On March 19, 2008 I found out my oldest sister Joy has Stage One breast cancer. I was going to wait to write about this. It seems that I’m being insensitive (maybe I am) by going ahead and writing about Joy’s diagnosis. Those last two words in that sentence I just wrote look like a foreign language to me. Joy’s Diagnosis. It doesn’t seem real. I’ve always been one to have delayed reactions to things. When my parents told me they were getting divorced as a child I didn’t cry right away, but retreated to my room. I’ve been that way ever since. On the surface I guess it would appear that I am cold but that is hardly the truth at all. I just have always used writing to deal with tragedies and problems in my life. Joy, 52, didn’t get her mammogram done last year because she was busy although she had gotten it the year before. Five years ago her husband of 25 years died in a car accident. She still has her grown daughters (my nieces) and her four grand...
Cathy "Curly" Parenti, 48, was remembered by family and friends in a funeral service recently at Celebration Community Church in Fort Worth, TX. (Source: Fort Worth Star-Telegram). She was a personal trainer born in Chicago, IL Sept. 26, 1960, having once worked as a hairdresser and physical therapy aide and later finding her passion in exercise and fitness, according to her obituary which read "Cathy had sparkling eyes, a knowing, warm smile, and a deep love of people. Cathy touched everyone's heart and will be missed forever by her family and friends." In 2003 I had the pleasure of doing a story on Parenti, a Fort Worth resident, for The Ally Newspaper. I was impressed by her dedication to fitness, enthusiasm for her work, and willingness to help others. As I've said about so many others I've known who have committed sucidie, Parenti was one of the last people you would expect to end their life. According to star-telegram.com, she was preceded in...
Tomorrow about a hundred or so West Georgia College alumni will honor a journalism teacher, a former school paper advisor, a Newsweek magazine editor, and a brilliant teacher. Joe Cumming, my Mass Communications teacher, is retiring after years of teaching the magic of the written word to thousands of amateur college students who dreamt of that writing gig that would turn them into professionals and cast them into the lime light for all the world to read. Joe is not a straight-laced man in a suit and tie, throwing large words at you and overwhelming you with Ivy League language. He has a shock of white hair, wire-rimmed glasses, robust cheeks and a clown’s hapless smile that grins at nostalgia of the days of the penny press and "Citizen Kane." It’s hard to believe that the school will no longer have a Joe Cumming. After four years of watching him scrupulously and diligently help me capture the flavor and not only learn but grasp the idea of journalism ...
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