03.28.11
Posted in Uncategorized at 6:10 am by Administrator
Hilarious. I saw someone wearing this on a t-shirt walking down the street the other day. If I could have gotten close to the woman wearing it (I was driving at the time), I would have asked her what made her don such apparel. What did it mean to her? I liked it. I wish I could have asked her where she bought it. Ironically, I was also recently interviewed by a Wall Street Journal reporter on the subject of being single and dating in the 21st century (you can read the article at http://on.wsj.com/gap2C4).
There is freedom in being single. You can get up and go when you want. Hanging out with the girls is never a problem, and if I want to talk to my family three or four times in one afternoon, no one complains.
Of course, I realize there are things to be said for companionship. My Mom says, it’s nice to belong to someone. How sweet. I believe these things happen in God’s timing. So until the day I say “I do,” I’ll take a tip from that sister, and keep busy being single.
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03.16.11
Posted in Uncategorized at 10:15 pm by Administrator
I treasure time spent with my family. This dawned me on me a few weeks when I was hanging out with my Dad eating some gelato. His flavor of choice, banana, as usual, and mine, mint chocolate chip. We sat on a park bench and talked about one of our favorite subjects: his father.
“He was such a sweet man,” I said.
“He was,” my Dad agreed, smiling.
“I can’t believe he didn’t have a Southern accent since he grew up in Newnan (Georgia),” I told him.
“No, he didn’t,” my Dad mused.
As much as my Dad loved his father, he loved his paternal grandfather just as much, if not more. This, despite the fact my Dad never met him. My Dad’s grandfather, Dr. John Henry Jordan, died in a car accident decades before my Dad was born. My Dad says he mourns his grandfather’s loss everyday and has even patterned his career after his.
March was John Henry Jordan’s birthday month. He was born March 11, 1870. Who knew he would only live to be 42?
If I were in Georgia, I’d visit his grave. Perhaps lay a flower at the base of his tall, monumental tombstone. Then, I’d walk the short distance over to my grandparents’ graves. I’d probably sit down on the grass and talk to their twin headstones. You know, catch them up on things. I miss them terribly especially my Grandmother who died less than a year ago. But life must go on, of course. My Grandmother would want it that way.
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02.11.11
Posted in Uncategorized at 7:56 pm by Administrator
There’s nothing like love. It makes you feel different, special. Whether it’s the love of your parents or the love of a significant other, love knows no bounds. It’s nice that Valentine’s Day celebrates those who are nearest and dearest to us, but why wait until then to show your love? Don’t get me wrong. I love flowers and, occasionally, candy as much as anyone else (did I mention how much I love flowers?), but, to me, it’s even more special if these tokens of love and appreciation are doled out on no special occasion. I love those gifts given “just because.” A lot of times, the special days that occur outside of Valentine’s Day are the most memorable.
I think of the times my Dad has showered my Mom with beautiful jewelry outside of any major holiday, and how much it has meant to me when I have received a bouquet of flowers “just because.”
My brother-in-law, Julius, was romantic enough to propose to my sister, Kristi, on my Mother’s birthday with a ring in hand and my sister’s favorite Stevie Wonder song blasting from a radio in their waiting limo. To make it even sweeter, the rest of our family - well, my parents and I- got to participate in the excitement when he immediately whisked Kristi to the airport and put her on a plane to Nashville! It was an unforgettable day.
There are other times when it’s necessary to create your own memories whether it’s treating yourself to a spa day or a fabulous shopping spree for no reason at all. There is nothing wrong with showering yourself with expressions of love.
So this Valentine’s Day whether you’re spending it with a special someone or on your own, don’t be afraid to let the spirit of Valentine’s linger past the official day. Hug someone. Laugh with someone. Give all you have to love, and watch it come back to you.
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01.29.11
Posted in Uncategorized at 9:17 pm by Administrator
Some things cannot be explained. I was sad to hear the news of Jack LaLanne’s death last week. I had followed the 96-year-old fitness guru for years. I enjoyed watching him on television and admired his whole philosophy, and the fact he said he’d worked out everyday since the 1930’s! How impressive. It is amazing how he kept himself in such great shape for so many years. I read in an article that he once said he felt no different when he was 81 than he did at 21.
On the other hand, you have people like my Grandmother who never worked out a day in her life, ate anything and everything she wanted yet, ironically, lived longer than Jack LaLanne. She was even overweight most of her life and died last year at the age of 97 (and a half). These kinds of things always stump me. How can you explain it? She wasn’t into fitness or nutrition (although she did believe in drinking green tea), and I’m sure she could have lived longer if she had wanted to. My Grandmother basically died the same way the men of old died in the Bible. She decided it was time to go, then she girded up her loins and willfully took her last breath. She was not even sick. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her. My mother and I were just talking about it recently. My Grandmother’s death certificate simply read: “failure to thrive.”
