She wasn’t the kind of girl who was the center of attention in any room she might be present. In fact, she was just the opposite. She blended in perfectly, seamlessly, and without a trace that she’d ever been there until suddenly you looked up and wondered why someone important was gone. It was just her way of being understated, unobtrusive, and yet, one of the most important people in any group of those gathered—a genuine friend, listener, confidant, and savant. Her superpower was compassion. Her best asset was her memory for what was important, most of all, to you.
It’s hard to quantify a life in what she was not. Rather, I prefer to say that one of the most gracious lights in the galaxy has just grown dim, for a short time, until it finds the permanent new home by which to help those she loves by guiding their way.
This week we learned of the passing of one of my dearest childhood friends from Keystone School, Patricia Lynette Boyd Contreras, at the still-young age of 71 years. To say it’s been hard is an understatement. In the past three weeks alone, I have learned of the passing of three of my school friends, each of whom harkens back to meeting them ca. 1962. To have someone be in your life, and you in theirs, for over 60 years is profound. But to me, Tricia Boyd was not just a schoolmate, she was a big sister.
It was during the Cuban Missile Crisis that this first grader, at the impressionable age of 5 years old, met and became friends with my fifth-grade fellow Keystone School classmate, Tricia, age 10. While President John F. Kennedy and his team skillfully negotiated a military situation featuring Soviet missiles over Cuba, two young girls were hunkered down in the comforts of an exceedingly large living room in San Antonio’s then very new Castle Heights subdivision.
Tricia was 10 and a smiling, calming presence during a time that I barely understood. We were together at the home of two mutual friends of our mothers, were dressed in pajamas, stretched out on the carpet atop pillows watching a large black and white console TV.
Both our moms had recently divorced our dads. Neither of us was disturbed by that fact, but it was nice to know you weren’t the only one in that situation. Life goes on.
The station was tuned into live coverage of the event, and between Tricia and I, we kept one ear on Walter Cronkite and another on whatever we could figure out the adults were saying.
The reason for the summons to a common area was the large brick home that had an underground shelter built near enough to reach quickly on property far enough in the still undeveloped part of San Antonio to be private.
What was going on in the world at that time was no less scary to children back then than the present-day trauma and tragedy surrounding children today.
My parents had only been divorced a short time at that point, and one of my two godfathers, our host for the gathering, thought it was best that we were all together for those first days. The only memory of that time was Tricia’s reassurance to me that everything was going to be alright, not to worry. I never forgot her kindness and compassion.
Throughout our years together at Keystone, she was four years ahead of me, and so our paths didn’t cross too frequently. However, there was a general comfort in being on the same campus with someone you knew and simply being reassured that whatever questions you might have that was bearing on your mind, you could ask her (what’s third grade like? Is division hard?) And yet, for my next eight years, Tricia was always there for me, a dear friend who reassured me that no matter what was ahead, she just kept smiling.
The unique layout of what was then about 250 students housed in a small village of historic Victorian mansions converted into makeshift classrooms. Tricia’s mom, Pat Boyd, drove one of the school’s three transportation vans to and from school each weekday. Aside from the fact that 12 grades of classes all existed concurrently and crossed the campus every 50 minutes, the first graders would be guaranteed to spot the high school kids while they were on the four-square courts for their recess periods. Daily interactions created a sense of calm and looking ahead to preview what was next ahead in the education path. Nothing was scary that way. Everything seemed within accomplishment, and sometimes that’s the smallest of edges you need to move ahead.
Tricia had a wonderful, yet normal life at Keystone. She took a year to be a cheerleader and she often worked on projects when Mr. Greet needed extra students to pitch in on a mail-out. He had a list of first-call helpers and she was always happy to contribute her time. It was also just part of the Keystone way.
She was interested in science but not obsessed with it. Although she was a member of the Future Scientists of America, it’s likely that 90% of the high school were members. She enjoyed interacting in the Spanish Club from junior high forward.
She was a good student, but she did not obsess over whether she had the top grades on a test. Tricia had a strong sense of style and enjoyed being part of Joske’s Teena Texas Advisory Board.
Just as Prof and Coach Eargle were mentors to me at different parts of my life, Mr. Greet was a mentor to Tricia. Our administrators knew our grades just as well as our faculty did. They kept tabs on us whether it was a test or a special project, a competition, or a scholarship application. Our future was their business.
Tricia chose the University of Texas at Austin and she was an excellent student there, so it was only natural that she would become a Registered Pharmacist. In her adult life she was fortunate enough to marry and to have two amazing daughters of whom she was so very proud. Throughout her adult life, her mother, Pat, was a champion to her and to her older brother Clayton. Pat Boyd was a businesswoman, a gifted operatic singer from Australia, and a very intelligent woman.
Personally, I can thank Mrs. Boyd for recommending Keystone to my mother and to Tricia’s dad for arranging for an interview for my mom to reconnect with civil service employment in San Antonio after many years in the private sector. It would be 50 years before I knew that, though. Over the years, Tricia and I lost touch; we were busy with our lives in separate cities but thanks to a Facebook alumni group, many of us reconnected and began catching up with each other’s lives.
Seven years ago, our friend and fellow Keystonian, Texas poet laureate Carmen Tafolla was being honored downtown, so Tricia and I made a plan to surprise her with our attendance. We met at her favorite restaurant that Tricia and her Mom enjoyed eating regularly, and we had the best opportunity to reminisce about childhood, life, our mothers, Keystone, and our dreams when we were kids.
The ceremony that evening for Carmen was exceptional and we were both so proud of her. That’s what Keystone was all about—family gathering together for family’s sake. We were forever each other’s cheerleaders, happy to bestow well-deserved accolades as they were often due. That was the Keystone way…your best competition was against your own personal best, not that of others.
The first thought I had on learning of Tricia’s passing was that she was reunited with her Mom, and that would be a gift in itself. They were two peas in a pod, lovely, fun, witty, kind, caring and devoted to their children. Jillian Contreras and Meghan Contreras McQuade grew up knowing their mother loved them dearly, and that their grandmother similarly loved them. Tricia gave the following beautiful interview to a San Antonio newspaper when her mom passed away. Read it here:
On Monday, April 1, funeral services will be held for Tricia at Porter Loring Mortuary North at 10:00 am. Interment will follow at 2:00 pm at Lakeland Hills Memorial Park near Lake LBJ, in Burnet, TX, where her father is also buried. Details here: https://www.porterloring.com/obituaries/Patricia-Lynette-Boyd-Contreras?obId=31058010
Those who were in Tricia’s actual high school classes, above and below, can share far more than I can about the day-to-day aspects of her young adult/teenage life. It doesn’t matter that our reconnection had taken over 40 years to happen. I’m truly grateful that it did. Whenever you have the opportunity to connect with people who truly mean something special in your life, follow your heart and pick up the phone, send a card, zip off an e-mail, toss an Instant Message, or better yet, just get in the car and get there anyway you can.
Don’t look at it as it could be the last time you have a chance to see that person. Instead, just seize the day and make the best use of your time to share your time with those who impacted your life in a positive way.
In honor of Mrs. Boyd Garcia, Tricia’s mom, here are The Seekers and "I am an Australian”:
“I am an Australian”:
and
In honor of Tricia, as we grew up in the days of go-go boots and mini-dresses, and her equal love and devotion to her dad as well as her mom, here are the New Seekers with "Georgy Girl":
