Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Category: Free Writing

  • In Memory of a Friend…


    Today is Monday, another beautiful day of life to enjoy and make the most of our day. After I awaken, let the pups out and pour a cup of coffee, I hop on the computer, to hear the latest news in the world, then I click on Facebook.

    Reading a few posts on Facebook, I am shocked, stunned, broken-hearted. Why? I have lost another friend – a friend I knew in high school. A woman who always spoke to me in school. A woman I reconnected with at the high school reunion held in April 2013.

    Becki Vinson Matthews looked beautiful at the reunion. Life and age had been good to her. I recognized her on the spot. Others, well, I didn’t recognize so easily. At the Friday night function in Uptown Columbus, we rushed outside to ‘dance in the street.’ The band was too great to ignore inside a bar atmosphere. Additional classmates — mostly girls — joined us as we danced, and danced, and danced. We chatted a bit and I listened to her chatting away about life, and grandchildren. On Facebook, we read posts and made comments after the reunion.

    I was truly shocked to read that she is now an angel in Heaven, no longer with us. I confess, at the reunion, as I looked at the Memory Wall, recognizing most of the 60 classmates now deceased, the curiosity of a writer danced in my mind…curious as to who would be the next high school photograph to add to the memory wall.

    It is unfortunate that our generation has reached a time in our lives where death will occur more frequently. Still, there are so many illnesses and deaths that will attack our bodies. Apparently, Becki died from a massive heart attack. Someone wrote that she was having chest pains before the heart attack. At our class reunion, she looked like the picture of health. Dancing. Smiling. Laughing. Catching up with each of our lives. She was a member of the “Sister Chicks” a group of high school friends still connecting, dancing and sharing life together. She and a few others wanted me to become a ‘sister chick.’

    I am still in shock that she is gone and I am happy that we purchased a memory book from the reunion. Hopefully, when the day arrives and I receive my copy in the mail, Becki will be the first person I look for. She was so kind to me, telling me at the reunion that “I had no idea you could sing so well, Barbie!”

    I laughed. “Yes, I suppose my secret is out now, isn’t it!”

    Before we left the reunion I hugged Becki, thanking her for her warmth and thoughtfulness. Never did I realize that would be our last hug together.

    Rest in peace, Becki with that contagious smile on your beautiful face and warmth surrounding you. Our classmates will miss you terribly.

    To those of my class who are reading this, and to all of my readers, I would like to share a bit of advice. Heart disease is on the rise in America. Please visit the website, http://www.heart.org/HEARTORG/GettingHealthy/Diet-and-Lifestyle-Recommendations_UCM_305855_Article.jsp
    to learn more about the guidelines for a heart healthy life. We are told to eat healthy, move and exercise regularly and to get a physical yearly. At my last physical, my doctor ordered an electrocardiogram. http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/health-topics/topics/ekg/

    I am happy to report mine was — as my doctor expressed, “Perfect.” I was so pleased since my husband had a quadruple heart bypass in early 1998. I am constantly nagging him to exercise more and to watch what he eats carefully. He ignores me. Please, if you are reading this, make a pledge to yourself to take care of yourself, and please understand, Becki looked like the picture of health in April. Slim. Trim. Active. Energetic. We never know when something might occur to take our health away, but I am a true believer in living life to the fullest every day. And, when tomorrow comes, we must do what we can to protect our health. We hear of people dying quickly from heart attacks and many of those people did not know their heart was about to stop. Becki complained of chest pains before her death. Please, let us all make a pact today that if we have any of the symptoms of heart disease, or if we simply do not feel well, let us get to the doctor or hospital, to make certain we are well.

    Symptoms of a heart attack:
    Chest pains
    Upper body discomfort in one or both arms, the back, neck, jaw, or stomach,
    Shortness of breath
    Nausea
    A feeling of lightheadedness or fainting
    Cold sweat
    http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health//dci/pods/trans_heartatt.html
    Call 911 to get immediate treatment, please.

    In memory of Becki Vinson Matthews – a classmate, mother, wife, grandmother, sister chick and a dear friend. Rest in peace, beautiful Becki. We will miss you!

