Remembering Shanta Barber

Every now and then someone waltzes into your life when you least expect it and even though you may not have much time with them you bond. Shanta sought me out from a breast cancer support list we were both on. She had many questions about death and dying and sought me out for answers. In the process we became good friends. We only saw each other in person once and that was to go for tempura for lunch. Shanta picked me up in her husbands BMW and I was in love (with the car mostly). Shanta was able to out eat me 2 to 1 that day. We had to laugh because we were both undergoing treatment and yet we were ravenous. The food was amazing. That day I decided to give her a special ring tone on my cell phone. I played it for her and she really loved it. I could never get rid of it so I have now assigned it to her husband, Dennis. Shanta went with me for wound care and met my oncologist. I had hoped she would entrust her care to my oncologist, but she kept looking for the perfect doctor and by that time it was too late.

Shanta and I shared many thoughts through emails and I called her often to see how she was doing. We had originally planned to do tempura once a month, but she became more ill. I now wish I had done take out and gone to see her. I've never quite known what to say to someone who is dying.

As Shanta and I hung out that day she decided to teach me how to be Afro American. She knew I was interested in learning everything about cultures and the differences in people. Shanta had me put my hands in the air and she told me to "raise the roof". I kept pushing on the roof of her BMW and she was laughing hysterically. She finally showed me how to "raise the roof" and told me that I was going to take a lot of work. She endeared herself to me forever for being color blind and for allowing me to be silly with her.

Shanta also raised my awareness of the magnitude of breast cancer in Afro American women and the increase in death rates.

At Shanta's funeral I placed my survivor button in her casket. She always told me that she learned a great deal from me, but in the end she really ended up to be my greatest teacher.

She fought the good fight, she stayed the course and she kept the faith.

Thumbs Up Beamer!

Outside My Box....My First Trip To Europe (Amsterdam)

I've never ventured beyond US borders much except to go to Tijuana, Mexico. The process of getting my passport and planning for my travel was exhilarating and tiring. I was well prepared for anything they might throw at me. Not bad for a gal who is 53 and has wanted to see something other than Texas Stadium.

I was bumped up to First Class for my flight to London which thrilled me. There is nothing quite like having long legs and not knowing what to do with them. Fortunately United offers 5 extra inches in coach for some of its seats. I call it "Legs Plus". As I am not flying daily anymore it's always a treat to be bumped up.

Heathrow was a bit of a nightmare, the moving walkways did not move, the smoking section might have well not existed because smoke was everywhere. Getting from the arrival gate to my connecting flight was frustrating at best. Heathrow is huge, I thought O'Hare was huge, but Heathrow is much bigger. The one thing that I did love were the hats the flight attendants wore on British Midland.

When I arrived at Schipol airport it was somewhat confusing for me trying to figure out how to meet up with my friend. I just kept walking and hoping I was going in the right direction. I eventually saw the passport booths they have and handed them my virgin passport. They didn't stamp it, I was heart broken. Going home though the young man who had looked at my passport when I arrived smiled at me, stamped my passport so I was no longer a virigin. He saw how happy that made me and I did my happy dance.

I had a wonderful time in Amsterdam. The women I met there are all survivors of breast cancer and I had a very productive week. I won't bore you with all the details, but I will say that I would love to go back. Once I learned what coffee houses really were for, why I was called "klootzak" by an angry woman, and got lost in the Red Light District I thought I'd found paradise.

And when I landed at Dulles and had to go through customs the drug dog peed on one of my bags. Ah, there is no place like home!