Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Category: Charleston

  • Angels Are Around Us — Even WHEN We Are Lost and Stressed

    Angels Are Around Us — Even WHEN We Are Lost and Stressed


    Dearest Readers:
    Just when I think people are not honest or trustworthy, God gives me an angel. As all of you, my closest friends, know – since October 3, 2015 I have been stressed. Beginning with the rain, flooding issues that occurred in Charleston during the “Hundred Year rains.” I believe fighting those battles, at times, losing — thanks to a certain insurance company that refused to cover the damage. Regardless, after fighting those battles and finding my own way to get the damages repaired, I found myself overly temperamental. I’ve expressed numerous prayers to God, asking me how to calm down. How to cope. Just when I thought these prayers were answered, Phil has reverse shoulder replacement on May 31. Recovering at home, he started fainting…and FAINTING AND FAINTING…Rushed to ER — seven times. He endured three surgeries on that blasted shoulder and now he appears to be getting better. During one of the fainting episodes, he broke his left ankle. I started questioning — can things get ANY WORSE?
     
    I cannot remember the last time I’ve written. This might be a first for me, today. People keep asking me “How are you coping?” They haven’t seen the rages I have allowed myself to get into. It’s no wonder my blood pressure is getting higher. As for me, I still feel so stressed and temperamental that I lose myself.  Some days are meltdown days. During the last meltdown, I kneeled and prayed . I asked God if He was still there. The next morning, I had another talk with God, telling Him I would change my ways and stop losing my temper and I would stop cursing.
     
    Today, was I EVER put to the test. My grandmother told me as a child that God would test me. Believe me, she was correct! Attempting to vacuum this morning, I noticed my vacuum wasn’t working properly. Placing it in the car, Phil and I went to Oreck. Of course, my vacuum is the type where they will have to order the part. It could be two weeks BEFORE it will be repaired. GREAT!
     
    Suppose I’ll research cheap vacuums now – just to have a standby on hand.
     
    After leaving Oreck in North Charleston, I drove to Sam’s Club to get gas and a few incidentals at the store. Preoccupied, I rushed to put everything inside the car, before my sweet husband attempted to. He is trying to help me more now, and each time he does, I reprimand him to STOP, like a mother would stop a child. He still must wear that sling. I don’t want him to hurt himself again!
     
    So here I am, stuffing things inside the car, rushing to put the shopping cart up. Rushing back to my car…not looking at where my hand bag is.
     
    Arriving home, you guessed it! No handbag within site. I panic.
     
    Like all women, I have cards inside my bag. I tell Phil I have to rush to Sam’s — in this rush hour traffic — to find my handbag.
     
    Phil doesn’t shout at me. He doesn’t call me ‘stupid’ like my mother would…and we do not argue.
     
    Yes, God is testing me!
     
    Surprisingly, for once the rush hour traffic is not congested. Within 30 minutes I arrive at Sam’s Club. We look at all the shopping carts still parked in the shopping cart area. No handbag.
     
    I rush inside Sam’s. Of course I am stopped at the entrance. I explain to the greeter that I was there about 30 minutes ago and left my handbag. She smiles. “I remember you,” she said. Trust me, I’m usually remembered wherever I go. I rush over to the customer service area. Anticipation has me so nervous, I can hardly say what I need to say.
     
    The customer service rep looks at me. “Hi,” I say. Trying desperately not to cry. I cry when I am overly stressed. I introduce myself and I ask if they have a lost and found, or has anyone turned in a handbag about 30 minutes ago.
     
    She repeats my name, asking what color my handbag was. I answer her question. She looks underneath, and there is a handbag!
     
    “We called your phone number. Someone found it outside in the shopping carts.”
     
    I burst into tears, hugged her and called my husband’s name. He was looking at the shopping carts parked inside the building.
     
    I offered her a gratuity. She refused.
     
