November 7,
2001, started as a beautiful autumn day. As was normal, I put in a
morning call to my good friend, Nadra Floyd, who resided in Albany,
New York as the organizing director for the Civil Service Employees
Association (Local 1000, of the American Federation of State, County
& Municipal Employees). Nadra had been in Albany for about
fifteen months after years of trade union activism in Washington, DC,
and, previously, in California.
It
was sort of a ritual. I would call her in the morning to check in and
see what her day looked like and tell her about mine. Calls could be
a few minutes or longer. There was nothing that should have been
unusual that day except I was going to discuss with her my pending
meeting with Danny Glover, the chairperson of the board of directors
of TransAfrica Forum. I was being interviewed for the presidency of
the organization.
Her
phone rang and went unanswered. I cannot remember whether voicemail
cut in. She had only recently moved into her new house, and it may
not have been set up. In any case, I then paged her (remember
pagers??). She did not return the page. Worrying slightly, I called
her office and spoke with her administrative assistant. I was assured
that Nadra had a dental appointment that morning and would be in the
office immediately afterward. I hung up the phone relieved.
It
was not more than thirty minutes later that I received a call from
that same administrative assistant. Nadra, she told me, had not shown
up for the dental appointment. I replied with a strong suggestion
that they get someone to Nadra’s house to check on her.
Nadra
was found dead. She was on her first-floor couch. The cause of death
was a massive heart attack.
******
There
are certain people who have a fundamental impact on your life. Nadra
and I knew each other for slightly more than four years but it felt
as if I had known her my entire life. Ironically, it seemed that way
to other people who knew the two of us, i.e., the assumption that we
went way back.
She
was an unusually wise person who was widely respected and loved.
Though she rarely, if ever, thought of herself as a leader, she had
an immense following. And there was no surprise there because she was
an incredible thinker with a wonderful heart. People - family,
friends, associates - would regularly turn to her for advice and
counsel. She was always available to assist, even in moments when she
was facing her own sets of challenges.
Nadra
had this impact on me that only one other person has, whereby when
she would speak it would feel as if some invisible fingers were
massaging my brain. Her words always resonated, and I rarely
disregarded or challenged her advice. In fact, it was she who pushed
me to apply for the position of president of TransAfrica Forum before
anyone else did. I told her that the position was open, and I
mentioned a few people who I thought should consider the position.
She turned towards me and said: “And, Mr. Fletcher, why aren’t
you applying?”
******
A
single parent at a very young age, the Los Angeles native Nadra, born
Norma Green, Floyd raised her son with the help of her family and
also became very committed to social justice. Active first in the
Black Freedom Movement, she ultimately entered the California trade
union movement, where she served in a number of positions and
distinguished herself as both a successful organizer and
administrator. She gained the attention of the national AFSCME
leadership and that of the Coalition of Black Trade Unionists.
In
March 1997 she was tapped by the national AFL-CIO to become an
assistant director in the Field Mobilization department, that segment
of the AFL-CIO that included most of the field staff (which assisted
state federations of labor, central labor councils, and major union
campaigns). Her niche was over community service and community
action.
I
do not want the spirit of my late friend to take this the wrong way,
but from almost the moment that I met Nadra - in a staff meeting that
March - I was convinced that the position for which she had been
recruited was beneath her capabilities. Nadra was an organizer and
leader. She was a great strategic thinker. And people would listen to
her.
Ultimately,
she shifted into the Organizing Department, a far better fit. When
the department director chose to leave, Nadra, who served as the
Deputy Director, threw her hat into the ring for the director
position. For a variety of reasons, I will not get into what ensued,
but suffice it to say she was not chosen and someone far less
competent became the director. It soon became clear to Nadra that her
future did not rest with the national AFL-CIO. Within a few months,
she accepted the challenging position of Organizing Director for
CSEA/AFSCME.
Nadra
loved the position and, in the few months there, not only served with
dignity but put into place the key elements of an organizing program
for a union that had largely ignored organizing the unorganized.
Her
interests and commitment were not limited to organized labor. She
became active in the formation of what came to be known as the Black
Radical Congress and was part of the bridge between those engaged in
the labor movement and those engaged in the Black Freedom struggle.
For her there was no barrier; there was just relative distance.
******
It
happened not long after she got to the AFL-CIO: Non-Hodgkin’s
lymphoma.
