Peace Is a Decision: Choosing Calm and Protecting Your Energy - Ms. Otelia’s Corner

Many people spend years searching for peace.

They believe it will arrive when problems disappear.
When other people change.
When circumstances finally settle down.

But peace rarely arrives that way.

Peace often begins with a decision.

A quiet decision to stop allowing outside chaos to control your inner balance.

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Peace Does Not Always Come From Circumstances

Life will always bring challenges.

Unexpected situations appear.
People behave in ways we cannot control.
Stressful moments come and go.

If peace depends only on perfect circumstances, it becomes very difficult to maintain.

But when peace becomes a personal decision, it begins to come from within rather than from what is happening around you.

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Choosing What Deserves Your Energy

Every day you make choices about where your energy goes.

Some situations deserve your attention.

Others do not.

Protecting your peace often means asking a simple question:

Does this deserve my energy?

If the answer is no, stepping away may be the healthiest choice.

Not every situation deserves your emotional investment.

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Letting Go of What You Cannot Control

Many people lose their peace by trying to control things that are outside their reach.

Other people's opinions.
Other people's behavior.
Other people's decisions.

Peace grows when you begin letting go of the need to control what cannot be controlled.

Instead, your focus returns to what you can guide:

Your choices.
Your responses.
Your boundaries.

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Creating a Life That Supports Peace

Peace becomes easier to maintain when your daily habits support it.

This may include:

• Spending time in environments that feel calm
• Protecting your time and personal space
• Choosing conversations that bring understanding instead of conflict
• Allowing yourself moments of quiet reflection

These choices may seem small, but they shape the rhythm of your life.

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A Quiet Commitment to Yourself

Peace is not something you choose once.

It is something you choose again and again.

In how you respond to situations.
In how you protect your energy.
In how you allow yourself to step away from unnecessary stress.

Each decision strengthens your ability to maintain calm even when life becomes busy or unpredictable.

Peace does not always arrive by accident.
Sometimes it begins with a decision.

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From Ms. Otelia’s Corner:
Protect your peace. Guard your energy. Live with intention.

Reflection Series: Protecting Your Peace

1. Access Denied: Protecting Your Energy and Your Peace

2. When Silence Is the Boundary

3. Stop Explaining Yourself

4. Protecting Your Energy in Everyday Life

5. Peace Is a Decision

Protecting Your Energy in Everyday Life: Simple Ways to Protect Your Peace - Ms. Otelia’s Corner

Protecting your energy is often talked about during stressful moments.

But the truth is, protecting your energy is not only something you do when problems appear.

It is something you practice every day.

Your peace is shaped by the small choices you make throughout the day.
The conversations you engage in.
The environments you allow yourself to stay in.
And the people you give access to your time and attention.

Learning to protect your energy in everyday life creates a sense of calm that follows you wherever you go.

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Paying Attention to How You Feel

One of the simplest ways to protect your energy is to notice how certain situations affect you.

Some environments bring calm.

Others create tension.

Some conversations leave you feeling encouraged.

Others leave you feeling drained.

Your body often notices these shifts before your mind does.

When you begin paying attention to these signals, it becomes easier to choose what supports your peace and what does not.

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Protecting Your Time

Your time is one of your most valuable resources.

Protecting your energy often begins with protecting your schedule.

You may begin to notice that your day feels more balanced when you:

• Leave space for rest
• Avoid over committing
• Spend time doing things that bring you calm
• Allow yourself quiet moments during the day

Even small moments of quiet can reset your energy.

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Choosing the Right Conversations

Not every conversation deserves your energy.

Some discussions are healthy and meaningful.

Others simply repeat the same frustrations without resolution.

Protecting your energy sometimes means gently stepping away from conversations that bring more stress than understanding.

You do not have to carry every discussion on your shoulders.

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Creating Small Daily Rituals

Many people find that small personal rituals help restore their energy.

These moments do not need to be complicated.

They might include:

• A quiet morning routine
• A short walk outside
• Writing in a journal
• Sitting quietly with a cup of tea
• Taking a few minutes to breathe and reset

These simple moments remind you to slow down and reconnect with yourself.

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Protecting Your Peace

Protecting your energy is not about avoiding life.

It is about moving through life with awareness.

When you choose environments, conversations, and habits that support your well being, your peace becomes easier to maintain.

