Lenora

Lenora called Mommy on Christmas morning. She has always (since she first came to work for her) been the first to call her and wish her a "Merry Christmas".

She first came to work for us, as a young girl sometime in the early '60's. She came twice a week, Wednesdays to do the ironing, and Fridays to clean the house. For a shining few golden hours, the house was spotless, and everything was in its proper place... then the bus arrived, and the kids came home. Mommy implored us to "please, keep the house clean, at least until Daddy gets home!"

It was always an adventure to take Lenora home. We drove out of the driveway to the left, over the bridge, past Gardner's Landing and left again, down a little lane that ran along the next channel of the lake. Turning down that lane was like turning back in time...

On the lake side, amid cypress trees draped with Spanish moss, people were fishing. While on the right, men were working a lush garden, I remember how green and healthy the plants looked, a good crop of "pole beans", corn, tomatoes, lettuce, mustard greens, strawberries... I remember, too, a little shed that looked, or I imagined it looked, like a door that led to an underground root cellar that led into the hillside - probably a tool shed. Further on we drove through a series of gates, over "cattle catchers" (pipes suspended over a pit, that kept the cattle from going through the opened gate) into a compound of cabins, barns and out-buildings. The main house, "Villa de Lago" (house by the lake), owned by Mr. Williamson, is only a vague image in my mind of Spanish moss and columns, as I was mainly interested in Lenora's mother's cabin. It was a faded board, raised structure with a front porch that always seemed to be teeming with activity. Adults in rocking chairs watched children and skinny dogs playing on the steps or in the dirt yard. All of the people within sight were black, and the series of cabins could be equated with "slave quarters", which lent a frozen-in-time feeling to the place. But, though they may have worked for Mr. Williamson, they were provided a place to live, and it seemed a co-operative sense of community. In the age of segregation, it was probably a safe-haven for those who lived there.

Behind the cabins, was a low lean-to type structure which was home to chickens and, oddly enough, peacocks! Their colorful plumage lent an unexpected beauty to the gray buildings and brown dirt yard surrounding them. In the evening, we could hear them calling - a sound that startled many an unsuspecting guest to our house- "he-ELP, he-ELP!" (Lenora would occasionally bring one of the beautiful tail feathers to Mommy, who would place it in the blue-green glass decanter, where it's colorful "eye" would survey the goings-on in the living room.)

Later, when Lenora had her own children, she lived further down South Lakeshore. Her house there was a small building that was covered in tar paper, like the siding hadn't been put on, yet. For all the years I knew of, it never was "finished". I felt sorry for Lenora, having such a sad little house, and it made me appreciate, all the more, our own home.

Sometimes, when in her own pinch for childcare, or because Mommy needed her an extra day, she would bring her children along to our house. Tracy, Stoney and Sarah were very well behaved and happy to play with Carl and Janet. Sarah rode along with Carl and Kelley home from Kindergarten, because it was only a half-day, with Mommy or Mrs. Ellis driving.

Anytime Daddy came upon Johnny, Lenora's husband (eventually ex-), walking along the road, he would pick him up and give him a ride, which, I suppose, defied convention of the day, in the time of separate waiting rooms at the doctors office, and water fountains at Sears labeled "Whites Only" or "Colored Only".

Through the years, she cared for us and was a friend to Mommy. She came to work extra; to take care of me, when Grandpa had a stroke, and to help out when the babies (Carl and Janet) were born. Mommy in turn took care of her when she was sick, or in need. Though she had little money, she always brought Mommy a lovely Christmas gift. I'm sure it was something she purchased at Spartan-Atlantic (a Wal-Mart-like precursor - the type of place where you could buy things cheaply, but were ashamed to admit that you went there, or God-forbid, see someone you knew there, to which Mommy would admonish us, "well, they're here, too!"), but they were thoughtful, beautiful gifts -vases, bowls, or pictures - that Mommy appreciated and treasured.

