Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Living Life in the Country As A Writer, Photographer


Dearest Readers:

Brace Yourselves, Readers. Yes. I admit it. Barbie Perkins-Cooper is stepping gently on her soap box once again, only this time with compassion, heartache and opinions that all of my regular readers {and those who know me personally} have been curious as to WHEN I would write about the subject at hand. It is true. I’ve been described as “an intense woman…opinionated and head-strong.” Yes, indeed, that is me — only Julia Sugarbaker style! Not a Southern Belle!

I’ve been quiet for a bit too long now due to the circumstances and issues steaming within our country, The United States of America. First, we have the quarantine with the Corona Virus, Covid-19. Now, after staying inside for much too long, tempers are flaring. People are angry. Angrier than I’ve seen them in a long time! Anger brews hatred.

After Memorial Day, 2020, I watched the video of George Floyd of Minnesota and the four police officers. I’m certain you’ve seen it too. Reportedly, the police officer placed his knee on Floyd’s neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. Are we certain? Are there videos of the situation during the entire conflict? I saw one video where Floyd was handcuffed – hands behind his back like police officers do during the arresting process. I ask all of you — just WHEN did Mr. Floyd end up on the ground? Were his hands still handcuffed? I don’t believe I’ve seen any video indicating that while the police officer was holding his neck down with his knee Floyd was still handcuffed? When did he hit the ground?

Another question I have is this — why didn’t the three white police officers with the other officer stop this process? They had to know placing a knee on someone’s neck could result in severe injuries, choking or death. I don’t need a medical degree to have common sense.

Here’s another question I have. Yes, I’m full of them and ready to share a few. I will go on record again at this moment to say I am not a racist. Yes, I grew up in the Deep South of Georgia, but I have not, nor shall I ever be – racist.

To those who were recording the videos, I thank you; nevertheless, I cannot understand why someone didn’t approach one of the police officers to ask them not to hurt him, but to arrest him! Believe me, had I been there in Minneapolis, I would’ve walked over to the police officers and ask them to please stop. He’s handcuffed. What harm can he do now?

As a young girl, I lived in a mill village. One Saturday morning while I shopped with my grandmother, I saw two water fountains. One had a sign reading Colored People.

I walked over to it. My grammy called me to come back but I was curious! I wanted to know if the water fountains were different and if it was a colored fountain, why was it the same color as the other one?

Grammy placed her finger on her lips. She whispered, “Sh-hh, child. That’s for colored people. They’re not the same as us.”

“But the woman who cleans the homes in the village is black,” I said. I do not recall ever saying “colored.”

I shook my head. “No, Grammy. God loves all of us. We learn that in church.”

Grammy reached for my hand, turning me away.

I admired Rosa Parks, and Dr. Martin Luther King. I listened to his speech, “I HAVE A DREAM,” and cried. When Rosa Parks refused to give up her front seat on the bus, I applauded her. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t sit next to me if I met her!

To clarify, I’ve seen racism all of my life, and I’ve stood up to say something, even when I was a little girl. When rumors filled a high school declaring no colored people could attend high school there, I ask why. They deserve and need an education too!

My mother described me as a “trouble maker, too curious for your own good.”

My father said I was “quite the chatty child. She loves to be the center of attention and she’s always asking why!” Humph! Even as a toddler I liked to be remembered!

My husband says “I step into other people’s business and I should keep my opinions to myself.”

I laugh. I proudly say — Isn’t this the United States of America?

Mr. Floyd had a criminal record, serving time for pulling a weapon on a pregnant woman when he and other guys with him broke into her home. There were other police records too, including drugs, etc. He was not the martyr the recent riots and political movements are making him out to be. No one is perfect! We’ve had protests/riots here in Charleston. Downtown Charleston was attacked like a warzone — knocking windows out. Breaking into the Apple Store, restaurants, grocery stores and more looting. The anger and hatred was horrifying for a city known as the Holy City. I believe the protests are peaceful now, protesters chanting: “Say his name…George Floyd…Black Lives Matter, Silence is Violence,” over and over again while they walk along the pedestrian sidewalk of Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge, downtown Charleston, North Charleston and other suburbs.

