. I remember my first winter break when I was home from college - her first year at GSES - we were walking around Northpark and a group of young girls came running up to her - "Mrs. Koppman, Mrs. Koppman!!!!" The girls giddily chatted about what each of them had been up to and my mom animatedly engaged with them. It was wonderful to see that teaching was clearly something she loved. This isn't to say she wasn't a tough teacher - she absolutely was - but sometimes those are the best teachers; they are there with you for a brief moment, but leave you with a lifetime of wisdom and tools. I always loved meeting her students, to see a hug or conversation or even going to see an off broadway show in NYC with her because her former student was in it. At the end of the day, however, I was the luckiest of all - she was MY mom, MY best friend and MY teacher for 40 years.
I didn't speak at my mom's funeral - not because I didn't have anything to say - but because I had too much to say. I didn't have (and still don''t have) the words to capture the most amazing mom/friend/woman/teacher in a brief statement...similar to this, I would have been a babbling brook of ridiculous anecdotes that would mean nothing to anyone other than Moots and me. Besides, many of the memories I have with my mom are just ours - just us. Our private jokes still make me smile and laugh every day. Because of that, I am so grateful for those who were present and who gave a voice through words and music in the service when I could not - Julie Lowenberg, Tim Burgess, Becky Rambin, Chaplain Rhonda, Don Williams and Jackie Choucair.
In honor and memory of Moots, and for all of those who have been touched by brain cancer, I will join a small group to hike rim to rim of the Grand Canyon in one day (that's 23.5 miles and an over 10,000 ft. elevation change) on October 4, 2018 to raise funds for brain cancer research. To learn more about 3000 Miles to A Cure, check out https://3000milestoacure.com/about/
100% of funds raised will go towards brain cancer research.
The one and only time I went to the Grand Canyon was in 1981 on a family vacation -- I know Moots would be happy to be going back with me in spirit this year.
In case you are wondering, I still sing the wake up song every day in my head (and sometimes out loud to Austin - and sometimes we sing it together - like in the middle of the wilderness in Alaska - bless him) and each and every day I think of this: "remember that I love you all day long....because I do!"
Thanks for reading xoxo
#jointhebrainstorm #beatbraincancer #3000milestoacure
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