The way LaLanne constantly worked out, devoted his days to good nutrition, and lived to tell others how to do it were great accomplishments. But for all of his working out and seemingly doing everything right, he couldn’t escape death. No one can. I think death, whenever it comes, always teaches us something. Perhaps the most important lesson is not to take things for granted, including tomorrow. That is the way I want to live my life: one day at a time with the keen awareness that tomorrow is not promised to anyone.
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01.17.11
Posted in Uncategorized at 4:30 pm by Administrator
Everyone who knows my Dad knows he’s a humble man. He has never been one to toot his own horn or anything of that nature. Still, I was surprised at what I found out recently when my Dad and I started talking about Dr. Martin Luther King. As it turns out, my Dad actually had a one-on-one conversation with him. This is what happened…
The year was 1957. My dad was a junior at Morehouse College and had traveled with one of his Alpha Phi Alpha brothers that April to Memphis for an Alpha regional convention. It just so happened the father of my Dad’s friend was in charge of the convention’s welcoming committee and was assigned to pick up Dr. King, that night’s keynote speaker, from the airport. The man drove Dr. King to his house where my Dad also happened to be staying. The man then prepared bacon and eggs for Dr. King while apologizing that his wife wasn’t home to cook a more suitable dinner. My Dad said Dr. King wasn’t offended at all.
“Oh, I’m having a good time,” Dr. King told them.
Then, all three men sat at the kitchen table and talked. My Dad said he and Dr. King discussed the fact that they both went to Morehouse, they both had pledged Alpha there, and they were both from Georgia. My Dad was also classmates with Dr. King’s younger brother, A.D. My Dad remembers Dr. King being very gracious and warm. He was dressed in a suit, and as soon as he finished eating, they left for the Alpha convention. My Dad rode in the back seat with Dr. King while the host drove. On the way, Dr. King told my dad of his hope that his brother would also pledge Alpha at Morehouse.
“(Dr. King) was very nice and down to earth,” my Dad recalls. “Just like talking to any friend.”
How could my Dad have neglected to mention all those details all these years? You just never know what valuable information your parents may be hiding. You never know until you ask, that is.
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01.05.11
Posted in Uncategorized at 6:23 pm by Administrator
I have two, older brothers but growing up, I often tried to tell them what to do. When I was a toddler and our mother would trek to their room to wake them up in the mornings, I would stand between her legs and parrot her by saying: “Wake up, baas.” I couldn’t pronounce the word, “boys,” my parents say. My little sister often spent her younger years defending me as my brothers, Harold and Vincent, teased me and horsed around, the usual stuff big brothers do. Those days were something, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate the two of them. It was my brother, Vincent, who found me a place to live, helped me get one of my first modeling jobs, and, unwittingly, helped me discover a trade show awhile back that heralded the kickoff of my family’s skincare line, EmmGerri. My brother, Harold, took care of me the summer I lived in Washington, D.C., chauffeuring me to and fro and introducing me to his friends. Later friends of his became my friends when I moved to Northern California. I am blessed to have two brothers who have comforted me through bad breakups, helped guide my educational path, and showed me, at times, what to do and what not to do when handling the challenges life can bring. There’s nothing like having big brothers.
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12.01.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:37 am by Administrator
I love Thanksgiving. We all know you can’t beat the food, and, for me, there’s nothing like spending time with family. It’s generally the one time during the year that guarantees my whole family will be together. This year, all of us joined in the celebration except for my older brother, Harold. Unfortunately, he and his brood couldn’t attend as we took Thanksgiving on the road this year, opting to do something different. It was a fun time. There was plenty of food, laughs all around, picture taking, and sunshine. And the best part of all? Nobody had to cook! Who knows why we didn’t think of that before (it was my Mother’s ingenious idea). As much as I was semi-dreading eating out, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat! It was just lovely, an ideal Thanksgiving. And we even had left overs since my sister, Kristi, cooked a delicious meal the next day (I helped a little bit). I don’t know if eating out was what the original celebrators had in mind, but it sure beats the same old routine. Hmm… can’t wait to see what next year brings.
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09.22.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:56 pm by Administrator
It’s not a holiday I’ve generally remembered over the years, but it’s one my Grandmother often reminded me of in the past whenever September rolled around.
“Grandparents’ Day is this month,” she’d say (or something along those lines).
I’d barely heard of the holiday before she brought it up. Whenever she mentioned it, I’d then run out to the nearest drugstore to rustle her up a card and send it. I always considered it a pain at the time. Now I wish I could send her one.
