Nancy was a force! She cared deeply about her friends and about the causes that were dear to her heart and worked tirelessly on their behalf. In a very thoughtful way, She was a control freak who loved to be incharge. It was hard to invite her to dinner at your place as she liked to be the host, control the meal, the evening plans and she almost always insisted on you joining her at Chez Nancy.
Nancy loved her condo over looking the river and enjoyed sharing this space with others. She completely planned her final Labor Day Fire Works Party, even when she was close to death, insisting on yellow and blue plates, napkins and plastic ware! It wasn't so much that she was a lover of the WHHS colors, she just liked the way those colors looked in her place. It was a very special evening for her and all who had gathered to celebrate with her. Several days later she moved to Hospice and passed away.
Nancy was my cousin and my friend. We were linked together from birth until her death. She was a fierce supporter of Cincinnati, politically active and always up for a cause. She was so very proud of her WHHS classmates never failing to keep me informed of the news both good and sad. When my memory failed me in recalling a classmate or event, I would phone Nancy and she had perfect recall of the information and additional tidbits as well.
After a class reunion, I would spend the night at Nancy's apartment and we would pull out the Remembrancer and share our experiences for hours into the morning. I don't know if I can attend a reunion without her. We were together for our life cycle events - happy and sad. The last of which was my son's wedding where we danced like fools and later laughed at how awful our upper arms looked in the pictures.
It has been almost four years without her and I still find myself heading to the phone to ask her something. She will be with me all the seasons of my life
Nancy and I remained friends as well. I spoke to her from Chicago a week before she left us. She told me that she was going to have a wedding at her house.
As classmates, we exchanged stories, ideas and "church visits "-- Feinberg Temple, I think, and Carmel Presbyterian Church. She wanted to do justice and I have the sense that she tried to put herself in the "other's" place for example, the minority community or gay rights. She will be and is missed.
Missing Nancy. Every Sunday when we watch Meet the Press. Every time we watch Rachel Maddow. Every time some outrageous thing happens in Congress. Maybe she knows...but I do miss her so much.every day.
In February, 1997, 15 Cincinnati police officers, their guns drawn, surrounded Lorenzo Collins, a man with a history of violent mental illness who was threatening them with a brick. In an act that produced universal outrage, the cops shot Collins to death when, desperate & panic-stricken, he refused to put his brick down. No one was more outraged than Nancy, but she also made it her mission to see that such a horror never occured in this city again. As executive director of Cincy's most important mental health organization and as a key member of the police review board, Nancy worked tirelessly to design and see implemented a mental health sensitivity training program for the CPD ... and it has worked. But that accomplishment, important as it was, is just one example of our beloved classmate's fierce dedication to the cause of human rights, her passion for upholding human dignity.
Nancy's colleague and close friend, the distinguished legal scholar Marianna Brown Bettman (WHHS Class of '62), wrote a wonderful tribute to Nancy that appeared in the Israelite soon after Nancy's death in September of 2009. With Marianna's permission, I have posted it below. Its 1500+ words are well worth reading as a reminder of how privileged we all were to have known & loved Nancy, to have grown up with her, and to have played an important role in her life as friends and classmates. Here's Marianna's letter in Nancy's memory:
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I am writing this letter in memory of Nancy Minson.
When the love of my life, Gilbert Bettman, was dying, one of the very last things he said to me was, I’m so glad you have Nancy.” And, dear Gilbert, so am I, only now I must learn to use the past tense and say, I’m so glad I had Nancy, my virtual sister.
Nancy’s plan for the tow of us was to be rabble rousing snd carrying on together in some retirement community in our 90s, where I assure you, she would be circulating petitions and urging the octogenarians and nonagenarians to be sure to put pro choice women into office. But that was not to be. Because at the age of 63, Nancy finally met with a tenacity greater than her own.
It has been extremely difficult for so many of us these past nine months, watching Nancy ravaged, not just from the pain of pancreatic cancer, but also from the toxins of chemotherapy. It has been a very hard lesson for me to accept Nancy’s decision to undergo treatment that at times seemed worse than the disease, at great personal cost. We talked about this directly, more than once. I’d ask her if the horrific side effects of the chemotherapy were worth any additional time she was getting. Every time, she’d look at me as if I’d lost my mind, and say to me, “Marianna, I can’t quit treatment. That would be giving up on life. I could never, ever do that.” And I learned to live with her choice, and the fact that it was hers, and only hers, to make.
