Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Tag: family

  • Losing Weight Is Such A Challenge


    Dearest Readers:

    Today is a new day. A new month. Tomorrow, Phil and I will celebrate another anniversary. How many years….that I am keeping to myself. Let’s just say, I was a teenage bride…much too young to marry at such a young age…but my marriage has helped me to grow, to blossom into the woman I am today.

    Today was my weekly Weight Watchers weigh-in, only this time, I could not go. Last night my right knee decided to make popping noises again, and when it did, I knew I was in for another challenge in my life. All night long I fought with the pain. Using a pillow to elevate my leg and knee. It hurt worse. I tossed and turned and today, I am totally exhausted. Earlier, I chose to climb back into the bed, to see if relaxation would help the knee to stop throbbing. I coated the knee with Bio Freeze, placed a cool pack on it, freezing it. An hour later, I hopped out of bed, literally. The knee actually bent as I slid off the bed, and it felt better. Still, it hurts, but nothing like it did last night. No doubt, I’ll not wear platform heels for a few days, but never fear, this chick will wear them again!

    Now, I’ve missed two weeks of weekly meetings at Weight Watchers. Next week I WILL be back, even if I have to hop around. The knee is feeling better now, after a day of rest. I planned to use the treadmill today, deciding it might be best to take a day off from working out. The knee doesn’t appear to be swollen, but it is extremely tight. I will give it a few days and if it doesn’t get better, I’ll phone my doctor. No way will I have surgery. I’m simply determined not to give in to the pain. As long as I can move around, dance, and exercise, all will be fine. Yes, it hurts to sit down, and getting back up, the first step is a challenge, but this determined, stubborn chick will not give in!

    So today is a day to recognize that when life makes lemons, I must make lemonade. I truly miss my meetings at Weight Watchers, but I know another week will come, and I will see improvement with my leg. Exercise is truly the key. Through exercise and moderation, I will step back into the meetings, see my friends and know that soon I will reach my goal.

    The beauty of attending meetings at Weight Watchers is the encouragement, knowledge, and social aspects of recognizing that when we have unexpected challenges, such as my battles with my knee, or whenever life dictates my schedule, I can return to Weight Watchers and feel better about my losses, gains, or setbacks. What I have learned the most is that every day is a new day, and when life gives lemons, I simply move to get myself back in the saddle again. Perhaps a cliché, but — that is my way of thinking now. I no longer beat myself up with negative thoughts, I simply move — like now, while I force my painful knee to move, so I can continue the pursuit.

    I am hopeful that next week I will be able to report that my knee is better and so am I.

    Until we meet again — “stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit…It’s when things seem worse, you mustn’t quit…”
    -Anonymous-

  • On Father’s Day


    Good morning, Readers:

    Another beautiful day filled with sunshine for Father’s Day 2013. This day is special to all who were close to dear ole Dad. As a child, I remember babysitting or cleaning, just to get a bit of money to buy my dad, and my papa, a Father’s Day gift. For both, I bought ties, since Papa wore ties to church on Sunday morning, and Dad wore ties to work nightly. Papa was a mill worker, a loom fixer at the dictatorial Bibb Manufacturing Company. Dad worked in the hotel industry as a night auditor. I respected both of them, striving to always please them.

    Over the years, as I grew older, Papa became highly critical of me, refusing to accept that I was growing up, and as a teenager, I loved rock and roll music, singing, dancing, and wearing makeup. As for my dad, he encouraged me. Yes, he had a quick hand and would swat us when we misbehaved, but he encouraged me to sing and to ‘move forward with life…don’t look back.’ Those wise words taught me lots about life. I practice those words in my daily life whenever I make mistakes, or someone hurts me. I look for the sunshine in tomorrow, not the rain that has fallen around me in the past.

    Papa died from Alzheimer’s Disease in the late 1980’s. The last time I saw him, he resided in a nursing home, strapped to a wheelchair, looking out the window at birds in the trees. Perhaps a metaphor for his younger days, when he was gentle and kind and loved to fish. On my last visit to see Papa, he did not know me. When I touched his shoulder to give him a hug, he screamed at me. He didn’t know me. I thought he had disowned me since he disapproved of me many years ago. Later, while working on research for a story about Alzheimer’s, I recognized the reality was, deep inside Papa’s eyes, he rejected me not because he did not love me…deep inside his brain, he didn’t know much of anything…His brain could not process that I was his granddaughter. Perhaps a hard thing to accept when we are young, rebellious and no longer the ‘apple of my grandfather’s eye.’ I’ve written about Papa many times. An award-winning screenplay titled, “Not My Papa,” is based on my grandfather’s life as a textile mill worker in Bibb City, Georgia.

