The Supreme Court and the Resurrection of Jim Crow South

My grandfather was a Civil Rights foot solider until he took his last breath in 2007. He worked tirelessly to help bring national civil rights leaders to Mississippi during the 50’s and 60’s. In the 70’s and 80’s he urged Civil Right organizations not to seek corporate funding because it would water down their mission. And in 90’s and until he became ill in 2006, he taught the fundamentals of voting and the importance of understanding public issues that affect minority rights, the poor, and the underserved.

I was spoon fed his activism. My grandfather, my first hero in life, was principled, practical and proud. He took tremendous pride in introducing me to many unsung leaders whose names are not in history books but who made historical contributions that addressed living in the Jim Crow South.

Through my grandfather, I met many Mississippi Jews who lived in the Delta. The Delta Jews were a group of Jewish business owners who helped my grandfather fund Civil Right activities throughout the late 50’s and 60’s. The Delta Jews owned local businesses in the Greenville area and down Hwy 61. They were also land owners and leased their properties to larger corporations. I was nine years old when I had my first encounter with someone who owned their own business other than a family member while I was tagging along with my grandfather doing a get out to vote drive in 1975. I met a Jewish family who owned the town bank. I was smitten as I eavesdropped while the banker gave my grandfather advice one afternoon.

My grandfather listened quietly as  his old Jewish friend warn him that marching and boycotting white owned businesses to get White folks to do right had limitations. The Delta Jews believed that keeping an eye on the court system was the best way to defeat Jim Crow and the lawyers who drafted the Jim Crow laws for the White Supremacists. “It takes a good lawyer to outsmart a bad law,” he said to my grandfather. He encouraged my grandfather that our community needed more lawyers willing “to argue a case before the highest court in the land if needed” to address racism. He already knew what I learned later in life; Jim Crows laws were systemic and there would always be another law created by evil men who would have one leg up because the legal system was ran by the same group who instituted the laws that keep minorities from getting ahead. 

That conversation transformed my grandfather on he challenged injustices. It also began his years of watching who sat on the judicial benches and their relationships with elected officials. My grandfather believed strongly the Supreme Court (SCOTUS) would soon become the last option the little folks had against the unjust laws that were often passed at the local and state level that were unlawful and immoral in the Jim Crow South.

Now, let us looked at the role of the Supreme Court.

The Supreme Court has two fundamental functions. On the one hand, it must interpret and expound all congressional enactments brought before it in proper cases; in this respect its role parallels that of the state courts of final resort in making the decisive interpretation of state law. On the other hand, the Supreme Court has power (superseding that of all other courts) to examine federal and state statutes and executive actions to determine whether they conform to the U.S. Constitution. When the court rules against the constitutionality of a statute or an executive action, its decision can be overcome only if the Constitution is amended or if the court later overrules itself or modifies its previous opinion. The decisions are not confined to the specific cases, but rather are intended to guide legislatures and executive authority; thereby they mold the development of law. Thus, in the U.S. governmental system the Supreme Court potentially wields the highest power.

Since 2009, the SCOTUS has become a court that is becoming more and more engaged in politics than being guides to help us interpret the Constitution. Black and Brown folks in particular should be alarmed at the number of cases that the SCOTUS has ruled against that were instituted to protect minority rights. At a time when racists are once again proud of their racism, it has been open season on laws that were once upheld by the SCOTUS.

On June 25, 2013, the SCOTUS struck down the Section 4 of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. The decision in Shelby County v. Holder effectively ended the use of Section 4 of the Voting Rights Act which requires any changes to voting rules in covered states and jurisdictions to be approved by the U.S. Justice Department before they can go into effect.

States like Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, and Tennessee where some residents have longed for the Old South to rise again, no longer have to get preclearance when they make changes in jurisdictions. Although the SCOTUS has confidence that our country has changed dramatically since the 60’s regarding discriminatory practices, we are seeing more and more state laws that are limiting times and locations to vote while restricting the types of identification that can be used to vote. That is very Jim Crowish.

On April 22, 2014, the SCOTUS upheld the ban on Affirmative Action for college admissions. In 2006, Michigan voters decided to bar public colleges from considering race in admissions and to prohibit officials from taking race into account in hiring and contracting. The SCOTUS decide 6-2 that a country that practiced denying admittance to colleges based on race and practiced discrimination in hiring and minority contracting for centuries, now say it is okay to pick up where everyone left off. When folks say they want their country back, believe them. They are using the SCOTUS to do it.

In 2010,the SCOTUS ruled 5-4 that corporations were people in Citizen United vs. FCC. Living and breathing people! When Black and Brown folks should have been alarmed, they passively thought the case was about big money funding elections and not a Civil Rights issue. Citizen United vs. FCC was very much a Civil Rights issue as busing and affirmation action were. Black and Brown folks are not likely to spend millions to get someone elected but those corporation will spend billions during an election cycle to get local, state, and federal people who will do their bidding once elected. Who is elected determines what laws are brought fourth that will affect everything from the fairness of a school’s budget to what time the polls will close. We know first hand how an underfunded school system can affect a community for generations and we have come from an era where making it difficult to vote has been practiced. Both thrived well in Jim Crow South.

