Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Category: Uncategorized

  • Welcome to Bibb City / Columbus, Georgia


    Chattahoochee Child
    Barbie Perkins-Cooper
    Copyright April, 2013

    Arriving in Columbus, Georgia on Wednesday, April 10, 2013, I struggled not to allow depression to overtake my mood. Exhausted from an eight hour drive, I plopped on to the tiny sofa, attempting to relax. “How can I relax,’ I whispered to myself. ‘This is the city that struggled to destroy me.’

    Phil watched a CSI marathon. I chose to bathe. Remembering those troubled years of my youth, when sadness captivated me, I practiced the art of positive thinking. ‘So much of Columbus has changed. This is a different time, a different setting, and now, my mother is gone. She can’t hurt me now…’

    Exhausted, I went to bed, praying silently that this week all will be fine. ‘It’s a new day,’ I said. ‘A new journey. A new chapter.’

    The next morning, Phil and I drove to Bibb City. Phil touched my hand and face and kissed me on the cheek. “It’ll be OK,” he said. “Today is a new day.”

    I smiled. “Those are the exact words I told myself last night.”

    Driving on the roads leading to Bibb City, I exhaled deeply. Wanting only silence, I turned the radio down. My mind drifted back to my childhood in Bibb City.

    The Village my grandparents called Bibb City is framed by the setting of The Bibb Manufacturing Company, a tall brick building with a clock edged into the masonry work. The tiny brick houses in Anderson Village looked the same, with exception of the clutter on many of the porches and around the small lots. The white houses in Bibb City were now painted a variety of colors. Some of the houses were attractive and well cared for; other homes still looked the same, with exception of junk in the yards and the porches cluttered with boxes and other essentials the residents could not store or put away.

    Serving as the focal point of Bibb City during the textile era in America, the Bill Mill dates back to 1920. The Bibb, as elders called the mill, is located on 38th Street and First Avenue.

    The tranquil, close knit mill community called Bibb City encompasses north from 35th Street to 44th Street, and west from Second Avenue to the Chattahoochee River. The streets are narrow and winding. Mill houses consist of approximately 247 dwellings, located within walking distance of the mill. Most are constructed of wood, painted white, landscaped with magnolia trees, sweet gum trees and other varieties, some laced with Spanish moss.

    Bibb City includes the mill acreage along with a smaller area called Anderson Village. The houses in Anderson Village are brick with interior walls of stucco. According to elders who still live in the Village, Bibb City is one of the best planned mill villages ever built, because of the quality of the residential developments and how they were maintained for mill workers. In the 1960’s the mill chose to sell the homes to mill workers. My grandparents jumped at the chance to own a home.

    The dwelling my grandparents bought was located in the middle of Walnut Street, a solid brick structure, containing two small bedrooms, a living room, one miniature bathroom, and a kitchen. The house was less than 1,000 square feet, total living space. Mill workers were accustomed to living in small settlements. ‘We made do with what the Good Lord provided us,’ according to Papa and Grammy.

    The car approached the monstrous skeleton of the remains of Bibb Manufacturing Company. Staring at the entrance, the mill was vacant of mill workers. What remained now was the front entrance standing alone. The mill closed its doors in 1998, leaving fingerprints and footprints of mill workers. In October 2008, the mill burned to the ground.

    I replayed my grandfather’s words when I was a rebellious teenager desperate to break away from Bibb City.

    Papa said, “You stay here. Marry a mill kid and if you want to work, go to work at the mill. Bibb Mill takes care of its workers. All you have to do in life is marry and have babies.”

    My reply, “Bibb Mill makes you a slave…and I don’t want to live my life here. I don’t want to be a baby machine. I want to sing…”

    Papa laughed, placing a piece of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit gum in his mouth.

    As a child, I was already a feminist!

    I parked the car, grabbed my Nikon digital camera, inhaled…exhaled… My fingers were shaking. Phil remained in the car, downloading software on to his Ipad.

    Clicking my camera, I took several images, recognizing some parts of Bibb City while realizing I had blocked most of the memories away. Gone was the white house where I spent the hot summers with my grandparents. At the site, was an abandoned parking lot. I did not see anyone walking along the sidewalks. Images of mill workers, dressed in Bibb overalls, danced in my mind.

