Ruthe Rides Again (Reprinted from 6/5/2010)

It was no secret that my mother loved jazz and loved many of the jazz artists she met over the years, both those up-and-coming and the giants of jazz. Even her obituary mentioned her special relationship with some of these oh-so-very talented spirits. But there is no denying it -- she and Tootie Heath has a very special friendship. They sparked off each other, and Tootie made her light up like no one (outside of her family) ever did. Mention Tootie's name and her smile filled the room. In her later years, when she could not travel to the workshop any more, Tootie would call her just to tease and send love. Even when her hearing failed almost completely, she'd hold the phone, insisting she could feel his "good vibes" across the telephone lines. Then she'd give the phone to me to actually hear what he had to say and relay the message to her. "That's right. That's what I felt," she'd tell me. Last year, at the West Coast Memorial to her at Stanford, there was a fabulous, heart-felt musical tribute to her, and Tootie was an essential ingredient. And afterward, he mentioned in an article for the Stanford Jazz Workshop a little piece of workshop lore. In my first few years [at the workshop] I remember an ongoing competition I had with fellow faculty member Stan Getz. During this time, Jimmy's mother, Ruthe Nadel, was a regular attendee at the workshops and would make her way around campus on a powered scooter. As she was inside attending a class, she often left the key in the scooter parked outside. Stan and I would always race to see who could get to the scooter first. Sometimes I won, sometimes he beat me to it. Whoever got there first took the scooter for a short afternoon cruise around campus and tried to get it back before she got out of class and discovered it was missing. I know now that she must have known all along what we were doing. * Yes, she may have caught on, but I distinctly remember her commenting after one early workshop that her scooter just didn't work as well in Palo Alto -- the battery didn't hold a charge as long. But once she figured it all out, I'm pretty sure she left that key in there on purpose. Boys will be boys, you know. This past year, I've been sorting through my mother's belonging. For a little lady, she left a huge footprint, both in hearts and in detritus left behind. And as I've sorted, I've tried to honor her instructions with who to give a little remembrance to. And in the list of her favorite things, there was Tootie. When we heard that Tootie and his equally wonderful brother Jimmy were coming to town for Spoleto this week, my husband and I made a point of going to hear them talk. (Jimmy's got a new book out I Walked With Giants, which, if it's even a quarter as entertaining as the Heath Brothers are in person, will be a phenomenal read. Elder brother Percy went to that great fishing hole in the sky before I got to meet him, but the three of them, together, must have been amazing.) I gathered a few small tokens to remember Ruthe by, trying to make sure they were small and lightweight (flying these days makes packing so much fun). Then, I had an inspiration. It came to me quite clearly what I needed to bring to Tootie. I gathered it up and put it in the bag with the other goodies. So last night, at the Avery Center, I presented Tootie with his Ruthe Remembrances. We went through each item he seemed to genuinely be interested, both in the items and in why they were coming his way. For the last item, I had him close his eyes and put out his hands. And I placed the item in his palm. Tootie opened his eyes and laughed out loud. It may not be the keys to the kingdom, but it was the keys to the scooter. And he doesn't have to fight Stan for them. And somewhere out there, in that great beyond, I know there was a chortle of laughter and a smile to light up the heavens.