With theHobby Lobby ruling from two week ago, the SCOTUS is showing us once again they are dogged determined to erode steady legal Civil Rights gains. If you do not think Hobby Lobby issue was closely tied to Civil Rights, you are wrong. When majority women are up arms about an issue, Black folks better get on board, quickly. If they got issues with laws you know community of color got major problems coming to their neighborhoods real soon. 

People of color can no longer sit on the sideline and wait to be informed about issues. By the time the community is informed, it has been devoured. Communities of color must be willing to be sharp as a double edge sword on all the issues, especially, the ones that are before THIS SCOTUS.

The SCOTUS has Justices who are actively engaged in politics outside of the court and are not afraid that we know it. Thinking the SCOTUS will be fair and balance should not be assumed. When the Justices became headliners at close door political fundraiser after the election of 2008, we lost the objectivity of the court. At the same time, we started losing one civil right gain after another. Wake up folks! Folks really are taking our country back...and backwards. 

Photo Credit: Supreme Court, Mississippi Library Archives

A Grandfather's Note From Heaven

One of my greatest struggles in life has been overcoming the loss of my maternal grandfather, Joe Jackson. It has been several years since his passing, but there are times when it feels as if his passing was yesterday. I can remember his laughter; I can see his smile; I can repeat most of his stories verbatim; and quite often, I feel his suffering as he fought a hard and painful fight against cancer.

Often, I wondered what could have been done differently, especially to ease his pain. The first couple of years after his death, my dreams were filled with his moans, and I would awaken in the middle of the night with tears streaming down my face. I could still fill the grip of my grandfather’s hands as I held his at night, trying to comfort him to no avail.

I remember the careful planning of his final arrangements and the great pride my family took, especially my Aunt Henrietta, in making sure that every final detail was impeccable and benefiting the home-going of a patriarch and his meeting with the King.


As I learned to manage the heartache and sadness of the loss of my grandfather, I found respite by helping others by volunteering with organizations that mirror my grandfather's values. What started out as a way to deal with this difficulty became a mission—a mantra—and helped me to grow as a person. I now volunteer weekly and often find a “Mr. Joe’s story” in every venture and use these anecdotes to help others overcome difficulties or to meet an underserved need in the community.

On Christmas morning 2013, Clarence "Pop"Holmes left us. He was my father-in-law whom I loved like a father. His kindness and enduring ways were like Velcro—sticky on both sides. Pop often reassured me that he understood my quirky nature which seemed to be in stark contrast to the rest of his family of sportsmen who talked sports and more sports.

When I had something exciting to share or was in the midst of a dream deferred on the verge of fruition, Pop would be the most likely go-to-person to share the possibilities or the good news. He would become just as excited as I was. And when my bright idea or dream turned out to be just a hair brain notion, he never voiced ridicule and would only find words of encouragement. He would give me that look, “We’ll get it next time.”

Like my grandfather’s death, Pop’s death was a great loss. Unlike my grandfather’s demise, I had not braced myself for or strangely welcomed Pop’s final exhale like I did my grandfather. Pop was a strong, healthy man—a young man—who left all too suddenly. My grandfather's body was ravished by cancer and death was his escape. As I cried for Pop, the pain of losing my first hero in life began hitting me at the same time. I found myself mourning two men.

While packing to head to Memphis to prepare for Pop’s final arrangements, I rumbled through my closet to find an appropriate hat and pulled down a few hat boxes. As I reached for a hat box that possibly contained a black hat, a large box containing some of my grandfather’s fedoras fell and opened from the impact. Seeing my grandfather’s fedoras that were given to me by the family literally took away my breath.

After regaining my composure, I began examining the box. As I pulled out several hats, I put them close to my heart and recalled fond memories of my grandfather wearing each. But when I returned the last head wear taken from the box, I noticed a note card on the floor.

 This note card was created by Aunt Henrietta who mailed several hundred of them to me to give to friends and customers from Nashville and other places as acknowledgment of their acts of kindness during our bereavement. I believed that I had given out or mailed them all and definitely did not think I had any left. But there it was—a note card, appearing out of the blue, that I had not seen in seven years and at a time when I once again was filled with grief. However, after reading the carefully thought out message that expressed the goodness of my grandfather and how much he loved his family as well as how much his family loved him, I believed it was truly a message from above.

My sadness was replaced with gladness, for I believed that God was letting me know that my grandfather was alright, and that he was welcoming a new friend into heaven—Pop Holmes. I will always cherished this reminder of my grandfather's life, his note sent to me from heaven.

Photos: Genma Holmes 

Six Reasons to Stay in Line No Matter How Long it Takes to Vote

Today is election day, November 6, 2012. Two years of campaigning and 2 billion dollars worth of ads that have driven us to brink of insanity will come to an end tonight. Hopefully. No matter who you are voting for, the lines are expected to be long today.

