Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Tag: America

  • Gobble…Gobble…Gobble…Happy Thanksgiving!


    Thursday, November 28, 2013

    Dearest Readers:

    On this date, November 28, 2013, we celebrate Thanksgiving. As we grow, there are many traditions made, and some traditions are broken. Growing up in the State of Georgia, my family taught me many traditions during the holidays, especially at Thanksgiving and Christmas. The holidays were for family. I recall celebrating Thanksgiving with my maternal grandparents. Although when I was little, I often was curious why my maternal grandparents and paternal grandparents did not come together for the holidays. Later, I discovered how strange our families were and I did my best to welcome all of my relatives.

    I remember my maternal grandmother always prepping, baking and cooking for the holidays. Our table was filled with most of the foods we celebrate and gobble down a bit too quickly. We always had a country ham, turkey, homemade biscuits that felt and tasted like a cloud and I recall eating too many of them. OK…so homemade biscuits are my weakness, and that is why I do not make them! Additional foods included cornbread dressing, green bean casserole, Southern potato salad, mashed potatoes, candied yams, and of course, we had a variety of desserts. My grandmother was a great Southern cook, so you can just imagine all of the food we ate. Another tradition we shared was always saying the blessing at the dinner table. Joining hands, we would ask my dad or grandfather to lead us into prayer.

    Some traditions must be preserved, and that is why when Phil and I eat at the dining room table, or at the breakfast table, I always remind him we must ‘say grace.’ Phil did not grow up with that family tradition, and the more I discover about his family, the more I recognize that his family was more estranged than mine could ever be. His mother did not cook a Thanksgiving turkey or dinner. His mother said she hated turkey because it was dry. She changed her mind when tasting mine! After moving to Charleston, I went to the trouble of inviting Phil’s family for Thanksgiving Dinner; however, after the way his mother behaved, I was a bit annoyed with her. Just picture it. As the cook for the Thanksgiving Dinner you are tired. For many days you have prepped the foods, thawed the turkey and prepared it. Baked. Cooked. Cleaned the dishes. Dressed the dining room table with your finest linens, china, candles and all the fun things I enjoy doing for the holidays, only to be told — perhaps in a dictatorial tone — that you are hungry and want to eat…NOW!

    I asked Phil if I could speak to him privately, letting him know I was furious that his mother was so demanding. He shook his head, refusing to speak with his mother. I returned to the kitchen, letting his mother know I had some peanut butter and bread and if she wanted to EAT NOW…she could fix a peanut butter sandwich. She growled at me… “Just give me a paper plate and I’ll dig in…”

    “You’ll do no such a thing. Dinner isn’t ready!”

    That was the last Thanksgiving I shared with Phil’s mother. New traditions were made, in hopes we as a family could teach our child that holidays were family days and were not to be dictatorial.

    Now, our son is married, building new traditions with his wife and child. As for us, I still prepare a Thanksgiving meal, and I dress the dining room table with china, a lace tablecloth, and candles and we take the time to enjoy our meal. Occasionally, I invite our friends over but as life has a way, most people have plans for the holidays.

    A new tradition we started two years ago is to decorate our Christmas tree on the weekend of Thanksgiving. Last year, I was so sick with acute bronchitis I did not feel like cooking Thanksgiving, although I did. Weak and exhausted by dinner time, I did something I rarely do.  I asked Phil to help with the clean up. That weekend he put the tree up. When I asked him to help with the decorating he grumbled, so like his mother —
    “I HATE decorating the tree…”

    I gathered the decorations and with tears in my eyes, I decorated the tree. Exhausted, I went to bed, furious with Phil and his hatred for the holidays.

    This year, I’ve let him know how his cold, and demeaning words hurt me last year. There I was as sick and as weak I could be, and all he cared about was watching his stupid football games! How dare him! Never did he consider how sick I was and how hard I worked to keep the traditions going.

    Traditions are important to me, and they should be for everyone, especially at the holidays. Much to my surprise, Phil has mentioned twice that we are decorating the Christmas tree this weekend. Sometimes I cannot help wondering just who is this strange man I married. His moods change quicker than the winds!

    Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. We are sharing it with friends, and on Friday, I am cooking a Thanksgiving meal at home. After all, some traditions need to continue. Since early marriage I have cooked the Thanksgiving meal. That tradition must continue. Additional traditions will continue, and a few will change. We have a family of four-legged children to celebrate the holidays with. This year, all of them — Shasta Daisy Shampagne, our 12-year-old, frail Maltese will probably share her last Thanksgiving with us. She has seizures now. Until last evening, the last was three weeks ago. Our pet sitter describes her as a frail, little old lady most comfortable in her rocking chair. Only for Shasta, she is most comfortable curled on a pillow with her blanket at my desk. Last night’s seizure scared us and I prayed, “Please God, let her live just one more Thanksgiving!” She made it through the night, and she is curled at my feet now.  Thank you, God!