  • Class Reunions


    CLASS REUNIONS – Budding from a Wallflower to a Rose

    Have you ever been to a class reunion and questioned why you bothered to come? Last month, my husband and I returned to my birth town, attending my class reunion. Previously, we’ve attended, only to watch class mates have a good time laughing, dancing, reminiscing while Phil and I sat at the table. Phil could not relate to my history in high school. He did not know me during that time, and perhaps that was a good thing. In high school, I was a wallflower…it didn’t help matters that during four years of high school, I enrolled in six high schools. My family moved lots…then my parents divorced and ever so quickly my mother moved us to our maternal grandparent’s home in Bibb City, the mill village located in Columbus, Georgia. I hated it there…I was rebellious and wanted to get away, but where could I go? I was fifteen-years-old, with a domineering mother who refused to listen to any of my wants or desires. Regretfully, I enrolled in high school with a new determination to graduate and move away from Bibb City. I got involved with the drama club, chorus and other clubs, but in class, I kept to myself.
    I had big dreams. My most passionate dream was to move away from Bibb City and become a singer. In high school, I never shared my dreams with anyone. I remained a wallflower…keeping all of my dreams inside my brain.
    The class reunions I’ve attended in Columbus were boring, at least for me. Those were the days when my husband dictated my actions. I felt as if he was more of a father to me than a husband…always controlling, dictating and disapproving of me. Many years later, I stood up to him during a fight, letting him know that his days of ruling me were over. After that fight, I slowly developed from a wallflower into a bright, colorful rose, and now, with my newfound courage, no one was going to stop me from doing what I wanted to do!
    Many of the pictures I saw of myself from previous reunions revealed my boring actions…sitting at the table…wanting to dance, but too afraid my husband would get angry at me, if I bothered to dance and, as he stated, “make a scene.” This year, the class reunion would be different!
    Like all long-term married couples, we’ve battled many difficulties in our marriage. Phil has a jealous streak, and whenever I ‘make a scene’ by getting noticed, or ‘taking over a room,’ let’s just say, he isn’t fun to be around…but the years have passed and I finally told him if he didn’t want to dance, or let me be the person I am today, well…he could stay home. I intended to have some fun. The class reunion this year truly was the best.
    Arriving at the reunion, I wore a black and gold evening gown and a gold jacket. I was scheduled to sing, so I wanted to look my best. The dress code was ‘business casual,’ but I wanted to knock everyone’s socks off so they would remember me. I was tired of hearing, “No, I don’t remember you…but it’s nice seeing you again.” Oh please…let’s don’t be pretentious. My response to all of these classmates was, “You might not remember me from high school, but after tonight…you will remember me…You just wait!”
    A few months before the reunion a classmate and I discussed the reunion. She heard me sing at a show when she came to Charleston, so she met with the reunion committee, encouraging them to add me to the ‘talent’ list.
    My husband is not a dancer, and I love to dance. I have no idea how we fell in love, because we are from different worlds. I love to dance and sing. He’d rather watch a movie. I love to read. He’d rather watch a movie. I love to…well, you probably get the picture. We have little in common! As the band started to play music from the appropriate time of our graduation, I noticed several women going to the dance floor, without partners. I jumped up, ready to dance – with the girls. Before I realized it, I was dancing every dance…all of us girls lined up, dancing the Electric Slide, and other fast tunes. After all, in high school, isn’t that what girls do? We don’t care if the guys don’t dance. They can sit on the sidelines and be bored!
    The talent show for the reunion was scheduled between band breaks. I’m pleased to say, I sang four songs at the class reunion. Only scheduled for two, but when other classmates heard me sing, they wanted more. Not willing to disappoint them, my husband queue up the music and I sang. At first, while standing on the stage, my legs felt like spaghetti. My heart fluttered. Emotions from my shattered childhood were rising to the surface. I inhaled. Exhaled. The memories locked away, I focused. Accustomed to singing on stage, I told myself to concentrate…”You can do this,” I repeated, as I belted out “At Last;” “Georgia On My Mind;” “Sweet Nothings;” and “I Who Have Nothing.”
    My husband said the crowd roared with delight with each song, but I could not hear them. As a true and professional singer, I was focused on the voice, my movements, the notes and stage presence. I do know the classmates appeared to enjoy my performance. For me, it was so rewarding to sing to them, to realize that bad memories from a shattered childhood were finally leading me to become the woman I am today. My class reunion helped me to bury the past and to realize that one can go home again and enjoy the visit.
    No doubt I will return for the next reunion. After all, these people were classmates…we were bonded with memories from the developing years of high school, stepping into the future of the life we dreamed of, some lived it, some passed away, and those of us who are left must cling to each other so we can reminisce and rebuild our relationships – together – as classmates!