    Isn’t it wonderful that someone outside in the parking lot saw my handbag and returned it to the store! Untouched!
     
    God had a guardian angel watching over me today while He tested me to see if I would explode, and I didn’t. While driving, I silently prayed that God would let someone who believed in morals, values and honesty find my handbag.
     
    Today, I passed the test. I thanked God for keeping me calm and I said a loud thank you for letting my handbag find its way back to me.
     
    Some would say it is the Southern way in the South. After all, Charleston, SC is the number one city in the world this year.
     
    Why wouldn’t it be? We have good people living here. Trustworthy people visit here, and there are People who you trust. People who go the extra mile to protect a total stranger’s handbag. Everything was still in tact. Nothing was taken.
     
    Thank you, to an angelic total stranger. I will say prayers for you. How I wish I could thank you personally. No name was given to the customer service rep. I will make certain I pay it forward now when I am out…Just like someone paid it forward for me today!
     
    This just proves to me — God is guarding me — just like He did years ago, when I was hit by a car and should’ve been killed. God’s angels held me and placed me on the concrete curb. I haven’t a clue what happened on that day, with exception of the thrust of the hood of the car hitting me — knocking the wind out of me.
     
    Thank you, God! You guided and protected me again today!

  • Rainy Days…Rainy Nights…Will Charleston, SC EVER See Sunshine Again?


    Dearest Readers:

    As I glance outside at the window by my desk, I see gray skies…Raindrops are dripping slowly to the ground. Trees are covered with so much moisture, they almost lose their color. The mimosa trees drip with a grayish color as if to say they are sick and tired of this rain and don’t want to see or feel anymore! Pine trees are leaning over a bit. These pine trees are the seeds I planted after Hurricane Hugo, so the two that grew are just a bit special for me. My husband gripes about them always saying he plans to cut them down. Pine trees are reminiscent to me, reminding me of my childhood in Georgia. How frightened I would become while laying on the grass, noting their height and strength. I always feared those pine trees might pop and fall on top of me. Nevertheless, pine trees are prevalent in Georgia. I remind my grumpy husband that we lost five trees in our yard after Hurricane Hugo. Again, he grunts knowing that IF he cuts those trees down, he will have to deal with me – an unhappy woman sad that her little children of trees are gone due to his selfishness. We have three mimosa trees in the back yard now – planted from seeds from the hands of Mother Nature. How I love those mimosa trees, although today the branches are leaning down. Perhaps they weigh a bit too much now from all of this monsoon rain. Perhaps later, I will slide my rain boots on and walk outside, just to touch the tree branches I’ve watched growing from a tiny seedling to the height of 20′ – maybe a bit less. I’m much too short to measure them! I want those precious trees soaked and probably curious from the hands and moisture of Mother Sunshine to understand I still love them, and I want them to flourish. All in time. I am hopeful this monsoon rain will end soon…and just when I think I might see a bit of relief, I glance outside again to see sheets of rain. My yards are so wet I would not dare to walk outside in my stiletto or pump high heels. No doubt if I made the attempt, my feet would stick in the sandy moisture and pull me downwards. I don’t want to get soaked or dirty. I have a thing about dirt under my nails, but enough about that.

    Last week, the rains began – at least I think it was last week. On Wednesday, Tammy, Sara, Chris and I walked the Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge. It was a humid, gray morning with only a slight breath of wind. Walking up the first incline, I struggled with my breath, stopping several times to use my inhaler. I encouraged the girls to go ahead.
    My asthma is leaving me a bit short-winded today. Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

    I stopped several times, just to catch my breath. I counted the lamp posts, telling myself that If I made it to the last lamppost at the first twin towers, I would rest, and I did. Still, I pushed myself, anticipating the approaching rains. I am proud to say, I accomplished my walk – but it appeared to take me forever. Thank you so much, silly asthma. How I wish I did not have asthma, although it is something I have battled all of my life.