    Our other children are Shakespeare Hemingway, a salt and pepper mini-schnauzer, Sandy Bear Sebastian, a blonde mini-schnauzer,  Sir Hankster the Prankster, a smaller mini-schnauzer who grumbles and grumbles and grumbles… Our youngest is our biggest, a giant wiry schnauzer named Prince Midnight Shadow. We adopted him from a shelter last year after my precious Prince Marmaduke Shamus crossed Rainbow Bridge. All of these precious children will enjoy a taste of Thanksgiving this Friday with us. Yesterday, the rescue I volunteer for requested for us to consider fostering a pup from a kill shelter. Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas needs fosters willing to help these little guys adjust to a life away from kill shelters and crates. At first, I thought “No, I cannot do this again.” If you recall, my last foster was Sweet Little Cleet…Cleet…the Pup Who Ran Away, But Came Back! I confess, I fell in love with Sweet Cletus and hated to let him go when he was adopted. I am happy to report he is progressing ever so slowly with his new parents. It has been a long process for him to forget the abuse he tolerated as a puppy mill stud, but now, he has a caring family who do everything they can to give him a life filled with love and tender care. Together, Cletus, now named “Little Buddy” and his family are taking baby steps. Baby steps leads to independence and trust, and I look forward to the day when I hear that Little Buddy is now a changed guy!

    I am happy to announce, Phil has agreed to take in another foster – a Maltese. So now, this Thanksgiving, even though we do not have the newest foster in our household, we have much to be thankful for on Thanksgiving 2013. This year I have good health again! We are still together in this marriage. We have love and peace in our world at home. We are thankful for our soldiers who are away this year, and we are hopeful they return home safely, soon. We are thankful for our grandchild, William; and we are thankful and so appreciative of our good friends. May we all have a toast for Thanksgiving, and may we all give thanks to God for another Thanksgiving.

    Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy your special day!

     

  • 9th Infantry Division Reunion – Thoughts Before My Second Cup of Coffee!


    Dearest Readers:

    The posting below is one I wrote in the wee early morning hours of my husband’s Vietnam Veterans Reunion, held here in Charleston. This just shows, I should not post until I am completely awake. Somehow, I posted these comments in the comments section, not in the blog. This should teach me that I should have at least two cups of coffee prior to writing in my blog. Such is the life of a writer!

     

    Another early morning amongst the velvet blanket of darkness outside. Across the street, I see a light glaring in a neighbor’s home. Sunrise will arrive soon, kissing the Charleston community with another blessed morning. Although it is early, I feel blessed. Over the weekend, Phil and I shared his 9th Infantry Division reunion — laughing, joking, listening carefully, and talking about a band of brothers experiences during a time of war…a time when America refused to support the war…Americans blamed our soldiers for the war…and all that happened during it. The Mi Lai Massacre…The Tet Offensive…and Agent Orange…other events that happened, which most Americans cannot understand — simply due to the fact that it is a war. Unless we were there, we the Americans, cannot understand.

    With each of these reunions that Phil and I attend, I see a healing process. As you know, my husband suffers with PTSD. There are times I simply wish to run away from him and never let him catch me, or bring me back…but this weekend…was different. He only grew anxious once…Just once…and when I confronted him about his ‘grumpiness,’ this time — he appeared to listen to me…no fighting…no belittling me. Thank you, God! Normally, his ‘rage’ kicks in during these times, and knowing him as I do, and how verbally cruel he can be, I ‘handle the situation’ by walking away…attempting to ignore him. Unless you live with someone who has the emotional scars of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, especially from a combat zone, you cannot understand what we, the supporters of this ‘condition’ tolerate. Let’s just say, it isn’t a pretty package!

    This weekend was different. When he grew so grumpy, I decided it was better to hang out with the girls and leave him be. For once, it appeared to work.

    And so, to all of you who were here — at the reunion — a total of 16 people, I cannot thank you enough for embracing us into your extended family…Once just a ‘band of brothers…’ now…an extended family who may not understand…or just might understand what we…the wives, and family members experience whenever the PTSD triggers kick in. I would like to thank all of you, especially Dusty and Lou Dewberry for opening a door and welcoming us as a small portion of your extended band of brothers and sisters – from the remnants of the Vietnam War, slowly we find hope and acceptance. May God Bless All of You and may God keep you safe as you journey home. Thank you!

    Some of the 9th Infantry Division, Vietnam Veterans, and Loved Ones at Angel Oak
    Some of the 9th Infantry Division, Vietnam Veterans, and Loved Ones at Angel Oak

  • Remembering 9-11-2001


    Remembering 9-11-2001, — I recall awakening a bit later than normal for me on 9-11-01, due to a headache. It was a beautiful day in Charleston. Bright sunshine, clear skies. The phone rang. I checked caller ID noticing it was my husband. “Now what is it he wants so early this morning?” Those of you who know us recognize that my husband would be surgically attached to me — IF he could! Answering the phone as my head pounded, his first words were, “Are you watching TV?”

    “No. I have a headache.”

    “I know how you love to stay in touch with current events. You might turn the news on. A jet has crashed into the World Trade Center.”

    My mind raced with dreadful thoughts. ‘How could this happen? How could a plane drift off course and crash into the World Trade Center?

    Turning the television on, I listened as the broadcasters speculated what was happening. The news was happening so quickly, speculations were changing every moment, every breath. No social media on that date. No Facebook. Twitter…just speculations as the broadcasters raced with bated breaths to report “the latest…” Cell phones around the locations of the World Trade Center were jammed. Communication was almost crippled.