Some of the chanting and demands include the abolishment of the police departments. I pray that WE, THE CITIZENS OF AMERICA, truly have a voice/statement via elections if this does happen. I do not agree that all police officers are good. Some are crooked. Some are probably racists, but I’ve known several police officers. I cannot comprehend how the USA could be a great society if we lost law enforcement. Wouldn’t that be a prime time for terrorists to attack us again?

Yes, I agree the protests are making statements. At first, a statement to spread violence. Hatred. Racism. Now, they appear to be a bit more organized. Less hatred. I do not understand the “Silence is Violence,” signs. I believe when people are silent they do not know a way to communicate what they are feeling. Perhaps they are afraid.

As for me? Afraid to speak up? Never! I’ve ALWAYS vocalized my opinions; however, most of the time I will vocalize with resources to back up what I am saying. I believe “Silence is Fear.” Fear of the unknown.

Racism is not a new emotion/hatred/whatever. Racism is negligence. I’ve always had friends of every color in the world. I’ve always stood up when they needed help of any kind. That is who I am.

I can’t help being a bit curious to this idea I’ve had for a long time. Whenever someone is critically ill and needing a blood transfusion does the family or the patient dare to ask “What color of blood am I getting?”

I’ve given blood before. I’ve never seen the nurse write “white” on the blood. To my knowledge I don’t believe it matters. Blood is blood! Red! It helps keep life going!

According to the Holy Bible: The Bible says “for the life of the flesh is in the blood (Leviticus 17:11); for it is the life of all flesh (Leviticus 17:14); …for the blood is the life (Deuteronomy 12:23).”

There are no descriptions regarding the color of blood in the Bible. While I do not claim to be an expert about religion, I believe God loves all of us, regardless of the color of our skins. We should treat others with respect. Love. Dignity. And now since we cannot give hugs (Yes, I’m definitely a HUGGER, and proud of it!) I send virtual hugs to anyone reading my blog.

I pray all of you will open your hearts and minds to help the United States of America end racism. Racism has been occurring since the 1600’s when slaves were brought to America along the landings and ports of Charleston. There is much history to be shared regarding slavery here in the port city. I’ve attended many events and I always ask why? Why did slavery happen? Why was it necessary to sell people simply because the color of their skin. I’m thankful it ended; however, in many ways, the racism of slavery left emotional scars that may never heal.

I pray our country will unite again soon as a country filled with LOVE AND RESPECT FOR HUMANITY!


Dearest Readers:

What’s happening to the Holy City? This morning, I awaken with news alerts on my Iphone. “Charleston Police chief expects more arrests, charges after last nights riots…” WCSC TV5.

Last night was a violent night of unrest, protests, hatred and the “Black Lives Matter,” chants. I get the message. Loud and clear. My question to those who decided violence and looting was the way to go is this — why are you destroying what the USA has worked so hard to keep going during Corona Virus and now the George Floyd situation. Does your violence, anger and hatred really help the cause for Black Lives Matter and racism?

I don’t think so! Yes, I believe you have the right to protest and the first protest in Charleston was peaceful; nevertheless, it turned violent. Destructive. What are you thinking? Did you even know George Floyd?

Now, Charleston is under a 11-7 curfew. Isn’t a curfew so late at night just a bit too late?
Those who looted, threw items and fought are disgraceful. This is the Holy City of Charleston, SC. Not a city filled with hatred and violence. When disturbing things happen to our city we unite. We do not fight. All fighting does is cause more anger, hatred, violence and destruction. Reportedly, several stores downtown were damaged. Broken windows and doors. Looting. And more violence.