Acts of God, Hurricane Sandy, have disrupted the North East. Acts of the devil, Governor Rick Scott, are reeking havoc in the state of Florida. Not to leave out the voting machine rumors running amok. All of this is enough for you to wonder why are you willing to stand in predicted long lines for hours. Is it worth it? Yes, it is!

Come hell or high water, here are 6 reason why you should stay in line today to vote:

6. At one point, women could not vote. We can now. In droves. Do not get out of line when you could not get in line until 1920.

5. Blacks could not vote until 1965. Do not get out of line when you could not get in line until 1965.

4. Many naturalized citizens and their families come from countries where they could not vote.

3. Who you vote for is your business. But having reasonable choices is what makes the United States a democracy. Dictators do not give you choices. Countries who have dictators do not let you get in line. Unless you are in front of a firing squad.

2. Choosing to get out of line or not vote, gives us elected and appointed officials who do not have an understanding of the U.S. Constitution that they claimed to be cloaked in. You have a right to vote today, so we all can work together to help strengthen the laws they are working to demolish. That should concern everyone no matter what your affiliation.

1. Lastly, my grandfather stayed in line for me. And you. He lived to help others have the right to vote. No matter who they were and who they voted for, he believed strongly in human rights. I do too.

Acceptable Forms of ID for Tennessee Voters

It is 5:00AM on November 5, 2012. I am typing this post with nightmarish visions of voters in long lines that will be seared in the minds of many for eternity if the early voting lines are any indication. With the devastation of Hurricane Sandy, elected and appointed voting officials who were hell bounded and determined to inject Gremlin like antics into the early voting process, and a mire of  legal and civil rights issues that will have us in courts counting ballots for the next four years, Tuesday promises to be an election day like no other. To lessen frustrations that maybe encountered for Tennesseans who did not vote early, below are the acceptable forms of identifications that can be presented on Tuesday, November 6, 2012.

Any of the following IDs may be used, even if expired:

• Tennessee drivers license with your photo
• United States Passport
• Photo ID issued by the Tennessee Department of Safety and Homeland Security
• Photo ID issued by the federal or any state government
• United States Military photo ID
• State-issued handgun carry permit with your photo
• In Memphis, TN, your library card may be used as ID.

 College student IDs and photo IDs not issued by the federal or a state government are NOT acceptable.

Voting in every election should be of the utmost importance to all Americans. Exercise that right. At one point in our country's history, not everyone could vote. It was against the law. Let's embrace how far we have come and never grow weary of fighting to keep all US citizens' rights to vote at the forefront.

For a copy of Davidson County's Tuesday ballot, click here.

Photos: Genma Holmes

Nashville Politics: More Campaign Signs Than Voters

After several weeks on the road, I was thankful for being home long enough to make a trip to Howard School to cast my vote early. Voting on the first day of early voting has been a tradition for me. This year was one of those rare occasions because of my travel schedule; I was not able to vote on the first day. Voting early has been one of my ways of showing respect and honor for my grandfather’s lifelong civil rights activism. I made a vow to him once; I would never take my right to vote for granted. I must admit during my early years of voting, I was more concerned about not disappointing my grandfather than cherishing my right to vote. But by the time I became a young mother in my early twenties, voting became an act done because of my own value system that was developing. I am thankful for the foundation that my grandparents and parents helped form and the seeds that have taken root that has shaped me to believe that there are very few, if any, excuses for not voting.

When I arrived at Howard School, the parking lot was overflowing with campaign signs. Every political candidate on the ballot had at least two to three signs. There were also signs for the signs to remind the folks on the signs running for political office not to get their signs too close to the building where folks must vote. There were signs pointing the way to vote for those on the signs. Upon entering the building, there were more signs showing you where to stand in order to cast your ballot for any number of the sign owners.

With all the signs outside, one would think I would have been in a line around the parking lot. But instead of bodies of eager voters, there were only signs begging people to cast their votes. There were even more poll workers and employees than voters as well. As my heart filled with dismay, I could not help but ask one of the staffers about the early voter turnout traffic with so many signs outside. With a sigh, the staffer informed me that “the signs outnumbered the voters every day”. Those words hit me like a ton of bricks as I felt tears swell in my eyes. I tried hard to not cry on the spot as I began thinking of those who had fought and died for so many to have the privilege to vote.

My moment of sadness turned to disdain quickly when I thought of the number of individuals that have given interviews about voter suppression, yet the potential suppressed did not bother to show up to vote. Do I think it is right to find every nook and cranny by every barely gray and crooked endeavor to make it difficult for those to vote? No, I hate it with a passion. Do I believe in purging voters from voter rolls to swing voters one way or another? Absolutely, not. But I am surely not supporting individuals, groups, and organizations who sit back and not address constituents of any given community who will not show up to vote even if their lives depended on it. It is time to have candid conversation without any filters.

I "vote my interest". My family and friends hear me say this often. I vote for individuals who are concerned about what matters most in my life. Period. Nationally and regionally. National races are important but at the end of the day, folks elected to local and state offices affect my life and business more profoundly than those who go to DC. What do politicians in DC do anyway? Nothing. Absolutely, nothing.