    ‘Bibb City is a ghost town now,’ I whispered. ‘Like the mill, gone are the memories of my youth. I glanced up, wiped a tear while glancing at the Bibb water tower. ‘All that is left are the charred remains of a building where workers strove to make a better life, only to discover the mill controlled and dictated their lives and future. Now, the mill is a ghostly, charred remnant of their hard work. Gone are their footprints and fingerprints.

  • Treatment at Ralph H. Johnson VA Hospital — So Much Improved!


    Thursday, March 15, 2013, my husband and I had dinner with friends at a local Mexican restaurant. This has been a tradition of ours since the early 1990’s, perhaps about 1992 or so. After dinner, my husband became extremely quiet. His face was pale, almost ghostly. I asked him if he was all right. His reply, “I feel sick.”

    Arriving at another restaurant for a bit of Karaoke, my husband rushed to the men’s room. There, he stayed for such a long time I was searching for someone to see if he was OK. Moments later, he walked over to our table, a bit slumped over. I decided it was time to leave, take him home and give him a bit of TLC.

    Since I do not like trash or junk inside my car, I have one of those trash cans in the back floorboard – the type that you can roll up, or toss. My husband grabbed it. Driving home to Mt. Pleasant, sickness overtook Phil again, and again. When we got home, the continuous nausea captured him. “Ok, Phil. You’ve got two choices…One, I drive you to E-R, or I call 911. Which do you choose…it isn’t negotiable.”

    We arrived at E-R at Ralph H. Johnson VA Hospital at about 9:30 or 10pm. The time isn’t the issue…what happened and the treatment is something I truly believe I should report on, since previously I have reported about the ‘lack of care and professionalism at VA hospitals.’

    We checked in to the triage unit. Directing us to the waiting room, I grabbed my cell phone, placed it on quiet mode, anticipating I would have a significant amount of time to delete e-mails.

    “Mr. Cooper…” A nurse arrived.

    They escorted Phil back to E-R. Since it happened so quickly, I turned in the wrong direction, losing sight of my husband.

    Another nice employee stopped me. He probably noticed the lost look on my face. He did not direct me to E-R, like a Wal Mart of K Mart employee would do. This kind, sympathetic gentleman escorted me to E-R and did not leave me until I found my husband. That kind of excellent service was not to be expected. I should’ve gotten his name, but my focus at the time was my husband. He’s a heart patient, with Diabetes, PTSD and other issues, and when he is sick, believe me, nothing pleases him!

    Phil was resting in a bed, or a gurney. Who knows. His face was whiter than the sheets. A nurse was checking his vitals, asking questions and Phil groaned. Another nurse brought him something to throw up in, in the event he had to. Funny…what is it about arriving at a hospital? The nausea escaped him as quickly as it arrived!

    Blood work was ordered, additional questions asked. Vitals checked and since he was a heart patient, an EKG was ordered.  I was still amazed at how quickly the entire staff worked on and with my husband. All the questions, discussions. The EKG was fine…nothing interesting to report related to the heart. I sighed as I watched the E-R crew. I was amazed! Everyone was totally professional, appearing to care about the patients — so unlike my last experience! Dressed in scrubs, with bedside mannerisms that I certainly did not anticipate. When the blood tests arrived, my husband was diagnosed with gastroenteritis, or possible food poisoning. He was dehydrated now, so he was treated with IV’s, and other medications to ease the nausea. The IV would take a while so we knew we would be here for a bit.

    What a difference a new visit to Ralph H. Johnson VA Hospital, Charleston, SC has made. Never did I hear anything negative. The staff joked with each other, but still did their jobs. Truly customer and patient service at its finest. They appeared to be well trained to know what to do, and when and how to work with the patient. Thank you, to all of the staff at E-R, Ralph H. Johnson VA Hospital. You certainly made a long and exhausting night at E-R more than I expected. Your quality of service, on a scale of 1-10, with 10 the best — I’d give it a 10!

    Thank you so much! My husband was discharged about 1:30am. He rested all weekend and is feeling better today — all to the quality of medical service you gave him. I cannot thank you enough!

  • A New, Happy Life for Cletus, Sweet Little Cleet, Cleet…


    Today, our foster Schnauzer/Maltese mix, Cletus, was taken to meet his new parents. Exhausted from spending a late portion of last night and the early morning of today with my husband in E-R, I completely forgot to take a picture of the new, happy family.