I confess, I’ve never attended a protest. I don’t see the significance of crowds gathering to destroy or damage others, including buildings, churches and shops. I don’t understand how protesters can block the Interstate while screaming their chants. Fighting. Shouting. Attacking. What has happened to America? Why can’t we stand up with dignity, not anger?

Regarding the death of George Floyd – while I do believe the police officer should not have placed his knee on his neck, I’ve seen video showing how they had George Floyd handcuffed – with handcuffs behind him. Is there a video showing what happened prior to when he landed on the ground and the police officer chose to place his knee on his neck? Was that necessary? I think not; however, I wasn’t there. I’ve only seen a video, and in case you do not know, video footage can be edited to show a totally different story.

I’m not advocating police cruelty. I feel extreme pain for George Floyd and his family. While they grieve, maybe someone should share with the protesters how violence only creates more anger and hatred. While the chanting of “Black Lives Matter,” is understandable, I would like to say — ALL LIVES MATTER, BLUE LIVES MATTER, and so on, regardless of the color of skin.

I believe the City of Minneapolis, Minnesota will get to the bottom of the story, arrest all who are involved and see that justice is served. American cities are on fire because of the death of George Floyd. I can only imagine what it is like to live in Minneapolis now.

As for George Floyd, it is a sad state of affairs when his death makes him famous. Rest in peace, George Floyd.


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Dearest Readers:

Did you hear the storms last night? Did the lightning and thunder keep you
awake? Certainly affected me!  I walked around the house, glancing out the windows, only to discover the lightning and sheets of rain. My body jumped with each horrific lightning crash. All I could do was pray for God to keep me, the Bratty Boys,and my hubby safe.

I rushed back to the covers, covering my eyes with my sleep mask and quilt.
Rubbing Little Benjamin’s fur soothed me. He moved a bit closer. I suppose he
could fear the tension at my fingertips.

I turned the TV on and watched recorded episodes of MY LOTTERY DREAM HOME.
Funny. I always enjoy watching David Bromstad along with his Bubbly
personality. He has such a great demeanor. On this episode (an hour edition) he
was quarantined like the rest of the world due to the Corona Virus, so he discussed his fashions, furs, and bling. Oh, how I can relate!

One hour later, I am still unable to sleep or unwind. Finally, my body relaxed and I slept fitfully.

Now that I’ve mentioned MY LOTTERY DREAM HOME, I confess, I was hesitant to
watch it; however, the first episode I watched hooked me! I’ve had some people
say they would never watch his shows because he is “gay.” I say – so what! Some of my dearest friends are gay, and when I was a teenager, one of the guys I dated was gay — behind closed doors. Sad to say, Charles committed suicide when I was 16. I was devastated. I had no idea he was so lost within himself, he chose to end his life.

I suppose the fears I experienced last night during the storms reminded me how we must open our minds and lives to all journeys of life. Storms. Lightning. Thunder! The fears created.

Storms! Why do storms such as the ones in the middle of the night and at early dawn always torment me? Maybe it’s because I hear the words of my mother during my childhood – haunting me. Laughing at me while I shivered with fear.

“You stupid girl. I hope God lets that lightning strike you dead!” My mother said. Never did I tell my father. I was too ashamed and afraid he might laugh at me.

Years later, while he battled terminal esophageal cancer, I stood by his bedside. His eyes stared at me. He reached to touch my face, wiping the tears. Quickly, I turned away. I did not want him to see me crying. What if he thought I was weak and a crybaby when I cried?

“Don’t turn away,” he said. I moved closer, holding his hand. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how your mother treated you. I noticed how she laughed at you. Made fun of you and always called you a cry baby whenever you cried. She tried to turn everyone against you. Oh. The lies. She said. I knew you were different. I was proud of you. You always made a grand entrance. Yes. I noticed. Your mother bullied you!”

I squeezed his hand. “I didn’t know you heard her. Did you hear her when she said she hoped God would strike me dead with lightning?”

