Delta Airlines - Such A Disappointment

I am extremely disappointed in Delta Airline and their current level of services. I have always gone out of my way to support this airline because they are ATL based; but I can no longer justify it.

They are nickel and dime-ing customers to death!

On my last flight, they were serving "cups of water" instead of the small bottles of water and I noticed they have joined the array of second class airlines that sell snacks. This wouldn't be so bad if their prices hadn't skyrocketed.

The other disappointing thing is I booked a trip and in less than 24 hours my return date needed to be change. I used their "chat" feature first to try to get the change and the gentleman kindly let me know I could do it online (which I already knew). I tried it online and the price increased by $190.00. I called the Special Member Services hotline (where I've ALWAYS gotten impeccable service) and explained the problem with the increase and he said the best he could do was cancel and delete the current itinerary. Naturally, I asked him to delete it and I switched to Orbitz where I got the same flight for a cheaper rate-on Delta.

Don't try to get a "good seat" because now Delta charges for all Exit Row Seats and all Aisle Seats in exit row sections. Any seat that might have a little more "comfort" is going to cost you extra. How sad, Delta. Shame on you!

Customer service at Delta isn't what it use to be and this is quite disappointing. The Medallion Program is a joke as there are no real incentives anymore.

DEALING WITH UNEMPLOYMENT

I have been enjoying my time off. Money is getting thinner and I'm not sure I'll make my mortgage payment next month, but I'll let next month take care of itself. I've only had one phone interview and it sounded promising. I'll know in the next couple of weeks. I really think most businesses are waiting for the election to happen - hoping for good tax breaks to help kick-start the economy. I don't blame them. If I had a thriving business, I would do the same thing.

So I spent the last 2 weeks working in my yard. I've pulled weeds from flower beds and dug up rose bushes and all of the other hard to maintain shrubs and flowers. The yard is taking on the look I am accustomed too. :-)

I had to use my AMEX points last week to keep from losing them. Once the company refused to pay their bond holders, AMEX pulled the company's credit and closed all credit card accounts. Anyway, I just managed to get my points used up before they pulled them, too. I was able to get Home Depot giftcards to buy paint for repairsuse. So, being laid off isn't all bad. I am getting some things done I've always wanted to do. My body ache like heck though because I haven't done anything this strenuous in a long time. (lmao!) Need a massage!!! However, once I pop a Phentermine and drink 2 Red Bulls, I get energy and strength like you couldn't imagine. I turn into a regular WONDER WOOOO-MAN!! (lol).

Well, my sister's birthday is coming up and my brother-in-law wants us to go to Myrtle Beach for the weekend to celebrate. He's footing the bill so I'm looking forward to it. I think a get away will be nice for me right now.

I spent last night watching Imitation of Life. What an awesome movie!! I had forgotten how good it was and how it depicts what it is like for a child growing up in the South as a half white/half black kid.

I've bent your ears enough! Meanwhile, I want to ask you a political question? Where are our single folks and why aren't we speaking out politically, demanding our FAIR SHARE?! Afterall, more than half of the taxes paid come from single, middle class, childless workers.

Until then, remember to keep climbin......

GP

Memoirs of a Georgia Peach - Life's a Bitch and Then You Die!

My woes continue as my floundering full time employer gives me and 18 others our walking papers. Yes, I am now a member of the 9.4 million Unemployed Americans Society. Have you ever seen such ugly statistics for so great and powerful a country? (smile)

Well, admit it or not, President Bush, the United States IS going through another Great Depression and every darn American wakes up knowing that life's a bitch - and then you die.

Thanks to Stormy Ike, people are beginning to fight for gas. Pumps are dry and stations with gasoline are far and few in-between. Food prices have skyrocketed to the point that Granny's Possum Stew is going to be sounding pretty good to a lot of folks! (lmao)

I've had hard times before. Grew up in hard times. Bacon, grits and grease was my meal many days as a child. I fear some of those days might be returning. but I know I'm strong enough to handle it. Many want make it as they haven't a clue how to "tighten their belts" and ride it out. They would never live off peanut butter sandwiches or grits and bacon. They always thought it was just a myth when people spoke of times like these. Now they are about to find out the hard way that life's a bitch - and then you die.