    For me, there is something magical I feel while walking the bridge. DSC_0033

    While walking — sometimes it appears I am crawling, up the first incline, I feel as if God is pushing me, guiding me, telling me – take just one more step. You can do this! And so I do. I believe it doesn’t matter how long it takes. All that does matter is I am taking baby steps to my health. I am accomplishing something I’ve always said I would do “One Day,” after the bridge opened in 2005. I see walkers, runners, bikers, strollers, and I’ve seen a few walkers walking dogs (you do realize dogs are not permitted on the bridge – don’t you?) On one morning, a dog left a calling card. I missed stepping on it by just a few baby steps. Honestly, some people love to break the rules, don’t they!

    I suppose you could say I believe in breaking rules – sometimes; however, I am considerate of others. I do not take my dogs on my walk. Accomplishing that bridge walk is something I take extremely seriously. I don’t want interruptions. Now that we have about three to five women walking with us, we all move at our pace. We don’t compete. We encourage, and If one of us gets behind like “slow poke Barbie” a nickname I’ve given myself — we text to make certain all is ok. These women are the greatest! Did I mention one of them is a high school friend from — let’s say — a few years ago in another town? Her name is Melanie. In high school, we were not close friends, and that is all my fault. When I was in high school, the only thing I wanted was to graduate and leave my childhood home. I failed to make close friends, only wanting to get out of Bibb City and the traumas of my youth.

    Now, a different place. A different time. A different woman. I am proud of the woman I have grown into in my adult life. Gone is the wallflower. Gone is the child afraid to speak up. Replaced by someone who speaks her mind, believes in herself and is proud for the small accomplishments I have achieved. Finally, I can smile, look in the mirror and say, “Hey woman…You’ve got this! You is smart. You is determined, and you Is a better person for breaking that mold!” Thank you, God!

    So today, I suppose is a day to reminisce…to ease the gloominess of all of this rain. A day to erase all of the past, or should I say — a day to WASH the past away!

    Glancing out my window again, the rain has stopped. I am confident it will start again. I’ve lost count as to how much rain we’ve had, but I imagine it is close to 15 inches, possibly more.

    I imagine the mosquitoes will be increasing now, along with the disgusting mold, mildew and ragweed. Wouldn’t it be nice IF the ragweed was washed away. I think I’m looking forward to a day where I awaken to the sunshine peeping thru the windows. I am so sick of all of this rain.

    It is time for all of us to smell the flowers…inhale the scent of fresh rain…and to move on with our lives.

  • If It Wasn’t For Weight Watchers….

    If It Wasn’t For Weight Watchers….


    Dearest Readers:

    As you probably know, I am a Weight Watcher. As a ‘weight watcher,’ I lose slowly — EVER SO SLOWLY! I have weekly weigh-ins where I cheer, and I have many weeks at weigh-in where I want to scream…beat myself up…run into a brick wall…or — QUIT! But — I cannot do this. Beating myself up – like I did as a child — is not healthy for me. Getting depressed and quitting – just isn’t who I am now. Years ago, I quit things that challenged me. Now, as an adult — at least I think I am — I like a challenge, and for me, Weight Watchers is a challenge.

    Today, thanks to a beautiful, encouraging friend I am back to a wonderful, intimidating and fun challenge — walking the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge!

    A few years ago, I briefly discussed the bridge:
    To those of you who do not know, “The bicycle and pedestrian lane is 2.7 miles long (14,400 feet), measuring from Patriots Point Road to East Bay Street. Measuring only the part that is on the bridge structure, the walkway is 2.4 miles long (12,750 feet). Most of the bridge is limited to a 4.1% maximum slope. On the Charleston side of the
    main span, the long approach is a 1.8% slope. On the Mount Pleasant side, there is a section three-tenths of a mile long that has a 5.6% slope.” http://www.cooperriverbridge.org/bike.shtml

