My Mother
My
mother and I are very different people. She's a retired teacher who's very
religious and reserved, and I'm...um...me. One of the biggest differences
between us is that I don't like or trust people. This country is filled with
ignorant, greedy, awful douchebags, and I'm always looking out for assholes.
Mom's
not like that. She's not one to expect someone to be a shit. She grew up in a
small town, and she was a shy, sweet, somewhat naive person. She still has that
quality about her, always looking for the good in people.
When
she was 19, she went to the "big city" of Austin to visit her
grandmother. Her uncle was 45 minutes late picking her up at the bus station.
While she waited, she met a young man named Don Walden, and they hit it off. He
invited her to check out the UT campus with him the next day, and she accepted.
Cheryl Botts
Dickerson(aka Mom)
Their
first stop was the UT Tower. They made their way to the top and were greeted by
receptionist Edna Townsley. They signed the register and headed out to the
observation deck.
As
they were about to leave, Don and my mom decided to take a few more minutes and
check out landscape maps on display out on the deck. They noticed the clock was
about to strike 12, and Don asked my mother if she wanted to stay and listen.
Mom decided not to (I'm guessing because it might have been a bit loud...smooth
move, Don...ruin the girl's hearing on the first date).
So
they headed back inside. As they walked into the reception area, they noticed
the Townsley was not at the desk. Mom, thinking the best, figured she was at
lunch. There was a dark stain on the floor directly in front of them. My mother
rationalized that someone was going to varnish the floor as they stepped over
it. Just as they were doing so, they saw movement near the receptionist's desk
and couch to the right of them. A man stood up (he had been hunched over) and
turned to face them, a rifle in each hand. My mother and Don didn't stop
walking as they passed. My mother smiled and said, "Hi." That man,
Charles Whitman, smiled back and said, "Hello." A few seconds later
they were walking down the stairs to the elevator on the next floor.
My
mother was the last person to speak to Whitman. While they were out on the
deck, he was beating Townsley to death. They walked in just as he was hiding
her body behind the couch. They stepped over her blood. As their elevator took
them to bottom floor, the other elevator was bringing up two families who were
met by shotgun fire on the stairs. He then went out to the deck and started
shooting.
That
was 40 years ago today. My mother's naivety saved her life. Had they questioned
anything they saw or even stopped walking, Whitman would have killed them.
I'd
just like to say, "Mom, thank you for being a clueless small-town girl who
didn't grasp what was happening at the time. I wouldn't be here if things were
different. Don't ever change (you know I won't)."
Oh, and thank you for not going out with Don
again. What a dork.