Me? I'll survive. It won't be easy. I may even have to eat every other day instead of every day but that's ok, too. I believe we should eat to live and not live to eat. It's the 5 year old that I worry about. Children don't understand these things and he's been through so much already. My mother was his babysitter when he was born and mom died when he was about 2 years old All he knows is something is different. He knows she isn't in her house anymore and now he refuses to go to the house. He gets upset with my eldest sister who lives there saying she got rid of my mother. We continue to try and explain death and God to him, but how do you get a child to understand something so "grown-up". A year later, this same child found his uncle dead in my kitchen. He was 3 years old at the time and he still doesn't understand why God won't let his uncle come back home. He was very close to his uncle and has been acting out a little ever since.

So , here I am now a year later telling him I have to take his Sponge Bob away. He doesn't understand that he hasn't done anything wrong and it is simply because Auntie can't afford it right now. His mother and I always punished him by taking the TV away and making him study then off to bed. I guess it is only natural that he equate the loss of cable TV to him doing something wrong.

I spend everyday trying to make money from home with some of the online Internet sites (will never make enough to pay my mortgage and credit cards) and I send out resumes and fliers for a good 4 hours everyday. No hits yet. I'm not surprised. There are a lot of professional people out of work. My competition is going to be pretty stiff and to that I say C'est la vie!

I spend part of the day preparing the house to put it on the market if it comes to that. I would really hate having to do that because the market is just not good right now. I would never get anything out of it - might not even get what it is worth!

I don't know what to do. Anyway, my full concentration right now is keeping food on the table and getting the baby's medicine. He has asthma.

One day at a time. Every morning I get up and force myself to put one foot in front of the other and I just keep busy cause one thing I know for sure, life's a bitch - and then you die.

Jes' keep climbin' -

GP

P/S - I appreciate all kind words, prayers and donations. :-)

Contractors! What's a Homeowner To Do?!

UGH!! I have had the worst luck with Georgia contractors. It started with Mr. Williams who was suppose to paint my house. I never saw such a mess! Paint over all of my plants and shrubs after he promised he would cover them to protect them. And then, my deck ended up being two-toned, looking like something indescribable. Unreal. I would never recommend that company to anybody.

Last year my nephew died - while cooking. Needless to say, there was a lot of smoke damage and the kitchen's linoleum had a burned spot where the pot he was holding settled and it needed replacing. My niece was very close to her brother and she and her 5 years old son found him and of course they were distraught beyond comprehension. Hoping to get as much repaired and cleaned up to minimize the effect on her, I contacted my insurance company to see if they could get somebody out to repair the damage before we returned from the funeral and ended up commiting the ultimate sin....I LET MY INSURANCE COMPANY PICK THE CONTRACTOR.

I know. Yes, it's just not done but all I could think about was that at least some of the reminders of that dreadful day would be gone. Anyway, in all fairness, the floor repairs were done "ok" but they totally messed up my cabinets. I had white-white cabinets but when I returned, they were almond. Now, I have white-white, stove, refrigerator, exhaust hoods, etc. and these ALMOND cabintets standing out. When I called the company and said, "you used the wrong color on my cabinets", he immediately responded, "your cabinets are white-white". I said yes, they were, but they are almond now. Of course they refused to repaint the cabinets the right color and the insurance company could care less. So now, everything else is white-white in my kitchen and the cabinets are almond. Yes, even the cabinet tops are white-white! they did not clean nor replace the white-white kitchenette, or the white doors or baseboards. In their mind, the smoke went straight to the ceiling and didn't touch the walls. So, they painted the ceilings, but not the wall.

When I challenged this with the insurance company, they then painted the ceiling and the walls, but not the trim! Can you say EXASPERATING!! Paul Davis Restoration - stay away from them when it comes to painting. You can do a better job yourself. Customer service stinks!


