Posts Written By L Parker Brown

Family Reunion Planner: When You are IT – Part II

A year ago, I wrote a post about the joy and pain of being a family reunion planner. I am now revisiting that subject. Veteran planners will surely relate to much of what I say. You already know that planning a family reunion is a challenge. Amateurs, consider this a crash course in Family Reunion Planning 101.

Keep in mind that the process of planning a family reunion takes organizational skills, time and patience – lots of time and patience. And since there may be moments when you will feeling like crying and asking yourself, “Why did I volunteer to do this?” having a sense of humor helps lighten the load.

Most family members look forward to the reunion as an enjoyable occasion and a chance to socialize with family at an upbeat and pleasant event. It’s a thousand times better than an unhappy occurrence, like a funeral.

Over the past few decades, I’ve planned or helped plan a few reunions. During the long intervals between reunions, some of my family members disclosed their wish that “someone” would plan another reunion; while others straight out asked me to organize one. I told them and had promised myself that I would never participate in planning another reunion because I don’t need the stress. Proof yet again that one should never say never, I recently relented to assist my brother who chose to organize this year’s reunion on the maternal side of our family.

I hesitate to say this, but I’m going to be candid. One reason that people do not want the responsibility of organizing a family reunion is that it is a pain in the – head, a headache. (Gotcha, didn’t I?)  As soon as you begin planning the event, there are always a few relatives who did not want to assume the responsibility for the project, but who want to tell you how it should be done, where would have been a better place to hold it, and what activities should be planned. Then, if you politely refuse their suggestions or ignore them completely, some have the nerve to get an attitude. Excuse me, but if you didn’t go through the labor pains of birthing the baby, then you have no claim to it. On the other hand, if you organize the reunion, then you can do as the Burger King slogan says — have it your way.

People who have never planned a reunion have no idea how much work is involved in doing it. Topping the aggravation list is the attempt to get people to send in their fee, contribution, donation – whatever term you choose to use for the money needed to fund the event (SHOW ME THE MONEY), preferably before the deadline. Expect some Johnny or Jills to pay late.

Reunion organizers tend to be reasonable and charge a practical fee. Some undercharge which often doesn’t bode well for them. But, no matter how practical the cost, there will always be some folks complaining that it is too much. Imagine trying to have a splendid reunion on a dime store budget. Perhaps you could pull it off by holding the event at rent-a-shack, but it doesn’t work if you want to have the reunion at a pleasant venue. Ideally, the combined contributions of all attendees will cover the essentials for the event, but it is not unusual for a planner who is determined to make it a successful and memorable occasion to wind up blowing his or her personal budget by paying numerous out-of-pocket expenses.

The primary responsibility of an organizer includes:

  • Creating a budget
  • Locating a hotel or other suitable site and negotiating for event rooms and lodging
  • Collecting fees from family members that will cover expenses and incidentals including costs for a hotel or another venue; postage stamps (for sending invitations to family members who are not online); catering service (if not a potluck meal); hiring a DJ or arranging other musical entertainment (unless a family member volunteers); audiovisual equipment, if needed; purchasing mementoes, freebies, name tags, stationery for programs, decorations, and other incurred costs.

Understandably, people who live in or near the place where the reunion is held bear fewer expenses than those who must pay transportation costs to travel from distant cities and for lodging unless they can stay at the home of family members or friends who live in or near the host city.

If you volunteer to be “It” and plan the reunion, it is a good idea to form a committee or committees, to relieve some of the burdens of doing it all. That is easier said than done. God bless the empathetic family members who volunteer their assistance. Utilize them, if needed – but be mindful that while many people are eager to participate in the festivities, don’t expect them to volunteer to work toward making the event happen.

Above all remember the satisfaction you will feel when helping to create an enjoyable occasion when many members of the extended family congregate and hopefully, all will have a good time.

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The Wisdom of Shedding Wisdom Teeth Early in Life

As I see it, if there is any wisdom related to wisdom teeth is to be wise enough to have them pulled while you are young. From what I’ve read most people have impacted or decaying wisdom teeth removed in their teenage years and early twenties. If you have passed those marks, let’s hope that you don’t wait until you reach middle-age or beyond to get those 3rd molars extracted.

Take it from someone who knows. I thought I had all of my wisdom teeth removed decades ago. When low and behold my dentist tells me that I have one remaining and it needs to come out.

