Saturday, April 15, 2000
A father's story
Friend left world fine legacy
BY KRISTA RAMSEY
The Cincinnati Enquirer
The first time I saw Cleve Anderson he was leaning out a second-story window.
I remember it well because that was where I'd find him more often than not, over the first five years of our friendship. He was watching over his daughter, his home and his little corner of Over-the-Rhine. Only later would I realize he was also watching over me.
Our paths crossed over the simple luck of an extra ticket to The Nutcracker ballet. I had it, and asked a third-grade teacher at Rothenberg Elementary whether she knew a little girl who might want to accompany me.
“Christine Anderson,” she said in a snap. “The sweetest little girl, the hardest worker. And you'll love her father, Cleve. He's raising two children by himself, and is doing a beautiful job.”
Christine was the only resume Cleve ever needed.
I knocked on her door on East Clifton Avenue, and out she came, her dress neat, her hair beautifully braided and tucked behind her ears. I heard a friendly call from above, stepped back, looked up. There was Cleve.
He was sending his daughter off with me, a stranger, out of utter trust and regard for her teacher. Cleve would do anything to widen his children's world.
He did the bravest thing a parent can do, preparing his child to enter a world he himself would not feel comfortable in.
Important lessons
Christine became someone significant to me that night, a child I would tuck under my wing for many years, a beautiful girl who would be my “daughter” on Take Our Daughters to Work Day, a precious child I would pray for. I remember how quiet she was in the car, answering only yes and no, and how awe-struck she was at Music Hall. But during intermission, she joined the joyous dance of all the little girls.
In that moment, I saw the miracle Cleve Anderson was making. By the world's standards, Christine led a narrow life, without the rich experiences many of us wish for our children. She lived in a dangerous neighborhood. She went to a school singled out, back then, as one of the lowest-performing in the city.
But still, her father had taught her to carry her head high, work steadily, enter the world bravely, and dance when she had the opportunity.
A job well done
Cleve Anderson was a magnificent father.
Over the years, Cleve would teach me a great deal about what it meant to be a parent. He taught me to keep my children at the center of my life. He showed me that family matters more than money or status. He modeled for me that good parenting is a delicate balance between caution and boldness, and you have to trust your heart to get the proportions right.
As a reporter and a human being, I appreciated how Cleve swept out stereotypes for me forever. Every time I would read or hear discouraging reports about single-parent or inner-city families, I would simply think of Cleve. It always seemed to me that he was the parent that fathers in the suburbs did — or should have — aspired to.
Cleve Anderson died Tuesday, at age 50.
His children thought he would stay much longer. They had plans for how they would help him one day, pay back all of the care he had given them.
But Cleve had done the job he came to do. His legacy is Christine and C.J. Anderson, both students at Aiken High School. Two fine, good people.
Their father asked for nothing more.
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