In Nashville, sadly, local races rarely get large voter turnouts. The reasons are varied as the stars above. But when one deliberately chooses not to vote, your voice is useless in society in my opinion. Not voting is not limited to economics or race. I know many wealthy individuals, shamefully, who do not vote. And in the same vain of shamelessness, I also know far too many voters of color (who would not have been able to vote forty years ago) who do not vote as well.

I believe strongly voting comes down to an individual's value system about life. If you value voting, you vote. When you do not value voting, you will not show up to the polls even if your Mama was on the ballot.

Often times, those who value voting the least, voices need to be heard the most in a country that will overlook the voiceless quickly.

Below is a summary of the early voter turnout for Metro Nashville-Davidson County. Numbers don't lie.

Hopefully, on Thursday, August 2, 2012, the numbers would not look as dismal. In the meantime, pray. Please.

30 Days to Losing Weight brought on by Emotional Eating

I have never blogged about losing weight. I have read numerous posts over the years from other bloggers sharing their weight loss stories, but I never thought it was an issue I would write about for my readers. But surely as a blogger lives, a blogger grows; mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes, to my dismay, physically.

I have worked out and walked regularly to stay healthy and slim all of my adult life. I have many reminders from my family tree of what obesity looks like and countless ill family members. Having modeled off and on for many years, I know that staying fit is necessary to getting booked. After I turned 40, being healthy overshadowed vanity. Now, well into my 40s, I am learning that my fight with weight is often a fight with eating for emotional comfort. For the last ten years, several family crises led me to late-night snacking that contributed to spikes in my weight. Family issues like my older son’s surprising marriage, a teen daughter's determination to see the whole family all in hell, along with the devastating loss of my grandfather in 2007 contributed to weight gains that I fought and won over the years, but my weight gain pandemonium reached its highest level this past year.

In 2010, my youngest son, known affectionately as Baby Boy, abruptly decided to join the Marines and the family’s drama queen came on with all the fury of Hurricane Katrina. Again. Not to mention my beloved grandmother has been ill throughout the year. I internalized all my frustrations and anxiety without realizing it. Working late at night and reaching for "something" crunchy became a nightly habit.

My weight crept up slowly on me. I was walking but not being attentive to working out. I learned some time ago that in order to prevent genetic health issues and weight gain, I needed more than walking to keep my weight down. I added Zumba and weightlifting to my workout routines. When I became an empty nester, my beloved workout plan included exercising in the mornings and afternoons. That time was carefully carved out and rarely interrupted. All of that changed when my adult children came home this summer.

In May, my baby boy, returned from Camp Legumes. Elated to have him home, I was at his beck and call. Who says no to a Marine? In June, my drama queen moved back home for a few short months. Within a few days of everyone dropping their bags in the middle of my living room floor, I became a taxi driver, a caretaker, and "mommy" again to grown children. Add worrying about my grandmother to my tornadic family life and I was a perfect storm for gaining weight. “God help me”, became my daily plea. My little home became too small for my own shadow. Claustrophobia started settling in, quickly. The pressure from all the issues happening at once got to be unbearable. Did I share that I started a radio show somewhere in the middle of all of this mayhem?

Over the summer, I became a size thick a term I learned from my sons. Nothing’s wrong with being thick, they reassured me often, but I saw someone in the mirror who has gained enough weight to make two of me. When the children eventually left home for school and work, I challenged myself to lose my "baby boy" weight, 25 pounds. I got my doctor’s approval last week.

I thought I would share my routines and goals with Genma Speaks readers and to my radio show, Living Your Best Life, audience.

When I was at my desired weight, I walked five to seven miles a day, rain or shine. Often, I combined a Leslie Sansone's Walk Away the Pounds walk indoors with a two-mile walk outdoors, if the weather cooperated. I also worked out three times a week on my gazelle. Last year, I added Zumba on Monday evenings. Zumba was fun and gave me time to spend with others having sweaty fun. I was not a workout fanatic by any means, but my stress levels were kept at bay. Running two businesses comes with an anxiety clause. Anxiety has been a key issue in my gaining weight.

I have kept journals for years that soaked up the ups and downs of my life, but today is my first time blogging about my weight. I was motivated by other women who have blogged about their weight loss journey. I was never one to follow the crowd, but why not share? Public scrutiny can have its downside. But publicly engaging others on an issue that many struggle with can have many positive outcomes, if not for me, for those who are in the same situation.

I was encouraged by reading others’ weight loss journeys on the web and attending Cindy N. Landham’s class two summers ago, which I want to take a second time this fall.

Wish me luck as I find my figure (and sanity) and put a summer of stress behind me.

Day 1, Monday, September 19, 2011 my workout included a Leslie Sansone Walk At Home five mile fat burning walk and 20 minutes on my Gazelle. I worked up a serious sweat and felt the burn.

Here is a website that I spent days reading: Black Woman's Weight Loss Blog

P.S. No, I do not expect to lose 25 pounds in 30 days...I am hoping to update my blog for 30 days about losing weight.

