Erin Shaw Street

305 Spiritual Gangsters

Every now and then a story comes a long that makes my heart skip a beat.

That makes the delayed flights, nights away from home, speeding tickets on unfamiliar roads, and cold showers in hotel rooms worth it.

In my 16 years of writing professionally, one of my favorites is one that is hitting mailboxes this week in the May issue of Southern Living.

It's a story about Terri Cooper, a Miami yoga teacher who brings her practice to people from all walks of life, especially kids in the city's poorest neighborhoods, like Little Haiti.

I met Terri more than a year ago during a shoot for another story. At the time she was yoga director at The Standard Hotel, where the beautiful hipsters go to relax. We had breakfast one morning and she told me how she'd discovered yoga while recovering from crystal meth, and how it literally saved her.

After getting healthy and establishing herself in Miami's yoga community, Terri felt called to teach at-risk kids in Miami. (I hesitate to use the term "at-risk," cause, aren't we all "at risk" in some way?)

Each day she drove back and forth between the posh Standard and her own yoga studio in another upscale part of the town, Yoga Shores, passing places like Little Haiti and Overtown, wondering what would become of the young girls that filled the streets. Some had babies. A lot walked alone. Would they become gang members because they had no where else to turn?

Compelled to reach out, Terri completed training with "Off The Mat, Into The World," a California-based non-profit that trains yoga teachers and practitioners how to make a difference through service, be it teaching in local or global communities.

Then she founded the "305 Spiritual Gangsters," rolling up her yoga mats and carrying them to neighborhoods where most South Beach regulars would never step. She went to juvenile detention centers, schools in danger of closing, and gathering spaces for the kids that could easily slip between the cracks. Her message to her students: they all count, they are all worthy.

She knew that she might be rejected. After all, she was a white girl who owned a yoga studio. But she recited a message that she learned from her yoga teacher, Sean Corne, when she doubted herself:

"If you act from a place that's authentic, and try to do you're best, everything will be ok."

She thought back to when she was a child, living in the projects, among other places. No one would have guessed she'd been there.

Most people don't ask questions.

Sometimes the kids embraced her, but other times they turned their backs. She kept going back, showing them how to maneuver their bodies into positions that made them giggle. They eventually got quiet, finding stillness in poses with names like "Downward Dog." " Cobra."  "Mountain."

There is not an ending to their story yet. Although a bit of it is being told now it's really just starting. Will there be permanent, positive change? Not sure, but I've seen dozens of teenagers get perfectly still, close their eyes, and believe.

I practice a little yoga every day now. Sometimes I go to a local studio, and sometimes it happens by my bed. It helps me get through the cold showers in hotel rooms, and quiet my doubts, so I can clearly listen to the next story ready to be discovered.

Thanks Terri, and Namaste.

Related Links:

Doing Yoga Without Moving A Muscle

Namaste Nook: Savasana Suburban Style

From Russia to Birmingham With Love: Another Alabama Booksmith Find

The other week, my book club decided on Olga Grushin's new book, "The Line," as our April selection. I'd never heard of the Russian writer, but Carla Jean had a copy and it sounded interesting.

Our last selection was based in Birmingham, and I thought there would be no connection to our fair city with this title (after all the book is about a mysterious line in Russia).

Then I visited the Alabama Booksmith and discovered yep, there is an Alabama tie after all.

If anyone knows ties to Southern Literature, it's the Booksmith's owner, Jake Reiss.When I mentioned our selection he scurried up to his office, producing two stories on Grushin, who, it turns out, has a proud father-in-law who lives right here in the Magic City. Who knew?

Even better, Grushin, a literary sensation is speaking and signing at the Booksmith Friday, April 23 at 6 p.m.

I'm thrilled. Jake's got plenty of copies of the book in stock, and I'm cramming to read it before her talk and my book club meeting the following week.

Meet me at the Booksmith: I'll be there picking out my next selection ...

Related Links:

Washington Post Review of "The Line"

Prose and Politics: 10 Questions With Olga Grushin

Megan's Magnolia Musing's: A Trip To The Magic City

Garden Gnomes Save The Day!

Being an obsessive party planner, I was a little freaked out yesterday morning because I'd planned a small birthday party for Nate, with zero activities for the kids. Last year we rented a huge bouncey house and had what seemed like eight million kids running all over the place. This year, since we'll we'll be with ten zillion kids on his actual birthday (Disney), I went low key: 4 of his friends and family, cake and ice cream.

But that was so ... predictable. I held out hope that I could find something different for the kiddos. The gods of Target did not disappoint: $1 "Paint Your Own Garden Gnome" kits, complete with all the materials. (They don't seem to sell them online -- closest thing I've found is this $11.95 kit.)

Sweet. Now, truth be told this is a project that I'd like to do with my grown-up friends.

But the kids absolutely loved it. They were transfixed playing with the colors and designing their own gnomes. 

Below is a video of the young masters at work. Oh, on a related Gnome News Note, yesterday a 15-foot tall garden gnome appeared in Iowa.

Coincidence?

Related Links:

Gnome Goes Road Tripping

Free The Garden Gnomes

 

This is What 60 Looks Like! An Advocate, Mama, Friend and Elvis Fan: Dolly O'Neal!

So I've had a bad week. I mean, really bad, the kind of stuff that at some point I will write about but for now is best left off the Interwebs.

Then I woke up this morning, with a million thoughts circling in my mind, and just one floated to this surface:

Today is Dolly's 60th Birthday!