    My mind drifted to those inside the World Trade Center. The receptionists, administrative assistants, food service workers, and others — trapped inside. What must it be like to glance outside the windows to watch an airplane approaching so closely one could almost see the color of the pilots eyes? What must it be like to see the plane crashing into the windows while recognizing you have no way to escape? Those questions would never be answered.

    Reports continued…smoke billowing out of the buildings. People rushing out of the building. Another report stated that the people inside of the World Trade Center were told to stay inside. “No way.” I said. “I would get out of that building.”

    My heart was heavy. Somehow I knew that something tragic was happening, and it was not an accident. A planned attack, to use American jets to crash into a building and kill Americans.

    Nothing was reported about that, at the moment. Speculations. Guesses…Reports unconfirmed…

    My mind drifted back to a nightmare I had a few nights prior to ‘9-11.’ In my dream there were four men dressed in black, moving across America, carrying weapons – shooting people on the beach, on the highways, and in populated areas. Never did I mention this horrific nightmare to anyone. I simply told myself I dreamed about the beach simply because I love the beach, and I love driving. I suppose I was psychoanalyzing my dreams. Weird! I have had visions such as this all of my life, just like my precious grandmother did.

    Now, I was glued to the television. Afraid to move away for fear I might miss something. I saw the plumes of smoke coming from the buildings, and I watched in horror as another plane crashed into the second World Trade Center.

    Shaking my head, I recognized this was not an accident, but a planned attack on America. In the blink of an eye, I recognized the United States of America was now at war. So frightening. So unexpected. Just how can this happen to US?

    News reports continued as the broadcasters interviewed people on the streets, family members, and a few of the people trapped inside the buildings. Rescue teams and first responders, fire fighters, and medical triages were ready to assist those who needed medical care and assistance to escape, but as the news continued, Americans watched in horror as people who could not escape found a tragic way out — jumping out of the buildings. Tiny images of bodies flying out of the building, falling…falling…falling into a horrific moment of death. Although I wanted to turn the television off, I could not. This was a day I would never forget. I kept praying that rescuers would free more of the people, but the reports were skimpy. “These people need to get out,” I prayed. “They aren’t safe…What if…may God forgive me…but what if the building crumbles to the ground?”

    I watched in horror as a horrific sound roared on the television and the building seemed to move, tumbling to the ground as smoke, debris, and the building fell to the ground.

    “How can this happen? And why — why are buildings built so tall that people cannot escape safely? Who would do this? What kind of monster would crash a jet into a building?”

    So many questions raced in my mind.

    Twelve years later, much has happened to our nation. We are at war with Iraq and Afghanistan. Many lives have been lost and America will never feel the safety we once felt. The safety we took for granted. For a brief time, Americans pulled together to help one another, never thinking or suspecting that if we reach out to others, we might be helping, in some small, caring way. Now, we have more violence in our cities. We see people talking and texting on phones, never acknowledging others, appearing to be clueless to what is happening nearby. We are so wrapped up in our own lives that we take life for granted once again.

    My wish for America is peace. Fellowship. Friendship. Trust and love for one another. We must remember 9-11, while recognizing that our lives have continued after such tragedy. I confess, it was difficult for me to awaken every morning for a while, without asking why. What would make someone such a monster that he would become so destructive, and that he and his followers would plan such an attack? Why?

    While it is true that Osama bin Laden has been killed, his death does not end the threat of terrorism. Terrorism is everywhere. Not just in other countries. Terrorism is everywhere. In our cities. Our towns. And just because one terrorist was killed, this does not end terrorism.

    Today is not a day to end this discussion with the subject of terrorism. Today, 9-11-2013, is a day of remembrance…a day to pray and give thanks for all that we, as Americans, have endured on 9-11-2001. May we move forward to embrace that we have life and freedom. Freedom comes with a cost. Sometimes a price that cannot be bought or expressed. Today is a day to embrace one another and to remember that many lives were lost, in the blink of an eye. None of us saw this coming. Today is a day to appreciate life and the loss of those we loved and lost, gone too soon.

    May we never forget — 9-11-01. Please take a moment today from your busy life to remember those we lost. The price we have paid. The threats we have experienced. On the morning of 9-11-01, our world changed dramatically. Let us never forget it, the victims, families, and freedoms so threatened. Let us pray that we never experience such a tragedy again.

    Today, my heart still breaks for those lost so unexpectedly, in the blink of an eye. Let us NEVER FORGET while we pray for our Nation, our soldiers in harms’ way, and for the freedoms we so cherish.

    Remembering 9-11.

  • Domestic Abuse — Just WHEN Will It End???


    Dearest Readers:

    This will probably be the shortest blog I have written in a while. I am busy with life today…cleaning the house, getting dressed to go to the doctor for my last Supartz injection and caring for a husband with a neck ache. I’ve always said my husband is a pain in the neck, and now I suppose that is true!