Doing Good in the Community

Last week, “doing good in the community” struck a chord with many. We must be willing to adjust our lens while bringing solutions that can be implemented sooner than later. Often times, servant leaders can see the issues but they need the support of others for efforts to spread the in community. They make serving others look effortless but much time, patience, and tenderness go into laboring for the greater good.

My grandfather often said, “Show me your deeds and I will show you your heart.” Let me share with you a few deeds that reveal the heart of someone who is trying to make an impact and who is trying to light a path for young girls very quietly.

At the beginning of last summer, Miss Gloria approached a group of women about mentoring young ladies. Everyone thought it was a nice idea. Gloria was dead serious. She went to work (and worked and worked) on outlining plans and activities for the girls for the school year. When we reconvened from our summer break, Gloria was ready for everyone to implement the program that we agreed we would do. (You know where this is going). In jeopardy of getting kick out of the group, I will limit the details of the fireworks behind the scenes, but I will share that a two hour meeting turned into six. “Miss Gloria” held us hostage until “she finished!” I have seen Divas show out; I was raised by several aunts, my mom, and my grandmother, so I know when to just listen and let them “finish”. Since we were not going anywhere until we agreed to agree, we agreed to move from nice idea to rolling up our sleeves.

Gloria held us accountable for taking on a project that she was very passionate about and had devoted her summer to planning activities for us to do. Since the fall, several outings have been experienced by everyone with the teen girls and their families. Last month was my turn to help out. The lesson planned was about table setting and manners. I offered to prepare lunch for their meeting. It was one of the coldest mornings in January. The Mayor’s neighborhood walking tour was scheduled and a brisk walk with our city leader was incorporated into the day. Charlotte and Carolyn also volunteered that day. Everyone in the group stepped up to the plate in some meaningful way; there was enough food and juice to feed an army for breakfast.

After the walk, the morning was spent engaging teens about manners. That was straight old school thinking and teaching. Gloria came with her table décor and finest china. She gave them a tablescape presentation that resembled a Martha Stewart’s creation. Her three helpers even asked questions and gave quick tips to remember what goes where. We also learned a few things ourselves. While talking about manners, we heard about the challenges of today’s teen.

After serving soup and salad, I packed to leave and bumped into other girls walking through the door. The day ended with lessons on walking like a lady. (Steve Harvey cannot teach that folks). When I followed up with Charlotte and Carolyn, we all mentioned how blessed we felt from that fateful day. Gloria inspired us with her dedication and we gave that precious commodity called “time” to young ladies who taught us as well. Even though the idea was Gloria, everyone shared the fruits of her planning that made it meaningful to the group.

Remembering the night we were taken hostage, Gloria was actually fighting for the good we can do in the community that is so desperately needed. She did not want us to meet with each other; she wanted us to meet with the girls. It takes a warrior to cut through cotton candy and push folks to be their best and to bring their best to the community. The seeds that are being planted in the lives of the young girls will bear fruit. As I look at photos from the Civil Rights period, young folks were often pictured with current leaders of the time. Those pictures foreshadowed their futures and showed us how an encounter can propel a person into their destiny. I have no doubt that the girls who walked with the Mayor and were taught by an activist and college professor, an attorney, and a state official on that freezing cold morning will go on to become remarkable young women in the future.

As we are seeing more and more of our culture fall by the wayside with basketball game fighting mamas and kids leaving the court to fight with mamas, we need more Glorias to be hands on examples of what a warrior means. Demeaning yourself and your community by having your entire school become synonymous with mayhem because of the actions of a few is not going to be an issue that celebrity “do gooders” will touch. Mamas and daddies cannot come to the school to discuss the situation, because the parents are trying to post bail and are banned from school properties! This is not a local problem, this spectacle is happening around the country.

Sports have long been a spring board for our young men to go to college. When some have come up short academically, but performed well in sports, they were given another avenue to enter college. Now, when your school is banned from playing sports for a few years, where does that energy and drive go now? This is not criticism or judgment; this is reality folks.

As we continue to celebrate Black History, let us not be shy about resurrecting old school thinking and teaching that can be used 365 days a year. My grandparents might sound primitive by today’s standard but their hands on approached included the little things like teaching manners and respect of person at every turn. They did not hesitate to pull in others to keep us in line. Those lessons were backed up by a pop to the lip when rules were not followed. “Yes ma’am” and “No sir” were some of our first words. Women like Gloria, Carolyn, and Charlotte attended games and would have taken pleasure in whipping us if we acted up.

I know we are living in different times and physical violence is becoming a pastime but we need more warriors now than ever to remind us of our past, to help our present day young folks look forward to having a meaningful future. We can make a difference, one child at a time.

Pick Your Battles: Lessons Learned from my Grandfather

Friends who know me well hear me sharing about my grandfather (Daddy) and his love he showed his grandchildren. He really was a good man. He was not perfect by any means but he did not waiver on things that were out of sync with doing what was right when no one was around to see. One of his favorite sayings was “fair is fair.” Those words were usually followed up by “ball or strike.” One day, I am going to write a book about his poetic sayings. 

