This is written in loving remembrance of Dehlie.

For many years, I have wanted to pay tribute to a wonderful woman who made what is probably the greatest impact on my life. She is part of my earliest memories until I was eight or nine years old, and it would not be an exaggeration to say she changed my life with her influence, encouragement, and love. This unforgettable woman was known to me as Dehlie.

Dehlie, whose given name might have been Dehlia, was a black janitress at the local hardware. During the 1950�s, black people were almost never seen in that suburb, which mainly consisted of southern men who migrated north to find jobs, then married woman from the area and settled there. The two counties to the south of the area were heavily populated by KKK members

Dehlie�s rarity went far beyond being the only black person employed in an all-white community�she was a unique and beautiful person. My respect for her grew even more when I recently learned more about Dehlie�s life from my mother.

Married to a drunken, violently abusive husband, Dehlie had many children to raise on her very small income, but she always had a smile and a kind word for all those around her. She never complained; she just accepted it as her lot in life, trusted God, and made the best of her situation with her usual friendly, sunny disposition.

In her own quiet way, Dehlie taught me many things by word and example. Her first lesson was about love, impressed upon me by her love for one small white girl with red hair and freckles, who had no other real love and who was the victim of abuse by family members and their friends.

I was that little girl.

Although we didn�t usually talk about such things, perhaps we recognized the hurts in each other; but for whatever the reason, we formed a strong bond of friendship that nothing could shake. Though my mother was very strict, she knew that each time we went to the grocery store, I was going to go into the hardware to see Dehlie, even if I got punished for it. Dehlie�s boss also knew that she would always take time for me whenever I came in, even if she had to work late to make up the time.

It became our regular practice for me to stand beside her as she worked, sweeping or cleaning counters, talking together until my mother made me leave the store. I lived for those times with Dehlie, which became fewer when I started going to school and could only see her during holiday breaks and summer vacation.

Sometimes, there would be comments made about us by customers who took offense at seeing the affection between a black woman and a white girl. I didn�t learn the word �prejudice� until many years later, but I did not like for people to say bad things to Dehlie. She took it all in stride, explaining to me about people, white and black, in simple terms a child could understand.

The seed her words planted took root inside me and caused me to see all people in a different light, rather than to form prejudices against any race or group of people. Love grew in my heart for her and everyone at a time when my own troubled life was so painful that I might have learned hatred. Instead, she taught me to forgive and love anyway.

Because Dehlie was so special to me, I began to watch for black people when my mother took me downtown. Being an only child, I was fascinated with the large black families I saw. When my mother would become engrossed in pattern books and material, I would slip away to mingle with the black families, wanting to be part of the group. They reminded me of the good times spent with Dehlie, and were just as friendly and welcoming.

Often, one of the mothers would hug me on her lap while her children would talk to me as if I were one of them, making me feel as if I belonged. All too soon my mother would spot me and the special moment would end. Looking back, I am horrified at the realization of what great risk Dehlie and those other ladies took by closely associating with a white child in that time and place. It could have caused them many problems�probably did, but I was too young to know at the time.

From Dehlie, I also learned so many other things, such as strength, purpose, commitment to doing the right thing, and faith. There was never any doubt that she loved me as much as I loved her. Dehlie was such an important part of my life in so many ways.

One day, I entered the hardware and there was no Dehlie to greet me�nor the next time, either. I kept asking my mother about her, but all I was told was that she was ill. Summer vacation came, and Dehlie was still not there. My mother only told me that she wasn�t working, and I was too heartbroken to ask why. I just kept hoping she would be there when I walked in.

Before my mother died, I finally asked her about Dehlie. She told me of her hardships raising her family and that her illness had led to death. Somehow, I had always known, but could not bear to think that Dehlie would never be a part of my life anymore.

Now I realize that part of Dehlie is alive in me because of her love for me, mine for her, and all the things she taught me. So many times I have wished for those talks with her, especially during life�s hardest moments. I can only be grateful for all the time I had with Dehlie, when I needed her most. During those years her influence helped to shape and mold my life.

I can only hope she knew what a difference she made in my life, and that the love I returned for her was somehow a small token of repayment for all she did for me.

I have moved to a different state and live in a predominately black community now. It is an experience in being a minority, but not in discrimination. I know I owe my acceptance to Dehlie, for teaching me about accepting others for who they are, rather than judging them by the color of their skin. My neighbors here are much friendlier than any I had before I moved, and sometimes, I even get a glimpse of Dehlie in those around me.