INFLUENCE: Have You Touched A Life Today?

Do me a favor. I want you to think about the person or persons that influenced you.... to buy a house. Get an education. Be a productive person. Be responsible about having children. Get and keep a job. I always tell my daughter, "you are who you hang with". Do you believe that? Who did you hang around? Who made you the person that you are? I'll bet you right now your answer to the majority of these questions are.... a family member, a teacher, some neighbor, a friend or a pastor. What's my point?
If you don't have anyone that is a positive influence in your life, anyone to teach you how to become a productive, responsible person that respect life and property and value education then what happens? Lack of discernment happens. You lose the ability to recognize differences between right and wrong, what is appropriate and what is not, what is moral and what is immoral. If you look over your life I am willing to bet that someone taught you about discernment. Do you see what an affect not having the influences of both parents (our first teachers), clergy, neighbors, and school instructors have had on society. How do we rebuild? Where do we start?
Try mentoring someone. I have mentored in formal programs and just to whomever I feel could use my counsel. I teach my adult women friends about finances, talk to young couples about marriage, nag high school boys about keeping it in their pants and encourage college girls not to give it up so easy. I think the government should pay mentors to pair up with faltering families and troubled youth. Give them bonuses if they can get that person or family to take a path forward. O.K. it is not a perfect plan but it is a start. What do you think? Who have you been an influence to? Who influenced you?

DEATH

My daughter was in first grade when we had the "death" discussion. I was told by doctors I would not survive my bout with pancreatitis and as organs began to shut down and last rites administered I groped for words to explain death to my child. Even after I beat the odds my daughter would plead a year after the fact for me to promise her I wouldn't die. Of course I couldn't do that because I knew one day that I would.
"There are far worse things that could happen to me than dying," I said to her one day. "Like what?"she asked puzzled as her eyes rolled around to indicate maybe I didn't understand that we were discussing the ultimate "boogie man," the final frontier. "I could be like a vegetable in a coma, somewhere between life and death," I offered. Her eyes popped open as she tried to wrap her little mind around that. "Suppose I was awake but couldn't move at all, couldn't talk or walk, completely paralyzed." Silence ensued as she knew someone like that and I imagined she was visualizing me in that person's place.
I am more than just a body. I have a spirit and once the body wear out your spirit goes on. So even when I die I'll come to you in different ways as my dad comes to me. On some beautiful Spring days I'll smell a hint of his cologne in the wind, or I'll glimpse him out the corner of my eye and think had I turned quickly enough I would have seen him. At night when it's quiet and I'm in bed my mind replay long ago talks and I close my eyes and feel my hand in his.
Above all my little girl, God will be there for you always. He will comfort and guide. When you are old enough to read His word you will be assured in knowing that my love is everlasting and life is eternal for those who truly believe. She's never again pleaded with me not to die.

A DREAM DEFERRED

I've gotten a challenge. You know I can't back down. Here is the challange. All you have to do is blog to the alphabets A-Z for the month of April excluding Sundays. My friend Lee invites all bloggers to participate. For more info. check out Lee's blog http://tossingitout.blogspot.com/

I have always known writing is my destiny. Before I started school I hid under our kitchen table cloaked in secrecy by the lace floor length table cloth left to my game of choice "scribbling." With an eraser less pencil I scribbled on the blank side of discarded bill envelopes. In those days I envisioned myself as a "secretary." Later when I learned my alphabets my writing skills advanced to jotting down every family member's order at supper. It didn't matter to me we all had the same order. I just had to write something. In middle school I started reading "Nancy Drew" and the "Hardy Boys" mysteries. It was the spring board to my starting to write real stories. By the time I was in high school I advanced to writing one act plays. One of them made it to my high school stage. The play received a standing ovation. It was that moment I knew I wanted to pursue writing as a career. Then it happened. My senior year my parents explained why I couldn't go to college to be a writer. "There is no such thing as a black writer. You need to concentrate on something practical," my parents said firmly. It was no need to bring up Niki Giovanni or Maya Angelou, you just didn't disagree or question your parents that way. A dream deferred.Writing kept returning to me like an old lover whose advances to put black ink on white paper I continued to rebuke. Three decades after my parents senior talk, I read of a writing contest in the newspaper that made my knees buckle and my heart beat loudly in my head. Fingers poised over keys I succumbed to my lover and the sight of my words on the computer screen filled me with an ecstasy of pleasure I could not have imagined. I was finally where I belonged.

