Don’t Take No Wooden Nickels
Honoring the life and legacy of Lucille Thomas
My grandmother passed away on Saturday.
If death can be good, hers was. After not eating or responding for over a week, she woke up, had two scoops of ice cream, and went back to sleep.
Her death must have been easier than her life: born poor on a farm in North Carolina during the Great Depression, she moved to New York City during the Great Migration and settled in the Bronx. She arrived just before hip hop would make the borough famous and found an apartment off the Grand Concourse near Yankees Stadium, even though she was a Mets fan.
In a two-bedroom apartment that I would later learn was a tenement, she raised three children, scores of foster children, and me — her misplaced grandson. My parents were living less than five miles away in Harlem, but for as long as I can remember I lived with my grandmother.
My great-grandmother, Lucille.
The “great” throws people, though she was that, too. When I was born in the mid-80s I still had four grandparents, seven great-grandparents, and two great-great-grandparents, all living. My family isn’t particularly long-lived, but we do like having children. We like having them so much we don’t tend to wait until we are no longer children ourselves, which explains why the babies inevitably land in the care of their grandmothers and, sometimes, great-grandmothers.
Mine cared for me until I was 21 years old. From my first day of school until I finally moved out and went to law school, Grandma Lucille was my mother and my father, my grandmother and my grandfather, and my grandmother’s mother and my grandmother’s father all rolled into one.
For an image of her in her prime, watch any of Tyler Perry’s Madea movies.
With a sixth grade education from a rural segregated schoolhouse, Lucille started multiple businesses in New York City and convinced me we weren’t poor. The lights never went out. There was always food in the refrigerator or on the stove. And every summer we drove down to her house on the land she still owned in North Carolina.
The source of my grandmother’s inexplicable wealth was rooted in one of the first lessons she taught me: “Spend a nickel, but save a dime.” The dimes she saved, over decades, allowed her to work for herself. Neighbors trusted her to watch their children, but she was also a good driver so she started taking them to and from school. More parents trusted her so she expanded the fleet with a second car driven by her husband. More and more parents trusted her so she invested in a school bus and “scaled up” to serve the needs of her community, which included learning Spanish to communicate with the immigrant families who relied on her.
“¡Frío, frío!”
My grandmother volunteered at CES 236 Langston Hughes Little Peoples’ School for over 25 years. After dropping the children off in the morning she would stay to talk with her friends Rose Hanson, Judy Davidson, and Dr. Clara Burgess. Ms. Rose was the lunch lady who made sure we always had milk at home, Mrs. Davidson was my first-grade teacher, and Dr. Burgess was the school principal. These pictures were taken at the retirement party of either Mrs. Davidson or Dr. Burgess circa 2003.
The friendships she made at 236 helped me become the person I am today. Born at the end of the year and *technically* too young to start school, Lucille and Clara conspired to get me in anyway. They probably hatched the scheme on one of their monthly trips to the discount wholesaler BJs in New Jersey, and thanks to them I started Pre-K at the age of three. I don’t remember my parents ever reading bedtime stories to me, but I do remember sitting on my grandmother’s lap to read the Daily News.
I don’t want to reduce my grandmother to one role or only talk about her impact on my life, but everything I have done is because of her. My parents may have given me life, but my grandmother gave me this life. She taught me all the lessons I needed to succeed and was always there for me, even when I finally came out to her in college. She was starting to suffer from dementia, but I will always remember her smile and hug when I introduced her to my then-boyfriend. And when she asked who he was not even five minutes after introducing him, I will always remember that the same reaction was genuine.
I know I have a peculiar way of dealing with grief, but after watching my grandmother lose her mind and independence, I’m thankful she’s finally free again. And instead of grieving for her loss all I see is her influence everywhere around me. I’m not in the Bronx, I’m in Berlin. And after ignoring her advice to “neither a borrower nor a lender be” to finance my education, on the same day that she passed away I made the last loan payment to finally become debt free.
The exact meaning of “don’t take no wooden nickels” is still a mystery to me, but I’d like to think that she held on long enough just to make sure that I would be ok. The last time I was really able to communicate with her was 2009 when she came back to New York for my law school graduation. She didn’t know who I was, but she asked if I knew her grandson.
“He’s a lawyer, too.”
Lucille Garner Thomas was born to the late Mary and Roger Garner on October 12, 1930 in Gaston, NC. “88 years young”, she went home to her Lord on May 18, 2019 from Greenville Manor Nursing Home in Emporia, VA. She was a lifelong member of Cool Spring Missionary Baptist Church in Gaston, NC and St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Bronx, NY.
“Aunt Cille”, as she was known, was preceded in death by her husband of 50 years, Ralph Thomas Sr., and daughter Fannie Elma Byrd. She leaves behind to cherish her memory: sister Eula (Eugene) Highe of Emporia, VA, who cared for her in her final years; son Ralph (Carlethia) Thomas Jr. of Lees Summit, MO; daughters Everlena Thomas, Monique Thomas and Asia Thomas of New York, NY; grandchildren Cathy Samuels and Keturah (Quentin) Wilson of Chesapeake, VA, Michelle Thomas and Ralph “Trip” Thomas III of Lees Summit, MO, Minajahrae Martin, Lateek Rodriguez, Malik Thomas and Joel Bacchus of New York, NY; great-grandchildren Joseph (Franz Alisch) Hutchinson of Berlin, Germany, Antonio Suggs of Grifton, NC, James Suggs of Bronx, NY, Antonio Byrd of Palm Coast, FL, Destiny Doyle, Deserae Doyle and Ashanti Wilson of Jacksonville, FL; and great-great-grandchildren Demiah Doyle, Zahmiah Griffin, Kian Britton and Cassidy Jackson of Jacksonville, FL.
Rest in peace with your beloved family and friends.