And the more you protect your energy, the more you begin to notice how much calmer your life can feel.

Protecting your peace is not a one time decision.
It is a daily practice.

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From Ms. Otelia’s Corner:
Protect your peace. Guard your energy. Live with intention.

Reflection Series: Protecting Your Peace

1. Access Denied: Protecting Your Energy and Your Peace

2. When Silence Is the Boundary

3. Stop Explaining Yourself

4. Protecting Your Energy in Everyday Life

5. Peace Is a Decision

Stop Explaining Yourself: Protecting Your Peace and Personal Boundaries - Ms. Otelia’s Corner

Stop Explaining Yourself

Many people grow up believing they must explain themselves.

Explain their choices.
Explain their decisions.
Explain their boundaries.

Over time, this habit can become exhausting.

Not every decision requires an explanation.

And not everyone deserves one.

Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do for your peace is simply stop explaining yourself.

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The Habit of Over Explaining

Many of us explain ourselves because we want to be understood.

We want people to see our intentions clearly.
We want to avoid misunderstandings.
We want to keep the peace.

Those are good intentions.

But constantly explaining yourself can slowly drain your energy.

Especially when you are explaining your choices to people who have already decided not to understand them.

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Not Everyone Needs the Full Story

Your life choices belong to you.

Your schedule.
Your priorities.
Your personal boundaries.

You are allowed to make decisions without presenting a detailed explanation to everyone around you.

Sometimes a simple response is enough.

Sometimes silence is enough.

And sometimes no response at all is the healthiest choice.

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Confidence Speaks Quietly

People who are comfortable with their decisions often explain less.

Not because they are rude.

But because they trust themselves.

Confidence does not need a long defense.

It simply moves forward.

When you begin trusting your own judgment, the need to justify every decision begins to fade.

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Protecting Your Peace

Constant explanations invite constant debate.

The more you explain, the more some people will try to question your reasoning.

But your peace is not a public discussion.

It is something you protect.

Sometimes protecting your peace means offering fewer explanations and setting clearer boundaries.

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Learning to Say Less

Learning to say less is not about shutting people out.

It is about recognizing when an explanation will add value and when it will only create more noise.

You may notice that your peace grows when you:

• Respond briefly instead of giving long explanations
• Trust your decisions without seeking approval
• Allow people to have their opinions without trying to change them
• Focus your energy on what truly matters

Your life becomes lighter when you stop trying to justify every step you take.

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Choosing Quiet Confidence

There is strength in quiet confidence.

Not every decision needs approval.

Not every action needs explanation.

And not every boundary requires a debate.

Sometimes the healthiest words you can choose are the ones you do not say.

You do not have to explain your peace to people committed to misunderstanding it.

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From Ms. Otelia’s Corner:
Protect your peace. Guard your energy. Live with intention.

Reflection Series: Protecting Your Peace

1. Access Denied: Protecting Your Energy and Your Peace

2. When Silence Is the Boundary

3. Stop Explaining Yourself

4. Protecting Your Energy in Everyday Life

5. Peace Is a Decision

When Silence Is the Boundary: Protecting Your Peace Without Explaining Yourself - Ms. Otelia’s Corner

There are moments when words are not necessary.

Not because you do not have something to say.
But because the situation no longer deserves an explanation.

Many people believe boundaries require long conversations, careful reasoning, or repeated clarification.

Sometimes they do.

But sometimes the strongest boundary is silence.

Not cold silence.
Not angry silence.

Just a quiet refusal to continue a conversation that no longer serves your peace.

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Not Every Situation Requires a Response

We often feel pressure to respond to everything.

Every comment.
Every misunderstanding.
Every opinion about our choices.

But responding to everything can slowly drain your energy.

Not every situation deserves your time.
Not every message requires your attention.
And not every criticism deserves an answer.

Learning this can change your peace dramatically.

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Silence Is Not Weakness

Some people misunderstand silence.

They think it means you have nothing to say.

Often, it means the opposite.

It means you have already said enough.

It means you understand that repeating yourself will not change the outcome.

It means you are choosing peace instead of unnecessary conflict.

Silence can be one of the clearest boundaries you ever set.

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Protecting Your Energy

When you begin protecting your energy, something shifts.

You stop explaining your decisions to people who are committed to misunderstanding them.

You stop engaging in conversations that circle the same argument again and again.

