Eloise

The memory of someone who was dear to me and who I am extremely grateful was part of my life popped into my head today and it seemed appropriate, since today is Thanksgiving, to write a little bit about her.

When I was little up until about age 14, my family was pretty well off. Indeed we would have been considered wealthy by many. My dad had been a member to the Dallas Country Cub for many years and I spent my summers at the club pool with all the other little rich, privileged white children. I was different from the other Highland Park kids though in that my friends at the club were not the other rich, privileged white children, but rather the club employees. One of the lifeguards was a running buddy of mine and I spent many hours exploring the non-public areas like the laundry, storage rooms, mechanical areas and back hallways of the country club while hanging out with the maids and other staff.


A long time employee of the club was Eloise Walker. Eloise was a stout, strong, African American woman who ran the snack bar/grill at the pool and kept an eye on her favorite kids, one of whom was me. She had worked there for a long time and had known my older brothers when they were kids in the 50's. Eloise had a deep, rather gruff voice but her kindness and genuine love were something that I felt from early on.

I was kind of a misfit when it came to being a rich, privileged white child and frequently suffered teasing and taunts from the other rich, privileged white kids. Eloise knew this and watched out for me making sure that I always had a safe place next to her grill and a warm hug up against her ample bosoms if I needed it. She let me work in the grill one summer for several weeks making shakes and pouring sodas until the club manager got wind of it and made her stop. The other kids thought I was seriously mentally deficient choosing to labor with people who's skin was darker than mine. Of course what I found in those employees, who befriended me, were people who were much more real and far nicer than any of the rich, privileged white kids.

I grew up and moved away from Dallas. Sometime in the late 80's I went back for a visit in Dallas and decided to stop by the club and try to find Eloise. I went into the main kitchen area (which I'd come to know so well from years earlier) and found a manager who advised me that Eloise had had a stroke and was no longer working. I talked him out of her address and went searching for her small, frame house just off the runway at Love Field Airport.

As I got out of my car and was walking to the door, a priest with a clerical collar came out. Fearing the worst, I asked him if this was Eloise Walker's home and he advised it was. I told him how I knew her and that I badly wanted to see her. He advised me that he was her pastor and that the stroke had left her unable to speak clearly. I told him I understood and I went in.

Her face lit up when she saw me and we hugged each other tightly. This woman who had been such a positive influence on me and been a kind of surrogate mother knew exactly who I was even after having not seen me in well over a decade. But her speech had indeed been affected. This strong woman who used to bellow across the loudspeaker at the pool to ask my dad if it was ok for me to have ice cream, "Giles! you want this boy to have ice cream?!", was reduced to garbled mumbling when she tried to speak. There was no understanding her and on top of that, she was frail and weak.

Sadly, I wasn't very strong for Eloise. I completely broke down and sobbed. She took me into her arms and held me, this former little boy who was now a grown man. Eloise was still taking care of "her boy." I stayed long enough to express to her how much of a positive influence she had been in my life and how much I loved her. Then I gave her one last hug, left and cried all the way back to where I was staying.

This was the last time I ever saw Eloise. But to this day I'm grateful that I was "her boy."