This one is the kicker - in May 5, 2008 year I hired Morningstar Restoration to replace my roof and repair 3 ceilings that were damaged. The roof was finally done in August 2008. The three water-damaged ceilings still have not been replaced or repaired. Now, they called me and told me if I hired a handy man they would return that money to me, but of course they didn't. They held on tothe money stating they will give me my $445 refund once the company sends them the balance of the money owed. they felt certain the company would send the balance (probably over a thousand dollars) to me so they will just hold on to my $445 to see if they get their money.

Can you say STUPID?! I was furious so I filed a complaint with the BBB, afterall they proudly sport the BBB on their contract. I also sent all the documents to my nephew, who is a JAG. All I want is my darn ceilings repaired! Why can't Contractors do what they are paid to do? Are there any contractors in the Atlanta Georgia area that aren't thieves!!!!!!!

Well, let's see what happens. It's in my lawyer's hands now. Meanwhile, Ill do everything I can to make sure other consumers are aware of unethical and untrustworthy contractors that I deal with!

And me, well, - I jes' keep climbin'

L2B

Life Aint Been No Crystal Stairs - Part II

To say my life hasn't been a flight of crystal stairs is putting it mildly! These last couple of years have been pure hell. I am so depressed and it just seems to get worst.

Toward the end of 2004, my mother was diagnosed with inoperable stomach cancer. When my sister called me and told me that, I called my friend and we immediately drove home. Mom was 84 years old. I've always known that someday I would get that awful phone call saying mom was dead. However, I am greatful that I was given the opportunity to spend time with her before she died. We always think we have all of the time in the world with the people we love.

Well, I wanted her last days to be as comfortable as possible so whatever my mother wanted, I got it for her. She did not want to go in a care facility or the hospital. She wanted to stay home so I bought her an alarm bracelet and installed an alert system in the house so we could always be notified if she fell or something. I bought her medicine, eyeglasses, food and paid for her doctor visits which she could not afford on her fixed income. I consulted with her doctors from a distance to see what if anything we could do to help her through this time.

I went home on weekends and spent time with her, just talking about whatever she wanted to talk about. She had forgotten the doctor's told her she had cancer and one day a friend of mine called her and she told him we were keeping something from her. I don't know if she blocked it out intentionally or if the morphine was affecting her. I know she hated the way the morphine made her feel. See, my mother was a "controller", always had to be in charge so when the morphine made her feel "light headed", she resented that and I would have to make her take her meds to ease the pain.

We spent several nights talking about my dad before she died. When I was growing up, she would never talk about him to me no matter how often I asked. She would only say "your daddy was a good man but he was too much of a momma's boy". She didn't get along with her mother-in-law apparently.

I'm glad that before she died, she told me about dad and his side of the family. I finally understood the years I lost with him and the reason for the rift between her, daddy and my grandmother. When I went to visit her that Saturday, she said that the "spirit" told her to talk to me about my father. And so she did. It was enlightening and I became so overwhelmingly emotional, I couldn't drive back to Georgia (mom lived in SC near Charleston). Incidentally, I don't really know anybody on my father's side of the family. Momma introduced me to a couple of them when Iwas younger, but I wouldn't know them now from anybody else. My grandmother and my aunt has died so I'll never know them.

Anyway, mother died the next week after we had our long talk about daddy. I remember that several times during my visits, mother would say there was a man sitting on the foot of her bed and she didn't know him. She would just ask "who is that man sitting on my bed. Tell him to get off my bed". I believe it was the angel of death and she saw him a couple of times before she died.
As the caregiver, my eldest sister and I were named administrators of the estate. There wasn't a lot to administrate over so that wasn't too difficult (smile). No matter how hard you try to prepare, it's difficult to prepare for a death. We managed somehow to muddle through and I was so proud of my nephews as they stepped up and took care of their aunts and cousins and each other through this tough time - the way mother taught us.