You begin recognizing when a discussion is no longer productive.

And in those moments, silence becomes your protection.

Not as punishment.

But as preservation.

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The Power of Quiet Boundaries

Quiet boundaries often confuse people.

When you stop over explaining, some people may push harder.

When you stop reacting, some may test your patience.

But over time, people learn something important:

Your peace is not open for negotiation.

And once that message becomes clear, many unnecessary conflicts simply disappear.

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Choosing Peace

Silence is not about avoiding people.

It is about choosing when your energy is better spent elsewhere.

Sometimes the most respectful thing you can do for yourself is step back.

No argument.
No explanation.

Just quiet clarity.

And in that space, your peace has room to remain intact.

Not every conversation deserves your energy.
Sometimes peace begins where explanation ends.

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From Ms. Otelia’s Corner:
Protect your peace. Guard your energy. Live with intention.

Reflection Series: Protecting Your Peace

1. Access Denied: Protecting Your Energy and Your Peace

2. When Silence Is the Boundary

3. Stop Explaining Yourself

4. Protecting Your Energy in Everyday Life

5. Peace Is a Decision

Access Denied: Protecting Your Energy and Your Peace - Ms. Otelia's Corner

There are moments in life when your energy starts to feel overextended.

You explain too much.
You give too much access.
You allow people into spaces they have not earned.

And slowly, your peace begins to feel negotiable.

That is when it is time to quietly say:

Access denied.

Not with anger.
Not with drama.

Just with calm clarity.

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When Your Energy Feels Too Available

Many of us were raised to be open, helpful, and understanding. Those are good qualities.

But without boundaries, generosity turns into exhaustion.

You may notice signs like:

• Feeling drained after certain conversations

• Explaining your decisions repeatedly

• People expecting your time, attention, or emotional labor without respect for it

• Your peace depending on other people’s behavior

When this happens, your energy is too accessible.

And not everyone deserves that level of access.

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Resetting Your Energy

Resetting your energy is not about pushing people away. It is about restoring balance.

Think of it like adjusting the door to your home.

Not everyone needs a key.

Some people can knock.
Some people visit occasionally.
And some people no longer come inside at all.

Your energy works the same way.

When you become clear about what belongs in your space, things begin to shift.

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Strengthening Your Boundaries

True boundaries are quiet.

They do not require long explanations or emotional debates.

They look like:

• Saying less

• Responding less quickly

• Protecting your time

• Choosing peace over proving a point

Calm.
Confident.
Firm.

You do not need permission to protect your energy.

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When Energy Changes, Behavior Changes

Something interesting happens when you adjust your energy.

People notice.

Some will respect it immediately.

Some will test it.

And some will simply fade away.

That is not loss.

That is alignment.

When your energy changes, behavior changes.

And what no longer belongs eventually stops coming around.

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How to Protect Your Energy

Protecting your energy does not require confrontation. Most of the time, it is about small, consistent choices.

You protect your energy when you:

• Spend less time explaining yourself

• Stop engaging in conversations that feel draining

• Create quiet space for rest and reflection

• Pay attention to how people make you feel

• Choose peace instead of constant access

Energy protection is not about shutting the world out.

It is about recognizing that your time, attention, and emotional space are valuable. When you treat them that way, other people begin to treat them that way too.

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Peace Is Not Negotiable

Your peace is not something you should constantly defend.

It is something you maintain.

So when your energy feels stretched, explained, or drained, remember this simple phrase:

Access denied.

Not as punishment.
Not as rejection.

But as protection.

And protection of your peace is always allowed.

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From Ms. Otelia’s Corner:
Protect your peace. Guard your energy. Live with intention.

Reflection Series: Protecting Your Peace

1. Access Denied: Protecting Your Energy and Your Peace

2. When Silence Is the Boundary

3. Stop Explaining Yourself

4. Protecting Your Energy in Everyday Life

5. Peace Is a Decision

Protecting My Peace as a Woman Over 60

Peace did not come automatically with age.

It came with boundaries.

At 66, I understand something clearly:
If I do not protect my energy, no one else will.

There was a time when I over explained.
When I tolerated what drained me.
When I carried things that were not mine to carry.

Not anymore.

What Protecting My Peace Looks Like Now

It looks like saying no without guilt.
It looks like limiting conversations that feel heavy.
It looks like choosing rest over proving something.
It looks like protecting my health like it matters — because it does.

