Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Blog

  • A Most Memorable Night


    If you are a reader of my blog, you know a bit about me. My love for music. My love for dancing. My love for writing while working as a professional photojournalist. My passion for singing and karaoke, and simply being on stage.

    Last night was a most memorable night for me. To quote my dad, ‘a night to record in Strolling in Memories Gardens.’ So here, for all the world to read, is  my most memorable night and occasion.

    Saturday, September 24, 2011 was the night for the Back Porch Opera Extravaganza, and what a night it was! Earlier in the week, I posted a comment on Facebook about the dress rehearsal before the show. A most special friend from high school sent a message to me, wanting to know more details. We conversed and she and a friend decided to come to Charleston, to see the show and reconnect with me.

    Who would ever suspect a distant friend from many years ago would travel from Georgia to Charleston, just to see me and listen to me singing!

    Arriving at the show, we met at the front door, embracing so tightly, I did not want to let her or Pauline go! I suppose the hugs were to replace the lost years of our friendship. Giggling like school girls, we entered the building. I do believe I completely forgot my husband was with me — for a moment. The chatter in the room was silent for me. All I listened to was Darlene and Pauline and of course, my rambling excitement!

    Sitting at our table I elaborated a bit about my unhappy childhood, how difficult my life was with my mother while sharing tidbits of my determination to get away from those memories. I inhaled, exhaled, fighting back tears. I did not want my mascara or glitter to smear before the show! “Those bitter memories could either destroy me, or build me. I chose for them to build me into the person I am today.” We continued talking, occasionally eating a bite of food and before long, it was time for the show!

    As for the show, I do believe it was one of the best. Not only did we have a bunch of talented singers who performed like professionals with years experience, we had an amazing roar of audience participation! There were many standing ovations, much laughter, applause — whistles and lots of screaming fans within the audience!

    Truly a night to remember. Today, Darlene and Pauline are driving back to Georgia. I awoke to a bright and almost blinding sunshine. Now, the clouds have returned, although in my heart, sunshine keeps me warm and toasty.

    How is it a ‘lint head’ who grew up in a textile mill society is blessed to have such great devoted and loving friends who go out of their way just to reconnect? I am so blessed!

  • A Writer’s Perspective


    Daily, I find myself staring at a computer screen, writing queries to magazines,
    following up with outstanding queries, composing notes from trips taken, and so
    on. When I am not doing those chores, I am researching – unlike many writers,
    not always on the Internet.

    Once while on a trip with other travel writers, I heard a writer who was assigned to write a guidebook state, “all of my research is done on the Internet.”

    That intrigued me. I was frantically working on a guidebook at that time. Noting the amount of time I had devoted to that project, the additional research trips,
    interviews, phone conversations and e-mails invested, I was quickly seeing that
    I was not even making minimum wage with the project. I listened more to the conversation and finally spoke up.

    “How is it you do all the research for a guidebook via the Internet? You must live
    in the area you’re writing about.”

    She giggled. “Nope. Never been there, but the editor contacted me and the amount of time a research trip would take is not worth my time. And so, I just look online and when I find something, I write it.”

    I was flabbergasted! “Straight from the Internet?”

    “Yep.”

    How do you confirm everything?”

    Again, she laughed. “I don’t. And if you’re asking about stores, boutiques, and all
    those things, I just make ‘em up.”

    “Guidebooks aren’t fiction,” I reminded her.

    She fluffed her shoulder length strawberry hair, turned and walked away.

    Maybe I’m from the old school. I research everything, not just on the Internet.

  • Remembrance of 9-11


    The week of 9-11 is a week to reminisce and be thankful.
    Thankful of life, family, friends, loved ones you knew and loved ones you’ve
    lost. Sunday, 9-11-11, is a significant day in history and in humanity. On this
    date, exactly ten years ago, family members kissed, saying goodbye, making
    plans for the evening, after a hard day of work. Perhaps some of these precious
    people had dinner reservations, celebrations, or a simple family time at home.
    It was a beautiful day in New York City, and other cities. America was kissed
    with the brilliance of sunshine, blue skies and another gorgeous day. All of
    that changed in the blink of an eye as a terrorist drove U.S. planes into the
    Twin Towers.