  • Happy Mother’s Day


    Today, I awaken to the sounds of motherhood. My children are in the bed with me, rolling over, wanting attention and a bit of motherly love. Hank groans. Sandy Bear jumps off the bed with a solid thump as his four legs hit the carpeting. Shakespeare lies next to me on his pillow, rolling over, kicking his four legs in unison. I moan realizing morning has begun in this household filled with four-legged children demanding my attention.

    Years ago, I was the mother to my son, and I am still the mother to him, although he is married now, with a precious child of his own. I am proud of my son and miss him in my life. He is busy with work, a career that demands his attention and his wife and family. Rarely do I see him, but that doesn’t stop the fact that I am his mother.

    Motherhood is more than ‘birthing a child.’ It is a special time to care for the child and to teach the child the values, love and nourishment that all children need to grow up to be responsible, respected adults. I was an extremely young mother, giving birth to my child when I was only twenty-years-old. While I learned the ropes of successful motherhood, I recognized I wasn’t trained or ready to become a mother, and so my precious son taught me by his actions. Together we learned the definition of family and I am proud to be his mother.

    To all of the mothers reading this, I would like to say, motherhood doesn’t come with a training manual. While we teach our children to speak, walk and to flutter their wings as we watch them growing up, we are constantly learning from them. When a child has its first ‘boo-boo’ we wipe their tears, while perhaps wiping a tear from our face. I recall a tear slipping down my face when my son went to kindergarten. In first grade, I became a volunteer at his school, only to be told that he wished I would not be at school so much. Perhaps I had raised him to be a bit too independent, so I backed away, recognizing that my son was growing up. While he still needed a mother, he also needed his independence. I did not wish to be a helicopter mom.

    Every year at Mother’s Day, I think of my mother, wishing we could’ve become the mother daughter I always wanted. Let’s just say, my mother had issues. She never wanted her children to grow up, so she smothered us with control and manipulations. I broke away at an early age, fighting with every breath to have an independent life. Later in her life, when she was ill, I lived eight hours away from her. When she was moved from my youngest sister’s apartment to a care facility, I kept in touch daily with the nurses. I sent care packages to her, and when she could speak I spoke with her.

    I lost my mother on September 11, 2002, and still I do not know the reasons for her death. She was recuperating from a stroke. According to the nurses ‘she was improving.’ I requested them to keep me informed. After her death, no one let me know of her passing until sixteen hours later. My youngest sister’s son phoned me to share the news. The last question he shared with me while on the phone was, “Aunt Barbie, do you think they’ll do an autopsy?”

    Strange. I didn’t comprehend all that he was saying at the time.

    I was on Prednisone and my brain simply was not processing these words. I was home at the time battling an acute attack of severe bronchitis. Her funeral was set for the next morning. I was too sick to drive and my husband was in Italy at the time, so I missed her funeral. Nevertheless, I am at peace with her passing, knowing that I did all that I could to let her know that I had buried our torrential past and was there for her.

    Today, on Mother’s Day, I think of her, wishing her well. I hope she found peace before her death and I do hope she knew that I did love her. Regardless of our history together, I fully believe that not all women should become mothers. My mother was one of them who shouldn’t have, but I cannot look back wishing to change things that were out of my control. All I can do is to thank my mother for giving me life. I hope and pray that deep inside her heart she found a small way to be proud of me. Happy Mother’s Day, and may your Mother’s Day be enriched with the love of your family.

