Married 50 years this past May

Meet at a green trash dumpster (car wouldn’t start) first date next night and never looked back.

Featured in  the former “I Do I Do” article (May 2009)in the Fort Worth Star Telegram

2 sons, 4 grandchildren.

University of Texas alumni and die hard UT fans (husband graduated from the Pharmacy school. Hook ‘em Horns)

I’m a retired police dispatcher.

Committed to our little country Methodist church.

Thank God everyday for our beautiful life.

My story begins with a lot of loss. When I was young, my father was tragically killed. Later, when I was just 15, my mother was also murdered. This left my sister and me separated, and I felt alone and angry.

At 17, I became a mother. My baby boy gave me a new sense of purpose and drive. Determined to provide a good life for him, I worked hard and focused on my career. I started in the casino industry, quickly moving up from an Operations Manager to a General Manager. I discovered I had a talent for finding and developing great people, which led me to a career in Talent Acquisition.

I’ve held important roles in various companies and eventually found my place at Sazerac, where I love my job. Despite all the challenges I’ve faced, I’ve built a successful career and raised three children. My oldest, who inspired my journey, is now 33, and my youngest is celebrating their 26th birthday today.

Looking back, my life is a story of resilience and determination. Even through tough times, I’ve been able to build a fulfilling and successful life. Thompsons is my favorite place to go! I love that you have my favorite drinks and products. Thanks for asking about your customers, we all have a hidden area we don’t share unless you have the password. 😉

Good morning, everyone. Today, I have two stories to share. One is about an adventurous moment from my younger days, and the other is a tale from the 1930s involving my parents and grandparents.

Let me start with my own adventure. I was a young pilot, in my  20s, flying a small twin-engine Piper Aztec from Barbados back to the United States. Now, this was no small feat—a long flight over vast stretches of water in a tiny airplane. While I was in Barbados, I had the chance to tour the Cockspur rum distillery. They had several barrels of exquisite 25-year-old rum, and, impulsively, I asked if I could buy a barrel. To my surprise, they agreed!

So there I was, a scruffy 26-year-old with a shaggy beard, dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, flying in the Caribbean around 1989, right in the height of the drug trade, with a barrel of 25-year-old rum strapped down in the back seat of my little plane.

My journey included a refueling stop in Puerto Rico. As soon as I landed, I encountered a US customs agent who was determined to catch me for something—he just didn’t know what. With all the authority of a traffic cop, he sized me up and zeroed in on the barrel of rum. “How many fifths are in that barrel?” he asked.

For some reason, I decided to be a wise guy and answered, “Five!" Because I’m good at math. This, of course, led to a three-hour interrogation where they tore apart my airplane, growing more frustrated as they failed to find anything illegal. Finally, they gave up and let me go. I had to put the plane back together, reload everything, and get on my way—essentially, getting the hell out of town.

My original plan was to stop for fuel in Nassau, but that would mean clearing US customs again when I reached Florida. To avoid this, I climbed as high as my little plane could go, leaned the fuel back to use as little as possible, and flew directly to Fort Lauderdale. I arrived on fumes, but I didn't have to clear customs again!

Now, for the second story, which is about my grandparents in the early 1930s. They lived up in the panhandle of Florida, in a dry county. They were churchgoing folks who didn’t drink, but times were tough, and they discovered they could get a much higher price for their corn in liquid form rather than on the cob. So, the whole family made mash and sold it.

One late night, they loaded up the truck with glass gallon jugs of liquor and, with the whole family aboard, set out to make a delivery. My father was about four years old at the time and his brother about 6. As they rounded a corner near the delivery site, they saw a vehicle ahead pull to the side of the road, hide behind a stand of trees, and switch off its lights.

In a panic, the family started throwing the gallon jugs out of the back of the truck as fast as they could. When they reached the other vehicle, they were relieved to find they had no contraband left on board. As it turned out, the vehicle was the guy they were supposed to meet!

Realizing their mistake, they backtracked up the road, picking up the jugs of liquor out of the ditch along the wooded clay road. Amazingly, not a single jug had broken!

And that’s how my family managed to navigate their way through some wild and adventurous times.

December 2018. My children, their spouses, and I were carrying on a bittersweet tradition that had started 4 years before. We had tickets to The Nutcracker Ballet at nearby Bass Hall. The trick was that I lived in San Diego, my son was stationed in Washington, DC, and my daughter lived here in Fort Worth with her family. 

After my husband of 26 years died suddenly on active duty in October 2014, my kids and I vowed to meet together each year, wherever any of us was living, and see the ballet. We had a life filled with world travel, which included the best of food and spirits all over!

It was recommended that we try Thompson’s before the show. Turned out to be a wonderful time, and we all wanted to stay longer, risking being late for the ballet.

Since then, we met together in other states, but always loved our time at Thompson’s, wanting to get back. 

I spent many years after his death grieving, healing and traveling the world. But I have since retired, remarried, now live in Fort Worth, and actually work at TX Whiskey Ranch, where many of our guests talk about Thompson’s, and that you even make a cocktail or two with TX products! 

Life happens and I’ve not been back, but am still trying to get there with my hubby, who shares with me an amazing zest for life and cocktails!

When I was a child, my reality was shattered in the blink of an eye and is only now recovering. In elementary school, I had a close friend who ended up betraying me through intense bullying and pitting our entire grade against me. I was extremely isolated and never had a reason why. The next year, my father was murdered in my home. I thought it was going to be a new an exciting year and a way to move past being the outcast, unfortunately I was wrong. The night before he was taken, my father tried to tell my sister and I about death and what lies beyond. It's only now as an adult that I realize he knew what was going to happen, accepted the outcome, and that he was trying to prepare us in his own way. 

I remember the day it happened in a blurry haze of traumatic images. He woke my sister and me up early to clean the whole house for our mother, which I deeply resented at the time. When he dropped us off at school he tried to tell us goodbye and that he loved us, but the school attendants were busy ushering in children and our final goodbye was short. It wasn't long after that that the school went into lockdown mode and everyone could tell it was not a drill, despite the best attempts of the teachers and staff. Something was off to me and I was trying to calm myself down with a book but I knew something was wrong, something involving my family. 

The next thing I knew my aunt was taking my mother, sister, and me to her house far away while red and blue lights danced on my lawn. Middle school was a blur and with my father's cold case fresh in my mind it felt like an endless nightmare. The staff tried to place me in a therapy program but when the other children were there because they lost their 98 year-old grandfather in his sleep, it didn't really help. Thankfully, there was one teacher in my final year that altered the course of my life and made me want to live again. High school came around and I finally blossomed and started to live again. 

I was determined to live and thrive and so I did. I met my future soulmate, amazing friends, traveled to a different country, got awards and praise from others, and thought I was finally ok again. Because of the hardships I faced, I got a full ride scholarship to college where I joined the SGA and grew more into myself. Not many woman in my family earned a degree, but I finally got one and aimed for a Bachelor's degree next. I now have that and more importantly I am happily engaged to my partner who encourages me to be a better person and to allow myself to grieve. There's much more to my story but it's not over and I'm looking forward to the next chapter.