    Imagine this.

    You work in the Twin Towers as a receptionist, or an
    administrative assistant, busy at your desk, answering phones, taking messages,
    organizing another day at the office. You glance out the window to see the
    beauty of the skyline, but something is different. You see a bird. No. This
    image is too big to be a bird. Sunlight gleams as the moving object gets
    closer, and suddenly you realize this is not a bird! A plane. You struggle to
    think. You must be dreaming. A plane cannot fly this close to the Twin Towers.
    It wouldn’t be safe. The phone at your desk is ringing, but you ignore it for
    just a moment. The image of the plane is moving closer. Closer. CLOSER. For a
    brief moment you can see the shapes of bodies inside the plane as you realize
    the plane is about to hit the World Trade Center. You inhale. Exhale. You blink
    your eyes for the last time.

    POOF.

    After the terrorist’s attacks on the World Trade Center, the
    Pentagon and the field in Pennsylvania, I had this dream many, many times. Living
    in South Carolina, I wished I could be closer, so I could do something. I chose
    to pray, write and contribute donations. My heart broke, and I wasn’t alone
    with this pain. For weeks, America mourned and prayed. We spoke to strangers.
    We attended church and we realized that in the blink of an eye, life can
    change.

    This is the week of remembrance for 9-11-01; the tenth
    anniversary of how quickly America changed. Much has been written about those
    moments as we recognized the planes flying into the World Trade Center were not
    a ‘pilot error’ but an attack on America. An attack on freedom. An attack on
    peace. Many, many lives were lost, and now, we are at war, although in all
    reality, we were under attack and at war the very moment the attacks occurred.

    I still remember that date, that moment. Still grieving over
    the loss of my father in 1999, I had slept in a bit on that morning. My husband
    phoned to see if I was OK. “Yes,” I said, sipping the first of several cups of
    freshly brewed coffee. “I’m trying to wake up.”

    “Have you heard about the World Trade Center?” My husband
    asked.

    “No. I haven’t turned the TV on.”

    “Turn it on.”

    Listening to Matt Lauer of the Today Show, my heart broke. “Oh
    My God!” I said to my husband. Is this an attack on America?”

    “We’re not certain,” my husband replied.

    We hung up and moments later, the second attack occurred. I
    was breathless. Shocked. Unable to believe that this could happen in America.

    Now, ten years later, our world has changed. Still, I ache
    as I dream about the images of people rushing down stairs. Making phone calls
    to loved ones. Jumping out of buildings, knowing they will not survive. A
    friend phoned me later in the day. She had a friend in New York, at the Twin Towers.
    Her friend was eight-months pregnant, just like she was. “I don’t want to bring
    a baby into this world now,” she said. “It isn’t right. My friend made a phone
    call to her husband, saying she loved him and she and their baby would be fine.
    She told him she was jumping out the window.”

    For weeks, I was glued to the TV, watching the images repeatedly.
    Seeing people flying in the air, jumping to their deaths. Hearing stories of
    missing loved ones. Seeing pictures of loved ones who would never be found
    again.

    “It isn’t fair,” I said. Repeatedly. I cried an ocean of
    tears for people I did not know. The grief was unbearable.

    Our lives changed significantly after 9-11. I hope that we
    will take the time to make every day special, to share our love with our
    families and humankind, and we will realize how quickly life can change – in the
    blink of an eye. Life is short, let us all make the most of each moment we
    have.

    In remembrance of 9-11. We will never forget.

  • Why Is It Men Still Have the Tendency???


    OK! Here I go again! Stepping on my soapbox before I walk, before I do Zumba, and before I get relaxed! I simply must get a few things off of my chest!

    Here Goes!

    Last night while rehearsing for the upcoming show for an organization I shall not name, I noticed something that disturbs me. Is it not the Twenty-first century in 2011? Do women really have equal rights? Well, if you watch the observations of some men, I dare say not!