Twenty years ago, one very dreary NewYear’s eve, Nancy was told she had late stage ovarian cancer, and given about six months to live. Instead of accepting her fate, she moved to Santa Cruz, CA, to join her dear friend Arnie Leff, our former health commissioner. Nancy asked questions, demanded experimental protocols, suffered through rounds and rounds of debilitating chemotherapy, and saved her own life. It’s no wonder , then, that she thought she could do it again.
I called Nancy one day and told her it was time to come back because she needed to help me run for judge. And so she returned to the city she loved so very much. I’d like to say a word about Nancy as a city dweller. By this, I don’t just mean Nancy as a resident of Cincinnati, but as an urban person, embracing diversity. She and I often talked about the true pleasure of diversity – not just as a slogan, but as an enrichment to life. Both of us had friends from so many different backgrounds and walks of life. We often talked of how much we felt people lost from life’s richness when choosing to hang out with those like themselves.
So, Nancy came back to Cincinnati, and there we were together; the quintessential Nancy, wearing her “Bettman for Judge” tee shirt, driving me to what seemed like a thousand summer church festivals, walking up to each voter, saying, “Did you know that there has never been a woman on the First District Court of Appeals in its entire 109 years of existence?”
Remember in junior high shcool there used to be a course called civics? Nancy embodied the civic virtues; she was a citizen, in the finest sense of the word. She more than adored politics; it was her essence. While we weren’t in touch when she was working in Washington D.C. as a young intern for Wisconsin senator Gaylord Nelson, I can just see her, soaking in all the political wonder of our nation’s capitol.
On the 4th of July, whenever possible, one of us would call the other at high noon to read the Declaration of Independence. One 4th, we were in a small town in Vermont, listening to kids with braces play patriotic songs very badly, with flags, and bunting, and dogs, and apples and cheddar cheese, and burlap sack races. We listened to a debate, in period costumes, about whether public dancing should be permitted. I was randomly plucked from the crowd to be the judge of the debate. Nancy laughed.
A couple of years ago, with tickets thanks to [federal] Judge Nate Jones, Nancy and I got to hear some arguments at the U.S. Supreme Court. We were like teenagers a ta rock concert. The awe, the splendor, the majesty, the justices in the flesh — I heard her talking excitedly to friends about it for days to come. When a college aid in charge of tourists gave a quiz about the court, she put her foot down and told me I had to stop answering all the questions and give someone else a chance. On that trip, we stood at the Lincoln Memorial, reading the Second Inaugural to each other, tears running down our cheeks, and at the FDR memorial, watching a young boy in a wheelchair roll himself up to the statue of FDR and pat it lovingly.
We happened to be in vacation in Tucson one January – Nancy would not let me go on vacation until after I had finished grading my exams. Were we out taking in the gorgeous scenery as any sane tourist would do? No, we were hooked on the conformation hearings os Samuel Alito, and we watched every single word. Then we went out to see the cacti. But we rationalized staying indoors a bit, because we got an upgrade at the Inn where we were staying, to the suite where Katherine Hepburn would secretly run off to be with Spencer Tracy.
Nancy was an unabashed liberal, and an unabashed social activist. She fought with every core of her being against discrimination: against women, against gays and lesbians, against those with mental illnesses, against blacks, against Jews.
I remember in 1993, when our citizens approved a charter amendment barring the city from giving protected status to people based on their secual orientation. She marched into out house and informed Gilbert that he had to be the Chair of the committee opposing that amendment effort. He agreed. How could you say no to Nancy? She later testified in the lawsuit challenging the amendment and read me word for word most of Judge Spiegel’s opinion [overturning the amendment] when it came out.
For a number of years, Nancy chaired Citizen Complaint Authority, an organization formed to help better race relations. She listened patiently to citizens who felt aggieved by police. She would not let me plan any vacation to coincide with a meeting.
Nancy revitalized the Cincinnati women’s Political Caucus — one of her absolute favorites. Its mission is vintage Nancy— Cincinnati Women’s Caucus is dedicated to the eradication of sexism, racism, anti-semitism, ageism, violence, poverty, discrimination against the disabled and discrimination on the basis of religion, and to ensuring reproductive freedom and freedom of sexual orientation. To this day, politicians pay hommage to the Caucus, which remains a formidable force in politics.
Nancy’s passions carried over to her professional life, where she was executive director of the Mental Health Association, working tirelessly for understanding and help for the mentally ill in out community. She always knew who to call, who to lobby, who to hire to do the lobbying.