    When plans for the bridge were in the discussion stages, a high school group got involved, suggesting adding a pedestrian, bicycle lane. I am so happy those plans were included in the bridge plans. Now, the Arthur Ravenel Bridge is one of the favorite spots for active walkers, runners and bicyclists to work out. Speaking only for myself, I find it invigorating just to walk on it. You must remember, I am asthmatic. Exercise, stress, and illness activate my asthma. Today, I forgot to pack my inhaler – in the event I had an attack. On Monday of this week, I had an attack – thanks to my mini-schnauzer, the oldest of our pets. He chose to ignore the command of ‘stay’, darting out to the road. I rushed after him, and he ran faster. The little brat! A police officer drove by, stopping to get Sir Shakespeare Hemingway. On the way to the house, my asthma kicked in, so I must be careful. Nevertheless, I refuse to allow asthma to stop me. As a child, I was told I could not run or play or dance, like the other kids because I had asthma. I listened. Grinned, and danced my way outside. Stubborn? Independent?? Opinionated??? Wanting to do things MY WAY????? You betcha!

    I’ve always believed in breaking the rules. After I had accomplished my first adventure on the Ravenel Bridge, I walked it two to three times weekly. For those of you who have Fitbits, the incline records the steps, floors, miles and active minutes. Today, I paid attention to these records when I got home. I moved on 16 floors today. Walked for 50 active minutes, for a total of 3.66 miles, and I had over 7,000 steps recorded before 10:00 am. Today, I will surpass my goals to walk for 10,000 steps, 30 minutes active. I cannot wait to share this information at Weight Watchers tomorrow.

    When you walk the bridge, you feel like it will be an easy journey. For those who haven’t walked it, or those who are not accustomed to walking, it might be a bit difficult; however, since I am a walker, and I walk the treadmill, today’s journey was not as difficult as it has been. My friend, Melanie did fine too. You must remember, as you begin the journey up the bridge, it continues to incline. Remember – Charleston, SC does not have any mountains, so we in the Lowcountry are accustomed to walking the ‘Lowcountry!’ The bridge has a 4.1% incline. Many people who have walked the bridge say it bothers their legs, but it didn’t for me, and Melanie tolerated it well too. I think she and I will be good walking buddies!

    Now, that I am home, I feel inspired. There is something so special about getting outside to walk. The sun beams down onto your skin. The breeze kisses your face, and the walk gets your entire body moving. Arms are swinging. Legs are moving to the beat. Your heart is beating while the breeze conditions your body to keep moving. I didn’t mention the view, and it is spectacular. You look down to see the view of the Charleston Harbor. Perhaps you see a ship or a cargo ship floating by while the breeze refreshes your face. This is Charleston, SC. A Holy City where we do our best to enjoy this life we are given. God has given us a beautiful, historical city to enjoy the lifestyle we so enjoy and new friendships to cherish.

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  • Let Us All Stand Tall To Become — CHARLESTON STRONG!

    Let Us All Stand Tall To Become — CHARLESTON STRONG!


    Dearest Readers:

    Today, Thursday, June 25, 2015, is a somber day in the Holy City of Charleston, SC. The first of nine funerals of the innocent victims murdered by the hands of a heartless 21-year-old monster I shall not name — begin today. We in the community know his name. The global world knows his name. He’s received too much ‘15 minutes of fame’ and I cringe whenever I think of him and his skittish, sinister demeanor. The dirty blonde, bowl cut haircut. Looking at his eyes in the images published on TV, he looks – as they say in the South – “so full of the devil.” I actually expected to see horns on his head.

    When I was a little girl my Grammy spoke about the church. How she always felt as if she was in the hands of the Lord whenever she went to church. She felt safe, telling me if I got scared, I would always feel safe and be safe inside a church. I believed my Grammy. What happened on Wednesday, June 17, 2015, inside Mother Emanuel AME Church located on Calhoun Street, in the Holy City of Charleston, SC is truly shocking. Murders during Bible Study??? When I heard about the nine shootings I could not believe it. No one shoots and kills people inside a church in the Holy City of Charleston, I thought. This cannot be true. My mind rushed back to 9-11. My body shivered just thinking about these tragedies. The hatred. Racism. Why are some people filled with such hatred?