    During my rehearsal and the rehearsal of my best friend, we had lots of bright lights in our eyes. No problem. We have to get accustomed to the bright lights if we are on stage. After our rehearsal, I noticed that every time a male talent got on stage to perform the flash of a camera was an additional light. No problem. I felt certain that women would get their fair share. The scenario continued. Each time a woman performed, no flash. Each time a male performed — FLASH!

    Since I am a member of several non-profit organizations, and the editor to a few, I know a lot about the political structure and how favoritism exists. Nevertheless, the more I observed this action, the more offended I became.

    My husband noticed, so he inquired. While it is true I do not like to be photographed, I still believe in the rights of women to be treated equally. A few minutes later, a tap on my shoulder and a suggestion that ‘he didn’t mean to offend me.’ I wasn’t offended – just curious as to WHY only men were being photographed.

    Looks like the squeaky wheel gets the oil — AGAIN! When rehearsals were over, all the ‘women who wanted to be photographed,’ and ‘those who didn’t get their photograph taken,’ were requested to approach the stage. Of course, my friend and I approached.

    Today, in the mail I received another incident of how we women are still not considered the equal. A publication from one of the non-profit organizations I am a member of arrived in the mail. Flipping thru the mail, I almost trashed it thinking it was another unsolicited piece of junk mail. It wasn’t! This publication has been soliciting this format for at least over one year now. This is the first time in many months that I’ve actually taken the time to read it, since it is so small it screams out to me, ‘another piece of junk mail. I’m so small I’m not important!’ The MALE version of this organization publishes a magazine format magazine. Such a subliminal message! Just when will the world recognize ALL PEOPLE ARE EQUAL, REGARDLESS OF RACE, SEX, GENDER, RELIGION AND ON AND ON.

    Off my soapbox and back to work — writing! Stay tuned!

  • Zumba, Walking and Working Out


    Greetings, Readers:

    The City of Charleston, SC is so blessed to have great weather again. It is only 85 degrees at the moment. A bit humid, but a great day to walk the pups. I confess, I have a fourth pup now — a foster child who needs much discipline. When I rescued him, I was told he was about two years old. I think he’s younger, especially when discovering the rescue center knew absolutely nothing about him. Couldn’t even tell me his name. So sad. He is a little ambitious to work with. Feisty. Funny, and starved for human contact. Today, I attempted to walk him with my three babies. I lost the battle. He does well on a leash, if it is only him, although he does like to chew the leash — in to! He’s chewed thru two already! As we left the house today, he managed to wrap his leash around my right leg, and chew. OK, little guy. You win. I’m taking you back home. I will walk him in the back yard until he is accustomed to walking on a leash!

    Poor baby. I returned him back to the kitchen breakfast room, gated him, and off I went to walk my three dogs. I needed the exercise and my babies are accustomed to my rules. It was a great walk. A great day to enjoy the warm sunshine, the slight breeze and the humidity.

    Now that I am home, I have my Zumba DVD ready to cue and in a few minutes, I will do thirty minutes of zumba. I can hardly wait. If you haven’t done Zumba, you must, especially if you like to dance! And I confess, I LOVE DANCING!

    May your day be great, and if you are within the recovery path of Hurricane Irene, I sincerely hope your life will return to normal soon. It isn’t easy surviving a hurricane. Suddenly you are forced to camp out in your own home, that is, if you can return to your home. I still remember how difficult it was for me after Hurricane Hugo. Flip a switch for the lights. Oops. No power yet. Take a shower — a cold shower. I learned to appreciate them! Eating canned goods, especially canned tuna. I haven’t touched canned tuna since Hugo! Before Hugo, I loved to go camping with my husband. Now, I detest roughing it, considering an inexpensive hotel as ‘roughing it’ as I will get!

    And now, I must get busy and start the music to do my Zumba. It is such fun! Have a great day!

  • Goodbye Irene!


    Yesterday, the City of Charleston felt a bit of Hurricane Irene. Today, all is quiet. No rain. Still having gusting winds, but nothing like yesterday. While writing, I watched (and heard) several tree branches falling into my back yard from a neighbor’s pine tree, and a dead oak tree, standing tall in my yard.