Dad shook his head yes. “I heard. God would never strike you dead. God is always there to protect us. I never said anything to her or you, but I heard every word she said to you.” He coughed, inhaled then said: “I’ve always been proud of you. You are my shining star. Don’t allow others to pull you down. Walk tall! Move forward in life. Don’t look back with pain!”

“I’ve never said this to you, until now, Dad but I’m so glad you divorced her.”

“It was the only thing to do.”

That afternoon, leaving the hospital, I thanked God for the discussion my father and I had on that date. After his death, his words remained with me. How I miss him. Now, whenever storms fire inside of my head, I try to remember the conversations with Dad. I can still hear his voice. His words remain tightly
bound within my heart where no one else can threaten me with storms. Thunder.
And. Lightning!

“Hold your head high. Don’t allow others to bring you down. Move forward with life. Don’t look back with pain!”

I am thankful I had such a wise and caring father. He is still inside of me and always shall remain!

 


Dearest Readers:

As most of you know, on December 23, 2019 I fell off a three-step ladder, fracturing my back. Last night, I awoke to horrific pain by the L-1. Tossing and turning, I got up, walked around, noticing the rain. We’ve had lots of rain since moving to Ravenel, South Carolina, but in this early morning light, I could relate to the rain along with the pain in my back.

I turned the TV on to the Weather Channel. I must say, I knew there was a storm brewing, although I did not know this storm was considered a tropical storm. Her name is Bertha. Hello Bertha. Welcome to Charleston, SC. Bertha decided to make her presence known in a city famous for hospitality, tourism and culinary cuisine galore.

The Holy City of Charleston is considered a tourist trap, although since the Corona Virus Covid-19 arrived in Charleston, many tourist locations are either closed, or slowly coming back to life and business. The city was crippled due to the virus. No traffic jams. Everyone was supposedly staying-at-home. Shopping centers were closed. Once, we drove downtown just to get an idea what the infamous downtown of Charleston was like. No one walked on the sidewalks. Parking lots were empty. A ghost town! Many of the famous restaurants were closed, due to Corona. A few of these restaurants will not reopen. So sad. I confess, I am a foodie and hated to hear some of the restaurants I’ve written about were now history.

Now, we have Tropical Storm Bertha. https://weather.com/storms/hurricane/news/2020-05-27-tropical-storm-bertha-forecast-north-south-carolina-virginia-heavy

Reportedly, we are expecting a lot of rain. Nothing unusual here! Our pond needs the rain. The shore was getting a bit low, however now, the water is rising!

I will have more details about Tropical Storm Bertha later today. For now, I want to get my hair styled, put makeup on and welcome Tropical Bertha.

Just what we needed now that Charleston, SC is welcoming tourists again. Have a great day. More details about Bertha’s arrival later. As for my back, it still hurts with chronic pain. How I wish I could send a fractured back packing with Bertha.


“Unlovable.” That’s what my mother described. “She said I was a stupid girl. She said I’d never amount to nothing but a hill of beans. Stupid. Stupid. Just stupid.”

I’ve walked in these shoes even before my mother had a stroke and was released from life while her youngest daughter smothered life from her body. Never was she charged with murder, or any crime. I grew up believing I would NEVER be loved by a man. My mother would send me on a walk – to the grocery store — without any money. Her request/order for me was, and I quote: “I need you to walk to the grocery store. See the manager. He really likes you. Flirt with him and tell him he must let you get some things for supper. A loaf of bread. Pork n’ Beans. I ain’t got no money, so I need you to work it well. I know he’ll allow you to get something good for supper. Don’t tell your daddy I ask you to do this. I asked you cause I know you have a way with men. They like looking at you, when you smile those men melt. Get what you can out of them. Men like you.”


Little did I know my good ole Southern mama was training me. Training me to get men to treat me well. She wasn’t training or teaching me LOVE. She thought I could use my looks, personality, charm and sexuality to get what I wanted in life. She said, “Men like you, Barbara Jean. They always have. Now is the time for payback. I produced a pretty girl. Maybe an actress with Southern charm. They’ll pay you lots, just to get what you want. Don’t you forget that you stupid child, Barbara Jean.”