And I immediately felt hope and joy. Cause that's what Dolly does.

I met Dolly O'Neal around 2002 when I was working at the UAB Comprehensive Cancer Center. We were interviewing for a development director, and everyone kept talking about *the perfect* person for the job.

I was a little suspect, having known quite a few development people who talked a good game and didn't deliver. Then I met Dolly. The real deal.

It wasn't cause she had a fancy business degree or a bunch of letters after her name. She didn't have either. She'd raised three children (awesome people at that), started and ran a foundation to raise money for breast cancer (The Breast Cancer Research Foundation of Alabama), and beat the disease herself.

And, more than anything, when she looked you in the eye and told you her story, you believed her. Not just because it was true, but because she spoke with such a passion, a conviction, and a truth. I remember after just a few minutes of meeting with her that she was one of the most genuine and caring people I'd met. (Plus I soon learned she was a huge Elvis fan, so I knew we'd hit it off.)

Over the next five years Dolly and I worked side by side. We visited patients, stuffed envelopes, wore uncomfortable shoes to black tie galas. We had fun too -- ridiculous amounts -- like going to live taping of Oprah together, promising not to scream when she came out and then, of course, screaming. Having lunches surrounded by our friends Josh, Jennifer, Rachel, and Katie, playing "Mafia" (OK, that's an inside joke.)

There was a lot of laughter there, but also a lot of tears. We lost many, many friends to the disease. Sometimes we felt defeated.

But, through it all I learned something -- a lot really -- by watching how Dolly treated people in good times and bad. Although her job was to raise money, she didn't care if you had any. She cared about people, reached out to hug them, and to listen to their story. It was about building relationships. I took notes.

But for the record, about the money: Dolly was a hugely successful development director. That new Radiation Oncology Facility at UAB? She raised more than $11 million for that. Those bright new cancer specialists they are able to recruit? The new treatments they are researching ?Thank Dolly O'Neal for paving the way.  There's no one better.

And she's still doing it. Although she left the Cancer Center several years ago, she's still out there raising money in her spare time -- it's just part of what she does. She's enjoying her family,  chasing after dogs, traveling, and being a best friend to many.

Although she greets everyone with a beautiful smile, life hasn't always been easy for Dolly O'Neal. Last year she was diagnosed with a recurrence of the cancer, 15 years after beating it for the first time. But if there's anything she's taught us, there is hope. She beat it again. Today she turns 60. And in a few months she's going to be a grandmother. Lucky baby.

Lucky us.

The sun is shining today, shining for the one and only. Here's to you, Dolly O'Neal, our friend and hero, the DollyMama. This is what 60 looks like ... inspiration!

Worldless Wednesday

And now a message from my technologically proficient father.

We'll call this one "8 days and counting till Disney...."

The Easter Flamingo Visits

Had a great Easter, especially because we were visited for the first time by the mythical Easter Flamingo. Though lesser known than the Easter Bunny, The Easter Flamingo, or 'Mingo for short, is just as generous.

Nate was thrilled to find that Easter Mingo left, what else, plastic eggs.

"The Easter Flamingo left eggs in our dirt," he said. (Next year the Mingo won't have that wide patch of dirt upon which to deposit treat-filled eggs because it will be landscaped, but it did add to the effect.)

N. then explained that the Easter Flamingo works in tandem with the Easter Bunny.

Apparently they pass the eggs back and forth in their mouths and then divvy up the duties of egg distribution. Sweet.

It was a great day, filled with ham biscuits and the first sightings of seersucker suits of the season.

F. Scott Fitzpug, on the mend, even joined in on the fun.

The new baby

I haven't been this nervous driving since we drove Nate home from the hospital.

Now, what should I name it: a)GaGa (obvious) b)Bjorn (a salute to its birthplace) c)Moody Blue (the Elvis song that came on the radio driving home listening to Sirius)?

There's a pug in the car dealership (my day off)

What a day "off" ...

Took F. Scottfitzpug to the vet (double ear infections), took car back to the dealership (they messed up something during repairs the day before rendering the breaks close to useless), ran after said pug and one small child in the dealership.

Encouraged pug to poop on the floor of dealership when the service technician said, "oops, I left a part in there."

Dad came by to help us out as I accepted apologies and free oil changes from remorseful technicians. 

Called Volvo and ran the numbers on a new car. Dropped off dog at house. Went to Alabama Bloggers lunch for the first time (new blog friends, yay!). Took kiddo to Volvo dealership and fell in love with a car (the XC90 SUV) , then had heart palpitations when I saw the sticker price. 

Took a breather, stopped at Sherwin Williams and bought three kinds of exterior paint for our front of the house makeover. Wondered when I became someone who was considering buying a Volvo and debating between "gloss" and "semi-gloss" exterior paints.

Came home, arranged a photo shoot, did a load of laundry. Visited by Dad who so kindly took Nate for a few hours. Went back to Volvo, drove the XC90 (three rows of seating!), got freaked out by the price again, and as we drove it back into the lot saw a big honking sign .... a Volvo S40 sedan marked down to an insanely good price.

                                                   Trusted gut feeling, bought car on the spot. Felt good about decision, which will allow us to have a fantastic new car without being bogged down with payments that freak us out.

That's the Cliff Notes.

Exhaling.

Now today ... go to yoga, pick up another paint color, get the new car, plan a birthday party. It. Never. Ends. Thankfully.