Reunion News...

I'm not sure if this has been made clear, but I'll try. At this point, Armon is not requesting any help with the reunion meal. He has the menu planned and is ready to prepare it. There are options available for those that don't eat pork products. He does have one request for the family. Beverages and ice will be needed, so I'd suggest bringing that. I have some news -- I won't be able to attend this years reunion. I'll need someone to take pictures and get them to me. Thanks.

Happy Birthday, Michael!!!

It's one day late, but I have to acknowledge the birthday of one of the family members. Michael celebrates "the last of the forties" birthday. Like Tony, next year he will walk into the fabulous fifties. Michael is the grandson (and youngest grandchild) of Edward and Ethyl (Johnson) Cooley. His parents are Frank and D. Maxine (Cooley) and the brother of Kevin. Though a day late, I wish him much peace, many blessings and an abundance of love.

The Cooley-Johnson Family Reunion 2009

I still haven't found what I'm looking for, but I did find this. This is one of four flier/announcements I created for the family reunion. The day of the mailing I could not locate them. I put together something completely different and mailed it out. I like this one, but I'll be damned if I'm going to do a second mailing. If you click on the picture, you'll be able to see a larger size. I look forward to the family reunion each year. I enjoy being with my family, sharing old stories and creating new memories. Armon has shared with me the plans for the reunion this year. This brutha is proving he knows what to do. I like that. On behalf of the entire family (yeah, I'm speaking for ev'ry last one of them), THANK YOU, for taking charge and pulling this together. I am proud my cousin stepped up to the plate and is making it happen. Much love and much respect!

Miss Fine and Beautiful

I was telling my friend, Rodney about MY cousin (on Dad's side) Tyra. After I told the story, and he busted a gut laughing, he suggested I share it here. Picture this, it's the 90's and Tyra Fowler was at the top of her game. Being a hair stylist was a natural way for her to express her creative side. Between weaving, braiding, cutting and COLORING, she could take the most jacked up head and make it hot as fish grease. With that said, let me tell the story. I don't remember the actor, but it was the early nineties and this brutha had colored his hair. It worked for him and I thought it would work for me. I wanted to be current with the latest trends and asked Tyra to hook me up. She agreed and the appointment was made. On the appointed day, Miss Fine and Beautiful (that was my nickname for her) applied the permanent color to my hair. She said it would take a little time for the color to take effect. We sat and talked, laughed and did what we normally would do -- enjoy the other's company. After an EXTENDED period of time, it was time to head to the bowl. Tyra was quiet throughout the entire process. That was odd, but I didn't push the issue. Tyra placed a towel over my head and said, "Uh, it's not quite the way you wanted it, but I can fix it." [Sidebar -- my cousin was one helluva stylist. She was human, which means she made mistakes.] Every man, woman and child knows those are not the words you want to hear when someone is working on your hair. As a matter of fact, those would be fightin words. I said, "What does that mean; you can fix it? Is it that bad???" I looked in the mirror with a towel covering my hair. I had no idea how it looked. Actually, I was scared to look. Tyra didn't want to keep me in suspense any longer and snatched to towel from my head. It wasn't quite as RED-ORANGE as Lucille Ball's hair, but it wasn't too far off. I had a color that would not work for me. Hell, that wouldn't work on any Black person. Maybe if they were a circus performer and that's pushing it. "Oh my God! I look like Lucy! This is NOT what I wanted, Tyra! I can't go to work tomorrow looking like this!" Miss Fine and Beautiful flashed her mega-watt smile and said, "We'll cover it with a black rinse. It will be slightly darker than your normal hair color, but no one will notice." Hey, I was in no position to argue. At this point in the game I was willing to try anything. Once the rinse was applied and my hair was dried, I took a look in the mirror. In a matter of minutes, I was transformed from "Lucille Ball" red-orange hair to "Elvis Presley" jet black hair. I liked both of them, I never, never, never, never, NEVER wanted my hair color to be like theirs. She did as she said, she "fixed" my hair. I was satisfied. I wish that was the end of the story, but it's not. A few days later (I don't remember the exact number -- it may have been a week) I washed my hair. Bending over the sink to wash my hair, I opened my eyes to see the jet black shampoo in the sink. My temporary hair color was proving to be that -- temporary. It was quickly going down the drain. I PANICKED!!! I had not looked in the mirror, but felt I had washed all the "Elvis Presley" from my hair and it was the bright shade of "Lucille Ball" I didn't want. After some hesitation I looked into the mirror to assess the damage. I was totally surprised. Some, but not all of the black had washed out. I thought it looked good. I walked around with that feeling for a few days. I liked the results and Tyra commented on how it looked. "I like the color of your hair. That works for you." Everyone was happy as pigs in shit. You know happiness is just a state of mind. The next time I washed my hair more of the black rinsed out. So much, that the red begin to come thru in a way that did not work for me. It was too damned red for me. I phoned Tyra in a panic and told her I needed an emergency haircut, a.s.a.p. and p.d.q! When she saw me she said, "Oh, the black rinse didn't stay in your hair as long as I thought it would." "No shit, Sherlock! Start cutting," I said. Miss Fine and Beautiful was able to "make the best a bad situation." Without going bald, she cut my hair low. My greatest fear was eliminated -- I COULD go to work the next day. From that point on it was just haircuts -- nothing more. I was done with trying to be trendy or current with hair color. I want to thank Rodney. Had we not laughed our asses off when I told him this story (with a special shout out to Dad, for the receding hairline which prompted the telling of this story), there would not have been this post today. "HEY RODNEY, this was a good idea. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Edward Marvin Cooley

I never met my great-grandfather, but I feel as though I know him. He died a little more than six months before the world and my family were blessed with ME. Grandpa Cooley was born August 4, 1894 in Coaling, Alabama. My family was so large, the small town was known as "Cooley" because there were so many Cooleys living there. From Coaling, the family migrated to Missouri and finally settled in Enterprise, Iowa. This is where Edward met Ethyl Johnson, the woman who would become his wife and mother to four of his children. My great-grandfather was a coal miner for many years. An accident in the mines severed a part of his leg. With a settlement he received for his injuries, he purchased a small grocery store, "Cooley's" in Des Moines. A door may have closed, but a window opened. Grandpa and Grandma Cooley worked hard in the store. Grandma Cooley, being a woman with a loving spirit and generous heart, would not allow her neighbors to go hungry. Though the customers would have little or no money, Grandma Cooley would extend them credit for their purchases. A fine idea, but credit purchases do NOT pay the bills. Within a few short years the store closed. Down, but not out, Grandpa Cooley continued to provide for his wife and children. No deadbeat father here - no sir. As I stated, I never met him but feel like I know him. Much of the values he instilled in his children they instilled in theirs. Of course that continued to the next generation and so on and so on. On this day, on what would be his 105th birthday, I honor his memory with this post. Happy Birthday, Grandpa Cooley.