    “Oh God, please don’t let the oak tree fall,” I prayed, watching it swaying as tree branches popped and fell.

    Pleased to say, the tree held. I will hire a tree surgeon to take this tree down. Hopefully, I’ll not have any difficulty getting permission to cut it down. Once, it was beautiful, with lots of leaves and plenty of shade. Now, I still have leaves, although not many. I will miss this tree when it is gone. We’ve been connected since moving to this house in 1977.

    During the path of Irene, I heard many people say they would just throw a hurricane party. I laughed. “You’ve never been thru a hurricane, have you?”

    Nope, they nodded. “If it hits us, you better hope you don’t throw a party. The people who appear the strongest are the ones who will shriek and freak out during the storm. It isn’t a pretty sight to watch!”

    Thinking of my experience during 1989 when I was a volunteer for students during Hugo, I do not wish to ride out the storm again, and I certainly don’t want to fight the congested, non-moving traffic like I did in 1999. My husband and I drove our cars onto a less-traveled road on Highway 41, only to stop in bumper-to-bumper traffic that failed to move, as the winds increased, the band of rain arrived and we thought we would end up sitting on the highway when the storm approached. Fortunately, as we stayed in the traffic, moving only 57 miles in 9.5 hours, we watched the winds decrease. We found a hotel, or perhaps I should say, an interesting motel that was probably opened for business in hopes to get the hurricane traffic and not their ‘normal clientele.’ We were so exhausted we did not care! The next morning, we drove home — in less than 45 minutes!

    For this storm, I told my husband I would gather enough snacks and foods for three days early, in the event Irene visited us. I filled the car with gas on Tuesday. Shopped for all that we would need, including paper plates, and I had everything prepared for us to stay. I simply refuse to fight that traffic again. It was such a nightmare in 1999!

    For all who are in the path of Hurricane Irene, I wish you well. You are in my prayers and I fully believe all will be well. It may not sound like all is well as the strong winds whistle along the coastline and inward, but Irene is now downgraded to a category one. This too shall pass.

    Goodbye, Hurricane Irene. I see the sun breaking thru the clouds as I write this. The wind is blowing briskly, but there is hope. Sunshine is on its way. The awakening of a new day!

  • Have You Heard About Doggie Weight Watchers?


    If you are a regular reader of my blog, you probably remember I am losing weight with Weight Watchers. To date, I have dropped 21.6 pounds. Joining Weight Watchers on March 3, 2011, it has been a slow process. Things were going well after one of my closest friends joined WW and we compared weight losses. Of course she was ahead of me, but she got bored with it and quit. She is still maintaining what she lost, but I miss my buddy!

    Effective yesterday, I placed one of my dogs on a type of ‘Doggie Weight Watchers.’ Shakespeare Hemingway is my eight-year-old mini schnauzer. He is a sweet, affectionate pup who recently had a surgical procedure to, ‘clip his wings.’ When we arrived at the vet’s office for his procedure, he weighed 34 pounds. Ouch! He has gained six pounds in six months.

    The doctor recommended putting Shakespeare on a weight loss program, and so, since he suggested ‘vegetables such as green beans,’ and the new Points Plus program with Weight Watchers includes lots of vegetables, I thought it would be simple to place Shakespeare on a weight control program.

    My dear Shakespeare, effective yesterday, you will have vegetables with your meal. Last night, he had grilled asparagus mixed in with his reduced calorie dog food. I have cut back his food intake by 40%, as recommended by the Vet. He ate every bite. Tonight, he will have green beans with his meal. Only one treat during the day, and one treat at night, at night-night-time. Sorry little guy, but you’ve got to lose weight!

    Since he has come home to recuperate, Shakespeare is doing well. That is –with exception of the E-collar he must wear until Sunday. This E-collar has truly confused him, causing him to lose his balance a bit, and he is constantly bumping in to things. Just getting him to go outside is a challenge! And when he is outside, he bumps into the bird bath, the shrubs and the trees, bouncing back he raises his head, as if to say, “What is going on? I can’t even walk around now, after getting my wings clipped. Mom, what have you done to me?”