    My dad lost his torrential battle with esophageal cancer on July 6, 1999, while I was opening the door to his room in a nursing home. Losing my dad tore my heart out for a long time. I had difficulty understanding how the sun could set, and rise again the next morning when my dad could no longer see the sun setting. “How can life continue when I no longer have my dad…I’m an orphan without him.’

    On Father’s Day, I take a moment to reflect on the significant men who helped guide me into the life I live today. My Dad…My overly-strict grandfather, and my husband. All of these men have guided me — sometimes with a controlling hand — leading me on the path to becoming the woman I am today.

    I hope they are proud of me. For most of the time, my husband, Phil, says he is proud of me, although there are times I see his eyes rolling upward, as if to say, “There she goes again!”

    Regardless – I would like to express how much I have cared for these men. As children, we watch the actions of our father, sometimes, they lead us to doing the same behaviors they performed on us. As wives, we watch our husbands, hopeful they are proud of us and will love us until the end of time.

    Life is truly a challenge. We awaken daily, hopeful of ‘making this a good day…’ And so we live, without looking back…moving forward…making the most of each day. We hope for tomorrow, only to recognize that tomorrow might bring challenges, heartbreak, or disappointments, but we must remember to follow the words of advice our dads gave us as children. “Don’t look back on life…move forward…”

    Today, I can hear my dad saying those words to me. I thank him for his wisdom and his love.

    Happy Father’s Day to our Dads…and thank you for guiding us along this path of life.

    There is a passage I say to myself almost daily. I suppose it is my anchor:

    “Stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit…
    It’s when things seem worse — you mustn’t quit!”

    Happy, Happy Father’s Day!

  • Happy Mother’s Day


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Happy Easter


    Sunday, March 31, 2013

    Dearest Readers:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Meeting Influential People Who Change Our Lives – A Toast


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    “How did you know?”

    “Remember when we met.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Belated Merry Christmas to All


    Good morning, World. Today is December 26, 2012 — the day after Christmas. Belated Merry Christmas to all. Another day for many to shop – to get the great after Christmas bargains. Ho Hum. I will not be a participant this year.  I’m still too sick, too weak to fight the crowds. For the holidays of 2012, I have been ill. Everything has been a fog to me. The beautiful Christmas trees. The Christmas lights. Christmas caroling. Christmas parties…Christmas mass…a complete fog.

    I became ill in early October with bronchial asthma. Knowing how to care for myself, I rested, used my nebulizer and inhaler. I have asthma and I know what is required to get well, so I didn’t go to the doctor. I rested. Slept — once until 2:40pm. Totally out of character for me! Getting well a few days before Thanksgiving, I cooked a Thanksgiving feast for two. After Thanksgiving I realized I was still ill, but better.

    On December 13, I awoke coughing again. Oh goodness…am I still sick? I asked myself. The night before was a fun night of dancing, singing and having lots of fun at Karaoke at the Elks Lodge. Barbie is back, I said. I’m finally well!

    Surprise! Thursday morning is my weigh-in day at Weight Watchers. After washing my face, I turned my lighted makeup mirror on. Oh Gosh. What is wrong with my left eye? I stared into the mirror, got a fresh tissue, dabbing it gently on my left eye. It was bloody red, appearing to have blood gushing out of it. I was horrified. I looked like an alien! I can’t go to Weight Watchers like this. I have to go to the eye doctor! I checked the tissue. It was dry. No blood, nevertheless; my eye was BLOODY!

    I looked for my opthamologist phone number in my new Iphone5. It wasn’t there. I struggled to think of the doctor’s name, but I was a true blonde this time. What to do? I decided to drive myself to the office as an emergency. If I needed to stay all day so they could work me in, I would. I packed a few magazines and the Post and Courier in my hand bag, and off I went to the eye doctor. I was mortified! No eye makeup on and here I was driving myself to the doctor. I imagined I would run into everyone I know — without makeup!

    By now, I had a bit of pressure in my right eye. I could see well, so I didn’t think there was any damage. Less than an hour later, the doctor checked my eye. The left eye had suffered a subconjunctival hemorrhage from coughing. He confirmed I had no eye damage, but would look this way for a matter of weeks. Great. The holidays are upon me and I look dreadful. Can I wear eye makeup? My doctor laughed. Yes, I could. There was no damage to my eye…It just looked — interesting! Little did I know how sick I was becoming. By Sunday, my chest burned and there appeared to be a bear inside my chest. Growling. Wanting to come out, only I was too weak to let it out. My eye was still red. I could be in a horror movie now, not needing makeup at all!