I was 15-years-old at the time. Mama would give me old clothes and hand-me-downs from one of my cousins. The cousin who never wore the same outfit twice. Mama told me to wear the off-shoulder blouses and shorts. “You got some nice-looking shoulders and legs, Barbara Jean, and you’ve got the right amount of boobs. Men like that!”

Funny, I never realized my mother was encouraging me to become a hooker and I cringe, refusing to respond to anyone who calls me Barbara Jean.

When I was 30, my marriage to Garrett was choking me. Depression left me so unhappy I thought my entire world was crumbling. My therapist, a lovely, tiny woman who always wore her hair in a twisted bun with a sparkling comb, and a bright red rose tucked inside her blazer pocket, wanted to know about my childhood.

Looking at her, my mouth quivered. “My childhood? It was awful. Never did I feel loved.”

“What about your mother? Didn’t she embrace you and tell you she loved you?

“No. All she did was tell me to flirt with men. They liked me. I could get anything I wanted from a man, if I ‘worked it.’ She said if I dressed nice and showed my cleavage, men would follow me to the ends of the earth.”

“Interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” I asked.

“Your mother was encouraging you to become a hooker.”

“No. She wouldn’t do that. Good mothers do not teach their daughters to hook.”

Covering my mouth while choking back tears, I realized something I never thought as a young girl. My hands were shaking. “Oh, my God. You’re right. My mother thought I could become a hooker.”

My therapist scribbled on a pad. “I find it interesting you never think of your mother as abusive, cruel, or a bad mother.”

“She said she wanted the best from me. Only her best was not what I wanted to become.”

“It sounds to me like your mother wanted you to dress like a hooker. I always see you dressed as a lady wearing cultured pearl necklaces and earrings. Your hair and makeup immaculate. You don’t show cleavage. When you sit, you keep your legs together. Like a lady, or royalty.”

Glancing at my posture, I realized she was correct. My legs were together, not exposed. Sitting with my ankles crossed, I realized she was right. I’m sitting like a lady. Funny. I’ve never considered myself a lady.

“Can you share more of what your mother taught you?”

Covering my face momentarily with my hands, I mumbled yes, sharing the stories my mother taught me. Sharing how she wanted me to use my sexuality to get what I wanted from men. “She said men would want to be with me, and she said I would never find love from any man. She said Barbara Jean was unlovable and a stupid girl. Nothing more than yesterday’s trash. Never to be loved. Never!”


Dearest Readers:

I have a funny Friday experience to share. Are you ready? Here goes:

Friday afternoon, our pedal boat arrived. Excited to finally do something on the pond, we hopped in and started riding around our pond. Such fun seeing the turtles watching us as we glided softly around our beautiful pond. I left my phone inside (thank goodness). You must remember I fractured my back on December 23, wore a back brace for three months and chose to take a spin around the pond. It was easy to slide into the boat. Not so easy getting out!

We docked the boat, wrapping a rope around a tree for me to get out easier. Phil was worried I might hurt myself again. Imagine that! Struggling to get out, the boat decided to move while I’m stepping out. I had one foot on the bank. The other in the boat. The boat continues to move while Phil struggles to keep the boat still. Silly boat – it has a mind of its own! I grabbed the tree, holding on to it while the boat continues moving and Barbie is doing an ungraceful split!

This scenario is definitely a Lucy and Ethel moment, with one exception – I am starring as Lucy!

My back is hurting so I move my right foot off the bank and splash! Now I’m in the water with one leg still in the boat. Moving it as quickly as I can, I discover I’ve had my first initiation in our pond. I am soaking wet, struggling to get on shore. Phil doesn’t think I’ll be able to pull myself out due to my back injury.

“You just watch me,” I said. “Nothing stops me!”

