If you're busy today and don't have time for the whole program, I'd like to ask you to listen to Teshima Walker's remembrance of our dear friend and colleague Sheryl Flowers, who died yesterday at 42. She was the executive producer of Tavis Smiley's radio program and the communications director of The Smiley Group. She had been fighting cancer for the last two years, and the last few months were not going well. Teshima and I had just seen her in Denver at the Democratic National Convention, and I think we all convinced ourselves that she had won the fight and was going to pull through.
Some of you may remember, I wrote about losing my dear friend Sandee a few months back, also to cancer, also too soon.
I was raised not to question these things. I was raised to believe some things are beyond our comprehension. In a way, I guess that's true on some basic level. After all, why does a wonderful, productive, lovely, smart, healthy living woman die at 42 -- or even 53 -- who has never smoked, always exercised, didn't do any of the things we're all taught not to do? Who can really explain that? We won't try, but we will renew the call I made earlier this year after Sandee passed away: What can we do to pay tribute to them and to the others we miss?
In the meantime, here are a few tributes to Sheryl from some of our extended family ...
Tell Me More producer Teshima Walker (left) shares a happy moment at NPR with former News and Notes host Tony Cox and producer Sheryl Flowers (far right). Courtesy of Tony Cox
I really don't remember exactly when, or how Sheryl Flowers and I met, although I suspect it was during some Black Journalists Association function in California back in the 80's. I just know we've been friends and colleagues for a long time. And even though we saw less of each other in the last year, I always felt her presence.
That's how Sheryl was -- ever present even when she wasn't there. She had a look, a tiny half-smile/half-grunt that let you know she was paying attention to whatever was happening, but wasn't going to let you know her true feelings until, and unless, she was ready.
Smart, crafty, compassionate, careful. That was Sheryl. I have a small potted plant that sits by the window in my kitchen, a gift from Sheryl in 2002 as I recovered from cancer surgery. That year she gave me an even bigger gift as well, the chance to work with her and a wonderful group of folks on NPR's "The Tavis Smiley Show." She ran the daily morning production meetings, and that's probably where I first became familiar with her smile/grunt way of saying a lot with a little.
What a smile she had.
Ironically, it was at the funeral of a mutual friend that I last saw Sheryl, a year ago this month. We hugged, promised to get together and stay in touch. We stayed in touch, but never managed to get together. I called and left her a message about a week ago, not expecting to hear back. I thanked her for our friendship, for being part of my professional life, and told her I was praying for her. I don't know if she ever heard it. When I got the call the morning Sheryl died, I walked to the kitchen and looked at that plant, which continues to thrive. It reminds me of life, and of Sheryl.
That, and fond memories, will have to hold me from now on.
-- Tony Cox, former host, NPR's News and Notes
I had the pleasure of meeting and working with Sheryl Flowers starting in January 2003. At the time, I had a lot to learn about the world of public journalism and luckily I had an excellent teacher in Sheryl. She was motivating not just in moments, diligent in her work and faithful to her purpose. I will never forget her.
Last time I say Sheryl was at the NABJ conference in August 2007. In that last visit, she offered me a warm embrace and equally warm smile. It stays with me.
-- Tarice Gray, former assistant editor, The Tavis Smiley Show
I was in Los Angeles in the summer of 2003 freelancing for the program Marketplace when I received a call from Sheryl Flowers asking if I could make my way over to NPR West to edit for a week or more there. A week turned into three years after Sheryl hired me as senior editor. She brought together a multiracial team of producers and editors to work on a decidedly black-themed program, which was unprecedented in NPR's history. But Sheryl did not think in figurative black and white images. She believed in complexity, and she knew that I did, too. That's how she approached people, and that is how she approached life. It was never simple.
She also had a funny streak that was, at first glance, obscured by her up-before-dawn and work-into-the night dedication to "The Tavis Smiley Show." There would be moments when the laughter would pour out from her office next to mine like a waterfall as she played practical jokes on Toyia, Tarice and Teshima, spoofed on Roy 's "radio voice" persona, and added her hilarious two cents to the ongoing battle between Chicago and Detroit members of our production team.
She was also kind, exhibiting momentous solidarity and generosity when she learned that the woman in my life was undergoing neurosurgery.
And did I tell you she could dance?! Sheryl's Caribbean roots brought out the salsa, meringue and samba spirit within like a Southside Chicagoan devouring a meal sprinkled in hot sauce. A few days before Christmas of 2003, Sheryl and I salsa danced in the cafeteria of NPR West during the holiday party, and she smiled as she turned and twisted in a rhythmic respite from a long hard day that turned into an even longer but brighter night.
-- Phillip Martin, former senior editor, The Tavis Smiley Show
I think it was late 2001 when I got a call from Sheryl Flowers.
She said, "I'm working with Tavis Smiley and NPR on a new show."
And I said something like, "That has to be difficult."
She went on to describe her new job as challenging, but a chance to make a certain kind of history.
Sheryl and I met a few years earlier at Pacifica Radio. At that time, she was working with another brilliant, but notoriously difficult host. I was always in awe of Sheryl's ability to handle the grind of a daily radio show with stoic persistence.
She gave me the freedom to explore the storytelling possibilities of radio. She taught me what it meant to do my job a little better tomorrow. And Sheryl introduced me to the Manolo Blahnik line of designer shoes, and showed me how it was meant for a woman to wear them well.
-- Roy Hurst, former associate producer, The Tavis Smiley Show and News and Notes
categories: 'Behind the Curtain' at TMM


Comments
Please note that all comments must adhere to the NPR.org discussion rules and terms of use. See also the Community FAQ.
You must be logged in to leave a comment. Login | Register
More information needed to participate in the NPR online community.. Add this information