Once, I accompanied my grandfather to a meeting held at our community lodge. Watching Daddy on the front row, I thought I was going to hear one of his fiery speeches about doing what is right because it is the right thing to do. But on this particular night, things would not be normal. The tone in the room was not what I had expected. Even at the age of nine, I knew something was different about this crowd. 

The crowd had gathered to debate a hotly contested ordinance being proposed. Some community leaders were urging folks to vote for a law that was not good legislation according to my grandfather. Daddy adamantly opposed the measure and did not hide his disdain for those supporting it. In this public hearing, Daddy’s critics never called him by name but there was no doubt that he was the object of their dissatisfaction. I watched for hours as one speaker after another took pot shots at my grandfather. He never said a word and a few times, I caught him smiling. I sat in disbelief wondering why Daddy was not speaking up for what he believed in or refusing to address the group to defend his point of view.

On the drive home, I asked Daddy about the meeting. With much confidence, Daddy responded, “Never bet against the truth; you must learn to pick your battles.” At nine, my lack of comprehension showed on my face so my grandfather served up this nugget of knowledge that I use often, “Never argue with a fool, they will either win the argument or kill you.” Later that week, several individuals met with my grandfather to thank him for not debating with the noise makers. His silence spoke volumes, they told him. That was the first of many meetings where I saw my grandfather win the battle of words by never uttering a sound. He was an old school passionate orator but from time to time, he would fall silent and allow his lack of verbal engagement diffuse a situation or get others to speak up instead of waiting on him to be the messenger.

Several weeks ago, I got to experience how my grandfather felt firsthand. I attended a meeting that left me wondering had I a missed a Prozac pill. I thought I was attending a meeting to discuss empowering others to be the best they can be and mobilizing individuals to be more educated about issues in the community. I was ready to soak up whatever knowledge that was going to be shared. I had my sleeves rolled up to learn new ways to tackle old issues with relevant goals and defined action plans. As with most folks and good intentions, you get what you get. Nothing in life is a guarantee. 

Folks, I sat in a meeting, which I initially thought would be informative and motivating, dodging bullets and daggers. Damn! I did not get the memo to come dressed in amour. One speaker took great pleasure weaving belittling comments into a message about leadership. There was no hiding the fact-less infused lecture with its saccharine coated ugly tones, there was an issue with me. Before you ask, my name was never spoken. Are you surprised? Me either. As my amusement grew by the minute, I saw out the corner of my eye several individuals sitting stoned faced and showing signs of being uncomfortable with what was taking place for all to see and hear. I thought to myself, Daddy would have loved this meeting! I could visualize him twisting his Mason ring around on his finger while never looking away from the speaker. Channeling my grandfather, I twisted my diamond ring on my finger and found myself fascinated with counting the number of biting remarks that were meant to either hurt or humiliate. 

At one point, I started taking notes because I would hate to leave this one out of my upcoming book. Not to get even but because I needed to record what was taking place within my spirit. I did not get upset or walk out. I pinched myself several times to make sure I had not dozed off or was having an out of body experience. I was actually listening quietly to words that were not having an effect on me. My grandfather words came rushing back to me, “pick your battles.” This was not a battle; this was a pissing match and I was not a bed wetter. I had nothing to prove. I had spoken truth to a few folks and the result of speaking up was this angry crazed tirade that had me pinned in my seat. Riveting. On the drive home, I found myself laughing as if I seen a comedy routine. Does personal growth and revelation come with bouts of laughter? Instead of fuming and ready to take folks to the shed, I was laughing at what I experienced. Meds do not produce that kind of response.

By the time I made it home, I received calls apologizing for my experience were pouring in from many individuals that I respected. Each apology was heartfelt and genuine. Their phones calls made me respect them even more. Unbeknownst to me, several expressed their indignation at the meeting not being about serving others. I did not have to mention that the meeting was not as it was billed. Although my experience was meant to humiliate me, I witnessed folks willing to do the right thing even when no one was looking. I realized something had changed in me. Not one to hold my tongue when mayhem and foolishness rear their ugly heads, surprisingly, I was silent. By not engaging in petty words that faithful day, I took in what was said and made a decision to use my time building others up for the greater good of everyone, including myself.

Since the meeting, I taped the notes from that day near my calendar to remind me of the lesson from my grandfather that was revealed years later. It took courage for him to hold back. I cherish those actions from the lodge that I witnessed; his strength in his silence, the twisting of his ring and smiling while staring intently at a speaker hurling clandestine insults. He was showing me not every battle is worthy of my energy and to always leave foolish arguments for fools to debate. After a few days, I sent a note to the speaker expressing thanks for a presentation that had a positively profound effect on me. Growth is good. How was your week?

The Best of the Best from My Treasure Chest of Gifts Received and Given

My grandparents were the biggest influences on me growing up in Mississippi. I learned from them that givers gain early in life. My grandfather (Daddy) was a man of few words and lots of action. My grandmother (Mother) was a book of contradictions with grace and all the southern snark one could find in a true woman of the south. I learned from both of them; action from Daddy and rapid fire snark with grace from Mother. Both of my grandparents were the smartest people in the world to me.