Mother died March 29, 2005 and was buried the first week of April. A week after my mother's death, my niece's father-in-law died so the children lost two grandparents within a week of each other. Talk about tough.

By now, I've used up all of my savings and started falling behind with some of my creditors - but I don't regret it. Her last days were as comfortable as possible and that's all I cared about.

Four months after burying mother, I end up in a car accident. A driver decides to go around stopped traffic by passing in a "no passing zone" on the right and struck my car while I was making a left turn. The officer charges me stating I didn't yield for oncoming traffic. Doesn't matter that he wasn't suppose to be passing traffic on the right shoulder of a highway. Now, I have to spend money to get to and from work until my car gets fixed. I spend every night wishing the other driver (A. Williams) get his due!! That was his third accident that year, according to him. I bet he squeezed out of those, too. In September of the same year, I end up having emergency surgery due to gallstones. It just seemed like enough couldn't happen to me that year!

Symbol of my life - Sawyer Brown's song that said, "everybody's busy with their own situation, everybody's lost in their own little world, not really caring what their neighbor's going through".

That's where I was. You'd think things would start looking up, but they didn't. Right after mother died, my nephew, his sister and her 3 year old moved in with me. My nephew was suffering (literally) from sickle cell anemia and COPD. He could get better health care in GA than SC and my niece just wanted to move and start fresh after graduating from college. I loved having them with me. The house was "lived" in. My nephew was on two oxygen concentrators and was home all day so that increased my utilities from $70 a month to $218.00 a month.

I got to tell you though, that it was inspirational being around him. Since birth, he struggled with pain from sickle cell anemia but he never let it win. No matter what the doctors told him, he made a liar out of them. Since he was a baby they were telling us he had 6 months to a year to live. He lived to be 30. He did whatever he wanted to do. He loved the drums. He played drums like no other. He taught himself to play the guitar and the keyboard. But his first instrument, his first love, was the drum.

Yeah boy, he loved those drums. One of his greatest dreams was to march with SC State 101 Marching band. Now, he shouldn't have even tried because his hip was deteriorating and he badly needed hip surgery but it was what he wanted to do - and he did it. His mother wanted to go to the college and ask them to take him off the band and called and ask what I thought. I told her "No, let him enjoy his life. Don't let him spend his life saying I wish I had. Let him spend his life doing what he wants while he can. Just make sure he understands he'll probably end up in the hospital afterwards". He marched and yes, he ended up in the hospital afterwards - but he had no regrets. He had lived his dream.

Unfortunately, his sister found him dead in the kitchen on April 24, 2007. He was cooking and some how another his Flolan line (a life-sustaining medication given by IV) came loose. I never wanted him on Flolan. I told the doctors not to put him on it because I was afraid something would happen and it did. We don't know what happened that day. The house was filled with smoke from the pots burning, grease was on the floor from either him slipping and wasting it on himself before he fell or he spilled the grease on himself, moved away to quickly, fell and accidentally pulled his IV loose. Either way, he's gone. The kitchen had a good bit of smoke damage and the linoleum had a large burn where the pot he was holding had landed. Apparently, the bottom of the pot was extremely hot. What a day. The hardest day of my life. Worst than when mother died. See, mom was 84 years old and you know that at some point, the older they get, the closer you are to that day when you'll have to say good bye. But when they're young like this, it's hard. For a long time, I found myself slipping into a depression and I would fight my way back because I know I needed to be there for his sister.

Well, we got through the funeral some how and I am gradually coming back from my depressive state.

So without a doubt - life for me ain't been no crystal stairs...

Until next time ........jes' keep on climbin'!

Luv2blog

Memoirs of a Georgia Peach - Life Ain't Been No Crystal Stairs

"Well, son, I'll tell you,

Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.

It's had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor --Bare.

But all the time,

I'se been a-climbin' on,

And reachin' landin's,

And turnin' corners,

And sometimes goin' in the dark

Where there ain't been no light.

So boy, don't you turn back.

Don't you set down on the steps

'Cause you finds it's kinder hard.