In school, we learned that people, our own classmates included, were prejudiced against Negroes or colored people - the language of the time- and called them "niggers". They seemed to revile them, for reasons unknown, and apparently, so did their parents. I came from such a different experience, that I couldn't really understand this. Still, we picked up the bad habit of calling someone a "nigger" as a means of a put-down. I cannot forget the time one of us was arguing with another in the living room and let slip something like, "Well you're a nigger!" Our eyes all widened in horror as we realized, too late, that Lenora was there that day. The shame we felt, and the fear that we had hurt someone we loved as a member of our own family, made us all realize that words - unlike the childhood rhyme, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" - really could hurt someone. I don't think I ever said that word, that is, in today's society, known as "the n-word", again.


Lenora, eventually, was no longer our maid, but remained family, invited to all of our weddings and sharing our sorrow at the funerals. She worked at a nursing home, in the laundry, remarried - her last name is Adger, now-and lives in Greenwood. She has never forgotten Mommy or our family.

This year, she sent her card early and asked me to call her and give her my number (since Mommy's ringer is disconnected). She is the same sweet, lovely person she has always been. She said that she loves all of us, and always will. I told her we love her, too, and are so grateful for her love and friendship over the years. She says she is a sitter for Alzheimer patients, and I told her how I wished she was closer to us to "sit" with Mommy. She said, "You know I would!"


God bless her, and thank you for bringing her into our lives, especially for being the friend and help she has been to Mommy.

* the picture of Lenora (above) is from a bookmark, a token Mommy received when she went to Lenora's retirement (from the nursing home) party. The inscription is something that I know Lenora has lived by:

If I can help someone, along life's way,

Then my life will not be in vain.

and the Bible verse:

Try to live in peace with everyone, and seek to live a clean and Holy Life. Hebrews 12:14

For Nancy

Momma always said, "No one but Nancy can make a three syllable word out of your name. 'A-ya-nah'."

My friend Nancy had such a strong southern accent. She called her aunts, something more akin to "aints", and what funny southern names they had; Aint Aynnie (Annie), Aint Winnie Rae, and, my favorite, Aint Ruby Pearl - she was a gem! Her brother, Mel, was "Ma-yell", when Nancy said it.

I met her in the Nursery Sunday School class at St. Paul Lutheran Church (when it was the old building on the street off of Jewella). We played and sang, "Roll the ball to Linda Jo" and "Jesus loves me. This I know." We were "angels" in the Christmas pageant and sang "Away in a Manger". Later, we sang in the Children's Choir, songs like "The snow lay on the ground. The stars shone bright. When Christ our Lord was born on Christmas night. Venite adoramus dominum." and "Oh come, little children. O come, one and all." We had Easter egg hunts and, in the summer, Vacation Bible School.

When we started school, we played together at recess, until we had the same teacher and got to be in class together.

At some point, we began to invite each other over for Sunday afternoon, after church. She taught me, "If you are with me when I ask, she (her mother) can't say, 'No'." If I was nervous about going, it helped if Mel (her brother) invited Fred to come over as well.

At her house, I experienced eating grilled steaks (a delicacy we never had), rice with gravy (not my favorite), and creamed corn (my favorite). We played with the neighbor kids, especially Cynthia Keith who lived next door. Many of our classmates lived in her neighborhood, within walking distance of our school. I always thought of them as "town people", and we were the "country folk". In the evening, we would sit in the living room and watch Walt Disney's "Wonderful World of Color" and eat the tuna sandwiches her mother prepared for us (she always used walnuts and apples in her tuna salad). Then Momma would come and pick me up to go home.

At our house, Nancy experienced eating "garbage stew" (Daddy's culinary effort to make good use of all of the leftovers in the refrigerator-at once). She got to help with whatever Sunday chores we had to do; weeding the garden, putting in a flower bed, raking leaves, etc., and explore the joys of life in our large family.

We were both at ease in either one's home. She even seemed to enjoy Daddy's jokes and kidding.