Finally, Nancy’s religion defined her as well. For years, she tool Melton courses here, studying Jewish practices, ethics, beliefs and history, at deeper and deeper levels. She was not a believer in a conventional sense, but her identification with Jewish culture and traditions was a definite part of who she was. Wherever she traveled, she’d be off looking for some Jewish relic, or story, or background.
Nancy had a marvellous sense of humor, an infectious smile and laugh. She had a zest for life that was unmatched. When she and Gilbert and I took trips together, she would never skip any of the side excursions. She wanted to take it all in. She didn’t want to miss anything. She adored Graeter’s ice cream, Walnut Hills High School, her old neighborhood on Clearbook Drive, the view from her condo, baseball, water with lemon, flannel nighties and flannel sheets, blue jeans, movies, her garlic press, driving like a lunatic, Paris, the opera, bluegrass, Bach’s Goldberg variations, smoked salmon and capers, Greek olives, whipping up dinner for 25 on 10 minutes notice, her 144 cousins. And of course, Larry, Sherry, and Srah, Gilbert, Melanie, Danielle and Mallory and her many, many friends.
And finally, Nancy loved fireworks, Cincinnati’s end of summer ritual. Knowing the price she would pay, Nancy went home one last time to watch them, as her own personal farewell to her last summer on this earth.
On Sunday morning, before she went home to see the fireworks, Nancy turned to me and said, “I’ve been a good citizen, and led a good life. I’m contented with what I’ve left behind.” When the time comes, may we each be lucky enough to say the same thing.
And now, for the second time in my life, I must say goodbye to my dearest friend.
Last time I saw Nancy was after the 1992 election. I had been in or through Cincy on business a few times, and we had dinner one night. More to get her goat than because I believed it, I made her a bet of a dinner that Ross Perot would get more than 10% of the vote. He did, and Nancy cooked me a lovely dinner, and let me spend the night in her guest room- - I had to "sneak" to Cincy without telling my mother, who lived up the street from Nancy and who would never have let me come to Cincy without seeing her.
Julie Shavzin (Cohen)
Nancy was a force! She cared deeply about her friends and about the causes that were dear to her heart and worked tirelessly on their behalf. In a very thoughtful way, She was a control freak who loved to be incharge. It was hard to invite her to dinner at your place as she liked to be the host, control the meal, the evening plans and she almost always insisted on you joining her at Chez Nancy.
Nancy loved her condo over looking the river and enjoyed sharing this space with others. She completely planned her final Labor Day Fire Works Party, even when she was close to death, insisting on yellow and blue plates, napkins and plastic ware! It wasn't so much that she was a lover of the WHHS colors, she just liked the way those colors looked in her place. It was a very special evening for her and all who had gathered to celebrate with her. Several days later she moved to Hospice and passed away.
Esther Seltz (Stillman)
Nancy was my cousin and my friend. We were linked together from birth until her death. She was a fierce supporter of Cincinnati, politically active and always up for a cause. She was so very proud of her WHHS classmates never failing to keep me informed of the news both good and sad. When my memory failed me in recalling a classmate or event, I would phone Nancy and she had perfect recall of the information and additional tidbits as well.
After a class reunion, I would spend the night at Nancy's apartment and we would pull out the Remembrancer and share our experiences for hours into the morning. I don't know if I can attend a reunion without her. We were together for our life cycle events - happy and sad. The last of which was my son's wedding where we danced like fools and later laughed at how awful our upper arms looked in the pictures.
It has been almost four years without her and I still find myself heading to the phone to ask her something. She will be with me all the seasons of my life
Juanita B Simpson (Temple)
Nancy and I remained friends as well. I spoke to her from Chicago a week before she left us. She told me that she was going to have a wedding at her house.
As classmates, we exchanged stories, ideas and "church visits "-- Feinberg Temple, I think, and Carmel Presbyterian Church. She wanted to do justice and I have the sense that she tried to put herself in the "other's" place for example, the minority community or gay rights. She will be and is missed.
Juanita
James R Rosenfield
I loved seeing Nancy and going over to her place for a gathering at our 40th Reunion. What a fine person...Barbara Hyman (Rabkin)
Missing Nancy. Every Sunday when we watch Meet the Press. Every time we watch Rachel Maddow. Every time some outrageous thing happens in Congress. Maybe she knows...but I do miss her so much.every day.
What a wonderful friend.