    For those of you who read my blog regularly, I thank you and I apologize for not writing lately. I have been much too sick, and so has my computer. One morning I attempted to use the computer. Everything wasn’t working. Trying to get on the Internet gave me a code of  ‘this page doesn’t exist,’ or something similar. Remember, I am sick and when I am sick, my brain becomes pickled! I realized, not only was I sick with this dreadful virus, but my computer had a virus too! At least my computer and I are closely bonded…maybe a little too closely bonded!

    Monday morning, I phoned my allergy specialist. The earliest I could get an appointment was Tuesday afternoon. Lots of sickness in Mt. Pleasant. I was only one of them. Arriving late at the doctor’s office, I apologized, telling them I could not remember where they were located and went to the wrong office. Gosh, how I hate when I’m sick. I am a total air head, unable to comprehend anything.

    I remained at the doctor’s office for over two hours. Constantly they tested, treated and diagnosed me. No flu. No fever. No pneumonia. Walking pneumonia — perhaps!

    Now, my readers will understand why I’ve been so quiet. Too sick to write. Almost too sick to lift my head off the pillow. Changing the bed linens left me gasping for breath. Christmas Day I received a blessed gift from God — I awoke feeling better. I could go to my friend’s home for dinner. I was finally stepping onto the road to recovery.

    This morning I am feeling better — bit by bit. This Christmas holiday season I wasn’t able to shop at all. Each time I thought I might be able to shop, something came up – a surprising assignment with New York Daily News, another assignment for my magazine editor, and of course, all of the illness I battled. So, Phil and I have quietly appreciated that we have each other. Shopping for gifts simply wasn’t an issue for this year. I was much too sick. After all, it is the little things we should appreciate every year at the holidays. For example – good health. Spending time with family and friends. Being nice to one another. Playing it forward with kindness. Instead of being in a rush, especially in traffic, why not allow that insensitive driver who is striving to cut you off to get into the lane ahead of you? Open the door to a stranger. Say hello to someone with a smile. Be nice. Christmas is the time of year to appreciate those who are in our lives, and those who come into our lives. Every one has a reason and a season. The little things. This year I’ve certainly learned to appreciate those precious words and to appreciate “Merry Christmas.”

    Perhaps God wanted me to get sick to realize I must slow down a bit and appreciate those I love. Belated Merry Christmas, Everyone. Let us all give thanks for our life, our family, good health and God bless us — EVERYONE! Happy New Year 2013.

  • Happy Thanksgiving to the United States of America, 2012


    Gobble. Gobble. We awoke to a beautiful morning. Warming the oven, we pop the turkey in, ready and excited to make our delicious Thanksgiving meal. Thanksgiving has been a tradition in America since the pilgrims. Just imagine cooking that delicious meal the way the pilgrims cooked. No microwave. No conventional ovens. No electric ovens. Everything was cooked using all that they had to use back in those days. The days before electricity. The days without convenience, or technology. Just imagine, not being able to communicate with precious long distance loved ones far away. No e-mail. No texting. No Facebook.

    I, for one, am happy I didn’t live back in those days. The days before women had rights. Nonetheless, today is a Thanksgiving Day that is always precious to me and my family. On this date many years ago, my husband shipped out from Ft. Dix to Vietnam. Seems the military could care less about holidays!  Phil and I were newlyweds at that time and I was staying with his family while he was away. At least that is what he wanted me to do, but when his father (and I use the term loosely) chose to stay drunk 24 hours a day, telling me that ‘I had only married my husband because I wanted his money.’ I was only 18-years-old at the time. He was a PFC in the Army. His family lived in a trailer. Enough Said! Let’s just say, our marriage started off without much planning. I didn’t meet his family UNTIL AFTER OUR MARRIAGE. How I was hoping and praying Phil would not behave like they did. After my father-in-law’s drunkenness continued, I chose to move back to my mother’s home. Not a good decision, but it was the only decision I had.

    OK, let’s flash forward to our Thanksgiving time together. For two years of our marriage, the Army kept us separate. So now, I do my best to make certain Thanksgiving is special. I use my best china, and I cook lots of food. We have enough leftovers to feed us for at least three days.

    Our dinner feast included:

    Roast turkey with homemade cornbread dressing with Italian sausage and giblets

    Macaroni and cheese

    Mashed potatoes

    Gravy

    Dessert – Cream cheese pound cake and cheesecake

    What was your Thanksgiving feast?