    I am truly looking forward to Sunday morning when I can disconnect this obnoxious E-collar and let my boy run and play like he did before — the clipping of his wings.

    Hopefully, Shakespeare will continue eating the veggies with his meal and he will drop a few pounds. My goal for him is to get him to the weight he was last year — 26 pounds. He doesn’t look overweight now, just a bit muscular. My poor little guy. I hope he enjoys being my new buddy with Weight Watchers!

    The new logo for Weight Watchers is “Because it works,” and it does. Hopefully, Shakespeare will be able to share, ‘Doggie Weight Watchers works well too!’ So now, I have a new buddy — my sweet little Shakespeare Hemingway!

  • Goodbye Vietnam a Video Well Worth Watching


    This morning while reading overnight e-mails, I read one I would probably delete. The title intrigued me, a simple “Goodbye Vietnam.” Curiosity got the best of me, so I opened and read.

    Just a brief, “hope you will listen.” And so, I clicked:

    http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=ASETse4oNlI&feature=youtube_gdata_player

    This video is written by a war hero. It is a compelling story of “A highly decorated soldier’s story of becoming free of the nightmares and sleepless nights caused by post traumatic stress disorder from combat in Viet Nam. Once suicidal, medicating on alcohol and drugs is now free from it all and is looking forward to a new life after over 40 years of PTSD.”

    As most of my readers know, I hold a special place of my heart for veterans, especially the Vietnam Veterans. My husband is finally proud to say he served in Vietnam. He suffers terribly with nightmares and PTSD. Sudden noises, even the simple slamming of a car door, or a household door, startles him. For many years, when he heard these noises, he would ‘hit the ground.’ If he saw someone wearing a pointed straw hat, he rushed away. Fireworks traumatized him. The scenarios could continue, but you’ll simply have to listen to this video and pay close attention to recognize only a bit of what our precious soldiers endure with a war. Still to this day, I cannot understand it. When my husband gets in a rage and attacks me verbally, I close myself away, knowing that ‘this too shall pass.’ When he is truly angry, I hear, “It don’t mean nothing!” I’ve grown to hate that expression, knowing full well, “It don’t mean nothing” is his way of shutting down in hopes his anger, rage and verbal attacks will pass.

    Please share this video with your precious soldiers and veterans. Perhaps they will not want to watch it. If that is the case, do yourself a favor and listen to it. Have tissues nearby. Tears are dancing inside my eyes while writing this. While I cannot understand what happened, as the wife who has comforted, held, and listened to my husband talking about “the V-C” and “Charlie” has taught me to be appreciative that I have stayed to make our marriage work. Only 1% of the Vietnam era marriages survived. No, we do not know what they experienced, but I am proud to say, “Thank you for your service. I hope America learned from Vietnam.” Watch the video, “Goodbye Vietnam”

    Have a great week and hug your veteran!

    http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=ASETse4oNlI&feature=youtube_gdata_player

  • Segregation in the South in the Twenty-First Century


    If you read my post on a regular basis, you must know I am a feminist who believes in the rights of all humans, regardless of race, color, religion or whatever.

    Last Friday  I had a situation occur that truly ruffled my feathers. My husband and I were standing in line for dinner at a private club that I shall not name. Not because we are members, but simply do not want to start a P-R war with them. While standing, I listened to the conversations of some of the people ahead of the line. Since I am a writer, I do have the tendency to listen to other conversations. Not necessarily eaves dropping, but when their voices are so loud that they appear to bounce across the room, these conversations do attract my attention.

    The line moved slowly. The more I listened to this particular woman, the angrier I became. She was white-haired, actually — one of the silver blue colors of a woman who hasn’t aged gracefully. Slump shouldered, with a road map of a face, heavy makeup and bifocals on her face, her voice was filled with anger and bigotry. Attracted to her voice, due to her attitude and the bigotry, my husband looked at me, knowing I was listening intensely to the conversation.

