End of an era

Nancy Minson died yesterday. About 20 years ago, she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given six months to live. She obviously fought it off much longer. No surprise to me.

She was one of those relatively rare people who recognized problems of the community and did something about them. She conceived solutions and drove them to fruition. We didn’t always agree on these matters, but I highly respected her for the contributions. She accomplished more than I care to list. She advocated for gays, Jews, the mentally ill and others in need of it. No easy routes for her.

A couple months ago, a friend of mine from high school emailed me a few names of classmates and asked what my recollection was of their defining moments. Her theory was that that’s how we primarily remembered each other. She also asked what her defining moment was in my mind. As incentive, she offered her perception of mine. I didn’t want to know it.

With this lurking on the fringe of my mind, Nancy’s defining moment emerged. I’d known her for almost 30 years, so there was a lot of material to work with.

But, we originally met as classmates in Leadership Cincinnati in the early 80s. Programs like this select active leaders from different segments of the community and educate them on the bigger picture over the course of a year or so. There’s also the benefit of cross pollination.

One of the sessions spanned a weekend. On Saturday night, after the program, we sat around in the lounge of the posh hotel where we were staying and discussed the subject matter of the day.

More accurately, a couple wealthy women were holding forth on the state of the lower strata of society. One of them finally turned to me and said that I was being quiet. What did I think?

I was being quiet because they had little idea what they were talking about. There’s nothing to be gained arguing with such people.

In this case, they rendered an inaccurate analysis of the indigent population, and how they should be housed, fed, clothed and educated. Of course, not in their neighborhoods (Indian Hill and Hyde Park) or with their money. They assured us they had intimate knowledge of these people and were quite comfortable with them.

I politely suggested that possibly most of our group lacked first-hand knowledge and could benefit from interfacing with the population in question. She replied that she was certain I possessed that kind of knowledge, with the clear implication that I was a member of the great unwashed. Lucky guess.

Admittedly, my direct contact was of limited scope. I worked my way through college as a store detective for a department store in the area. Arresting them tends to produce interface. That led to me volunteering for working with the youth on weekends.

After college, I worked on a plan to serve that community with mass transit. And then, as an organizer with the Youth Collaborative, with the goal of lowering the dropout rate. Maybe not intimate knowledge, but more than you get at the Camargo Country Club.

So, late that Saturday night, I invited the group to accompany me to a neighborhood bar in one of the depressed areas and we could discuss the issues with the locals. That should be no problem, if everyone felt comfortable with them. There were about 40 in our class. Three took me up on it, and Nancy was one of them.

Nancy fervently advocated positions on issues. But, she was willing to stare the truth in the eye, factor that in and do something about it. To me, that defined her.

Tomorrow is her funeral. Yesterday was the end of an era in Cincinnati.