    My husband was much too sick to go to work today, suffering from gastroenteritis, either food poisoning, or a severe stomach virus, so I asked him if he felt like helping me find the subdivision since my eye is still weak from the eye virus I’m battling. We must be the perfect couple together now, since we are depending on one another in this respect.

    When we arrived, my husband was asleep in the car. Entering the home of the excited couple, Cletus hugged me tight. He knew something was up, and I suspect he understood the conversations we shared yesterday while bathing him. “You’re going to a new home, Cleet…Cleet. There you’ll have a loving, caring family that will take care of you, and accept you, just like we have.” His docked tail wagged as he looked in my eyes. No doubt, we were communicating!

    Sitting on the couch, I introduced myself, feeling right at home with this loving couple. I placed Cletus down, to run and play with their beautiful and feisty Schnauzer. Cletus ran around for a few minutes, then rushed to me, patting at my legs. He watched their dog running around the room, but not approaching us. I felt comfortable and thankful that God had provided Cletus such a wonderful family with another dog to become his brother and mentor.

    I stayed for a few minutes, chatting and sharing the history of Cletus in our home. “Just give him time,” I advised. “He will come to you and accept you with love, all in time.”

    The adoptive daddy sat down. “Think he’ll let me hold him?”

    I nodded, realizing this would be the perfect time for me to exit. I kissed Sweet Little Cleet, Cleet, on the forehead, and told him I loved him. Fortunately, I did not cry. My tears were shared yesterday while bathing and talking to him. During the five months we shared together, Cletus taught me so much about what fostering an animal is truly about…acceptance…and patience. Most rescue animals have issues they must overcome before they can develop or reveal their true personalities. Cletus was no exception. He arrived with many issues…fears…and he was stubborn and protective of himself – simply because his history was that of a ‘stud’ in a puppy mill. He refused to look me in the eyes, a signal that he did not trust humans. He communicated that he needed time. Mornings started with screams and shouts from grumpy, impatient puppy mill people who only considered the ‘benefits’ of Cletus. The afternoon meal included the food bowl tossed at him. At first, Cletus was hesitant to eat around us. He hovered down, lifted his head to see if we were looking, and if we were, he sniffed the bowl but would not eat. We learned to move away from him after placing his bowl beside him. And when we moved, Cletus ate every bite of food. Cletus taught us that he would not come to us with love until he was ready. We were willing to give him the time. His favorite spot in our home was in the corner of the breakfast room. I placed his doggy bed in that corner, with a blanket.

    There were more issues with Cletus. Watching his personality developing, I fell in love with him, so thankful that occasionally he would sneak into the den, to enjoy family time. This morning, Cletus did not look into my eyes — he stared, locking his eyes with mine. I picked him up, kissed him and told him I loved him. His eyes still stared deeply into mine. Our last communication!

    Cletus will do well with this family, and I am certain that they will love him as much as we did. Once a lonely, lost and frightened little boy, Cletus grew into an amazing animal. A bit stubborn and shy, I truly believe Cletus will become an amazing dog, happy and thankful to find such a wonderful home. This story is shared to let others who might consider adopting a foster to understand exactly what fostering and adopting is for a mistreated animal. Today was a new day for me, and for Cletus. While watching his new daddy cuddling him, I took my cue to exit.

    Cletus was now part of a loving couple who would give him a loving, gentle home…all in time…on his terms. I thanked them for being such wonderful, caring people.

    Now, the next happy chapter starts for Sweet Little Cleet Cleet with my love and the love of an amazing couple willing to give him time, with the guidance of another Schnauzer family.

    Happy Tails for Cletus…Happy Tales for this foster Mom! As for me, I am happy and honored that our household, our silly and loving troop of pups, were able to show Cletus it was AOK to step into another chapter of his life — only this time, this chapter is a happy one, with Cletus as the star!

  • Cletus Has a New Home


    Dearest Readers:

    I am pleased to announce my little foster child, Sweet little, Cleet, Cleet, has a new home. Tomorrow morning I will take him to his new home. He has been such an interesting little character, and he has taught me much about acceptance, trust, gentleness and kindness. After he came into our lives in October, 2012, I felt like such a failure when he refused to come to me…how his eyes quickly glanced away when I touched him, how he jumped away to get away from me when I simply reached to touch him. One week after arriving here, as you will remember, he ran away and was gone for three weeks.