    She spoke to the people she knew. The conversation continued:

    “Well now, you know school starts next week and I still can’t believe they let THEM ride on the same bus with my grandchildren. THEY won’t be prepared for anything in school. My daughter called me yesterday to tell me I needed to send some money to the school, to help THEM with all the tools THEY need.”

    “What?” I said. “I ain’t helping THEM. That’s why I pay taxes, and if THEY made it possible to attend my grandchildren’s school, then THEY need to pay for things…not my tax dollars.”

    The people standing next to her nodded, said “Uh, huh,” agreeing with her.

    Her scraggly voice continued:

    “And I still can’t believe we’ve got one of THEM in our office as President of these United States. Why it makes me so mad I could spit!”

    I confess, when something really gets under my skin, my face reveals it! My husband looked over at me, knowing and expecting me to intercept this conversation.

    “Would you like to go find us a table for eight?” He asked.

    Relieved, I nodded, and I spoke in a voice I am certain this woman still stuck in the 1950’s heard:

    “That is a great idea. I am getting just a bit PERPLEXED with all the conversations in this line.”

    I stepped forward. Walking by the group, I smiled my sweetest Southern Belle smile, “Excuse me,” I said, rushing by without allowing them to respond.

    You must know, I do not claim to be a Southern Belle…more like a Steel Magnolia who voices her opinion, but sometimes, it is the body language and the demeanor that lets others know how ridiculous bigotry still is in the Twenty-first Century.

    Sometimes, the less we say, the better! I recognize I live in the South, in a state that still has citizens who cannot move forward with change. To those people I say, you are missing out on a lot of culture, and friendship.

    When my husband joined our table, I asked him about the conversations. He smiled and squeezed my hand. “After you entered, they hushed.”

    Sometimes, the less said — the better. “Kill with kindness” has always been my belief. I will not lower my standards, nor will I simply go quiet into the night!

  • August 16, 1977 – The Day We Lost “Elvis the King”


    Somehow, I totally lost my story about “The Day We Lost “Elvis the King,” so I shall try to re-write this.

    For those thinking I’ve lost my mind, I haven’t — it was a ‘computer glitch!’

    Thirty-four years ago, America and the world mourned when the death of Elvis Presley was announced. 1977 was a different time! Computers were still – just a dream in every home. Now, we have such a high-paced busy world we cannot even share dinner with family or friends without checking e-mail or text. Sometimes, we must get back to the simple things in life.

    Thirty-four years ago, Elvis Presley was living his dream, although he paid a high price for that life. Addicted to so much medication he could not function without them.

    Last year, December 2010, to be exact, my husband and I took a vacation to Memphis, TN. Every where we went, Elvis was alive. Strangers shared stories with us. True or not, they were quite entertaining! One particular woman shared a story and I will quote it here, in her words:

    “I was standing by the bus stop once when a good-looking guy dressed in black leather rode by on a motorcycle. A Harley Davidson. Oh, it sounded so tough, just like him. He nodded as he passed and I smiled my biggest smile. A few minutes later, he rode by again. Only this time, he stopped. He asked me if I wanted to ride. Since he was so cute, I said, ‘sure.’ So around we rode on his tough sounding motorcycle. He sang to me while cruising around and I remember telling him he had a good voice. He laughed. ‘Honey, I hope so,’ he said. We stopped for ice cream and that is when he told me his name. ‘I’m Elvis Presley,’ he said to me. I laughed, unimpressed. A few minutes later, he pulled a ring box from his pocket.

    ‘Keep it, to remember me,’ he said.’

    I didn’t keep the ring, giving it to a friend. I guess I just didn’t know who he was, but I’ve never forgotten that cute guy riding his motorcycle. Laughing and joking and singing to me.”

    Who cares if the story is true, or not, but the memory of Elvis Presley, his generosity and kindness to strangers, the many gifts he shared with others, all of these stories are simply a reflection of the true Elvis Presley. The rebellious, gorgeous kind-spirited ‘cool looking guy on a motorcycle’ who rebelled, stood his ground and accomplished so much.

    Rest in peace, Elvis Presley. Your legend and memory lives on and will be forever not just a memory but an icon for all who dreamed and believed that we can all do it, “My Way!”