  • Happy Easter


    Sunday, March 31, 2013

    Dearest Readers:

    Today is Easter, so as the tradition goes, I would like to wish all of you a most Happy Easter. The religious holiday of Easter is early this year. Normally, I look for it after the warm spring holidays begin. For this year, in the Holy City of Charleston, SC, we haven’t had many warm days this month. Most days, the mornings were chilly where you needed to wear a sweater or jacket in the mornings, and sometimes, throughout the day. Our spring fling hasn’t begun. This morning, I awaken to 61 degrees outside. Hello Spring Time! Pouring a fresh cup of coffee, just to awaken, I saw the morning sunshine in the midst of dark clouds. The weather forecast for today is rain, and now, as I look outside my windows while writing this, I see only gray clouds, darkness, and I believe I hear raindrops. But it’s Easter, you say…the day for me to wear my Easter bonnet and “Sunday best” just for Easter….

    Easter is the Christian celebration of the resurrection of Christ. Christians believe (and I am definitely a Christian) that Jesus was crucified for our sins. Burying his body in a large cave, a boulder blocked the entrance. According to traditional stories in the Bible, and beyond, on Sunday the entrance to Jesus’ gravesite was open and “Jesus has risen!” was discovered by a few women, including the Virgin Mary.

    As a child, I was taught to celebrate Easter, like most children are taught. Living in a mill village for many of those years, my family did not have the money to splurge on Easter bonnets, frilly dresses, and pumps and Easter baskets. Our grandparents catered to the four girls in my family by buying us these pretty items. So, on Easter Sunday, I made certain I was dressed to impress in my Easter dress. I’ve always enjoyed dressing lacy and glitzy, so Easter Sunday was a day I wore my new dress until the evening. Colorful bows, matching my outfit were worn in my hair. I wanted to shine! Easter Sunday, my family went to church and if my memory is correct, we celebrated an Easter feast at the fellowship hall of Beallwood Assembly of God Church. After we ate, the Easter Egg Hunt began. I did not wish to get myself dirty, so instead of looking for Easter eggs, I spent time with the boys. Imagine that!

    Today, I will have a quiet Easter with my husband and neighbors. Since 2010, there has been a new tradition in our neighborhood with one of our greatest neighbors inviting us to an Easter feast with the neighbors. I look forward to seeing all of them again, enjoying a quiet, relaxing Easter day celebration, while remembering why the world celebrates Easter.

    To all of you reading this, I hope your Easter is filled with the traditions of the season – the belief in Christianity, the Resurrection of Christ, the symbolism of life and death and the passing into a new divine life. As for traditions, may you enjoy the traditions you practice with your family and friends. May you feast on lamb, baked ham, and all the delicious foods of Easter. May your children find the Easter eggs while enjoying all the goodies the Easter bunny gave them. Still, I reflect on the Easter holidays I celebrated with my grandparents and the traditions they instilled upon us, their bratty, spoiled granddaughters. My grandmother truly believed in spoiling us, while teaching us about religion and the power of faith. Grammy taught me wisely, as I watched her actions. My belief in the power of prayer is a credit to her and watching her bowing at her knees, while looking up into the sky as she folded her hands and prayed for God to help her with the burdens in her life. Sometimes, I listened to her praying, hiding behind a curtain so she could not see, or hear me. Once, she caught me. When she asked why I was hiding I looked up at her, tears dripping down my face.

    “Grammy,” I said…”I was listening to you praying. I wanted to know why you are so sad and praying all the time.”

    “I have a burden. God listens to it. He will help me with the burdens I have.”

    Now older and wiser, I understand a bit about her burdens. Our family life was not a happy time. Now, as I look back, I feel blessed that I had such a significant role model within the hands, faith and body of my precious grandmother. She instilled in me the power of prayer, and the belief that God is always listening to us, hearing our burdens, while at times, He may test us, just to see IF we still believe.

    On Easter Sunday 2013, I will say, I still believe. I have faith. I have strength. During my lifetime, God has guided me during times of trouble, and during times of sheer faith. I hope your Easter Sunday will be blessed. Please take a moment to look up into the skyline, even if it is laced with gray clouds and raindrops. Look at it this way. The raindrops are washing the blanket of pollen away, along with the cleansing of cobwebs from our minds. Today, Easter Sunday, is the day to believe that there is a new day blooming inside of us. A new chapter, or a new journey in our lives may start today. Have your faith. Dress your finest, share those beautifully decorated Easter eggs with your children and loved ones while knowing Easter Sunday is truly symbolic — a new beginning, on a new horizon! Happy Easter!

  • My Apologies For the New Year and Beyond!