    Today, I simply must express a bit about domestic abuse. I know lots about the subject matter since I served as the referee between my mother and dad when they fought, sometimes attempting to kill each other from their raging, violent tempers and toxic voices. Back when I was a child, domestic abuse was not an issue or a crime. People simply swept it under the rugs, while whispering “He Beats Her…” Yes, and she “beats him!” Never could I call the police, or 911. Crimes of ‘passion’ from parental hatred and jealousy simply did not exist. Thank goodness our Nation finally recognized that domestic abuse DOES EXIST, and it is definitely A CRIME!

    Yesterday, I got a phone call from a close, respectable friend, sharing with me that one of our co-workers at Johnson & Wales University was killed by her boyfriend. http://www.postandcourier.com/article/20130824/PC16/130829578/1009/boyfriend-charged-with-killing-woman-in-west-ashley&source=RSS

    I am so outraged I could scream. Reportedly, he is in jail now. How I hope and pray he will remain there for the rest of his life, but as we know, these maniacs manage to get out of jail. Reportedly, he beat her badly, leaving internal injuries and strangulation. Obviously, David Reagan meant to kill her. They found an empty purse by her body. He reportedly used her credit cards after the crime, to purchase beer. Just what an abusive maniac needs, isn’t it!

    I don’t have many details at the moment, but I am so sad to hear and read about how Kathy Hawkins died. She was 52 years of age, with a nine-year-old daughter. Like all who succumb to domestic abuse, she did not deserve to die in such a violent manner.

    As I’ve stated, I know a lot about domestic abuse. Not from my husband, or any prior boyfriends before marriage. I observed domestic abuse as a child, standing between my mother and father, telling them it was time to stop the fighting and be nice to each other. When I was five years old, I saw my dad knock my mother to the ground for the first time, leaving her head bleeding from the force of his temper and rage. I made a promise to myself that I would never allow anyone to beat me, and that is what domestic abuse is — a beating — and now, a crime.

    Please, let us do all that we can to STOP DOMESTIC ABUSE. And let us remember, it is not just a crime for women. There are many women in the world who abuse their loved ones, regardless of who they might be. Domestic abuse is wrong. It should end…NOW! No one deserves to die from the violence of someone we once loved and trusted. NO ONE!

    Stop the abuse now – the abuse related to children, spouses, elderly, family members, animals…just abuse in general. I will have more blogs about domestic abuse later..after all, I observed it as a child. Never did I speak about it to others. I was too afraid I would be physically abused because I spoke up. Years later, I do speak up about it. My husband and I rescued one of my sisters from a domestic abuse situation many years ago, moving her closer to get away from a maniac, now ex husband. I will continue to vocalize my beliefs about domestic abuse. I will stand on my soapbox to do all that I can to stop abuse. I’ve seen friends abused and when I do, I react – jumping right into the fire, daring the abuser to hit me. So far, no one has taken my dare. I suppose they know — they will end up in jail. I will not be quiet. I will not walk away, and I will make certain I do not look the other way, like so many people choose to do.

    Kathy Hawkins was the victim I am speaking about today. She is now deceased, from the hands of a boyfriend. Kathy was a lovely, friendly woman who deserved to see her nine-year-old daughter grow into adulthood. She deserved so much more. Rest in peace, Kathy Hawkins. How I hope David Reagan remains in jail, but I doubt it! Someone will probably bail him out.

    More later! Trust me, this issue is not something I will keep to myself. Domestic abuse MUST END! It is a crime. Too many victims are murdered and murder is a crime!

  • Augusta, GA September’s Brown Bag History Series Lecture


    PRESS RELEASE

    FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
    STOP: SEPTEMBER 4, 2013

    MEDIA CONTACT:
    NANCY J. GLASER
    AUGUSTA MUSEUM OF HISTORY
    (706) 722-8454
    amh@augustamuseum.org

    Business, Southern-Style
    September’s Brown Bag History Series Lecture
    AUGUSTA, GEORGIA (8/20/13) – As part of its continuing Brown Bag History Series, the Augusta Museum of History presents, Business, Southern-Style a talk given by Dr. Marc Miller, on Wednesday, September 4, 2013 at 12:30 p.m. His talk will include the economic history of the United States which began with trade, merchants, and agriculture. He will address what made doing business southern style over the years so unique.

    Dr. Miller is the Dean of the Hull College of Business, Georgia Regents University, Summerville Campus. The Hull College has a network of over 7,000 alumni located across the United States. Over the last six years, the Hull College has initiated key programs in response to the educational needs of the Augusta and the state of Georgia as a whole. These initiatives include the Knox School of Accountancy, the MIS Undergraduate Degree, the Blanchard Center for Ethics and Corporate Social Responsibility and a revamp of the Hull College study abroad programs.

    He is currently the chair of the Savannah River Site Community Reuse Organization and on the board of directors for Junior Achievement and the Greater Augusta Chamber of Commerce. His research interests include e-Commerce, Technology Transfer, and Higher Education Administration.

    Dr. Miller, a Texas native, was raised in Augusta and graduated from the business school when it was known as Augusta College. He received his doctorate from Auburn University. His career in academia includes the State University of West Georgia where he was chairperson of the Department of Management and Business Systems.

