Editor’s Edict:

Hello, my lovely readers! It has been a while, no? My boyfriend likes to remind me of the teachings of The Secret and to “Be in an attitude of gratitude…!” I am a fairly positive thinker, yet, sometimes I struggle with this Polly-Anna push and working on the Brown Betties Gazette is not immune to my feelings of not-so-attitudy-in-gratitudy. I get upset that I can’t keep up with my self-developed publishing schedule and as a result, feel negative about my accomplishments, when I should be thrilled.

I started this Gazette one year ago because I love writing, I love celebrating the accomplishments of other women, and I love my show, “Harlem’s Night Cabaret” performed by the Brown Betties. Funny, and here is how The Secret works, because as I write, I now feel a warm glow of attitude of gratitude spreading in my heart-n-soul like yummy honey because I do have joy and I know I’m lucky to be able to do what I love. SO, I (we) will CELEBRATE this new issue! Who has time to read in May, June or July anyway? :) We’re human; life happens; I’m busy; you’re busy…so there you have it. I’m happy to present the August issue of the Brown Betties Gazette and I’m thrilled you’re reading it!

This issue inadvertently became themed around family. My friend and actor LeShay Tomlinson Boyce became married and inherited more than just a husband in the union. Her perspective on juggling family and still striving to reach her dreams and goals made her the August Brown Bettie! In “Two Sides to Every Love Story”, Sidney Gaskins reveals the love she found in adopting her son. On a side note, take a moment to peek at my sister-in-law's new blog, “I am Brown Girl Speaks”…she offers stuff on family livin'. My niece is pictured there too and she’s lovely! To fuel your joy, we offer Tene’ Carter’s beautiful poem for the “In My Solitude” feature section and we introduce “The New Haiku” section which will highlight Tanya Alexander’s original Haikus; be sure to treat your ears and soul to her newly dropped spoken word album, “Pieces of Tanya”. It’s the hotness…and I’m not just saying that because she is the fabulous director of our Cabaret.

Lastly, I could only shake my head as I first gasped, then giggled, and began to nod in strange agreement when I read my mom’s submission for her “Momma Said” feature on her proposed unconventional use of prunes …I imagine you’ll have a similar reaction. When you recover, there’s more of the fiction installments of "Harlem's Awakening"...the back story to Harlem & Joe of “Harlem’s Night Cabaret” for you to consume. As always, enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! And don’t forget to visit www.brownbetties.com for more on Brown Betties of Harlem’s Night Cabaret! If you have any comments, feel free to hit me up at brownbettiesgazette@yahoo.com

xo
The Hot One

A Brown Bettie Becomes Her Dream

by Peppur Chambers

LeShay ("Mad Energy") Tomlinson Boyce
Actor. Newlywed. Bonus Momma

Miss LeShay and I met years ago in Chicago's former upscale hot spot, the Shark Bar where she was a waitress--rather, I'd like to say she was the self-appointed "Maitre'D Mamma-Hostess With The Mostess" of a grand par-tay. Were it not for her required server uniform, I imagine LeShay would have worked the deep mahogany room in a crisp, white Dior party dress with a dry martini in one hand and a delicate mini-quiche in the other...all while graciously smiling at her guests like Mr. Roarke on Fantasy Island. Most times, LeShay was the primary reason my crew and I would return night after night because she made me feel so welcome. LeShay was also one of the first of my Chicago friends to declare that she was moving to LA to act in film. I remember thinking, "Wow! For real?" I, myself, was headed to New York to sing, but to act in LA...now that was somethin'. Today, LeShay, a native of Queens, NY and an eight-year transplant to Los Angeles is a working actor and a newlywed which not only elevated her status to that of "Mrs.", but also placed her on a new throne of motherhood. Even with all these titles that bring on a new set of responsibilities and demands, she remains as gracious and talented as ever. Recently I saw her on stage at the Hollywood Black Film Festival (HBFF) Storyteller Competition where she acted in a scene from Derek Lively's finalist screenplay, "The Nigga", about an out-of-work Shakespearean actor who transforms into a gangsta rapper and becomes a star. While playing a grounded, yet sassy, strong-willed executive who'd been wrongly accused, her graciousness towards the other actor, David Bianchi, as well as the command of her craft had the audience suspended on her every word. (As a result, this screenplay also won the competition!)

Ultimately, Mrs. LeShay Tomlinson Boyce knows how to ENTERTAIN and anyone that knows her, whether professionally or socially, will say the same.

LeShay, I've been wondering something: I tend to pronounce your name Lah-Shay and sometimes I hear you see Lee-Shay. Which is it, please?
It’s technically LeeeeeShay. That’s the name my mother gave me– when I started school my teachers would add the jazzy French pronunciation Lahchez, and I didn’t bother to correct them because I liked that too. LeeeShay is reserved for family.

