A special someone who influenced my life...

The other morning a friend of mine from the "hood" reminded me of someone who had a major impact in my young life while growing up in Dayton, Ohio. A  person who taught me that different races of people were in fact treated differently, if not disparagingly, during the 50s, 60s and on. But she did it silently and with examples of just being a good, if not great person.

A special person, who long after I had left Dayton to conquer the world elsewhere in the Southwest, would continue to send me a birthday card well into my late thirties. A person, who was my protector, and yet I never knew her more than just someone who was always at our house.

The other morning when  Denny, the older brother of one of my best friends while growing up in Dayton, made the comment, "Tom, with all of your writings over the years, you've never mentioned Ethel, your Nanny."

Whoa, whoa, whoa.....yes, he was absolutely correct, I had never written about the person who helped teach me right from wrong but she was NEVER my Nanny. Hey, people I grew up in a small, white clapboard house with two older brothers and one bathroom. Well, two bathrooms if you considered peeing outside behind the garage or downstairs in one of the stationary tubs, when you had to really go.

But, a Nanny?......Never. Or did I have a Nanny?

I always thought of Ethel M. Lewis was just someone who was in the house everyday to help my Mom out before Mom headed off to work for my Dad at his small machine shop on the West Side.

And even though I rode the yellow, electric public transport at an early age to get downtown either for trouble or pleasure, it never dawned on me, that Ethel rode it every morning and every afternoon to and from our house, just so she could be there as our arbitrator among us arguing boys, someone who made sure we never went hungry at lunch, someone who made sure we had clean sheets and clothes but I never once thought of her as a Nanny.

Heck, I didn't even know the term Nanny at that age.

But better than all of those things that she did for our family, and I guess a Nanny as well. She was my friend.

I didn't see her as black. I didn't see her as a maid. I didn't see her as a housekeeper. I simply saw her as Ethel.

Anyone who ever came by our home in my early years, all of them knew Ethel. She was always there. Always my protector. Always my friend.

It's been probably 50 years since I have thought of her, and I am so thankful that Denny, reminded me of my friend. And yes, even though I grew up far from being a silver-spooned child I guess in fact she was my Nanny.

Webster defines a Nanny as a  woman who is paid to care for a young child usually in the child's home.

Yep, I guess she was. But she was a friend first.