    The Brown Bag History Series is an educational lecture series provided monthly by the Augusta Museum of History, and is an ideal lunch-time break for downtown professionals, retirees, and students. The lectures are free to Museum members and $3 for non-members. Participants should bring a lunch and the Museum will only be providing beverages. Lunch can begin as early as 11:30 a.m.; the lecture runs from 12:30 – 1:00 p.m.

    Augusta Museum of History, the only Museum in the CSRA accredited by the American Alliance of Museums, was established in 1937 for the purpose of preserving and sharing the material history of Augusta and the region. From a 10,000 year-old projectile point to a 1914 locomotive, to James Brown memorabilia the collections chronicle a rich and fascinating past. The museum is located at 560 Reynolds Street in downtown Augusta. Please call (706) 722-8454 for more information or visit our website http://www.augustamuseum.org.
    Hours: Thursday – Saturday, 10:00 am – 5:00 pm; Sunday 1:00 pm – 5:00 pm; Closed Monday-Wednesday
    Admission: Adult: $4 • Senior: $3 • Child (6-18): $2 • Child (5 & under): Free

    The 1797 Ezekiel Harris House¸ said to be “the finest eighteenth-century house surviving in Georgia”, is located at 1822 Broad Street and is an excellent example of early Federal architecture. Fully restored in 1964 and listed in the National Register of Historic Places, the Ezekiel Harris House is a reminder of the days when tobacco was the primary cash crop of Georgia. For more information, call (706) 722-8454 or visit http://www.augustamuseum.org.
    Hours: Guided tours by appointment Tuesday – Friday, with the last tour beginning at 4:00 pm; Saturday 10:00 am – 5:00 pm, with the last tour beginning at 4:00 pm; Tours by appointment only Tuesday – Friday; Closed Sunday & Monday. To schedule tours call (706) 722-8454.
    Admission: Adult and Senior: $2 • Child: $1

  • Flying the Friendly Skies, Next to a Stranger


    Dearest Readers:

    Today, while allowing my silly right knee to rest, I’ve decided to write on my blog again. The subject today is about traveling. Flying the friendly skies, next to a stranger.

    As a travel writer, I have journeyed to many exciting, beautiful destinations within the Southern and Southeast region with a stranger sitting next to me. Once, I sat next to a flight assistant traveling to a close friend’s wedding. We discussed our lives, sharing information from our professions. She inquired as to what destinations I would recommend for a girlfriend’s getaway vacation.

    “Gosh, there are so many,” I said. “Gatlinburg, Tennessee has so many great cabins where girlfriends can play together. The cabins are amazing, filled with so many luxuries we are accustomed to in our lives. Another location is Rosemary Beach, Florida.”

    She interrupted me, grabbing her handbag to get a pen and paper.

    Jotting notes quickly, I mentioned additional destinations. Memphis, Tennessee, not just Elvis or Graceland country. Hot Springs, Arkansas. Beaumont, and Port Arthur, Texas. Daytona Beach. Of course, Charleston, South Carolina, but since I live there, I don’t consider it a destination, but I do write about Charleston a lot. Myrtle Beach, SC is another fun destination with much to do. My mind rushed with ideas and she continued writing, excited that I was sharing so much. Sitting next to her, our trip was nice. I do believe this young, vibrant and beautiful woman was one of the most pleasant people I’ve sat next to while flying.

    On one occasion, flying to a destination I will keep to myself, a rather large, older gentleman sat next to me. At first, I thought he was a gentleman. Later, I decided, he did not even comprehend the definition of a gentleman. Removing his jacket, he placed it by his knees. He was such a large man that a lap did not exist! My nose sniffed a disgusting aroma. Body odor. I turned my head away. Squashing his large body into the aisle seat, he nodded hello, struggled to buckle his seat belt, sucking and pushing deep into his belly, and when he accomplished that ordeal, he chose to get comfy. A little too comfy. His right shoulder pushed me — almost into the window!

    Moments later, his head rested on my shoulder. I tapped him. He ignored me. I moved my shoulder, hoping his head would fall to the other side. It did not. He moved closer.

    “Please,” I said. “Do you mind?”

    He ignored me. I was thankful our flight time was a short distance. I continued to push him away, but his body insisted on getting closer. I stretched my head to see if any seats were vacant. They were not. Our plane was one of those puddle jumper types, so moving to another seat was not an option. The flight attendant walked by. She stopped when she noticed I was hovering by the window.

    “You shouldn’t sit so close to the window,” she said.

    “What choice do I have?” I asked, nodding my head in his direction.

    She struggled to awaken him, but he ignored her. She motioned, ‘I’m sorry,’ and I nodded, while my mind ticked the minutes of this flight away.

    Undoubtedly, that flight was one of the worst flights of my life. After that ordeal, I was hesitant to acknowledge those who sat next to me. If they spoke first, I nodded, and if they wanted to chat, I opened a book.

    Last year, I sat next to a College of Charleston student. He was young, blonde, tall, handsome and friendly, wearing jeans and a College of Charleston T-shirt. When he sat down, he introduced himself as Richard, telling me he was a college student and this was his first flight. He was headed to San Diego. My destination — Hawaii. Our flight together ended at Dallas. During our time together, never did we stop talking. I truly hated to see our flight end. He would graduate this year. His major was Political Science. My mind drifted for a minute, picturing him running for office in the future — taking a step forward to lead our nation into changes that are so needed. He mentioned that he was gay and wanted to help educate the public about gay leadership and how narrow-minded some people can be about someone ‘coming out.’

