... the tales of two sisters

Dana lives in Seattle, and Tracie lives in Germany. We are businesswomen, writers and humorists. We write about life, dating, and today's modern women.


Today she is officially 86 years young and just yesterday renewed her driver’s license!

Mama is the MOST amazing woman I know and it is no secret that many people regard her in this way. This fine specimen of a woman has good heart, a wicked sense of humor, her own sense of style, a cure for everything, is an avid reader and has an enthusiasm for life that is simply beyond compare.

I adore her. And when we, my sister Dana and I, aka as the menopausebarbees (and my menopausebarbee in the making niece Taryn), finally grow up, we want to be just like her.

This picture in the bathing suit was taken the night she won the first of her beauty queen titles: Miss Bronze of Seattle. It was the night she met our dad, who was playing the drums in the trio for the pageant.

Here’s a short excerpt from the chapter Heirlooms taken from my book, Incompatible with Nature–A Mother’s Story about that night–a night to remember…

Happy Birthday Mama; we love and are so, so thankful for all the joy that is you!

A two-time beauty queen, one of Mama’s coronations distinguishes her as the first black beauty queen in her hometown of Seattle, Washington. Daddy blew into her emerald city from Detroit, Michigan. Mile-long canary yellow convertible Cadillac and all.
A continuous hubbub of excitement permeated the air of the auditorium on that balmy summer evening in 1950. Anxiously waiting in the wings, Mama directed her gaze towards the trio assembled rear center stage. She watched Daddy bob his head to a count of three whereupon his teardrop-tipped drumsticks made a sound, the right sound, giving his bandmates their cue. Before the evening had come to an end, forty five contestants had strutted back and forth across the stage to various thunders of applause. As the Master of Ceremonies prepared to call out the name of the winner, Daddy’s sticks rolled across the drums heightening the anticipation. Mama could walk her talk. And she did as she glided triumphantly in strappy high heels and a white one-piece bathing suit across the stage to pick up her second beauty title, Miss Bronze of Seattle. Her lips, the same intense hue as the hibiscus pinned above her breast, looked as though they’d be red forever. Aside from his mother, she was the most divine woman Daddy had ever seen. He dropped anchor…
While he prepared his daughter to live in what he referred to as a man’s world, my mother instilled a certain womanliness in me. Though she grew up in a house with too few bedrooms for too many children, she carried herself with a noble bearing. A natural, confident sense of style told you she knew where she was going, even if she didn’t. Never afraid to get down in the trenches, yet she always took the time to ensure her perfume suited the seasons, instinctively knowing that less is more. The aroma of whatever she had simmering on the stove greeted you at the front door, made you happy to be home. She was what I like to call a woman’s woman. Daddy used to give her behind an affectionate pat and call her Prissy Missy, the only way he knew how to tell her that he admired her gumption as well as her long manicured fingernails. And though he liked to play “Me Tarzan, You Jane”, deep in his heart he knew that Mama was a fierce protector and the bedrock of our family.
As a child, she symbolized everything that was right in my world. Her belief in her faith never wavered; “Let go and let God” she’d say. Come hell or high water she affirmed the hopeful; her positive way of thinking was shatterproof. Always in my corner, ninety-nine wasn’t just the cigar, it was the whole damn tobacco harvest. She was for me that comforting cup of cocoa you sip, then close your eyes, wiggle your toes and say “yum.”