New York And Dan Rather

I was ten years old when I first saw Dan Rather through welled up tears on a black and white t.v. It was also the first time I saw my dad cry. Dan's voice was the voice of absolute certainty during a time when no one was sure of anything. President Kennedy's assassination stunned a world that was now transfixed on the television set. Dan Rather's voice was authoritative but at times even his voice faltered. I liked and admired him for his humanness that day. We needed to know it was o.k. to be human and show emotion. If the ultimate professional could show pain then it was o.k.for us to mourn such a loss. I hoped one day I could tell him what a comfort he was to a little girl, her father and a nation that terrible day.

My best adventure in N.Y. was having dinner at the 21 Club with the Rather's. Wait a minute some of you that know me are thinking, is Debra leading some sort of double life? We thought she was just a common everyday person. Ding ding ding ding! You are right but just because you are a plain common person doesn't mean you have to live your life like that...plain & common. Remember this if you take away nothing else from this trip. It's your life and you can live it the way you want. No woman can be as sweet and kind as Jean Rather. Dan was just non pretentious. They acted as though it was a treat for them to meet me! I was Cinderella that night. I arrived in a black limo and left in a white. My husband and I became quite emotional when Dan spoke of his meager beginnings and how the "can do" spirit of Sam Houston University where he and my husband went to school got him where he is today. We know a little something about that "can do" spirit. In fact like Dan we are living proof of what you "can do" if you believe in your dreams. This is why my blog name is Dream Weaver and I have that wonderful quote at the very top. Are you making your dreams come true? Are you waiting for something to happen instead of making something happen? Life is yours for the taking so what are you waiting for? FYI...since its opening every president has eaten at the 21 Club (remember Barack and Michelle did so last year) except "W" jr. This has also been the backdrop of many movies like Sex and the City. It is also the meet and greet place for the stars and dignitaries and such.

10 Reasons I Love New York. David Letterman

Happy New Year to you all and sorry for the delayed posts, but I'm baaaak! Now let's continue our trip to New York.

Here I am waiting to go in the Ed Sullivan theater to see Dave, the CBS orchestra, Paul, and the guy with the red hair and the voice!

I made lots of friends standing in the cold waiting to be prompted on what to do & NOT to do as a part of the studio audience.

Did you think those people were laughing at Dave's jokes that loud on their own?

I met a single lady from Austin who was a cut up like me along with a cute couple from the Carolina's and we just screamed and hollered and partied like we were old friends. AND this was before they let us in the studio.

I sat in the third row center and at times I was so close I wanted to just join him on stage. Dave is thin, really thin and Paul Schaffer is short really short, and that red hair Coulter guy's voice is deep, really deep and he was hot really hot.

The guest was none other than Barbara (Wa Wa) Walters! She is so tiny and fragile but her head is big, really big. I admire her so much! What a legend. The guest band was "Mos Def." He is a rapper, and I didn't know his music but he made a really good movie with Bruce Willis and I liked him in it. Quite the actor.

Did you think I would go all the way to New York and not pay a visit to RUPERT at the Hello Deli. Dave did lots of skits here and I always thought Rupert was a stand up guy. So un assuming over his star status and down to earth. I was on the money. Rupert is one of the nicest guys. We chatted, gossiped, and basically solved the world's problems in about an hour and a half. I had the David Letterman sandwich which was so good I bought one to go. Rupert told me to be safe and visit him again the next time I was in town. Awwwwww. This is why I love N.Y. Want to know how I got tickets to the show? A story in itself I assure you. Ask in the comment section and I'll give you every detail so you too can follow in my footsteps.

The Twelve Days Of Christmas

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to meeee.....devil horns! What did you think I was a saint?

*Warning: This post contains sexual references, brief nudity and strong language.*

The stroll down 5th Ave. is a fantasy beyond anything you could dream up. This is when it happened. I turned a corner and there he was right in front of me. He is the type that commands, no demands reverence. Eyes lowered I genuflected in the midst of a sea of people that I no longer knew were there. I stood face to face with St. John. No not the deity, the designer. I heard a voice yelling from inside me, "idol worshipper, blasphemer." I couldn't help myself, I was in the fits of lust.