    To those who read my blog on a regular basis, I would like to apologize for being a bit slack during November and December. My goal is to post on a regular basis, especially about subjects that get under my skin, or subjects I find newsworthy.

    Since late October, I have been ill and that is why I haven’t been writing on a regular basis. If you are my readers, I do hope you will choose to return when I post on a regular basis.

    To date, I’m hesitant to say I am getting well. It seems that every time I said that during the three months mentioned, I would only get worse again. I was diagnosed with ‘possible walking pneumonia – perhaps,’ only to get worse after taking the Z-pack. Returning to another doctor, I was diagnosed with ‘extreme congestion –deep in the bronchial tubes.’ According to this doctor I did not have pneumonia — yet! Thank goodness this doctor had the intelligence to request a chest x-ray. After another expensive batch of prescribed medications, I do appear to be improving; nevertheless, I am extremely weak. Walking around downtown Charleston today has left me completely exhausted and normally I can walk without exhaustion.

    So, my faithful readers, I do hope you will continue visiting my blog and as soon as I am able to work with a bit of strength again, I will keep you supplied with newsworthy topics, issues that ‘get under my skin’ and other details, from a writer’s perspective. Meanwhile, I wish you a wonderful, healthy and prosperous New Year, 2013. It is unfortunate that my year has started with such illness. For now, I am moving forward in hopes all in Charleston, SC will stop getting so ill with viruses, the flu and other germs that I certainly do not wish to breathe or catch. I’ve had enough illness to last a while. Let us all toast the new year with health and positive thoughts!

  • Let Us Never Forget 9-11


     

    I’ve always heard if you live long enough, you learn to accept death as a fact of life. I learned to grieve when I was 17, again at 23, over the years I’ve lost close friends, family members, and in 1999, I lost my dad. Till this day, I still live with grief, as I’m certain the victims families of 9-11 have learned to grieve, come to terms with it, and to move on from the grief.

    After playing with my dogs, the phone rang. I rushed to answer it.

    “Are you watching the news?” My husband asked.

    “No. Not today…it’s always about politics and so much B-S, I decided I didn’t want to listen to the latest political games today.”

    “Turn it on,” he warned. “A plane crashed into the World Trade Center.”

    “How can that happen?”

    Little did I know I would quickly figure it out for myself. I turned the TV on MSNBC, listening to the latest news as it developed. We didn’t have Tweets, or Facebook, or if we had social media, I didn’t use it, so I listened while my dogs barked to go outside.

    Moments later, as the TV camera blasted the fires and smoke plumes  in the World Trade Center, I watched another plane rip into the next tower. “Oh, my God…” I screamed. “America is under attack. Someone has proclaimed war on us and we are defenseless.”

    I had no idea how true my thoughts were.

    America lost more than anyone can imagine on 9-11, not only innocent victims of an unexpected, unanticipated attack and war that tore into our hearts and souls. We lost our safety. Not only at the World Trade Center, but the Pentagon was attacked, the White House was scheduled to be attacked, and when Americans overtook one of the planes a field in Pennsylvania became a burial ground for that plane and all of its victims.

    That warm, cozy feeling we once felt when we planned trips, hopped on planes and entered venues that now we must enter with caution. Gone are the days of simply walking into an entertainment venue, an airport, or other buildings without having our handbags searched, our pockets emptied, and occasionally a stranger will search us, so we can enter or enjoy the event. While I do not mind being ‘strip searched’ — at times I do feel annoyed that because of terrorists and the hatred they feel for Americans — we must allow complete strangers to search us and our belongings. We are limited to what we can pack and carry on airplanes, and we are cautious when we see strangers leaving objects alone — even IF for a second. Suspicious characters leave me curious. I suppose I lost a bit of trust after 9-11. I am cautious when I open the door to my home. When I shop alone, I am constantly looking behind me. None of this occurred until after 9-11. When I fly, I have butterflies in my stomach, and I am cautious, constantly looking to observe what is going on. Never do I sleep on a plane. I want to be aware — of everything!

    But — those of you who know me say — you were not a victim. Yes, that is true, but I am an American and it is my duty to do all that I can to keep our world safe.