She had a crazy, funny sense of humor. She cried at the end of Lassie (when Lassie held up her paw), because she thought Lassie had broken her leg - every week!! She was "a-scared of monksters!" and wouldn't pronounce it any other way, despite our corrections. She had the brightest smile and yellow-blond hair which she got cut, every Summer, in a style like Hayley Mills wore in Parent Trap. She reminded me, in many ways, of Hayley Mills in all of our favorite Disney movies, her Pollyanna-like attitude, especially.

Together we read Nancy Drew mysteries. We were Girl Scouts together, and shared a tent for our summers at G.S. Summer Camp (Camp Wawbansee), and Day Camp. We sang rounds like "Rose" and "Make new friends...", and "The Bear".

We would have gone to Y Camp together, one summer, if I hadn't broken her arm. She climbed onto a merry-go-round-type thing that we called "the mushroom" - you were supposed to hold on to the sides, but she wanted to put her feet in the handholds and climb up top. She said, "Don't PUSH!", but I, on the opposite side of it, heard "PUSH"... so I did. She fell and broke her ulna - she never could straighten it our right after that. But she forgave me, and we remained friends. I had to go to camp alone, and was completely miserable.

Every year, we looked forward to Nancy's birthday slumber party. Mr. Hiller grilled burgers and we ate birthday cake. We sang and played the piano, talked, told ghost stories, and were determined to freeze the bra of the first girl to fall asleep! Poor Mrs. Hiller, a nurse at the Health Center, had to work the next morning and implored us, multiple times, to "keep down the noise".

When the time came to start high school, we sadly had to part with many of our elementary and junior high friends. Nancy and I were in different school districts; she, at Fair Park, and I, at Huntington (a brand new school). We were very sad to be divided up, but happily still had our time at church, and for Youth Group, and the church choir.

Speaking of church choir, Nancy dropped a hymnal once, during a prayer. (By this time we were in the new church, and the choir was in the balcony.) I don't know what Pastor was praying about, but we were praying for the hymnal, teetering on the edge, to not fall on it's potential victims, Nancy's own parents! (I guess we never thought to pick it up, instead of watching and dreading its falling.)

After graduation, we went on a joint high school Senior trip between Fair Park and Huntington to D.C. (we were the class of '76). We had a great time, and got together after we all got our pictures developed, to trade memories and photos, at our favorite restaurant, El Chico's.

Nancy went to La. Tech, and I went to NLU. We only saw each other when we were home for a weekend, at church.

When John and I got married, Nancy was at the wedding. She served our cake.

A couple years later, while I was at a convention, for work, in San Antonio, I got a call from John, that Nancy had been shot. I called Mel and he filled me in. Though she was shot twice, neither bullet had done any vital damage - one followed the line of her jaw, from where it entered by her lip, in front, and exited by her ear, the second bullet went clean through her shoulder. She was, by some miracle, spared. Linda said that when Pastor Wolbrecht announced in church that "Nancy was shot in the head, but Mel said nothing vital was hit!", everyone had to laugh.

She married Dan Shank, in Houston, and John and I and Mommy, traveled there to attend their wedding. It was in a very Spanish-style catholic church, and the reception was at Brennan's, and featured a mariachi band.

We had our own separate lives, jobs, marriages and families, but occasionally, our paths still crossed.

Like true friends, we were there when the other needed us. Nancy came to Daddy's funeral, and I went to her mother's funeral.

We exchanged Christmas cards and remembered each other on our birthdays.

Now, I will go to see my old friend, for the last time... for now.

I will say goodbye, but Nancy will always be with me. She is a part of the experiences that have shaped me. Our shared memories will be mine to cherish and guard.

People that don't know her, will remember her for the way she died, but I will always remember the way she lived.

"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other gold." ~ Nancy was gold, through and through.

Time and Again

It happened again... Mommy woke up asking, "Where's Daddy?"

I explained about his death in 1989.

She looked at me like I was crazy!

As I left the room, I smelled cigar smoke.