    I shared a story with him about a friend I had in high school. Charles and I dated for about six months. He bought a beautiful Camaro convertible and together, we rode along the back roads of Georgia, talking about future dreams and adventures we wanted to share. We were young. Free. Innocent. The future was ours! On one Saturday night, dreams ended for Charles, when he drove his car into a tree. He was killed instantly. At the funeral, his ‘partner’ — commonly referred to as ‘his Uncle Don’ revealed that Charles was ‘dealing with demons inside his head. He had a secret that he never wanted to share. Charles was gay, and that is why he drove his car into a tree. He did not want to ‘come out of the closet and admit he was gay.’ Uncle Don choked up a bit while speaking about Charles. “We were partners,” he said. “Charles was afraid no one would understand.”

    I was sixteen at the time. Young. Innocent. Not able to understand, but my eyes opened wide after the funeral. I missed Charles so much. He was a great friend. Funny. Trusting. Kind. One of my best friends. His death was such a tragedy, but during those years, gay freedom was unacceptable, at least, in the Deep South. I made a vow to myself that I would never ridicule the gay community, and I would embrace them with my respect and love. The loss of Charles left me with a new respect for what it is like to be gay. Some of my dearest friends have been gay and I love them as a close member of my family.

    When our flight landed, I tapped Richard on the shoulder. “Be proud of yourself, and what and who you are…Never be afraid to make change. America needs you! Think of Charles and the tragedy of his loss, and teach America about how wonderful the gay community is…Be proud. I slipped him my business card and hugged him.

    He smiled. “You remind me of my mom. At first, she was hesitant to accept that I’m gay, but now, she accepts me and loves me.”

    “And she should. You have the future in your hands. Make the most of it for America.”

    I’ve thought about Richard and Charles a lot since that day. Remembering Charles and how reserved he could be at times. During my high school days, the gay community was a hushed, ‘closet’ community. People were afraid to admit what was inside their hearts. Now, America is changing. I cannot help being curious as to what Charles might have accomplished if he had lived. And I cannot help but think about his future. Such a loss. Such a tragedy.

    After meeting Richard on a jet, headed to Dallas, I am hopeful that my next flight I will be blessed to sit next to someone who is so excited about his future, and I pray that I never sit next to another ‘gentleman’ again! His coziness was a bit too close for me, and I did not appreciate him sleeping and snoring on my shoulder. Let’s don’t even discuss his ‘body odor!’

    Some things are just left better unsaid, but I hope I never sit next to another ‘stranger’ again!

    May your journeys and flights be enjoyable. As for myself, my ‘adventures’ always give me something to write about. The ‘pros’ and the ‘cons,’ and I do get to meet some ‘interesting’ characters, along with some amazing people, such as Richard!

  • Happy Fourth of July, America’s Independence Day!


    Dearest Readers,

    Happy Fourth of July…America’s Independence Day! Today, America will celebrate this tradition by grilling burgers, drinking beer, and other alcoholic beverages, because it is a tradition. Many will overeat, or gorge themselves with unhealthy foods and such. While it is true, I will celebrate, I will be careful what I intake, because, as you all know, I am actively involved with my Weight Watchers.

    Today America celebrates our freedoms. While it is a true statement that many of our freedoms are questionable…negotiable…and…a bit controversial, we do have freedom to do what we choose. Let us hope we make the right decisions on this date, and every day.

    I worry about our country, simply because we have a Congress that is hesitant to make decisions..that is — until they recognize that those decisions might affect their life, or pocketbook. Recent actions only prove that statement. Years ago, I respected our Congress…today, I’d love to have a deep discussion with them, to perhaps open their eyes to how their decisions, or LACK of decisions are affecting our country. Nevertheless, today is a day to celebrate while we still have soldiers in war zones, fighting for our freedom. On this date, let us hope we do not lose any troops in Afghanistan, Iran, or other war zones. Let us lift our hands to give thanks to our troops, wherever they are stationed. Let us pray that they will return to our Nation and to recognize that they have the respect and love of our Nation, so unlike our precious Vietnam Veterans had. Let us embrace them while recognizing that they are forever changed and will never be the same soldiers they were before serving in a war zone.

    May God bless our troops and keep them safe on the Fourth of July. May God bring them home safely so we can say “Thank you for your service.” Then, may we embrace them and celebrate their safe return, just like we celebrate on Independence Day. Happy Fourth of July, let freedom ring!

  • Boston Marathon Tragedy


    Although the date of this editorial is April 23, 2013, my heart still breaks for the tragedies at the Boston Marathon. When I heard the dreadful news my response was, “Who could do this? Is it another terrorist attack?”

    I suppose everyone in America thinks similar thoughts since September 11, 2001. Nothing in my lifetime has touched (and scared) me so much since that tragic date. Now, in 2013, we have grown accustomed to being searched at sports, music, and other events. Never do I question why I am being searched — it is now the American way of life. No, I don’t like it, but if it helps to preserve our safety, then by all means – search me. I think the Boston Marathon has changed things — again.