    Since his return, I’ve seen a new Cletus. Still skittish, at first, he stopped playing the game of here we go around the table and chairs again. Instead, he would slide down, allowing me or my husband to pick him up.

    Today is our final day together. Yes, I’ve cried. I’ve grown to love this beautiful, gentle and sweet, little guy, and I do believe, he’s grown to love me, as he showed on one occasion when he jumped up to touch my leg, wanting me closer to him.

    Like all things in life, we have to grow, to accept the things we cannot change. Cletus was my foster child. When he needed someone to accept and love him the most, he came into our lives and our home. Here, he has learned to play with other dogs, and to cuddle up next to Shadow, Shakespeare and Sandy. No doubt all of them have communicated. Perhaps that is why he has responded to me recently.

    Tomorrow, he will have a new home. I am certain he will see that there are humans who will accept and love him, not because he was a stud, or because he was so mistreated….they will love him because he is easy to love. When he came to us, he was frightened. Now, he’s learned to trust.

    I wish his new parents the best. Fortunately, they have a puppy family member at their house. It will be easier for Cletus to adjust with another animal to sniff, play with and communicate with. Animals do communicate. How I’d love to know what my little crew has told Cleet…Cleet. I do believe it’s been positive doggy talks as they shared how we love and spoil each and every member of our Schnauzer and Maltese family.

    Cletus, go with love, knowing only good things are coming your way. Never will you have food thrown at you, ugly words shouted at you, and water splashed in your face to make you move to the next ‘stud puppy’ environment. Your life is changing to a happy life. Go with my love and best wishes for your happiness, Cletus. I wish you more “Happy Tails!”

  • Happy Tails — Little Cleet…Cleet


    Dearest Readers:

    Today I want to share more updates about the progression of our little foster child, our Schnauzer-Maltese mix, Cletus, aka “Little Cleet…Cleet.”

    I am happy to report that slowly, and I do mean ever so slowly, little Cleet, Cleet is learning that some humans are good and worthy of loving. Now that he is in our home, and comfortable, I have watched him growing, and loving us. A few weeks ago, we had a prospective adoptive family for him. Since I am a volunteer for Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas, they requested me to do a home inspection/interview. Cletus absolutely detests having a leash placed on his collar and he fights me every time I attempt one. This date was no different, so I placed him in a step-in halter, leashed. He relaxed and walked a bit. Perhaps Cleet, Cleet is aware of my hesitance and fear of leashing him since we kept him on a leash for a week whenever he went outside after running away from us. Now, he simply refuses to walk with a leash, although the step-in halter worked.

    Arriving at the couple’s home, I encouraged them to walk him on the leash. He was skittish at first, and then, he suddenly darted towards me, and jumped up on my leg, as if to say, “Help me, Mommy.” I was touched.

    Interviewing the couple while Cletus relaxed in the chair, I felt comfortable that all would be well with this couple. They had the tenderness and atmosphere I thought Cleet, Cleet would respond to; however, the next morning, I received a phone call. They decided to withdraw the application and not adopt Cletus.

    For about two days, Cletus responded to me, moving closer to me each time I touched him. Could he know that he was about to be adopted? I suspect he knew something was up, so I reassured him that all was AOK and he would still be with us, for a while. Friends have told me that we should adopt him, but we have so many animals now, I am hesitant; nevertheless, I believe if Cletus could express what he wanted, he would say ‘I have a home…right here…with the boys and this family.’

    With each day I am seeing new changes with Cletus. On one occasion, I was sitting in the den, with the other dogs around my shoulders (resting on the back of the sofa) and at my feet. Hank simply loves to curl around my feet. Perhaps to keep my feet warm? Who knows. Out of the corner of my recovering right eye, I saw Cletus, moving ever so slowly towards me. His head moved to the left, then the right…quickly, he dashed towards a toy and ran back into the breakfast room, with the toy in his mouth. This was a first! Now, Cletus wanted toys. He dropped the toy in his bed, deciding to find another. Carefully, he trotted to the den and the basket of toys. He snooped around, found a colorful rope and trotted back to his bed. I watched him for a few minutes, as he carried three toys to his bed!