Don't you fall now --For I'se still goin', honey,

I'se still climbin',

And life for me ain't been no crystal stair"

-Langston Hughes Mother To Son

When I was younger, I had to read poems by Langston Hughes and other African American authors as a part of my curriculum. I have always enjoyed reading. And a good thing, too, because my mother insisted that we read and write constantly. We had to spend every Saturday morning at the library reading books and checking them out to read during the week. Education was my mother's biggest thing. It's the one thing she insisted on for us. She would always tell us that no matter how someone tried to hold you back or take things from you, they could not take your knowledge - so get all that you can. It's the one thing that you have control of that is always yours.

I read all types of books, not just African Americans. Some of the material I read was written by non-African American authors, such as Jane Austen, Edgar Allen Poe and Charles Dickens. Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility were two of my favorites. But the readings that stuck with me all through life - are The Orangeburg Massacre (Jack Bass), Black Like Me (J.H. Griffin), and the poem Mother to Son (Langston Hughes). I think reading these literary works were the first real eye opener for me, related to the struggles of being black in America. I am it was a part of my curriculum because I probably would not have chosen them on my own at that stage in my life.

I can clearly remember my childhood when the Klu-Klux Klansmen rode through our neighborhood on horseback, yelling and throwing sticks of fire in people's yard. Momma and the neighbors would grab us kids and run for the corn fields where we would hide until they left. I was just a child so I didn't understand what was going on and whenever I asked my mother, she wouldn't explain. The response was always "be quiet. don't ask so many questions". (lol)

I was much older before I figured out that the parents did that to protect us from being raped or beaten or even murdered. And we fled the homes just in case one of those burning crosses landed inside the house and started a fire. I remember one night they threw a burning cross in old man Miller's yard. Mr. Miller was what we called a simpleton, but a nice old man that could really blow a harmonica. I remember hearing momma say Mr. Miller had to move or they might burn him out the next time they came back. Well, Mr. Miller didn't move (he had no where to go) and they didn't burn him out. We could always hear the KKK rallying in the field around the corner and once the rallying started, our parents would get us and hide because they knew they would be riding the neighborhood next. So, as you can see, from very early in life I was introduced to hatred and meanness and it was these episodes in life that sparked my passion for psychology. I just wanted to know what made people think the way they did or do some of the things they did. Most importantly, I wondered "how come it didn't make me hateful, too."

Strangely enough, I've met just as many hate-filled Blacks (i.e. African Americans for those who prefer it) and they are very quick to shoot down or hurt another Black person. I'm glad my mother taught me to know people for "who they are" and not "for the color of their skin". So, despite my experience with the KKK, I was not raised believing all white people were bad, evil or prejudice and all black people were good. My mother taught me that people are people and each have a distinct personality - so get to know a person and treat them accordingly.

In my opinion, that was one of the most valuable lessons I ever learned. I say one of the most valuable lessons I learned because through the years I've learned many. The one that keeps me sane (well, reasonably sane! lol) is "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference"- Reinhold Niebuhr. Once I understood the significance of those words - I got a new attitude! I now have a new outlook on life and a longer life span! People ask me all the time why do I look so calm and relaxed. I answer, "because I am". You have to reach this level of peace on your own. I can't explain it to you, but once you're there, you'll know what I'm talking about. (smile)

Sorry, I digress. That may happen occasionally, but I promise to get back on track. (lol)

Now, back to Langston Hughes' poem and its correlation with my life. Life definitely have not been easy. Can't remember too many happy days although I'm sure there were more than I can remember. We were poor. I grew up in a 7 room house with 5 sisters, 1 brother and a mother. A 7 room house that only had 2 bedrooms and one belonged to my mother. The other five rooms consisted of kitchen, bathroom, living room, dining room and a large walk in closet. The house was old......very old. Probably built back in 1920 something. The floors were falling in, the roof leaky and the plumbing didn't work half the time. There was also an "outhouse" that we shared with our aunt as none of the houses around us had bathrooms. Our house was the only house on the street with a bathroom even though it didn't work most of the time. (This should give you some idea how old these houses were as the health laws now require bathrooms in houses). And just to note - I'm not that old! I turned 52 years old this year. :-)