    Last Friday, I had the TV on, listening to it barely while writing. When the Breaking News interrupted, announcing that the City of Boston was in lockdown mode, my heart raced while thinking of the people I met while visiting Boston many years ago. How must they feel? I imagine they were horrified. Just how do you entertain children when they are told that they cannot go outside, or to school. I suppose with this scenario, the only way to entertain them is to allow them to play games with phones, Ipods, computers and other technical devices, with exception of the television. Many local channels were broadcasting the events as they flowed into the television screens. Just how do you convince children that they are safe in the City of Boston with police cars rushing by, barricades. home searches, and lockdowns?

    I’ve never experienced such. The only time I was told to stay in my home was during a hurricane, after I decided not to fight the parking lot of traffic along the highways of Charleston, SC.

    I confess, I was glued to the television now. At first, I watched Fox News, but when they continued to speculate and broadcast personal opinions, I changed the channel to MSNBC. While watching I wondered just when a movie about the events would be written and I imagine that would be really soon – but that is my personal opinion as an aspiring screenwriter.

    When my husband arrived home from work, I asked him if he heard the news about the Boston Marathon and the lockdown of the City of Boston. He was in meetings most of the day, so he wasn’t aware. As he listened to the news, he asked questions about the suspects, Tamerlan Tsarnaev (deceased) and his younger brother Dzhokhar Tsarnaev. I shared the information while still listening to the news.

    Later, that night, while singing at karaoke, the news broadcast reported Dzhokhar, suspect #2, was in custody. Before singing, I announced it to the crowd. Everyone applauded.

    What a relief, especially for the residents of Boston and Watertown, Massachusetts.

    Now, we in America are forming our opinions. I’ve heard many horrible comments about what should be done to Dzhokhar as he fights for his life. Reportedly, he has a gun shot wound in the throat and has lost a lot of blood, so his condition was serious. I haven’t checked on his condition today. I have heard reports on Good Morning America that he is answering questions by writing his response. Let us hope he is answering these questions truthfully, sharing the information that is so needed to help officials build the case for his trial. His mother stated that her children would never do this, and so on…she knows her children and they would never do this. Perhaps she KNEW her children; however, one was 26-years-old, the other 19. Let’s face it, we can teach our children to be good and to have respectful values; however, once they leave home and socialize with others, who knows what will happen to them???

    Personally, I do hope that if he is found guilty, and I fully believe, according to the evidence on video and the evidence collected in his dorm room, etc. he will be found guilty. I hope they will prosecute him with the death penalty.

    No, I do not wish death on anyone, although in this case, he took the lives of three innocent victims, including the life of a precious eight-year-old child. I cannot help wondering why our world has become such a violent world, filled with terrorism. To the people who thought that terrorism would end with the death of Osama bin Laden, I say, I fully believe terrorism is in America, and all over the world. The death of one terrorist only leads to others becoming active. It is so sad, and horrifying.

    America, I encourage all of us to be pro-active. If you see someone place a bag, suitcase, or any object down and walk away, please SAY SOMETHING. There have been several times I have seen someone drop their luggage while waiting for their next flight, only to walk away. Quickly, I approached these people, reminding them they cannot leave their luggage. Their reply, “I’m only going to the restroom.” I smile, and respond, “Take your luggage with you.”

    I probably don’t wish to know what they think as they take their luggage. It doesn’t matter. We must speak up to protect our nation and ourselves. We cannot be shy about this. We must speak up!

    To the City of Boston, I congratulate all of the officials, public servants and professionals, who worked so hard to capture the suspected terrorists while working so hard to protect all of the residents. You truly made America proud — BOSTON STRONG!!!

     

  • Veterans Day in America


    Today is Veterans Day. A day to give thanks to all who have served in the United States Armed Forces. A day for America to SALUTE our Veterans!

    As the proud wife of a Vietnam Veteran, I confess — veterans hold a most special place in my heart. While traveling to areas I write about, as I rush around the airports, when I see a soldier dressed in uniform, I always place my right hand over my chest, moving it quickly down — to give thanks to them. If time permits, I will approach the soldier and say, “Thank you!”

    When I flew to Hawaii in July, I sat behind two soldiers. I was proud to see that American Airlines permitted the soldiers to board ahead of everyone else, and they gave these soldiers ‘complimentary food and drink.’  How nice…after all, isn’t it about time?

    Still, I remember how our Vietnam Veterans were treated when they left for their tour of duty, and when they arrived home. It is unfortunate that my husband was one of the troops mistreated and spat on as he arrived touching the soils of America.

    Vietnam was a dreadful pain for America. Protests were held, people shouting to the veterans, calling them ‘baby killers,’ and such. Never will I forget those incidents. I cried when I saw this happen. It wasn’t the fault of our soldiers. It was a war…a war America learned a lot from, and fortunately, America changed a few things!

    Now, troops ship out in platoons…not alone…on a plane. When my husband arrived home, he phoned me from Texas, telling me he would arrive in Atlanta, GA at 2am. “I’ll meet you there,” I said, excited…My husband was coming home. We were newlyweds, so if you are reading this, you can only imagine how much my heart fluttered with excitement.

