Marcia

Twenty-three years ago I was in a restaurant in Los Angeles where I was living at the time. I don't recall the name of the restaurant, some chain like Denny's, but not Denny's. There was a line and in front of me was a woman with thick red hair. When I saw her face, I said facetiously, "If you're not Marcia Wallace, you should be." "I am. I am" she responded with charming glee. I was thrilled to meet someone who, to me, was famous since I had seen her so often in Boston on the Bob Newhart show. I was always a fan, so was thrilled to meet her in person. Over the next few years, I ran into her several times on the street, at the theater. I don't know at what point she got my address or why, but I received several photo Christmas cards from her taken with her son whom she adored. I often read that she was battling cancer, successfully it appeared. I was so sorry to hear that has just died, having lost that 30-year-battle. I am sure lots of people feel the loss of the talented Marcia Wallace. I was fortunate enough to meet her and will always remember her saying, "I am. I am."