Randy Katz
In February, 1997, 15 Cincinnati police officers, their guns drawn, surrounded Lorenzo Collins, a man with a history of violent mental illness who was threatening them with a brick. In an act that produced universal outrage, the cops shot Collins to death when, desperate & panic-stricken, he refused to put his brick down. No one was more outraged than Nancy, but she also made it her mission to see that such a horror never occured in this city again. As executive director of Cincy's most important mental health organization and as a key member of the police review board, Nancy worked tirelessly to design and see implemented a mental health sensitivity training program for the CPD ... and it has worked. But that accomplishment, important as it was, is just one example of our beloved classmate's fierce dedication to the cause of human rights, her passion for upholding human dignity.
Nancy's colleague and close friend, the distinguished legal scholar Marianna Brown Bettman (WHHS Class of '62), wrote a wonderful tribute to Nancy that appeared in the Israelite soon after Nancy's death in September of 2009. With Marianna's permission, I have posted it below. Its 1500+ words are well worth reading as a reminder of how privileged we all were to have known & loved Nancy, to have grown up with her, and to have played an important role in her life as friends and classmates. Here's Marianna's letter in Nancy's memory:
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
I am writing this letter in memory of Nancy Minson.
When the love of my life, Gilbert Bettman, was dying, one of the very last things he said to me was, I’m so glad you have Nancy.” And, dear Gilbert, so am I, only now I must learn to use the past tense and say, I’m so glad I had Nancy, my virtual sister.
Nancy’s plan for the tow of us was to be rabble rousing snd carrying on together in some retirement community in our 90s, where I assure you, she would be circulating petitions and urging the octogenarians and nonagenarians to be sure to put pro choice women into office. But that was not to be. Because at the age of 63, Nancy finally met with a tenacity greater than her own.
It has been extremely difficult for so many of us these past nine months, watching Nancy ravaged, not just from the pain of pancreatic cancer, but also from the toxins of chemotherapy. It has been a very hard lesson for me to accept Nancy’s decision to undergo treatment that at times seemed worse than the disease, at great personal cost. We talked about this directly, more than once. I’d ask her if the horrific side effects of the chemotherapy were worth any additional time she was getting. Every time, she’d look at me as if I’d lost my mind, and say to me, “Marianna, I can’t quit treatment. That would be giving up on life. I could never, ever do that.” And I learned to live with her choice, and the fact that it was hers, and only hers, to make.
Twenty years ago, one very dreary NewYear’s eve, Nancy was told she had late stage ovarian cancer, and given about six months to live. Instead of accepting her fate, she moved to Santa Cruz, CA, to join her dear friend Arnie Leff, our former health commissioner. Nancy asked questions, demanded experimental protocols, suffered through rounds and rounds of debilitating chemotherapy, and saved her own life. It’s no wonder , then, that she thought she could do it again.
I called Nancy one day and told her it was time to come back because she needed to help me run for judge. And so she returned to the city she loved so very much. I’d like to say a word about Nancy as a city dweller. By this, I don’t just mean Nancy as a resident of Cincinnati, but as an urban person, embracing diversity. She and I often talked about the true pleasure of diversity – not just as a slogan, but as an enrichment to life. Both of us had friends from so many different backgrounds and walks of life. We often talked of how much we felt people lost from life’s richness when choosing to hang out with those like themselves.
So, Nancy came back to Cincinnati, and there we were together; the quintessential Nancy, wearing her “Bettman for Judge” tee shirt, driving me to what seemed like a thousand summer church festivals, walking up to each voter, saying, “Did you know that there has never been a woman on the First District Court of Appeals in its entire 109 years of existence?”
Remember in junior high shcool there used to be a course called civics? Nancy embodied the civic virtues; she was a citizen, in the finest sense of the word. She more than adored politics; it was her essence. While we weren’t in touch when she was working in Washington D.C. as a young intern for Wisconsin senator Gaylord Nelson, I can just see her, soaking in all the political wonder of our nation’s capitol.
On the 4th of July, whenever possible, one of us would call the other at high noon to read the Declaration of Independence. One 4th, we were in a small town in Vermont, listening to kids with braces play patriotic songs very badly, with flags, and bunting, and dogs, and apples and cheddar cheese, and burlap sack races. We listened to a debate, in period costumes, about whether public dancing should be permitted. I was randomly plucked from the crowd to be the judge of the debate. Nancy laughed.
A couple of years ago, with tickets thanks to [federal] Judge Nate Jones, Nancy and I got to hear some arguments at the U.S. Supreme Court. We were like teenagers a ta rock concert. The awe, the splendor, the majesty, the justices in the flesh — I heard her talking excitedly to friends about it for days to come. When a college aid in charge of tourists gave a quiz about the court, she put her foot down and told me I had to stop answering all the questions and give someone else a chance. On that trip, we stood at the Lincoln Memorial, reading the Second Inaugural to each other, tears running down our cheeks, and at the FDR memorial, watching a young boy in a wheelchair roll himself up to the statue of FDR and pat it lovingly.