My sister says I’m grieving too much. She often reminds me that my Grandmother is in a better place, heaven, that is, and is not thinking about me. I’m sure Kristi is right. I hope Grandmother’s happy. I just wish the last time I talked to her I’d have known it would be the last time I talked to her.
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09.11.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 11:15 pm by Administrator
It’s not that big. It’s light blue and has a long handle, but the way my Mom has been carrying that thing around for years, you’d think it was worth a million bucks. I’m talking about a comb. My Mom has held onto it for decades. She’s nostalgic about it. It was a gift to her from my Grandmother. It was actually given to my Mother during her and my Dad’s “honeymoon.”
My parents married exactly one week after my Dad graduated from medical school. They were married in my Mom’s home state of Arkansas then went to Georgia the following week where my Dad was scheduled to take his medical board exam. My Mom stayed with his parents at his childhood home in Newnan while my Dad took the exam in Atlanta. One day, my Mom realized something was missing.
“I guess I needed a comb, so we went downtown, (Grandmother) and I,” my Mom recently recalled. “And she bought me one.”
Since that fateful day 48 years ago, that comb has been across the continental United States, crossed the Pacific and the Atlantic multiple times, and seems to be one of my Mom’s favorite things. And it never fails. Whenever we are out of town together, including her recent visit to see me, the question always arises: “Has anyone seen my comb?” And just when we’re about to give up on ever finding it, it always resurfaces. That comb is like a dang boomerang. My Mom never loses it for good. She’d be so upset if she did. I’m sure my Grandmother, when she first bought that dime store comb, had no idea what a prized possession it would become.
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08.21.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 12:25 am by Administrator
That is the best way to describe the life my Grandmother lived. Yes, my Grandmother of whom I have written so much about, passed away on July 29. It is so hard for me to believe. I had her in my life for so long. She was 97 (and a half) years old. She was always there for me and my family, and she adored her grandchildren. My Grandmother attended every graduation and debutante ball, beamed proudly at family weddings and was the center of family reunions. She was the matriarch of our family, her church, and her community.
I think my favorite memories are from childhood. She loved to drive me and my sister into downtown Newnan, Georgia, and buy us beautiful dolls. She liked to brag about us and my brothers - as all grandparents do - and would even have me perform for her friends in her living room when I was a little girl.
The day of her funeral though, I wasn’t thinking about any of those things. As the funeral car wove around the narrow streets of her neighborhood, it dawned on me that it was the first time I had ever been to Newnan in all of my life and not been able to see my Grandmother. I became overwhelmed right before we arrived at the church. My mother wondered if I’d be able to make it through the song I was scheduled to sing at the service. It was my Grandmother’s last request of me. How could I not? Plus, anyone who knew my Grandmother knew that when she said something, she meant business. You didn’t refuse her. No, my Grandmother always got her way.
She used to irk me when she would bring up the subject of her funeral. I think she knew it bothered me, but she liked to talk about it. Once, when I was sitting with her in her kitchen years ago, she pushed some papers toward me.
“Those are my funeral arrangements,” she told me.
She insisted I read over them. I remember my only question at the time was: “Doves? You want doves?”
She stared at me and said it was someone else’s suggestion, but I know my Grandmother. She always wanted the very best. As the eulogist, my Dad’s cousin so aptly summarized, my Grandmother was a diva.
I thought about that as I admired the huge, beautiful portrait of her that stood on an easel next to her pearly, white casket. She was dressed to the hilt in the photo wearing a silk, floral dress and a matching hat. That was my Grandmother. I stared at her eyes right before I sang and imagined her telling me: “You better not mess up.”
When it was time, I stood up from the front pew and walked in slow motion toward the microphone. My throat was dry from crying, and I wasn’t 100 percent sure I’d be able to hit the high notes of “The Lord’s Prayer,” but I simply fixed my gaze on a point on the ceiling and sang for my Grandmother. I hope I made her proud. The service was just as she would have liked it. Rather formal. Not too long. Dignified.
I miss my Grandmother terribly. I know time will help heal my broken heart, but I do have peace in knowing she was ready to go. She had complained for awhile of just being tired. And in the end, facing no terminal illness or devastating diagnosis, it is as if she simply willed herself to die. My Grandmother was a very proud woman. She had recently lost her independence, and deep down, I knew she could never live like that. She had a good life. She traveled the world, met Oprah, and lived to vote for the first black President. My Grandmother lived life her way up until the end. And after all was said and done, she even had her doves.
[You can visit this link to see a special pictorial tribute to my Grandmother at: http://bit.ly/d56a8T]
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