Tootsie gave me a good tongue-lashing after I’d fallen off of a ladder and torn a ligament in my foot. “Girl, I done told you not to git yo’self up on no ladder! Dat is man’s work,” exclaimed Tootsie in her Gullah brogue. Then Momma grabbed the phone, “How many times have I told you that your uterus will fall out on the floor if you climb a ladder?” No kidding. If Tootsie and Momma were shopping in Wal-Mart and saw a woman on a ladder, they’d always whisper, “She gonna be sorry. Her uterus is going to fall out on the floor.” Can’t you just hear the Wal-Mart folks on the loud speaker? “We need some help. We have a uterus on aisle four... ” After both my mother and Tootsie passed away, I was speaking in Virginia Beach, Virginia. My driver was an older gentleman with a unique accent. “Tom, you aren’t from around here, are you?” I asked. “Oh, no ma’am. I’m from Beaumont, Texas.” “Do you go home much?” “Oh, yeah. I go see my Mama.” Now this guy was no spring chick so I quizzed him again. “Is your Mama in pretty good health?” “She’s okay but we almost lost her about three months ago.” “Really, what happened?” “Well,” said Tom with a stammer, “her uterus just fell out.” I knew in the pit of my soul that Momma and Tootsie were reminding me of our many moments of laughter.