We happened to be in vacation in Tucson one January – Nancy would not let me go on vacation until after I had finished grading my exams. Were we out taking in the gorgeous scenery as any sane tourist would do? No, we were hooked on the conformation hearings os Samuel Alito, and we watched every single word. Then we went out to see the cacti. But we rationalized staying indoors a bit, because we got an upgrade at the Inn where we were staying, to the suite where Katherine Hepburn would secretly run off to be with Spencer Tracy.
Nancy was an unabashed liberal, and an unabashed social activist. She fought with every core of her being against discrimination: against women, against gays and lesbians, against those with mental illnesses, against blacks, against Jews.
I remember in 1993, when our citizens approved a charter amendment barring the city from giving protected status to people based on their secual orientation. She marched into out house and informed Gilbert that he had to be the Chair of the committee opposing that amendment effort. He agreed. How could you say no to Nancy? She later testified in the lawsuit challenging the amendment and read me word for word most of Judge Spiegel’s opinion [overturning the amendment] when it came out.
For a number of years, Nancy chaired Citizen Complaint Authority, an organization formed to help better race relations. She listened patiently to citizens who felt aggieved by police. She would not let me plan any vacation to coincide with a meeting.
Nancy revitalized the Cincinnati women’s Political Caucus — one of her absolute favorites. Its mission is vintage Nancy— Cincinnati Women’s Caucus is dedicated to the eradication of sexism, racism, anti-semitism, ageism, violence, poverty, discrimination against the disabled and discrimination on the basis of religion, and to ensuring reproductive freedom and freedom of sexual orientation. To this day, politicians pay hommage to the Caucus, which remains a formidable force in politics.
Nancy’s passions carried over to her professional life, where she was executive director of the Mental Health Association, working tirelessly for understanding and help for the mentally ill in out community. She always knew who to call, who to lobby, who to hire to do the lobbying.
Finally, Nancy’s religion defined her as well. For years, she tool Melton courses here, studying Jewish practices, ethics, beliefs and history, at deeper and deeper levels. She was not a believer in a conventional sense, but her identification with Jewish culture and traditions was a definite part of who she was. Wherever she traveled, she’d be off looking for some Jewish relic, or story, or background.
Nancy had a marvellous sense of humor, an infectious smile and laugh. She had a zest for life that was unmatched. When she and Gilbert and I took trips together, she would never skip any of the side excursions. She wanted to take it all in. She didn’t want to miss anything. She adored Graeter’s ice cream, Walnut Hills High School, her old neighborhood on Clearbook Drive, the view from her condo, baseball, water with lemon, flannel nighties and flannel sheets, blue jeans, movies, her garlic press, driving like a lunatic, Paris, the opera, bluegrass, Bach’s Goldberg variations, smoked salmon and capers, Greek olives, whipping up dinner for 25 on 10 minutes notice, her 144 cousins. And of course, Larry, Sherry, and Srah, Gilbert, Melanie, Danielle and Mallory and her many, many friends.
And finally, Nancy loved fireworks, Cincinnati’s end of summer ritual. Knowing the price she would pay, Nancy went home one last time to watch them, as her own personal farewell to her last summer on this earth.
On Sunday morning, before she went home to see the fireworks, Nancy turned to me and said, “I’ve been a good citizen, and led a good life. I’m contented with what I’ve left behind.” When the time comes, may we each be lucky enough to say the same thing.
And now, for the second time in my life, I must say goodbye to my dearest friend.
Jan B Ziegel (Taylor)
Thank you Randy. I'm proud to have known her!
Nancy Schott (Gallant)
Thank you,Randy for reprinting Marianna's tribute. Nancy was a dear friend, and I feel proud to have known her.
Julie Shavzin (Cohen)
It was Nancy's birthday this week! She would have loved the conversational forum. We would have relished her input. Rest in peace Nancy!
David A Lass
Last time I saw Nancy was after the 1992 election. I had been in or through Cincy on business a few times, and we had dinner one night. More to get her goat than because I believed it, I made her a bet of a dinner that Ross Perot would get more than 10% of the vote. He did, and Nancy cooked me a lovely dinner, and let me spend the night in her guest room- - I had to "sneak" to Cincy without telling my mother, who lived up the street from Nancy and who would never have let me come to Cincy without seeing her.
Nancy was her own, wonderful person.