    Another bit of encouragement — a few nights ago I placed Cleet, Cleet on my bed. He turned his body in several circles, noticing several pillows on the right side of the bed. Quickly, he jumped on the pillows and flopped down. Shakespeare wasn’t too happy about this, but a few minutes later, the two of them had their heads resting on the other, bonding as doggies do when they are comfortable.

    Resting my eye, I heard a growl, realizing it was Cletus. I patted him and he moved closer. I moved my hand, and when I did, little Cleet, Cleet licked my fingers! Another first! A few minutes later, he was playing with my fingers, gently gnawing at them!

    There are still occasions where little Cleet, Cleet will withdraw and refuse to respond. Last night while resting my eye again, I slipped my hand on him, patting him gently while singing a song to him. “I think you need a new name,” I said. He lifted his head.

    “How about Barney?”

    Cletus ignored me.

    “Well, sweet little Cleet, Cleet…what is a name you will respond to?”

    No response. Sometimes this sweet little bundle of charm can be quite stubborn!

    “How about Barnaby, Cleet…Cleet?”

    Cletus lifted his head, stood up and moved closer to me.

    “Hello little Barnaby.” His body was resting right next to me, as if he was glued to me!

    Perhaps now he has a new name. Many of my friends have said I needed to change his name. My response – not until he tells me the name he wants. At first, we called him Cletus. He gave us funny looks, so we called him Benjamin. He liked it for about a day. Today, I’ve addressed him as Barnaby and each time, he’s looked at me — deep into my eyes — something he’s never done before.

    Could it be that sweet little Cleet, Cleet and I are finally communicating, or could it be that he has observed how independent and somewhat sassy I can be — when something fails to please me? Maybe he’s taking notes from my behavior? Yes, that is just what this household needs, another opinionated, stubborn, feisty and independent family member!

    I suppose that will be another discussion — for another Happy Tail with Sweet Little Cleet…Cleet…the little boy who wants to find his own home, happiness and name.

    Hello, Barnaby!

     

  • Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas Announces a Fund-raising Cookbook


    ImageMarch 1, 2013

    FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

    Contact:

    Barbie Perkins-Cooper, creativepr@bellsouth.net or srccookbook@aol.com

    “Doggone Good Cooking”, Cookbook scheduled for production — filled with delicious dishes for humans and animals alike.

    Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas [SRC] would like to announce the latest fundraiser for our 501(c)(3) non-profit organization – “Doggone Good Cooking”, Recipe Book, filled with 150 recipes and many images and collages of the rescue animals saved by SRC. The first edition cookbooks are on sale now for $20.00, with free shipping included. Profits from the “Doggone Good Cooking” Recipe Book will assist SRC with the vetting, rehabilitation, medical needs and rescuing of animals, including Schnauzers and other rescue animals that need our immediate care and fostering to save their lives.

    Imagine living a life fearful of humans, hungry, wet or tied by a chain to a tree, without water or food, or someone to care. Imagine human hands striking you, or using water hoses, or gardening tools to get you to move to the next area to do your business as a stud. Imagine a hoarding situation where animals are piled high, forgotten. Imagine a stranger or a family member removing you from a loving home, leaving you at a killing shelter. Such is the life of rescue animals no longer wanted by their families. Rescue animals used for breeding, puppy mills and other abusive, neglectful situations.’

    There are many heartbreaking situations that cause Schnauzers and other rescues to be treated in such a manner. When this occurs, Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas, [SRC] steps up to save these precious animals. According to their website, http://www.schnauzerrescueofthecarolinas.org “All of our adoption donations go back into helping with the care for other rescues. We are a group of volunteers within North Carolina, South Carolina, Southern Virginia, Eastern Tennessee, and Northern Georgia whose sole purpose is to rescue and secure loving, permanent homes for displaced Miniature, Standard and Giant Schnauzers. We foster our rescues in a loving family environment and spend many personal hours working with them to ensure that they are ready for a new home in an approved, adoptable family. We rescue because many animals would otherwise die. The average rate of animals killed each year by animal control facilities is 75% of all animals that enter their doors, the other 25% includes dogs and cats that are returned to their owners as well as those that are adopted.” The volunteers for SRC are a group of dedicated, loving members who strive to open their homes and hearts to these precious animals. The goal for SRC is to find adoptable homes for each animal. Fundraising helps to assist with the care, medical treatments and other necessary needs to give each animal a quality of life they deserve. SRC has opened their hearts to other animals, not necessarily of the Schnauzer breed.

    Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas is proud of their latest non-profit project which will provide additional funding to save the lives of abused and neglected rescue dogs. The 150 recipes included will be a great gift idea, including Soups, Salads and Sides, The Main Course, Sweet Treats, and Appetizers, Snacks and Critter Cuisine, ideal for people and pets.

    To purchase your copy of “Doggone Good Cooking”, please make checks in the amount of $20.00 payable to:

    Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas

    2323 Metts Avenue

    Wilmington, NC 28403

       

       

      

     

       

     

       
       

        

    For additional information, or to arrange an interview,

    Contact: Barbie Perkins-Cooper

    creativepr@bellsouth.net or srccookbook@aol.com


                           

     

     

  • WELCOME TO THE OSCARS


    Every year I watch the Oscars…at least, for a bit. I love to see the fashions, the glitz, glamour and bling, bling. Some of the gowns are magnificent. Others? Well, let’s just say, I enjoy fashion and glamour, and I certainly like to make that ‘grand entrance.’ 

    Tonight, I shall watch, hoping The Oscars is not boring – AGAIN. I look forward to seeing Barbra Streisand perform. Isn’t this the first time in over 30 years for her? She is such a class act.

    What else do I wish to see at The Oscars? There are so many great films out and I confess, I’ve only seen a few. As an aspiring screenwriter, I really should see more of them. My budget has convinced me to wait on some until they are available at Netflix, or at Walmart.

    I am pulling for “Zero Dark Thirty,” only because I’ve seen it and thought it was a great movie. I had my doubts about it, but must admit, it kept me on the edge of my seat. The language wasn’t what I expected as I anticipated the ‘four letter words’ and such. I was so thankful for that! I detest movies with the “F” word as a main character! If you haven’t seen “Zero Dark Thirty,” you must add it to your list.

    Oops…I must go and freshen up. The Oscars Red Carpet starts at 7pm tonight, and I simply must freshen up a bit — to admire, dream and wish I could wear one of those amazing designer gowns. Did I mention I’m on a budget. I live in the South and Congress is apparently refusing to decide what to do with the Sequestrian. Just when will those ‘good ole boys’ get their act together and realize the United States needs to work together as a team to boost our economy, but that is another editorial, coming soon!

    Perhaps that is why I enjoy The Oscars. It is a great escape for me to dream about life in tinseltown “Hollywood” and to wish I could live in such luxury.

    Oh well. It’s back to reality, isn’t it!

     

  • Meeting Influential People Who Change Our Lives – A Toast


    “People…People who need people are the luckiest people in the world…” and so goes the song recorded in September, 1964 by Barbra Streisand. That special song influenced me so much as I grew from childhood, recognizing that during my journey to adulthood I would meet  people…perhaps a person…one very special person…

    “With one person – One very special person… A feeling deep in your soul…Says you are half now you’re whole…No more hunger and thirst…But first be a person who needs people
    People, people who need people…are the luckiest people in the world…”

    As a singer, I’ve rehearsed, and rehearsed to sing “People”, coming to the conclusion that no one sings it better than Barbra Streisand. Never have I sang “People” in public, but there are many times the song plays in my mind, especially when I think about the special people who are in my life.

    I met such a person when I was blessed to meet Theresa Brousseau. A tall brunette, warm, inviting and engaging, Theresa Brousseau and I connected immediately during our first conversation. Engaged to one of her sons for a brief while, when I met her, she became my unofficial adopted mom. After our breakup, she kept in touch with me, sharing advice, guiding me along my way. Over the years, Theresa and I became close friends. Every year at Christmas, we exchanged Christmas cards and phone calls. Sometimes our phone conversations were lengthy, sharing bits and pieces of our lives, sharing stories about her son, his marriage, children, divorce and life.

    During this time, I was married and when Theresa phoned, I let my husband know our conversations were not planned exchanges for us but phone conversations of two dear friends. In all reality, Theresa was more of a mother to me than my mother was. Instead of addressing Theresa by her name, she became “Mom Brousseau.”