All of the girls slept in one bed, 3 at the top, 3 at the foot. Of course, there was never enough room, somebody always had their cold feet on somebody until momma started making us wear socks to bed. (LOL) My brother slept on the couch in the living room until he was old enough to leave home. Mother always managed to buy a pull-out couch which could be converted to a bed at night. Struggling night and day, my mother raised us alone, and tried to instill the best possible social values. We were taught to always take care of each other - no matter what. We can be angry with one another and fighting furiously, but if one is in trouble, set it aside and help them. And I can honestly say, that as of this writing, my family still honors that teaching.

Daddy's Little Girl

My father served in World War II, 4178th Quartermaster Company. I barely remember what he looks like and I have no pictures of him. I've tried to locate some but have been unsuccessful. I've searched his military records but many originals were destroyed in a fire some years ago and the government only had documents that were available on microfiche (which wasn't a lot). Anyway, I vaguely remember my father, a very light-skinned man with one leg. He walked with crushes. Even today I don't know how he ended up with one leg. I don't think he lost it in the war because I've gotten a copy of his military records and even though there is at least one record about him being ill and hospitalized; it doesn't mention him losing a limb or being injured during service. However, the commander that wrote me back told me that they didn't keep good records on African Americans back then.

Anyway, I vaguely remember him and that wide smile he had whenever he saw me. I remember him calling me his baby and I remember him telling my mother not to spank me. I was probably 2 or 3 years old at the time. Everytime daddy saw me he would get the widest grin. I remember my mother keeping us away from him and telling us we couldn't see him anymore. My aunt would slip me out of the house, hide me in the back of her husband's car and take me to see him. And there he waited with that big wide grin. When I got back and told momma that I saw daddy, I can remember her wiping me down with alcohol. Now, don't forget that I'm only about 3 years old so I don't understand any of this. Parents didn't explain anything to children back then, they just issued orders. I didn't know why she didn't want me to see daddy anymore, I just know I wasn't happy about it. He was living with his mother and I was living with mine. After I grew up, I learned later in life that my father had Tuberculosis (TB) and my mother didn't want us infected. And we were lucky, we were vaccinated, took preventative medication and did not catch it from him.

I don't have anything from my father - another regret that I have. I remember him giving me two things in my life time - a Kennedy 50 cent and a pink, flowery dress with a white can-can slip (or petticoat for all you young'uns out there, lol). Parents have no idea what impact their actions have on children, do they? My guess is mother was so furious with him, she didn't keep any pictures of him. She said they didn't take any because cameras weren't so easy to come by back then, but hey, she's got a lot of pictures of other people! Anyway, I now know that people react to certain situations in certain ways and parents are constantly doing things to and for their children, sometimes without explanations, and kids end up drawing their own conclusions - like I did. If mother had told me about daddy's TB, just maybe I wouldn't have wasted so much time hating him. Well, I don't plan to take you through 52 years of living (lmao), but I will highlight some memories I seem to have retained along the way.

"I've been rich and I've been poor. Rich is better - Sophie Tucker"

As I said earlier, we were very poor. I can remember selling coca cola and other soda pop bottles at the nearest grocery store to get money to buy food. We were happy if we got enough money to buy grits and bacon. If we got that, we would add grease on top for gravy (lol). Another meal for the poor was biscuits and milk. That was dinner. Sardines and herring was a treat! I hate those foods now and never eat it. Other ways we tried to make a meal was "sweet water and bread". Couldn't afford Kool-aid so we took tap water, add two tablespoons of sugar and stir. Drink that with some homemade biscuits and hope you had enough to full your tummy 'cause that was dinner.

Yeah, I can remember hearing my mother crying in bed at night because she couldn't feed us - or herself - for that matter. I remember her giving me her dinner one night because after I ate, I was still hungry. That night, she did without.