    Sitting at the Atlanta Airport for several hours, I waited in anticipation! To say the least, his welcome home was fabulous for both of us. Later, after we moved into our home in Mt. Pleasant, our son was playing with a neighbor’s child. Our son mentioned that his dad was a Vietnam Veteran. The woman living at the house heard my son. “Baby killer,” she shouted! “Your daddy is a baby killer.”

    My son rushed home in tears. He was only eight-years-old. He could not understand her anger. I held him tight, reassuring him that Vietnam was a sad time in America. When he calmed down, I knocked on the woman’s door.

    Let’s just say — my Julia Sugarbaker style kicked in. Never did we hear from that neighbor again.

    Today, I am still a proud Vietnam Veteran’s wife, along with our son. Every Veteran’s Day, I make certain my husband is treated with love and respect. I always thank him for his service, and I hug him tight. After all, this is his day. Let us never forget the veterans we have lost, and let us all give thanks for what they experienced. My husband has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder [PTSD]. I am proud to say, his rages appear to be decreasing. Thank goodness. When he does have a nightmare, or something forces his PTSD to kick in, I have learned to treat him with silence.  As the wife, I cannot imagine what he experienced and he does not share those incidents with me. Still, I have all of his letters written to me — approximately 365 letters, still preserved as if they are new, wrapped with a blue ribbon. A few pictures are in those documents. I plan to send them to some military resource that might want to include them in Vietnam memories.

    Today, I wish all of the Veterans Happy Veterans Day. America loves you, and we are so proud of you! Thank you for your service!

  • November 6, 2012 — Election Day in America Please Vote!


    We are only hours away from Election Day in America. As a woman, I sincerely take my right and privilege to vote as something serious. While I will not say what party I am — neither a Democrat, nor a Republican — I have voted every election since I was eighteen years of age. When I get phone calls reminding me to vote — and this year — there have been too many — I answer without revealing who I will vote for.

    Why?

    My right to vote, and who I vote for is no one’s business…not even my husband’s business!

    I walk into the voting booth, ready — with a print out of who I am voting for, and when I get home, I shred it!

    American women fought for years for the right to vote. Still, I don’t understand what those foolish, insensitive men were thinking when they wrote the Constitution. How dare them to leave women out. And I don’t understand why their wives failed to express — but what about us…the Women??? Men of the “Good Ole Boys” generation fought for women not to vote. After all…those neurotic, self-righteous males wanted to ‘keep their women home…with the children…perhaps barefoot and pregnant…after all…all decent women belong in the home…’ and all of those ridiculous clichés! Sounds familiar, especially if you are from the South! How I wish I would’ve been a fly on the wall then…I would’ve made certain those cigar smoking, disgusting males of that generation would’ve accidentally set fire to the Constitution!  How dare them not to consider the Rights of Women!

    Fortunately, in the 1920’s — passed by Congress on June 4, 1919, ratified on August 18, 1920, American women were granted the privilege to vote. http://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=true&doc=63 When I read about this in American History I questioned why women were not allowed to vote until that date. It infuriated me that men actually thought they were so superior that we, THE WOMEN OF AMERICA…the ones who hold the family together…birth the children…and for the most part still in the Twenty-first Century, rear the children, organize and manage the homes and in many corporations, run many aspects of Corporate America, are still not appreciated for all that we do…as a child, I simply could not understand why women were not equal.

    Now, older, and perhaps a lot wiser, I’ve recognized that Women are still striving to get our rights. I confess, I live with and am married to a macho man…there are so many times he ruffles my feathers…and when he does…I am the first to stand up to him and let her rip…Julia Sugarbaker Style! No, I’ve never burned my bra…but I will step on my soapbox whenever men, women, or issues ruffle my feathers!

    So, now, if you are an American woman, reading this on Election Day…please…do your civic duty…stand up and be heard.

    There are so many people who actually say something to the effect of: “My vote doesn’t count…it’s the Electoral Vote that matters… “Perhaps…but I fully believe it is our duty…our freedom to express and vote for who we believe will be strong leaders for the United States of America. If we do not vote, we should not complain…criticize…or make fun of our elected officials. The time is now to stand up and say, “Yes…I will vote…” You do not have to share who you voted for. I will not ask. And please provide the same courtesy to me. I will admit, I do not discuss politics or religion with my friends. I learned that lesson before I started voting! Yes, I am proud to say – to shout from the rooftops – I am woman! HEAR ME ROAR!

    It is my right to vote for the person I BELIEVE will do the best job. It is your civic duty to do the same…especially IF you are  A WOMAN… HEAR ME ROAR!

    I look forward to the day when a Woman will Run For the President of the United States and she will win! No, I wouldn’t vote for a woman simply because she is a woman, but there have been many women bosses I have known that would make a great candidate! I am one of the people who actually evaluate the issues…I make a pro and con list, I do lots of research and I have my decisions made when I walk into the voting booth. Who am I voting for? I’ll keep that opinion to myself! Just Vote!!!

    PLEASE VOTE — NOVEMBER 6, 2012!