“After each exam, you tell me that I have a mouthful of beautiful, perfectly good teeth,” I said to him. “You do,” he replied, “except for that remaining wisdom tooth. It now has a cavity.” “Can’t you just fill it?” I asked anxiously. He responded, “The cavity extends below the gum level. Better to have that tooth pulled now, then for me to fill it and you have more trouble with it later on.” For two months I resisted until I finally relented and said okay, “Let’s do this.”

I’ve been going to the same dental office for nearly 25 years, and Dr. P has been my dentist during all of that time. He and his entire staff are wonderful people, and they all have an excellent bedside manner. If it were up to me, I’d vote theirs the best dental practice in the city. And judging from reviews I’ve read on Google their other patients feel the same way.

Last Friday was D day. The wisdom tooth is coming out. I am as anxious as a woman about to give birth to triplets on a crowded Metro train.

Dr. P doesn’t do extractions. He leaves that to Dr. M. While she and her assistant prepare me for the inevitable, the dentist and I engage in an active conversation about the various types of yoga, an exercise that we both enjoy. After the “prep-talk” (which I know is a distraction to calm my nerves), the actual process begins and lasts less than 10 minutes.

The procedure wasn’t bad because before injecting the general anesthesia Dr. M used a local anesthetic to numb the area of the soon to be removed tooth. I relaxed a bit feeling confident that like Dr. P, Dr. M knew her stuff. When she went to work, I didn’t feel the needle nor the pressure of the extraction. After yanking that baby out, Dr. M stitched the hole.

Since the wisdom teeth are in the rear of the mouth, unless you tell someone, no one but the patient and the dentist would know that you have missing teeth back there. Warning people:  when anyone tells you that the aftermath is worse than the oral surgery, believe them.

Although I have a low threshold for pain, typically, I am not a pill popper, so I mindlessly refused a prescription for a painkiller. “You may need something after the numbness wears off and for the pain in the coming days,” Dr. M warned.  No. Nada. I refused. The pain cannot be worse than recouping the $325 bill for the procedure. Or so I thought.

Let me tell you – when the numbness began to wear off I wanted to scream “Impeachment!” But Dr. M was not the person I had in mind.

The sheet detailing instructions for extraction post-operative care is pretty specific. During the first 24 hours, I faithfully follow the long list of dos and don’ts. Do drink plenty of water. Do not spit or drink through a straw.  And although caffeine was listed along with no alcohol or smoking (I could live without those first two items, because I am not a drinker or a smoker.) but no coffee – now that is a problem. I confess, I brewed a cup of java but made sure to let it cool down to lukewarm before drinking it. No hot foods or liquids also meant that I had to let my chicken soup cool down almost to the temperature it was in the can before consuming it. About 3 hours after the extraction the pain begins to creep in.

Seeking relief, I swallow Ibuprofen. When that doesn’t work, I switch to Extra Strength Tylenol. A double dose soothes the beast for a little while, and when the pain demon rears its ugly head again. I do it again.

My appetite has waned for the past couple of days, but fortunately, for me, some of the foods that I enjoy are on the list of recommended things to eat following a tooth extraction. Applesauce. Ice cream (nothing chunky like Butter Pecan or Rocky Road). Broth-based soups. Jell-O. Smoothies. Mashed potatoes. Yogurt. Instant oatmeal.

It is now day three post-surgery. I awoke this morning feeling like tiny people wearing spiked shoes were tap dancing on my sensitive gum. My head ached. The lower left side of my face throbbed. I rolled over and grabbed my new best friend, Tylenol Extra Strength, from the nightstand. I crawled out of bed like a battle-wounded soldier, ate a banana, drank a protein drink and then popped two Tylenol ES capsules into my mouth. After a short while, whallah! I felt like I could conquer the world. Or if not that, I could achieve something less dramatic like writing a blog post which is long overdue. It’s been nearly seven hours since this morning’s dose of pain-killer, and it feels like the teeth-munchkins are putting on their spiked shoes and getting ready to dance again. But I’m prepared. My best friend is right here with me, besides the keyboard.

While searching for another solution to after-extraction pain, I discovered the following amusing and possibly prognostic quote about wisdom teeth. “It seems like everybody at one point in their life had wisdom teeth but got them pulled out. And later you find out that the teeth weren’t the only wisdom that’s been removed.” Author unknown.

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Resurrecting Memories for Legacy II

Curiosity drives some of us to become amateur genealogists because we enjoy learning what we can about our ancestors and distant kinfolk. Other buffs, knowing the importance of family history, simply want to preserve the information for generations to come.