The thing about being poor is that when everybody around you is in the same boat, you don't know how impoverished you are. Yes, the neighbors were in the same boat. Some were a little better off than we were because there were father's in the house to help with a second income but they were still living below the poverty level. So, Sophie Tucker is right. Rich is probably better. (I haven't gotten there yet, but I will!)

So - how did we go from having the only upscale house n the neigborhood to not being able to afford food. Well, my grandfather was a business man. He owned a farm and a barber shop. My guess is those items generated the family's income. After grandfather died, there was no one to run the farm so it died too, and the barber shop closed. My mother was a registered nurse but became ill early in life and had to loose a kidney. She was then restricted on the amount she could lift and since doctors and nurses had to lift patients back then, her career as a nurse ended, too. She became a midwife but there wasn't a lot of money to be made and so the struggle began.
Daddy died when I was in the 8th grade. By then, I was full of hatred for him. I hated that he wasn't living at home with us. I hated that we had to struggle so hard to get food to eat. I hated that I had to wear hand-me-downs. I hated that I had to put cardboard in the bottom of my shoe because the sole had holes in them and my feet was on the cold ground. And I hated that he wouldn't be there to question up my boyfriends or make one of them ask for my hand in marriage. So when momma called me home to tell me daddy had died, I told her I didn't care. I refused to go to his funeral or to the funeral home to pay my last respects. I even refused to stay home from school in mourning.

By the time I was in the 8th grade, I had somehow become the "backbone" of the family. I worked after school to try and help mother get the money she needed to take care of the family. Everytime their was a problem or issue, mother would send them to me and as she got older, she relied more and more on me. Caregiver's don't have a life. The family becomes your life. Their problems become your problems and everybody look to you - no , expect you to solve the problem. As I look around now and see some of my nieces instinctively sliding into this role, I tell them to walk away. Live your life! Do not get caught up with solving family problems 'cause they never go away!! Never!!!!! (lol)

I never thought of myself as the caregiver or as the backbone of the family. Yet, while I was out on an audit job about 2 years ago, this doctor asked me if I was the caregiver of my family. He said it was written all over me. (Well, I thought to myself, that might be one reason why I'm still single!!!)...lol ....But I'm glad he told me. I am always interested in how other people see me. Sometimes it's important and sometimes it's not. If I can use the information to improve myself in someway, then it's helpful. If I can't use the information to improve myself, then I file it somewhere as duly noted - like infamous file 13. But having a total stranger look at me and tell me that my demeanor screams "caregiver" was interesting. I didn't like that but it at least it explained why I was always targeted by men who wanted something for nothing. And darn if I wouldn't get sucked in before figuring out they were users! (LMAO). Obviously, they saw the "bleeding heart" syndrome, too.

Crushed Dreams

When I was a little girl, I, like all little girls, planned my life out. I saw myself with a nice big house, a loving husband and 2 kids (1 boy and 1 girl). I would be a psychologists and my husband a surgeon. We wouldn't be rich, but we would be financially comfortable and happy.

I started saving money for my wedding day when I was in the 8th grade. (Aww, little did I know about life's twist, turns and little surprises"). I alwas wanted to get married, but it wasn't in the stars so I sunk myself in work. I stopped dating and focused totally on my career. I worked long hours and sometimes more than 12 days or 80 hours without a day off in between. And then I woke up oneday and I was 35 years old, still single, and wondering where the heck did all the time go.

Regardless of my hard times through childhood, I never gave up. Every obstacle thrown at me was overcome even though it didn't seem possible at the time.

Many of the decisions guiding my professional and financial goals were influenced by mentoring from white people. My church members influenced me too, but my white mentors had connections and knowledge through opportunities that my black mentors never had. They taught me a little about handling money and a lot about "life in the corporate" world. It makes me proud to know that they were willing to guide me and help me because they saw a future for me that I could not visualize. Even today, I thank them every chance I get.

Thank you for reading my memoirs.

Until next time.......jes keep climbin'

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