Silly guy. He just doesn’t know me when someone says I cannot do something. You just watch me. No. It wasn’t graceful, but ever so slowly I slid my body out of the pond, doing a graceful low crawl I wasn’t aware I could do! The water wasn’t deep. Only to my waist. When I am finally out of the pond, I am covered with mud!

“Excuse me,” I say to Phil. “I must take a bath and get this mud off of me!”

He’s laughing and so am I. As he struggles to get out of the little pedal boat, he slips and gets a bit of his body into the pond!

Finally, both of us are out, safe, headed straight to the back porch. I peel the muddy clothes off, knowing no one will see me! I live on five acres! I glance at my wrist. I’m missing my activity tracker. Oh well. Maybe the turtles will find it and play with it!

So, what did you do on Friday during this “social distancing” quarantine?
I imagine it wasn’t as exciting as our Friday!

Sorry I can’t provide photographs! My phone was inside – charging!

Just another funny moment during the quarantine. If this quarantine doesn’t end soon, I can only imagine what my next scenario will be. Maybe swimming in the pond to find my activity tracker? I doubt it!

Remember – stay safe and healthy. Covid-19 is out there and I pray soon it will disappear – never to return – just like my athletic tracker!


Dearest Readers:

I’ve heard enough of FoxNews for the day.

The world is sick in a horrifying way.

I think I’ll keep on the telly for background noise, while today, I shall find the pups toys.

There’s lots to do inside this new home, but I must bow to a deadly throne of Corona Virus while praying for all who have it, and for me not to get it.

This world’s gone crazy now. We must stay six-feet-away. Can’t hug or shake hands, even with our friends.

No beach. No dining. We are told to stay inside

Just how much Cabin Fever does it take to stay alive?

Meanwhile, nurses and doctors and let’s not forget the CNA’s, wear PPE clothing, masks and gloves as patients strive just to breathe.

This Corona Virus is a deadly one, although the younger generation believes they are immune.

Why? Because they’re so young.

I pray for our country, the US of A

For our world to win this deadly battle of a virus running wild just to end our days.

Listen to your doctors. Nurses, and don’t forget the CNA’s.

Wash your hands. Practice good hygiene. Most important, don’t forget to pray.

Let’s win this battle, our newest war – Corona Virus, please just fade away.


Dearest Readers:

Like you I have cabin fever. Sitting at home, unable to see friends, have luncheons, and just fun ‘girlfriend time,’ leaves me depressed and about ready to scream. However, after our move to the country, I don’t think anyone would hear a scream. I’m not missing suburbia at all. When I feel at my breaking point, I go outside and sit on a bench by the pond.

After we moved, I didn’t know we had turtles. Now, I do. So far, I’ve counted at least ten turtles. On sunny days, I see them sunbathing. Other times, I watch their little heads pop up and down in the water. Much to my surprise, I’ve discovered they like when I sing to them. I’ve named one Myrtle the Turtle and when I sing “Myrtle the turtle – where are you,” I am able to see them swimming towards me. This give me such pleasure at a time in our lives when Corona Virus is captivating the world.

The turtles are trusting me and they enjoy hearing me song. Yes. People, for those of you who’ve never heard me singing, I’ve been told I have a great voice. I think the turtles agree!

Since I live in the Charleston, SC community where travel tourism and hospitality are truly suffering after the stay-at-home order and before, my heart breaks to learn how our economy is suffering. According to the Post and Courier newspaper this morning, tourism is about a $24 billion industry for the State, including Charleston.

Funny, I haven’t heard about traffic congestion lately although when Phil and I go to the grocery store, we still have lots of traffic on the roads. For those who are wondering IF Charleston is allowing tourism now, I would say, you will be restricted. All parks are closed. Hotels and restaurants closed. Some hotels are open, and if you want to come to Charleston to enjoy our amazing culinary cuisine and hotels, or to party — well, you might consider visiting at another time. Take out orders only! No dining inside and forget meeting others. The City is closed!