    After my marriage, I explained to my husband that Mom Brousseau was someone I wanted to keep in touch with; after all, she embraced me with love when she met me and she continued to share her love over the many years of our relationship.

    Every Christmas our phone conversations shared stories of our lives. She was close to all of her grandchildren, and she was active in the Catholic church and the community of Nashua, New Hampshire. She shared stories of cold weather, especially the snow storms of New England. She asked me if I was happy with my life. Did my husband treat me well? How was my relationship with my mother? When she asked the last question, I became silent. Did I dare share my estranged relationship with my mother?

    A few minutes into this conversation, Theresa listened to my tears. “It’s OK, dear. I know your mother was a hard woman to understand.,..”

    “How did you know?”

    “Remember when we met.”

    My mind drifted back to that special Christmas…the Christmas I met my future-in-laws. I remembered the warm, tight hug Theresa gave me and how I laughed saying “I’ve never had a motherly hug like that…It felt good.”

    Life has a way of changing our plans, along with our dreams, but Theresa and I kept our bonding tight. She was an amazing woman.

    Three years ago it suddenly dawned on me that Theresa and I hadn’t spoken in a while. Her phone number was imbedded in my brain, so I dialed the number, only to reach a recording. Surfing on the Internet, I discovered her home was for sale. Although I attempted to locate her, I wasn’t successful until I checked the obituaries. Reading her obituary, I realized she had passed away in a Hospice. How I hope and pray she was not alone at the Hospice.

    Last night, I dreamed about Theresa again. Tears flow down my face as I think about her and how she influenced my life. Hungering for a mother’s love all of my childhood, Theresa was the one woman who reached out, hugged me and showed me in so many ways how much she cared. To say I miss her phone calls, her laughter, her words of “I love you, Dear,” all are an understatement. No, we were not related. I did not marry into her family, but we shared a bonding, a tight connection, from the moment we first spoke on the phone, on the day her son broke up with me, and future phone calls.

    Theresa Brousseau was one of the most influential people to come into my life. For many years, I was blessed to know her. Now that she is gone, I truly miss her. Theresa, aka — Mom Brousseau, I miss you, your laughter, strength, encouragement and love so very much. If children could choose a parent, no doubt I would’ve chosen you. Rest in peace, while knowing you were a very special person in my life.

    “With one person
    One very special person
    A feeling deep in your soul
    Says you are half now you’re whole
    No more hunger and thirst
    But first be a person who needs people
    People, people who need people…are the luckiest people in the world.”

  • Happy Valentine’s Day


    Today, February 14, 2013 is Valentine’s Day. Reportedly, Valentine’s Day began when ‘a French man by the name of Charles, the Duke of Orleans wrote the first Valentine after he was captured during a battle in 1415.’ There are many beliefs about the importance of Valentine’s Day…how the Romans celebrated a festival on February 15…An additional myth is “Valentine’s Day is based on a belief that birds pick their mates on February 14, especially love birds.”  http://www.sunniebunniezz.com/holiday/valenday.htm 

    For me, Valentine’s Day grew to become a special day for love and appreciation after my husband had heart surgery in February, 1998. When the doctor met with me after my husband’s surgery, I jokingly shared that I was surprised he actually found a heart. “Sometimes he appears to be heartless,” I responded, thanking him for letting me know the prognosis.

    My husband’s recovery was short. He simply refused to rest and follow the doctor’s orders. He quit smoking, but he’s gained a significant amount of weight, blaming it on not smoking anymore. The reality is ‘he lives to eat.’

    Since 1998, there has been a new appreciation for us at Valentine’s Day. Today is no exception.

    If you are reading this, why not take an extra moment in time to let your loved ones know that they are a part of your Valentine’s Day…no matter who they are…no matter where they live, or what they believe…take one moment in time to say, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

    Yes, no doubt today you will see lots of red…lots of expensive roses and flowers, cupids, red hearts, candies, love birds, arrows, and all that apply to a Happy Valentine’s Day. Years before his surgery, my husband used excuses for Valentine’s Day. He was ‘too busy,,,he forgot…besides, Valentine’s Day is a day for lovers, not married people…’ and so on. Funny, in 1998, he began taking the time to get me a card for Valentine’s Day. A nice card…something he actually picked out himself. Perhaps he found a new heart  after his heart surgery!