    Today, at exactly 8:46am, I lit a candle and said a prayer for 9-11 — not today, but the 9-11 that took away our safety and so many lives. Yes, we are still a free nation, but so much of our freedom has been threatened. Today, we are still at war in Afghanistan.  The Endless War is what I refer to it since we have been fighting it for such a long time, and we really do not have a definitive date as to when this war will end, or if. We have lost too many of our soldiers, and we will continue to lose more. I can’t help but ask — are we better for this war? The only accomplishment I have seen is Osama bin Laden is no longer alive, thanks to our military achieving this mission.

    Today, I give thanks that America is still free. The cost for freedom has been astronomical — in dollars, life, livelihoods, trust and safety. Today, I say thank you to our military, our firefighters, police and medical personnel, and all of our public citizens who work so hard to keep America free, safe and alive.

    May we never, EVER, forget 9-11-01. Yes, we have moved forward, to build better, stronger buildings, a way to express to those who want to destroy us that America is a Nation that will not crumble. While those terrorists destroyed the buildings, destroyed so many lives, and took so much from all of us, I still see an image in my mind that I shall never forget. Almost daily, I see a man carrying a gigantic cross with his body along the streets of Mt. Pleasant, North Charleston, and other suburbs of the beautiful City of Charleston, SC. He reminds me of the many images I’ve seen of Jesus hanging on the cross. Another image inside my mind was an image of 9-11 as I drove to the West Ashley section of Charleston to attend a writers group meeting. There on Highway 17 a young boy stood parading a gigantic United States Flag. He sang the National Anthem and he walked with pride. Perhaps our nation was wounded, but we were going to survive. That is one dynamic fact about Americans…perhaps we get just a bit consumed with our daily lives…and maybe there are times we are skeptical to reach out to others, but when there is a crisis — regardless what it is — a death, a tornado, a hurricane, or an attack on America — we gather together to stand tall! After all, we are the United States of America. 9-11 changed us in many ways for the better. A wake up call to teach us to appreciate life, and that life is short, we have learned to appreciate the little things in life. Sometimes it takes a tragedy to snap us back into attention, but when we do — we rise to the occasion — for the Better!

    We will not forget 9-11 — EVER! May God keep us safe, and may we appreciate how special and short our lives are. We must live for the moment, giving thanks that we have lived a life of enrichment for our nation. Let us never forget 9-11.

     

     

  • Aloha — Honolulu Hawaii is the Greatest!


    Freewriting briefly today while reminiscing about my sudden, unexpected trip to Honolulu, Hawaii. I am in awe about the trip…it was so like a pleasant, colorful dream…only, I do not dream.

    I will publish several stories about Hawaii later, after I rest and edit the 500+ photographs I took. Some of the stories I will discuss are:

    • Flying — getting to know the person sitting next to you
    • Budgeting while enjoying the beauty of Honolulu, Hawaii
    • So, you’re traveling to Hawaii – just how much will it cost?

    I will have additional story materials to add, but for now, I am still, so exhausted, I must enjoy my morning cup of coffee…even when it is 11am on the East Coast. No doubt, I still have jet lag. Never do I sleep past 7am at home, until now. Last night, I could not sleep. I kept reminiscing about our trip to Hawaii and how much I love the islands. So beautiful. So peaceful. So friendly. So amazing! How I hated to board the plan to return to reality, but like all things in life, this amazing trip had to end, taking me back to the reality of deadlines, caring for my animals, budgeting, paying bills, housework, cooking, cleaning, the mountain of laundry waiting patiently to be washed, and all the demands of our daily lives. No wonder I wanted to escape!

    For now, I will simply say, stay tuned for additional stories. Today, I will tackle the laundry, while remembering my escape to Honolulu…to do the hula…to learn how to make a lei…to dream…to watch the surfers…to be catered to, and to hear the sweet words of “Aloha,” and “Mahalo,” everywhere I go. Now, back in the South, I want to remember this vacation, while I’m curious about the differences in our cultures, and there are many differences! Hospitality is terrific in Honolulu. Only once did I hear the colorful words I hear almost every day here in Charleston. Of course, I did hear a variety of languages, and perhaps the colorful language was something I could not understand. Regardless, I say, “Aloha,” and stay tuned! “Mahalo!”

  • Here We Go Again—Only a Test!