    According to the Post and Courier, http://www.postandcourier.com/article/20150618/PC16/150619404

    “The nine people fatally shot at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church:
    Reverend Clementa Pinckney, 41, the primary pastor who also served as a state senator.

    Cynthia Hurd, 54, St. Andrews regional branch manager for the Charleston County Public Library system.
    Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, 45, a church pastor, speech therapist and coach of the girls’ track and field team at Goose Creek High School.

    Tywanza Sanders, 26, who had a degree in business administration from Allen University, where Pinckney also attended.

    Ethel Lance, 70, a retired Gailliard Center employee who has worked recently as a church janitor.

    Susie Jackson, 87, Lance’s cousin who was a longtime church member.

    DePayne Middleton-Doctor, 49, a retired director of the local Community Development Block Grant Program who joined the church in March as a pastor.

    Myra Thompson, 59, a pastor at the church.

    Daniel Simmons Sr., 74, a pastor, who died in a hospital operating room.”

    Reportedly, Tywanza Sanders gave his life while struggling to protect his mother, Felicia Sanders, along with Susie Jackson, his aunt. He spoke his last words to the shooter. Sanders and Jackson survived the shootings along with a five-year-old girl. After this period of grief, I plan to write more stories about this tragedy, but for now, it is too close to home. No, I did not have the pleasure of knowing these people; nevertheless, I feel we lost some amazing people.

    My husband and I moved to Charleston in late 1974. I worked in a retail store where bigotry was spoken almost daily. I hoped that when we moved away from the State of Georgia, I would find a different atmosphere here in the Holy City. I did not.

    I imagine all of the United States of America experience racism. Growing up in a textile mill village, I lived with racism and when I heard others say the “N” word, I corrected them telling them that God don’t love ugly and that is an ugly word of hatred. I refused to allow the color of skin to influence me. I see the good in most people, and when I see others being cruel, I am the first to chime in that “God don’t love ugly.”

    After the Emanuel Nine shootings, I’ve seen a different personality within the Holy City. People are actually speaking, exemplifying that Southern hospitality that we in Charleston are so proud to demonstrate — MOST of the time. Seeing their reactions to tourists and strangers makes me proud, although I do question why it takes a tragedy to bring out the best in people.

    Now, the hot issue is that flag hanging at the South Carolina State House. Personally, I think it is past the time to move that flag, place it in a museum and MOVE FORWARD into the 21st Century. For years, I have said that South Carolina is still stuck in the 1800’s and the issues about this flag and racism prove my point. I have friends, perhaps now – acquaintances – telling me I am crazy and should be proud of my Southern heritage.

    “Maybe I am proud to be a steel magnolia from the South, but Proud of racism? I think not.” And that is when I walk away, telling them this conversation is over. After all, I am an opinionated woman and if my husband and friends cannot change my opinions and my beliefs, why should others try? I am not proud of the hatred many people in our country practice. I am working to remove the four-letter word “hate” from my vocabulary. There is far too much hatred within this world for me to say Hate. In high school, we learned about racism and civil rights. I disagreed with every aspect of criticizing or hating those who were a different color and when I expressed that a lot of us probably had different colors of blood running inside our veins and within our heritage, classmates looked at me with disapproval. My belief is simple – God loves all of us, regardless of the colors of our skin.

    Hatred and gun control – that is what we need to work on. Almost every day there is a shooting in the Holy City of Charleston, SC. Isn’t it time that we all embraced – moved forward – and stopped allowing a flag, a gun, or our upbringing to teach us all about hatred? Isn’t it time we stood up to be “Charleston Strong?”