Peace is not silence.
It is alignment.

If something disturbs my balance, I pay attention.

What I No Longer Do

I do not argue to be understood.
I do not chase approval.
I do not shrink to make others comfortable.
I do not entertain chaos.

Energy is currency at this stage of life.

I spend it carefully.

Boundaries Are Not Rude

They are responsible.

At 60 and beyond, health, clarity, and emotional stability matter more than performance.

Protecting my peace means:

Guarding my time.
Guarding my focus.
Guarding my standards.

Peace is not passive.

It is discipline.

And at 66, I protect it without apology.

Lowering Cholesterol Without Adding Another Pill - Ms. Otelia's Corner

I recently reviewed my cholesterol numbers again.

They are not terrible.
They are not perfect either.

Like many women in their 60s, I was offered a statin. I paused.

Not because I am anti-medicine.
Not because I do not trust my doctor.
Because I want to identify what I can improve first.

At 66, I do not want to automatically add another pill without asking myself one honest question:

What can I control?

What I Am Looking At

My cholesterol is influenced by:

Smoking
Stress
Daily habits

None of that requires denial.
It requires discipline.

What I Am Doing Instead

Before adding another medication, I am focusing on:

Reducing cigarettes gradually
Walking daily
Paying attention to saturated fats
Drinking more water
Rechecking labs after consistent effort

Nothing dramatic.
Nothing extreme.
Just consistent.

What I Am Not Doing

I am not ignoring my health.
I am not pretending numbers do not matter.
I am not refusing medication if I truly need it.

But I am giving my habits a real opportunity to work.

At this stage in life, every decision is intentional.

Health is not about fear.
It is about responsibility.

And at 66, I choose responsibility.

Black History Month: Ed Rominger B. October 17, 1870 – D. January 25, 1945 - Ms. Otelia's Blog

Black history is not only about public leaders and national headlines.

It is also about Black men who held families together in quiet, steady ways during some of the hardest periods in American history.

Today, I honor Ed Rominger.

Born in 1870, just five years after the end of the Civil War, Ed entered the world during Reconstruction — a fragile and uncertain moment when formerly enslaved families were trying to define freedom for themselves. His parents had been enslaved. He belonged to the first generation born into legal freedom, but freedom did not mean safety, equality, or economic security.

Like many Black men of his generation, Ed became a farmer in North Carolina. Farming for Black families in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries was not simply work. It was survival. It was land ties. It was identity. It was resistance in a society structured to keep Black families economically limited.

He could not read or write, but literacy was never the measure of his leadership. He built stability through labor. He maintained a household. He kept family connected along rural roads where extended kin were often the only safety net available.

After becoming widowed, he did not retreat from responsibility. He stepped deeper into it.

When his stepdaughter died, leaving two small children behind, Ed became their primary caregiver. In the middle of the Great Depression — under Jim Crow laws that restricted opportunity at every turn — he kept those children under his roof. He provided food, discipline, and structure. He relied on extended family. He did what Black families have historically done when formal systems offered little protection: he made family the system.

Census records show his household living on a farm, without modern comforts, categorized simply as “Negro.” In one later census, he was even misclassified as white — a reminder of how imperfect and inconsistent official records were when documenting Black lives. Yet the paper trail confirms one thing very clearly: he remained head of household. He remained present.

That presence mattered.

Ed represents a generation of Black men whose leadership rarely extended beyond their communities — farmers, laborers, guardians, grandfathers. They absorbed loss. They adapted. They endured segregation and economic hardship. They raised children who would later become part of the Great Migration, seeking expanded opportunity in northern cities.

His life formed a bridge between slavery and the modern era. Because he stepped forward, the children in his care survived, grew, migrated, and built new branches of the family tree.

That is Black history.

It is the history of Black men who labored without recognition, who raised children not biologically their own, who anchored families through Reconstruction, Jim Crow, and the Depression.

Ed Rominger’s life reminds us that survival itself was an achievement — and continuity across generations did not happen by accident.

It happened because he chose responsibility.

And because he stood firm, this family still stands.

Happy Birthday to Me — Grateful, Graceful, Growing, and Blessed

Grateful for another year.

Grateful for the woman I am today.