It
was first handled all hush/hush within the AFL-CIO, but eventually,
everyone knew that she had been struck by the illness. Her months of
treatment took a toll, but she seemed to recover and was eventually
back at work full time as if nothing had happened.
In
the late spring of 1998, however, the cancer returned, and this time
with a vengeance. Nadra had to undergo very serious treatment, some
of which ultimately weakened her heart. But it was made clear that
she either had to undergo the treatment or else her days were
numbered.
As
always, in the face of adversity, she accepted the challenge. She
also had immense support from friends and family alike. The
outpouring of support was all that one would expect given the way she
had touched so many people.
And
she survived! She came through the treatment, regained weight, and
was ready, once again, to enter the struggle. She confessed to me
that she knew that she would not make it to the age of 100 - she was
about 51 at the time - but she expected at least one to two more
decades of life.
As
it turned out, she had about one more year.
******
I
will always wonder whether I would be speaking with Nadra today had
she not been two blocks away from the World Trade Center on September
11, 2001.
September
11, 2001, began as a bright and beautiful day in Washington, DC.
Nadra was in New York City for an AFSCME conference. I was driving to
work when I heard the news about a plane crashing into one of the
towers. Probably like most other people I assumed that it was an
accident. When the second plane hit, I knew that we were looking at a
very different sort of disaster.
I
called Nadra to make sure that she was okay. The phone lines were
jammed. Ultimately, I reached her. I never heard her voice sound as
it did at that moment. She was speaking very softly, almost as if she
did not want to disturb someone from sleeping. But there was a tone
of horror in that same, soft voice. “Bill…I saw people
falling from the buildings…”
I
do not remember the rest of the conversation. That was enough to
capture the moment. She later told me that she returned to the hotel
where she had been staying, tried to sleep the night, and then
returned to Albany the next day without her bags. The power was out,
and the elevators were not working, and she told me that she simply
could not stay in the hotel any longer, especially that close to what
remained of the Twin Towers.
As
New York City began to recover from 9/11, so it seemed did Nadra. But
just as the damage and trauma of 9/11 became embedded into the fabric
of New York City, so something similar appears to have happened with
Nadra. On the outside, she had returned to normal, but as I would
later discover, the trauma of 9/11 and seeing so many people die
shook her to her core.
At
the memorial held for Nadra, her former physician was one of those
who spoke about her. His words were especially moving because he was
almost crying out that there was no physical reason, despite the
treatments she had received for cancer, that she should have been
dead. Yet, as a trauma specialist would later say, witnessing 9/11
may have, quite literally, shattered her heart.
******
I
have never written anything like this for someone who has passed
away. As November 7th approached, however, I knew that I must. When
someone affects your life so deeply that you not only must remember
them, there are special moments when you need to remind others of the
immense value that person held, not only for you but for so many
others.
For
years I had a willow tree in my backyard. When I first moved into my
house, in 1993, it was young and small. Over time it became nothing
short of gigantic. In a way that I cannot describe, a bond seemed to
develop between the tree and my family. It grew and was full of life.
It, literally, weathered two hurricanes and retained its vitality.
When
I read a story, some months ago, about how trees appear to
communicate with one another, this came as no surprise because I
always felt as if “my” giant willow and I were in regular
communication. At times I would go outside and, in private, speak
with the tree and listen for anything in return.
Yet
the moment came when the willow became ill and there was nothing that
we could do to cure it. We ultimately had to take it down, at which
time I mourned…and continue to do so.
My
mother bought us another willow to replace it. We planted it near
where “my willow” had been located. But the replacement
willow has not been able to grow anywhere near the size and strength
of “my willow.” A tree specialist told us that trees do
not tend to grow in the same space as one that has passed away. “My
willow” cannot be replaced.
There
are humans who fall into that same category. They and their role,
simply put, cannot be replaced. Yes, there are many other great
people out there who have and will make momentous contributions to
you and to humanity. But every so often you come across a person or
two who occupy a special space. All I can say is this: cherish them
and cherish that moment. It is one of the things that drives me crazy
about this current culture of “ghosting”/dissing friends
when there is a challenge or falling out. It is a fundamental failure
to recognize the importance of good friendships and the reality that
once they are gone, they cannot be replaced.
Nadra
Floyd: you are missed every day. Yet we are so fortunate that you
once walked this Earth.