I was blessed to be the first of my maternal grandmother’s 21 grandchildren. Although circumstances, like birth order, sometimes conspire against us, being the first-born grandchild has its advantages. We tend to remember things that our younger siblings and cousins may not remember or may never have known.

The process of writing my second book is awakening memories of distant relatives and my interactions with them.

Rhea Williams was the first cousin to my Grandma Hattie Staton. I recall meeting Cousin Rhea only twice. Both meetings occurred when I was a very young girl, and she was in the winter of her life. I initially met my cousin when mother took me to visit her home on the outskirt of Oak City, North Carolina. She lived in a tiny cabin down the road from grandma’s place. I suspect that mother was preparing me for the visit when she told me before we arrived that Cousin Rhea was a sweet, old lady and she was partially blind.

A frail-looking, slow-moving, woman greeted us at the door and invited us into her dimly lit one-room cabin. Age curved her body, and thinning, white hair framed her pleasant face. I studied that face, curious to see what blind eyes look like. But all that I could determine was that one of her eyes was fully closed as if it were sleeping, and the other eye partially open.

Cousin Rhea appeared to be a kind woman, but when she stretched a scrawny arm toward me to take my hand and said in a whispery voice, “How you doing child?” I nervously backed away from her and attached myself to my mother’s side where I stayed during the duration of our short visit, my face partially concealed behind her skirt.

The last time I remember seeing my cousin was when her grandson, Perch, dropped her off so she could visit with our family at our home in Washington, DC. And I’ll never forget what happened the first night that she was there.

It must have been after midnight. Everyone in the household had gone to bed and were likely asleep when I awakened because I had to pee.

In a sleepy haze, I climb out of bed and walk toward the bathroom where I switch on the light and step the few inches toward the toilet. I am about to turn around and sit when something on top of the tank catches my eye. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. There is a mason jar partially-filled with water. Resting near the bottom of that jar is an eyeball.

For a second as I am standing there, I think I’m dreaming. I stare in wide-eyed disbelief at the lidless eye. The eye stares at me. I stare back at it. Never in my young years had I seen an eyeball that wasn’t attached to someone’s face. I am transfixed by the sight before me until my imagination fools me into thinking that the eye is moving; it is floating to the surface of the water.

Then, suddenly, I am wide awake. Faster than the Road Runner being chased by Wile E. Coyote, I switch off the bathroom light, haul ass back to my bed and throw the covers over my head. Until I fall asleep, I lay there shivering and praying that I won’t wet the bed, because there is no way I was going back in there. Not tonight.

The next morning when mother and I are alone, and Cousin Rhea is still sleeping, I ask her about the eye in the glass in the bathroom. She tells me that Cousin has a glass eye. She further explains that the artificial eye replaces Cousin’s natural eye, and she removes it each night before going to sleep. Although I heard mother’s patient explanation, my young mind refused to comprehend, and I left many questions unasked. Where does someone find a glass eye? Do you buy them at the grocery store? How do you put it in and take it out? Can the glass eye see me?

As an adult, looking back on what then was a chilling experience but is now an amusing memory, I decided to do some research on glass eyes. I was surprised to learn that the first in-socket artificial eyes were made as early as the 15th century. And contrary to what the naive little girl believed, a prosthetic eye (as they are now commonly called) cannot restore vision. It is merely for cosmetic purposes.

Today, the cost of a custom prosthetic eye will run you somewhere between $2000-$8000. If you are lucky, health insurances will cover the cost. Recently, my out-of-curiosity search on eBay found glass eyes selling for as little as $30.

I don’t know the cost of Cousin Rhea’s glass eye. I suppose they were less expensive back then. Nevertheless, according to family oral history, it didn’t cost her a thing because the county welfare department paid for it.

You are probably as curious as I was to know how Cousin Rhea lost her eye. Narratives tend to get convoluted, but I will retell the story as it was told to me.

One day Cousin Rhea was visited by a circuit preacher as they were sometimes called. During the act of blessing her, the preacher poured oil on Cousin’s head. Perhaps, he was attempting to follow the Scripture that reads, “Thou anointest my head with oil.” Some of the oil rolled down Cousin’s forehead into one eye. (I imagine that must have burned like hell.) Not to make light of the issue, but the blessing apparently did not cover the eye that got the oil because it cost Cousin her sight.

I don’t know who, if any, of my cousins or siblings, remembers Cousin Rhea but I certainly do. Like I said, being the first-born grandchild sometimes has advantages.