    Regardless who you are, please take a moment today on Valentine’s Day, to let those who are cherished by you, know how much they mean to you.

    A simple “Happy Valentine’s Day” will do!

  • Hello, AT&T UVerse — Are You Listening???


    How am I doing this morning, questions Facebook. Are you certain you want an answer, FB? OK — here goes. Got up early after battling sleep – tired, but ready to check e-mail and surf the net for research purposes. You’ll never guess what I discovered! The wonderful — ever so dependable (NOT) DEPENDABLE — more like Pony Express dependability— UVERSE is not working AGAIN! I did all the diagnostic testing I could do. I phoned the catalog of phone numbers I am collecting — using my IPhone since the ever dependable land line is NOT WORKING AGAIN!

    By the time I connect with a rep, I am touched by her professional mannerism and ability to assist someone who is more like a displeased Julia Sugarbaker than the classy lady I always prefer being. You must understand — this is at least the sixth or seventh time I’ve dealt with these issues in the past week, and that does not include the days of no phone service when I was so sick — during December and early January. During those weeks, my head was a fog of illness and no one wanted to speak with me! Trust me, I am not a nice Steel Magnolia when I’m sick! Just don’t cross my path!

    Since we’ve had so many issues with UVerse, I supposedly have a credit on my UVerse bill, although I haven’t received the bill yet. Shouldn’t I be compensated for my time. Aren’t my skills, frustrations and professionalism worthy? Maybe not. I’m still just a bit P-O’d!

    For now, if someone asked me how I liked the ‘bundling plan’ with AT&T, I would say — RUN don’t walk away, and don’t EVEN consider bundling. Just cancel your landline and be thankful for cell phones!

    If someone asked me how I liked UVerse…I would probably step into the shoes of Julia Sugarbaker and say —

    “How do I like UVerse? You are truly asking me for my opinion of how I like UVerse?”

    “Well…let’s just say, UVerse appears to take a landline to a part of the Universe that has only barbarian lifestyles and not the lifestyle I am accustomed to living in the Twenty-first Century! UVerse appears to not work, more than it works…and when you book an appointment for dispatch to come to your home, while you wait…and Wait…anD WAIT…when you finally call them after waiting for four hours, you are told that “there have been a few problems within the Southeast, and all dispatch was cancelled for today…”

    Not even the courtesy of a phone call? No one had the decency to phone? “Not even an intern? Excuse me, I thought this was the computer era, where computers generate telephone calls to us during intimate hours…during hours where we are sitting with our families having dinner…during additional hours where we are attempting to relax, take a refreshing bath, or during times when we simply want privacy…and now you tell me that no one had the decency to phone my cell phone to let me know that NO ONE is coming to my home today, to repair these issues? My phone is still dead. Thank God I have a cell phone…Do I make myself clear, AT&T?”

    This morning, I was so ready for them, but when the nice, courteous, professional customer service rep spoke, my demeanor changed — immediately. I suppose it is true, and I have practiced this all of my life — “Kill with kindness.”

    AT&T has truly pushed my buttons lately, while I still collect e-mails with instructions of what to do — those e-mails failed to work this morning. Resetting the modem three times before calling failed to work…and I am supposed to be kind?

    And I ask you, UVerse, how is it that when I finally get the right person to speak with, she directs me to ‘reset the modem…’

    My reply, “I’ve done that three times so far. It hasn’t worked.”

    “Let’s try it once more.”

    OK — I place the cell phone down. Disconnect the modem, count to ten, and then to fifteen, reconnect the modem, and the bloody thing decides to work. I check the speaker of my land line…It works.

    OK — so let’s face it. Phones were created by Alexander Graham Bell — a man. Computers were created by a male dominated population, and of course, if you ask “Gore” the Internet was created by him. So, it’s obvious…this type of technology doesn’t like women!

    Who cares, I say — at least the stupid technology is working for now. How Long? Good question…maybe I’ll ask a man to respond, just to see how he will react.

    On second thought –maybe I’ll get a nice cup of coffee, read the local newspaper — The Post and Courier, and look for the typos and grammar imperfections! Now, that’s an idea!