    This year I was sick for four weeks with bronchial asthma. So sick and weak I failed to invite anyone over for Thanksgiving.  Next year, I’m hopeful I will not get sick so I can work on that. I simply love cooking for others. The year 2012 has kept me busy so I haven’t exactly shared my cooking skills with others. Oh well. Tomorrow is another day!

    My wish for everyone on this Thanksgiving Day is to appreciate others. Take a moment to share your love with your friends, family and significant others while enjoying this special day of thanksgiving.

    I hope all of your holidays are filled with happiness. Remember to take time to say a prayer for our United States of America Armed Forces. Let us hope that all of them know how much we miss them and appreciate all that they are doing to keep America safe.

    May your holidays be wonderful, and please, remember to keep Christ in Christmas.

  • For the Dads on Father’s Day


    Dearest Readers:

    This Sunday, June 15, 2014 is Father’s Day. I am sharing a post below about Father’s Day. I hope you will enjoy and take the time to appreciate your father or husband or loved one.

    Today is a beautiful day in Charleston, SC. Blue skies, a slight breeze, and gorgeous bright sunshine. Today is truly a day of appreciation — for life, love, family and all that we in America are blessed with, especially on Father’s Day.

    To all the fathers, and the fathers-to-be, I would like to extend a blessed and loving Happy Father’s Day. My wish for you is that all of your children and wives will appreciate all that you are and will spoil you just a bit today. Let us all make the time to say, “Happy Father’s Day,” and to make the time to do something special for Dad. Even if it is only a short phone call to say, “Happy Father’s Day,” please make the time to express your love and appreciation.

    Father’s come in all shapes and sizes, all temperaments and there are times when father’s may not have the patience they need. Becoming a parent doesn’t come with a guide book of instructions, nor do we take classes for parenting. We simply become a parent, hoping we will make the right decisions.

    I lost my father on Tuesday, July 6, 1999. For two years I watched him fighting the debilitating disease of esophageal cancer. I watched his body slowly melting away from him. At first, he was robbed of health, then his strength and independence. Gone was the ability to eat food. His body was attached to a feeding tube, he commonly referred to it as his umbilical cord. He detested it! After his body refused to allow his independence to return, we admitted him to a convalescent center. He coped with his new residency, but was never happy there. Daily, I visited him. At first, he welcomed me with open arms. A few months before he died, he became angry, shouting at me…telling me to leave, and not to come back. His roommate said he was mean to me. “No,”I defended. “He isn’t mean. He just wants me to leave.”

    On July 4, 1999, I saw my dad for the last time. Walking into his room, he was sitting in a chair, reading his Bible. His head lifted to look at me, but he did not welcome me. He continued to recite Bible verses, telling me to ‘go on… get out of here. I don’t want you here.’

    Exhausted, I left in tears. On July 5, I returned to work. Working a bit late, I drove home, completely exhausted. Early in the morning of July 6, I awoke from a frightening nightmare. I suppose you could say, I have the gift (or wickedness) of visions. In this dream my dad was dying. I looked at the clock. It was 3:45 am. I reached for the phone. Dialed a portion of the phone number to the nursing home, stopped dialing, and hung up the phone. I did not go back to sleep.

    That day at work, I phoned the nursing home several times. I was told my dad was doing well, or ‘as well as to be expected.’ Before arriving for my visit, my dad took a fall. He was eating dinner when I arrived. Placing my hand on the door of his room, I met up with a nurse, with an oxygen tank by her side. She motioned for me to move away and not to come inside. I knew what was going on. I screamed.I looked at my watch. It was 5:45pm. Again, a vision I had was coming true!

    Standing next to my dad’s doorway, I listened to the actions of the nurses. They encouraged me to tell them to bring him back. I declined. “No,” I cried. “Just let him go with dignity.”

    The death certificate recorded his death at 6pm. In all reality, he died at 5:45, when I was about to enter his room. This year will be the 15th anniversary of his death. I no longer have a Father to wish “Happy Father’s Day.” Today, I will think of him, as I do every day. I will pray that he will enjoy today with his identical twin brother, his parents and other siblings and relatives. Yes, I miss him, but I know that he is in a better place…no longer attached to an umbilical cord, and now he can take his daily strolls and he can sing again.

    Happy Father’s Day to all of the special men I have been blessed to know in my lifetime. Many of you know who you are! As for me and my husband, I intend to take him to dinner and to spend the day with him. How I wish I could spend the day with my dad, and I wish I could spoil him a bit on Father’s Day. Let us all appreciate the fathers of the world. Let us share kindness and love to them. After all, we never know what tomorrow may bring. Happy Father’s Day with my thoughts, love and kindness! I am blessed to know many of you!