 

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A Celebration of Life

small 20180211_085700Written by Velda Holmes

Guest Author

 

Several years ago, I went to the funeral of a co-worker.  There were a few tears shed, but mostly there was laughter, smiles, and heads nodding in agreement with something said that was spot-on. A celebration of a life that had touched many people in a positive way. I left that funeral thinking, “Isn’t this the way it should be? He would’ve wanted it that way.”

The recent passing of a beloved cousin, Akintunde Kenyatta, made me reflect on that funeral.

Akintunde Kenyatta
Akintunde Kenyatta

I believe it was early 2007 or 2008 when Akintunde reached out to my Aunt Mildred. He was searching for the Parkers. (His dad’s side of the family.) Aunt Mildred’s husband, Willie Parker, was one of nine Parker siblings.  Unfortunately, my aunt had to inform Akintunde that her husband had passed away, but his two brothers, Alton and Allen Parker, lived in North Carolina.

Akintunde contacted them, and I happened to be at my Uncle Allen’s home when he visited. As is my nature, I was immediately suspicious. Who is this cat? I wondered. No “Kenyettas” in the family that I know of. Hummpf, this joker is a flimflam man!

He laid out his roots, starting with his father, Chesterfield. At the mention of that name, my uncle perked up. Yes, he knew his dad! Both men smiled and talked for a long while. I knew then; this was “legit” as they say.

From then on, there were phone calls, lots of jokes, Facebook posts, shared family history, and pictures. Akintunde was passionate about family. In turn, we became passionate about him. He brought fun and joy wherever he went. He came to every annual Parker family reunion he could. The most recent one took place in October 2017, at Virginia Beach. It was special because we were not sure if he would attend because by now he was putting up a good fight with his illness. A fight, we were all sure if anyone could beat, it would be him. We were in the fight with him, too. Praying, sending flowers, sending cards, blowing up his Facebook page. “That’s right,” we all said constantly. “God is still in control.”

In spite of ill health, he came to the reunion. He was visibly frail and weak, but still flashing that sunshine smile. His attendance was special because he met another cousin who he had met only once before, Loretta Brown, who, as it turns out, had not been to a reunion herself in several years. Thanks to modern technology we all shared antidotes, pictures, and ideas via Facebook, so meeting in person was an added treat.

Sadly, 72-year-old Akintunde passed away a few days ago. We will miss him terribly. We search for favorite photos of him, little drawings he made (he liked to draw) and other memorable items. There is so much that we can say about him, like how much he loved his wife, Kim. He was a BIG Baltimore Ravens fan. All of the family is still in awe of the feat he performed about three years ago. He went skydiving.

He was a musician, an awesome brother, a super proud father, grandfather, a great friend, and a loving human being. He has taken his place now among the elders. I believe that many of our family members reading this will be nodding their heads in agreement, and smiling and laughing in celebration of his life.  He would want it that way.

Alton, Akintunde and Allen
Alton, Akintunde, and Allen

*** To see comments about this post, click the word “Responses” beneath the line. Also, click on the picture of Alton, Akintunde, and Allen to see additional comments.

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Sticking a Foot Out for a Good Night’s Sleep

FootHaving trouble sleeping because you are too hot? Did you know that removing a foot from underneath the covers will cool your body? I’m not pulling your leg.

Some of us follow the National Sleep Foundation’s suggestion and keep our bedroom temperature between 60 and 67 degrees Fahrenheit to ensure a good night’s sleep. Still, sleeping beneath a comforter or even a top sheet can make you feel warm, and let me interject – especially on a memory foam mattress. Add to that the body heat generated by the significant other snoring beside you and the bed could feel like a sauna. What can you do then to cool off so you can go to dreamland? Stick a foot out.

Studies have shown that keeping one foot or even a leg out from beneath the covers cools the body and creates a comfortable sleeping condition. Imagine that your foot is a thermostat that helps regulate your body temperature. Both feet beneath the covers keeps the body warm. Take one foot or both feet from under the cover, and the body cools down.

There is a scientific reason why that simple action regulates your body temperature. Experts say that our feet contain specialized vascular structures known as arteriovenous anastomoses, coupled with the lack of hair on the bottoms of our feet those structures are designed to help dissipate body heat.

Okay, I can picture some of you now starting to roll your eyes up toward the ceiling, so I’ve installed a video produced by The Science of US Sleeping Institute that will simplify the subject for you. Watch it and have a good night.

 

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