St. John was an old love I had known passionately in my mid twenties. St. John like the devil knew what turned you on. He gave you your deepest female desire. You looked flawless as he draped seamlessly around your body. I caught my reflection in the window and saw the blush upon my cheeks. The desire over came me like a hot flash. In one quick motion I was in the store. I had bitten the forbidden fruit of lust. Forget about the "Christmas Secret" post Debra was getting lucky today.

I walked through those doors with dilated pupils straight for the black and white knit with threads of silver running through it. $1,700 I calculated as I eased the jacket from the rack. Mmmm $1,750 I saw the price as I held the jacket up. A wicked smile crossed my lips. Girl , you know your man even after all this time. As I grabbed the $1,600 skirt the sales lady asked if madam wanted to try it on? Is the pope catholic? In a flash she had taken the size 4 trinkets and exchanged them for the 2. Yes, she is right. Even if you wore a 12, in a St. John you would wear a 2. Didn't I tell you. He knows your deepest female desires and makes them come true.

In that dressing room stripped naked (who needs underwear in a St. John suit?) that jacket buttoned across my breasts like it was a second skin. The skirt, the skirt on the other hand didn't! What is this!!! What has happened I thought as I adjusted and readjusted it on my butt.

Alas my ass over the years drooped to the back of my knees. Somethings even St. John can't fix. Oh well, I am pleased with myself as I waltz over to the four way mirror. I sucked in my breath and nearly choked. For a split second I saw her. The twenty four year old Debra in one of the mirros. I wanted to call my husband to see her but I sent him off in a different direction. Who brings their husband for a rendezvous with a lover. Especially an expensive rendezvous, wink wink. You know what I mean ladies, don't be coy with me.

Parting is such sweet sorrow and time came to abandon fantasies better suited for young career women. I was happy to be revived by the cold air outside of the store. Perfect timing. My husband and I met up at the corner just as I stepped out of Bloomingdale's. "What did you buy?" he asked eyeing the new bag. I let him peek at the classic black constructed boucle' jacket I paid $150 for. Nice he mused. Nothing says St. John's like boucle' I smirked and closed the bag.

The Twelve Days Of Christmas

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to meee ...Angels in the guise of Mr. Miguel Hernandez transportation director for Park Central Hotel and the Hotel's director Mr. Denis. In the late summer I emailed Mr. Hernandez to ask the cost of being picked up from LaGuardia and hiring a car to get around during my stay. Miguel and I connected and when I explained to him it was my first trip to N.Y. and I saw how bad things happen to people in the episodes of CSI N.Y. he pledged to look out for me.

I told my husband Miguel said he would not fail to get us from the airport on time, he would come himself and would be holding a sign that read "Welcome to New York Mrs. Debra Johnson," and that he gave me his cell phone number. Rolling his eyes my husband asked did I give him our credit card number. Noooo (I rebuked his sarcasm) Miguel said whenever I needed a car he would come for me. I got one of those "Oh brother" looks for being so trustworthy.

As soon as we got to our bags there was Miguel just as he promised holding that sign. He and I hugged like old friends, husband just scratched his head in disbelief.

Miguel says he had a big surprise for me. As we were riding towards the hotel in a sleek black Escalade he hands me two envelopes. One had the keys to our room (upgraded to a suite) the other had vouchers for complimentary breakfast the entire stay.

Miguel spoke to the Park Central hotel director Mr. Denis and told him that I was a writer here for the first time and celebrating my 33rd anniversary from Texas and I got upgraded to a suite!!! When we got to the hotel Miguel says not to worry about the bags just go up to the room and relax. From my bed I could see Times Square, the people, the lights, and the ball that will be dropping in a few weeks to welcome in the New Year. From the bedroom double doors opened out unto a terrace with two chairs where I could sit on top of the world. My husband has not been the same man since. I'll admit I too was stunned. Later that day I met Mr. Denis and thanked him for such a lavish upgrade. From that point on whenever Mr. Denis saw me roaming around the lobby he would come out from his desk and make sure everything was fine.

*The moral is...there are still good honest people in this world and God is in control.....of not just the angels in heaven but the ones that are earning their wings down here.

My Christmas present to you is, if you are going toNew York call 212-707-5175 and ask for Mr. Denis. Tell him Debra Johnson from Texas recommended you and he will give you a super rate or who knows an upgrade. Email mhernandez@parkcentralny.com and mention me for a discounted limo ride from the airport or where ever else you need to go.

MERRY CHRISTMAS !