I earned this growth.
I built this strength from lessons I did not ask for.
I protect my peace.
I am building discipline that shows.

I am not the same woman I was a year ago.

I move with intention.
I choose with clarity.
I guard my energy without apology.

This year is about health.
Alignment.
Expansion.

No shrinking.
No second-guessing.
No settling.

I rise.
I grow.
I move forward.

Happy Birthday to me.

Black History Month: Ella Louise (née Johnson) Thompson B. May 6, 1928 – D. June 13, 2003 - Ms. Otelia's Blog

 

Black history does not only live in movements, marches, and monuments.

It lives in mothers.

Today I honor our mother.

She was born in North Carolina during a time when the weight of Jim Crow shaped daily life. She was born into a family whose roots reached back into slavery, into fields, into labor, into survival. The names before her endured bondage, Reconstruction, segregation, and migration. She carried all of that forward without ever announcing it. It lived in her work ethic. It lived in her faith. It lived in how she held her children together.

She lost her mother at five years old.

That kind of loss changes a child. But she was not left alone. She was raised by her grandfather and surrounded by aunts and uncles who became her shield. From them, she learned what family meant. Not sentiment. Structure. Responsibility. Showing up. Making do. Holding steady.

She would tell stories about those early years — stories that were both hard and strangely beautiful. Sitting on top of a dead hog her grandfather brought home so they could eat. Scooping cornmeal off the road when a truck spilled it so there would be cornbread that night. Being corrected at school for wearing “grown folk” shoes. Watching her grandfather suffer burns and learning quickly that love does not disappear when appearance changes.

She grew up in the Great Depression. She grew up in the South. She grew up Black.
And she grew up strong.

As a young wife and mother, she worked beside our father in a grill and fountain café. They built a life together in North Carolina before joining the wave of families who moved north in search of opportunity. She became part of the Great Migration story — not as a statistic, but as a mother determined to widen her children’s future.

New York became home.

She raised seven children there after our father passed unexpectedly. Widowhood did not break her. It sharpened her resolve. She worked. She cooked. She organized. She sold dinners out of the house. She hosted gatherings. She created community wherever she stood. The house was never just ours — it was a hub. People came for food, for advice, for tea readings, for comfort. She managed it all with calm hands and a steady voice.

There was always something on the stove.

Fried chicken. Fish. Pig’s feet. Collard greens. Potato salad. String beans. Cake. She made sure we were fed — physically and emotionally. Even when money was tight, there was laughter. Even when grief came, there was structure. Even when life shifted, there was stability.

She sang in church. She served faithfully. She eventually became Church Mother — and that title fit her long before it was official. She nurtured people. She guided people. She prayed over people. Her faith was not loud, but it was firm. Psalm 121 brought her comfort. The faith of a mustard seed carried her through.

When she returned to North Carolina later in life, she gardened. She made new friends. She stayed active in church. And when her health declined, she came back to New York so she could be surrounded by her children.

That was always her way.
Family first.
Always.

When she passed, people lined up to honor her. Churches came. Friends came. Community came. Her body lay in state because her life had touched so many people. That kind of respect is not given. It is earned.

Our mother was not famous.
She was foundational.

She stood at the center of our family history. She is the bridge between ancestors born enslaved and grandchildren born into a different world. Everything we are rests on what she carried.

Black history lives in women like her.
Women who endure.
Women who build.
Women who refuse to let their children fall.

Momma, we miss you.
Your faith still steadies us.
Your lessons still guide us.
And your love still holds this family together.

Black History Month: Ronnie Thompson B. August 11, 1964 – D. August 13, 1993 - Ms. Otelia's Blog

 As part of Black History Month, I am honoring not only our ancestors, but our siblings — the ones who shaped our homes, our laughter, and our memories.

Today I am sharing the story of my brother, Ronnie.

Ronnie was one of the youngest in our family, raised in a house full of noise, food, faith, and siblings who were never far apart. Family was everything to him. We grew up gathered around the kitchen table — which was also our family room — eating, talking, and watching television together.

Ronnie had a gift for making people laugh.

In the mornings, Momma would make breakfast — grits, eggs, toast, and whatever protein she had ready. Ronnie would pile his grits and eggs onto a slice of toast and turn it into what we thought was the strangest sandwich ever created. Then he would eat it in the most exaggerated way possible, just to get a reaction. The more ridiculous he acted, the harder we laughed.