As actors, we are constantly being defined, undefined, redefined...How do you define yourself these days? If at all?
For the first time in my career, I’m not defining myself as just an Actor. Which is really a nice change – I’m now a real grown up, with responsibilities – it’s really something. So now I define myself as a GAW – a GROWN ASS WOMAN!

What's your next project?
Well now that my former employer’s been acquitted of all charges, maybe “KATHY” from ‘Trapped in the Closet’ will appear in Chapters 50 – 100 of the next installment. :)
KIDDING.

But seriously, I currently have two AFI (American Film Institute) films traveling the festival circuit, the comedy “The Lutheran” and the drama “Stitches”.

What is your biggest dream?
Receiving the Tony Award for my 1 Woman Show on Broadway directed by Meryl Streep.

Do you have any re-occurring dreams? If so, tell us! If not, why do you think that is?

YES! It’s the one where I start chewing a piece of gum that gets bigger and bigger, and every time I try to pull it out, there’s more and more gum in my mouth. I think it means, I have a lot to say and I NEED TO JUST SPIT IT OUT!

What scared you today - literally or figuratively?
The thought of my in-laws coming.

In my opinion, you are a person that creates synergies --whether you are making your famous tuna salad or whether you are on the big screen. How do you maintain this mad energy?

Wow. Thank you. Actually it’s genetic. And God on the inside of me.

You were married recently in Mexico to a wonderful man. Do you remember the day? If so, what stood out the most for you?
The overwhelming feeling of Joy –It was the happiest I’ve ever felt.

I became a stepchild around the same age as your "new kids"; what's the best thing you have learned from them so far?
And I like to say “Bonus”, instead of Step – Step sounds so……not positive.
So you ask, what’s the best thing I’ve learned from my bonus children……PATIENCE.

What advice would you give your step-daughter as she grows to become her own Brown Bettie?
Wait.
Don’t rush in to anything….Think before you act.
And don’t call/text him, if he likes you give him the opportunity to pursue you.

There's a classic Peanuts book titled, "Happiness Is A Warm Puppy" (Charles Schulz' first book). It sites random stuff that makes a person happy, like, "Happiness is a blank piece of paper". Fill in the blank.

"Happiness Is FORGIVENESS."

http://www.leshayonline.com/

Two Sides to Every Love Story
By Sidney Gaskins

Most little girls, as they are growing up, dream of the white picket fence, the husband, and having two children. That is not my story. My Love Story began when I saw a little boy at a foster home in October of 2000. When I tell people about meeting him, it sounds like a made-for-television drama.

The winter began to set in on Cleveland, Ohio; I worked in the Department of Children and Family Services as a social worker. My first children to visit were two girls placed in a foster home. Single, college graduate, no children, those were my basic stats. As I sat on the couch of the foster parents’ home, a tiny boy hid behind the curtains playing peek-a-boo with me and laughing. Soon after his antics with the curtains, he crawled up on the couch, sat next to me, and just looked at me. He moved closer, and then closer, eventually he was on my lap. In a moment of freedom I said, “I’m gonna take you home with me.” There came a day when his foster mother told me he was available for adoption. My heart stopped and I got worried that I would never know how he was or what happened to him. So, I made the choice to adopt him. Single, college graduate, no children, those were my basic stats. Little did I know that day would be a day to chance two lives.

Jamil officially became my son in March of 2003 at the age of 3 years old and the Love Story is still being written. Adoption to me is no different than having a natural child. I question my fitness as a parent, whether I made the “right” decision. And there were times, and still are, when I thought he would be better off with someone else. He would have two parents, a house, a yard, a dog (like he begs me to get), and other siblings in the home (like he begs me to get). And were it not for the support of other family and friends, we would not have made it this far. He is what I live for now. He is the Love of my Life.

I received a call from my sister in California, whom he stays with for part of the summer. He is now nine years old and was asking about his birth Mother. I became worried. She had probed him on what he would change about his life and he said, “nothing”. He expressed that he loves me, he is happy to be adopted, and he would not change that at all. Neither would I.

Still single, still a college graduate, one child, those are my basic stats. Little did I know that day would be a day to chance two lives. That is my Love Story.

Sidney Gakins, Personal and Business Developer/Consultant/Coach, operates Enterprising Life in metropolitan Atlanta, GA. Enterprising Life encourages individuals and businesses to look outside of the box to unleash their dreams and achieve success. Services include exclusive personal & family sessions, executive and management coaching, staff development, and group coaching. For more information visit: www.EnterprisingLife.com or call 678.886.3174 . Are you thinking of adopting? Contact your local social services agency, Adopt America Network www.adoptamericanetwork.org and the National Adoption Center www.adopt.org .