With 12 children and grandchildren as numerous as the stars above, opening gifts are still part of life for Mother. She would say ‘Oh baby, you didn’t have to give Mother nothing,” in her thick southern drawl. The wrappings and bows were on floor before she finished the sentence. Mother loves nice things and nice things are her expectation. My style and love of fashion is directly related to my grandmother’s influence on me. From time to time someone would give a gift that was …how I should I put it, made her pause for a second. Mother would respond sweetly, “Oh me, oh my” and give a hug and praise as if it was ‘just precious.' There was special drawer on her dresser that “precious” items were placed. Mother never said a word; she would quietly put the gifts in the drawer. That drawer was filled with knock off colognes she would never spray, soaps and creams that left you wondering if it was made from lye and fragrance, what-nots that she was told were “collectible”(with the Dollar Tree sticker still on it) and thing-amagigs that had no instructions on how to operate them and gowns by the ton. Gowns, gowns, gowns. That drawer must have held thousands of gowns over the years.

Mother was a master of recycling those gowns. Often times, the kin folks who gave her the gowns were given them back later in the year for some reason or other. With daughters galore with birthdays, family secret pals, holidays or even an illness or two; those gowns found their way back to the rightful owner with that same smile and a hug. And they were the none the wiser. I watched this ritual for years. From time to time, Mother would give me a look that said, “You better keep your mouth close." I would beam brightly feeling special because I knew something that thousand of other folks in her life did not know. Mother and I had a special language, usually a look that spoke volumes, that she and I used between each other from the time I was a little girl through my adulthood.

When I started having children of my own, I recalled my grandmother reactions and vowed a gown with a matching house coat was a sure sign that your children were lazy and trifling. When my brood started asking about giving me gifts, they were taught early in life that cash was queen or the gift should speak to that person, not fill a holiday void. I said to them, “The thought is wonderful but getting the gift right is even more thoughtful." No, I do not feel bad because I was teaching my children not to run out and “grab something” to make them feel good about themselves. Giving a small gift that speaks to the person’s desires, thoughts, and passion tells the receiver that you really know them as a person. To send someone like me who suffers from debilitating allergies an expensive bouquet of flowers would tell me right away you did not know about my health issues. Sending me an inexpensive journal and a fine point pen would show me that you know I love to write and I am picky about the pens I used.

With my background in fashion and being a stylist for years, I decided to help folks with year round gift ideas for mom, Mother, grandmother, wife, sister, aunt or any woman in your life. Since we are all feeling the crunch of having to tighten our belts, I looked for bargains that would not hurt the wallet. After a day of shopping for gifts and pulling the best of the best from my treasure chest of gifts given to me over the years, I grabbed one of Nashville’s hottest photographers, Aaron Crisler and we borrowed the studio for a day of laughter shooting the best of the best.

Here are some suggestions to help you earn a star on the gift giver walk of fame. None of these will ever be recycled and the recipient will never say “oh me, oh my."



For the Victorian era lover, give a purse that says romance and elegance. The vintage rose quilted purse with genuine pearl handle retails for $225 by Mary Jo M. I found this one for a steal for $20 at Designer Renaissance. The hot pink rose purse with chain handle $16.99 from TJ Maxx.



Being a pest control operator does not mean I am not trendy. I am often given Lady Bug items. Being called the “Bug Lady” has perks. Imagine my joy when I was given a Coach handbag with stitched appliqued lady bugs and a few rhinestones that said “Bling” quietly. The tan leather and mint Coach Fabric will make others green with envy. At Coach Store for $195; at Marty and Liz in Lebanon for $69. The lady bug vintage pins were $5, 15, and 30. The white back drop is an Ann Taylor’s lace skirt for $10. Pins and skirt Designer Renaissance.


My children keeps me on my knees praying. Without prayer, I have no idea where I would be in life. My love of journaling let's me confess the craziness of work life balance. For the serious journal enthusiast go to www.journalsunlimited.com. I have every book ever written by Stormie O’Martian. To make them extra special I have them autographed by her. Her books are wonderful but he study guides and CD takes you a step further in your devotion. I find the best deals for her books, cd and study guide on line at www.christianbooks.com. The Lenox Cross was given to me one year by Nancy Newsome. Cross in frame available at Lifeway Book store.

You can’t go wrong with a fragrance that has a light fruity floral scent. My fragrance of choice for this spring has been Passionfruit by Mary Kay. Everyone knows someone one who sells Mary Kay Gift set $23.


My fountain of youth! Another Mark Kay product that is a perfect gift. I plan to fight the aging process with every fiber of my being with Timewise's little miracle tube of serum C+. I swear by it. Three small dabs in the morning and a two more later on in the day has me literally glowing. I feel it working. My Greenhill aging debutant friends are probably wondering if I am on the botox juice by now. While they are shelling out hundreds monthly and looking crazier by the minute, I am spending $50.