Momma would come in pretending to be upset and warn that the next person who laughed would get a beating. We would all sit stiff and silent, trying not to move. But Ronnie would always find a way — a look, a bite, a small movement — and the whole table would erupt again.

That was Ronnie. He knew how to lift a room.

As he grew older, he worked different jobs, but the one most remembered by our family was his time delivering baked goods. He would come home with bags filled with cakes, bread, muffins, and cupcakes. And he did not keep them to himself. He shared with friends, neighbors, and anyone nearby. He took pride in being able to contribute and help Momma. Generosity came naturally to him.

Ronnie had one daughter who meant the world to him. Family anchored him in every season of his life. In his later years, he stayed close to home, moving between the houses of our mother and our sister. Being near family brought him comfort.

He had a habit of pressing a dollar or two into your hand and saying, “a little something for your pocket.” It was never about the amount. It was about the gesture. That small act told you that he was thinking about you.

Ronnie’s life was not long, but it was real. It was full of laughter, loyalty, and heart.

Black history is not only written in textbooks. It is written in kitchen tables, in shared meals, in jokes that make a whole room collapse into laughter. It lives in brothers who show up quietly, who give what they can, and who love their family out loud.

Ronnie is still remembered.
He is still talked about.
And his laughter still echoes in this family.

Black History Month: Vanessa “Van” Thompson McNeil September 29, 1958 – May 22, 1994 - Ms. Otelia's Blog

 Black history is not only found in textbooks. It lives in our homes, our churches, our kitchens, and in the
women who held families together without ever asking for recognition.

Today I honor my sister, Vanessa — our Van.

Van had a presence you felt immediately. She was sharp, funny, and quick on her feet. If there was a card game happening, she was in it — and more often than not, she was winning. But what truly set her apart was her humor. She could make you laugh without even trying. Her comebacks were effortless. Being around her meant joy.

Family was everything to her. She loved gathering the kids, taking them to the park, sitting outside while they played, and talking about life while keeping a watchful eye. Nothing extravagant. Just time together. Just love in motion.

She stayed connected to her faith and our church community, walking alongside our mother and siblings. She carried loyalty, warmth, and a protective spirit for those she loved.

Her daughter once shared:

“My mother had the kind of sense of humor that stayed with you. She could make anyone laugh, no matter what was going on. Being funny came naturally to her. She was a comedienne without even trying, and I guess that is where I get it from. Some of my favorite memories are simply us laughing together. I miss her every day.”

That is the kind of impact she had. Laughter. Light. Presence.

Her time here was shorter than we wished, but her imprint is lasting. The laughter she sparked, the memories she helped create, and the love she poured into her family continue through the generations that followed.

That is Black history, too.

Van, you are still remembered.
You are still loved.
And you are still part of us.

Black History Month: Elaine “Cookie” Thompson February 14, 1957 – October 15, 1998 - Ms. Otelia's Blog

As part of Black History Month, I am honoring and sharing the story of family members. Today, I share the story of my sister, Elaine “Cookie” Thompson.

Black history is not only made by names found in textbooks. It is made by the women in our homes, in our churches, and in our neighborhoods — the ones who held families together and left their mark quietly, but permanently.

Elaine, affectionately known as "Cookie," was born on February 14, 1957. From the beginning, she carried warmth. There was something steady about her — something grounding. She was not loud, not flashy, not attention-seeking. She had a calm presence that made you feel safe just being near her.

We grew up in a household built on faith, discipline, and strong family ties. Like many Black families who migrated north, our upbringing blended Southern roots with Brooklyn life. Church was central. Family was central. Showing up for one another was not optional.

Elaine had a gentle strength. She did not have to raise her voice to be heard. She did not have to demand space to matter. Her way was quiet but firm. When she loved you, you knew it. When she stood by you, she stood solid.

She carried herself with dignity. She believed in family. She believed in showing up. She believed in doing what needed to be done without seeking applause.

She passed on October 15, 1998. Her life was not long, but it was meaningful. The impact of a life is not measured in years alone. It is measured in presence. In influence. In memory.

And she is still present.

Black History Month reminds us that our history lives in our bloodline. In our sisters. In our mothers. In the everyday women who may never make headlines but have shaped generations anyway.

Elaine was one of those women.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Cookie. You are still loved. You are still remembered.