    Why is it my blog simply refuses to share my posts so my reading public may read my posts?

    Am I that illiterate? Didn’t think so, but there are times computers really annoy me — to the highest!  So, here we go AGAIN  reading public. This is a test, and only a test. Let’s see if I flunk this one! Tests have ALWAYS bitten me, so go ahead — test — bite me once again!

  • Tis the Season…


    November 13, 2011 — Tis the season as Father Time clicks the minutes and hours of 2011 away. This is a season to be thankful for all that we have in life, our accomplishments, and mostly a season to be thankful for those who have come into our lives. I fully believe people come into our lives for a reason, a season, and a purpose. 2011 has been a great year for me with our friends, and there has been great sadness when I lost two friends.

    It is my wish that everyone in the USA will take a moment to say thank you to all of our friends and family, and a gigantic thank you for our service members — both men and women. Without your dedication and courage to fight for freedom, America would be a lost cause.

    Thanksgiving is approaching. To my family and friends I say, thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for the friendship and love we share. During times of trouble and sadness, thank you for holding my hand, for casting a smile, and for the silly jokes, songs, and fun times that we share with such great laughter and affection. Friends truly mean the world to me. Without all of you in my life, I would not be the woman I am in 2011. Happy Thanksgiving to all! Tis the season for turkey and all the Thanksgiving goodies. Thanks for entering and sharing my life.

  • Sorry For the Delay – All Related to Sleeping in Contacts!


    Yes, I know, it’s been a few weeks since I’ve posted anything on my blog. I do apologize. The past few weeks have been a bit difficult for me, especially with an unexpected eye problem.

    Allow me to explain. About two weeks ago, I awoke with my right eye out of focus. I excused it by saying I was a bit sleepy still. I rubbed my eyes, removed my contact in the right eye, thinking I needed to clean it. After all, I hadn’t removed it since Saturday night. I’ve worn contacts for years, always wearing the soft, disposable type that you could sleep in. DON’T DO IT!!!

    After rinsing the contact, I popped it back into my eye. Still unable to focus, I turned my computer on. Fortunately, I know the keyboard well. A writer simply must know how to allow her fingers to dance along the keyboard to type. My keyboard is the ergonomic type. After my computer awoke, I pulled e-mail, unable to focus my eye. What is going on?

    I reached for my reading glasses. All I saw was fog. I phoned my eye doctor and made an appointment for Friday. When that morning arrived, I could see a bit, only to have my eye unfocus periodically. The eye doctor confirmed I was having difficulty when I could not read the eye charts.  Oh dear, I thought. What is going on?

    My  eye doctor has the personality of a cow, at least on this date. He admitted that he was ‘dumbfounded’ regarding my right eye. My left eye was the weak one, but on this date it was 20/20. He referred me to a specialist, giving me a piece of paper that I simply could not read. Before you panic wondering if I drove to the eye doctor, the answer is yes. Distance doesn’t bother me. I could even read license plates, but up close — I could see you, just could not focus or read a simple piece of paper.

    Such dreadful news for a writer! On Monday, a holiday, the specialist phoned to book the appointment for ten days. Ten days I said. Please find me an earlier appointment. I’ll take anything you have this week!

    To make a long story short, I saw the eye surgeon on Wednesday. My eye is fine. On that date, I could read and see the eye chart! The prognosis — dry eye syndrome from sleeping in contacts!

    But I’ve done this for years, I said. She nodded, taking the time to explain. I removed my contact in my right eye. She recommended that I keep the contact out for seven days. Today is day number six. Since my eye is definitely feeling better, along with the vision significantly improved, I decided to wear the contact today, just to see how my eye would do. I am happy to report, my eye is fine today! The contact is comfortable. The eye doesn’t feel as dry as it was, and it so magnificent to see again without blinking and straining my eye.

    Eye sight is such a blessing, but I was beginning to prepare myself for vision in only one eye, and I planned to do research to prepare myself in the event my vision would not return. To say I was frightened is an understatement. I’ve learned a valuable lesson now. Do not sleep in contacts. Even if, you are too tired to remove them. Simply make removing the contacts and soaking them for the night night time a part of your nightly beauty routine. I certainly will. Lessons learned — almost the hard way!