Downtown is not permitting the carriage tours. I haven’t driven downtown to see exactly what is going on. Some people compare this to a hurricane. I disagree. With hurricanes, Charleston becomes a ghost town. The city goes dark. No traffic, especially if we are told we must leave. After Hurricane Floyd, I promised myself I would never fight the traffic again just to get out of Charleston! So, I say, there is no comparison for hurricanes and Corona Virus.

Yesterday, my husband and I were snapping at each other. I told him I need space! Later, we had a small discussion, agreeing that we are on each other’s nerves. I had another talk with God, apologizing and telling Him I would stop. Breathe. Inhale. Breathe again, and thank God for our health.

I think I’m hearing another press conference from our President, Donald Trump now, so perhaps I will close this free writing episode and listen to the latest. It is so depressing!

Please pray for us, our Nation and the World. We need this Corona Virus to fade away. Never to return. I pray for all who are sick around the world. I am considered a high-risk due to asthma, so I cope by staying inside. Washing my hands repeatedly and when I go to the grocery store, I pray I find Lysol, hand sanitizers and other necessary products. I haven’t found any of them. I’m careful using my last bottle of Lysol. I’ll be so happy when this crisis is over. Easter is just around the corner. We need miracles, please dear God. Give the world a miracle!

Cypress Gardens. A beautiful location to photograph and to have family fun, except when Corona Virus is sickening the entire world.


Dearest Readers:

Earlier, I walked down my long winding road to the mailbox. As I walk, I always stroll a bit by the pond, then take my time headed to the mailbox. I saw something in the pond. Something I’ve never seen before. Its head looked the shape of an alligator. I threw a stick, to see if it would move to realize that if it was a gator, he might chase me and I can’t run now. Not with the back fracture! The “gator” didn’t come after me! After collecting the mail, I returned to the animal in my pond. Phil was taking a nap, so I waited until he woke up, telling him I think we might have an alligator in the pond.


We walked towards the pond. Phil, as always, directing me not to get too close. I laughed. “Heck, you’re late. I threw a stick by it when walking.”


He grabbed a stick and tapped the “gator.” It didn’t move, so he chose to move it.
No. It wasn’t an alligator. We’ve had our first wildlife loss. At first, we thought it was a cat. Of course, the soft-hearted Barbie found tears slipping down her face. “We must bury it and have a service for it.”


We found a spot underneath a tree. Phil gathered the “gator/cat” and we buried it recognizing it was not a cat, but a raccoon. A male raccoon. You don’t want to know how I know it was a male. Ladies, just use your imagination! Maybe I was a bit too curious!


At least he will rest underneath a tree. I suspect he drowned in the pond. So sad.
Rest in peace, little Racy Raccoon.


Dearest Readers:

With all that is happening within our communities, nation and the world, I had an experience with our local Walmart that really annoyed me!

My husband and I drove to Walmart to get sanitizing items. I stopped one of the managers, and I describe him as a sorry manager at that! I asked him if they had any sanitizing products. His reply, “No. We sold all we had last night when we got them.”

“Do you have any idea when you will get some more?”

He cast me a smug facial expression. “Well, it’s like this. When we get them, we sell out immediately.”

“I suppose you are not limiting the items?”

“Nope. First come first serve and customers can buy all they want.”

“In other words, you permit them to stockpile or hoard?”

“Lady, we can’t tell the customers they can only buy a few.”

I approached him closer. “Oh, yes you can. I worked in advertising and we limited products all the time.”

“Not at this Walmart.”

“Never did I say I worked at Walmart. And now, maybe I’ll shop elsewhere.”

Moral of this story – stay away from the West Ashley Circle of Walmart, Charleston, SC. They only care about the hoarders. NOT THEIR CUSTOMERS! Management only cares about how much they sell – not customers who need these products too!

Perhaps I’ll shop elsewhere! That manager needs to get another job!

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