Angels are not only for Christmas gift giving. I give them all year round. Finding a Black Angel in the middle of May is like finding water in the desert! If you find one, buy it without hesitation. Angels from Ole’ Time Pottery $6.99 and Cracker Barrel $5.99.

In the begging of the year, I claimed PEACE as my word for the year. I want to live in, with, and around PEACE in 2010! Give a wooden word that reflects a person mission's or spirit in life. Every store sells them. My favorite place for finds like this is at Ross for Less $4.99

More words to encourage and inspire others to dream big. Dream-Love-Hope glass three votive holder can dress up any table top or mantle. From Ross for Less $7.99.

For all those nice trinkets that you receive often, two jewelry boxes that will not break the bank. Asian stamped glass jewelry box $4.99 and pink jewelry box with a hint of animal print in gold $3.99 from Ross for Less.

Jewelry that will keep everyone talking. NASA Dichroic glass with 18kt gold leafing by Designer Norm at Custom Visual Designs. Bracelets $15 and pendants $12 each.


Great friends give gorgeous grand gifts. My sister from another mother, Jennifer Wolcott, keeps me looking like royalty with gifts that not only shows her good taste but her love of me. She knows how much I love the unique and usual. Cross necklace from French Shoppe. Antiques necklaces from Greece. Priceless.



For the Asian art collector that has everything. Red vase and Japanese Kimono in frame from Old Hickory Antiques were gifts to Mrs. Perry, the publisher of the Tennessee Tribune, from me. She loves the finer things in life that are not in my budget but looking for unique and usual gifts override expensive every time. Priceless.

Blue Asian vase looks exquisite and expensive in a curio cabinet. Ole Time Pottery vase $14.00 and round ball $1.99.

In Nashville, there is a fundraiser benefit, gala, or ball every night of the week practically. Wearing shoes that say "classy" when you are stepping up to help others. Stuart Weitzman is my evening shoe designer of choice when it comes to the socializing with the philanthropy crowd. These fifty inspired rhinestone buttoned shoes were $160 at Dillard’s but I found them for $29 at Designer Renaissance.

Stuart Weitzman strikes again. These sexy strappy shoes are perfect any occasion. They are dressed up even more with the flora rhinestone shoe clip-ons. Shoes from Off Saks, $19.99. Shoe clip-ons Designer Renaissance for $10.

Put a rose on it. Dress up a plain blouse or dark suit with these accessories. An over sized black rose, a small rose flower, a tan leather flower, and an acrylic flower, all scene stealers from Designer Renaissance, priced from $2-6.


Blown glass flowers are beautiful as one or several in a vase. This glass pollen free bloom was found at Ross For Less for $7.99.


The bug lady’s shoe collection is world famous! Gold Guess shoes with butterflies seen else where for $76 were found at Marty and Liz for $24 and the Lady Bug encrusted silver J Renee’s was given to for Mother’s Day three years ago, $62 from Off Broadway Shoes.

Sunglasses add class even when you are in jeans and T-shirts. Priced from $4-190 from Designer Renaissance.

Got a Peg Bundy in your life that have never seen an animal print she won’t buy? Light up her life with two eccentric lamps that only she would love. Animal print purse lamp $9.99 from Ross for Less; Candlestick lamp from Marshall’s $16.99.


Who said flowers were only for pins or hats. Shoes with flowers are the ultimate fashion statement. From my closet I pulled out several of my favorites that make me feel dainty and flirty. Tommy Hilfiger’s leather pink and green strapless high heel with small flowers, $9.99; Beverly Feldman pink patent leather sling backs with satin rose bow at www.Zappos.com $390; Avellini white leather sandals with multi color flower knot, $15.00 TJMaxx; Sacha Too pink rose suede slip-ons adorned with silk chiffon rose buds in pale pink and brown from TJMaxx $19.99; Daniblack pink metallic sandal with large silk organza rose with liquid gold dots seen on www.Zappos.com for $149 picked up at TJMaxx for $15.99.

Devil in the details they say. But the details around the next three summer tops are pure heavenly with a feminine touch.

White stretch cotton blouse from Anne Klein is $90 dollars at Macy but I found it for $24.00 at Ross for Less. The pin attached is from my collection.

For those with arms of steel like first Lady Michelle Obama, show them off with a touch of softness at the neck with rosettes with pearls at the neck. $16.99 from Marshall’s.


Don’t have the arms like FLOTUS but still want the look? Try this crisp white pull over with gross ribbon detail at the neck and rosettes around the edges. $14.00 from Marshall’s.

Buy dresses that flatter any figure shape. Silk Kimono style dress from Marshall's for 24.99. Seen elsewhere for $149.00


Maxi dresses and skirts are back. This Lapis dress/skirt is so versatile and can be worn as a sundress. Great for young moms. Can be dressed up or worn with flip flops.


Special thanks to celebrity photographer:
Aaron Crisler www.aaroncrisler.com
Model and stylist: Genma Stringer Holmes
Special Thanks to Jodi Miller for many years of friendship and great fashion finds.
www.designerrenaissance.com