In My Solitude

Spring Love
by Tene' Carter

A New Year
A New Frontier
Fresh Spring Love
Wondering, discovering
Enlightening each other with our fantasies
Holding of hands,
Sheltering Fears
And tears
Wiped Away:
Moments
In
Love

T.C.M.

The New Haiku
Each month we'll feature a New Haiku from
Tanya Alexander, poet and director of Harlem’s Night Cabaret

Haiku #2

Sun down, full moon night.
Streetlights hum and beckon forth.
Chrildren's theatre.

Get Tanya's new spoken word album, "Pieces of Tanya", on Itunes or CD Baby. Some soothing samples are here:

Dear Brown Abbey,
This month, "Big Kim" is our guest Brown Abbey!


Dear Brown Abbey:I'm a single, 36-year old, beautiful, talented, educated black woman living in a major metropolitain city. I keep hearing about this phenomena of great black women who are single. What is your take on this topic?


I will say if you are single and have all those other things in your life going for you then you are limiting herself somehow. What I mean is if you've got your life together then to find a man with the same, you got to be "out there" to meet him. You need to be in situations that constantly put you in direct contact with like minded men. They're not gonna find you sitting at home with you're degree! To put it plainly, I wanted a man with tattoos, know where I found one? A tattoo parlor!

Another mistake is limiting yourself. "I need a man who's six feet tall" or "he's gotta be rich, or white, or black, or Jewish" NO, What you need is an honest, loving, caring man who treats you well! In the long run that other stuff really doesn't matter at all! There's a great song written by Cole Porter called "Down in the depths on the 90th floor" It's about a woman living alone and lonely in her fabulous Penthouse! The chorus goes "why even the janitor's wife has a perfectly good love life"! Meaning, you may be in your fierce penthouse and she may only be married to a janitor, but she has a man who loves her! That Gucci handbag may be hot, but it won't keep you warm at night!!

Momma Said:
by Vicki Rogers (my momma)



"Pruned Response"

Recently during my lunch break at the air force base, I was talking to one of my staff and co-workers as I chomped on some prunes and she munched on cold pizza. She was depressed about the impending visit from her husband’s extended family. She liked them and enjoyed their company individually, but having them arrive en masse was only adding to her trouble. Her trouble was that she was afflicted with an absentee spouse.

He was basically mentally absent from their relationship unless he wanted sex or new computer components to support his non-job habit. She couldn’t really remember when he started going MAWOL (Mentally Absent With Out Leave), she just knew when it came to taking responsibility for her and their two children, both under the age of five, he just wasn’t there. He had already boasted to his relatives about all the places he would take them to here in the Old Pueblo --
her husband liked to boast about providing but not to do the providing. And that of course he’d exclaimed they didn’t have to worry about eating out with prices so high, they could eat at their house! Hotels?! Out of the question. After all, they were coming all the way from Texas. All ten of them.

His MAWOL factor had created a vacuum around the reality of having to bed and breakfast, and lunch and dinner a ten pack, even if it was only for a few days. He didn’t seem to realize that their three-bedroom house already had one bedroom devoted to his office which was piled high with computer bits ‘n pieces and that the garage was a nightmare. He was also absent-minded about buying groceries, washing clothes, cooking meals and watching children other than via the rear-view mirror.

My co-worker was already exhausted and the visit was still days away.

As we sat in our lunch area, which is very informal and mainly consists of a round cocktail table and bar stools embellished with the University of Arizona logo and team colors placed beside a pool table in the large office area that doubles as a game room for our youth program,
I asked her what would happen if she got sick while they were there visiting? She said it wouldn’t matter. She would still have to prepare the meals, make sleeping arrangements, be a chauffeur service, etc., and watch her kids. I looked at her across the small table, plain-faced and said, “From the bathroom?” I stared at her while she had the most puzzled look on her face, like, “Why would I bring them into the bathroom with me?” To clarify, I suggested, “Vomiting - diarrhea?” Her expression changed to disbelief. I explained “It’s hard to entertain people when you’re on the toilet. It’s even harder to cook.” Of course I WASN’T SUGGESTING SHE GET FOOD POISENING. However, prunes eaten in the proper quantities at the right time will certainly assure frequent trips to the bathroom. Those timed for initial deposit around 3-4 am are hard for even the most peaceful sleeper to ignore. Also there are those trusty pill laxatives that are always helpful in cleansing the bowel and they do genuinely make you feel sick. (My co-worker thought it particularly funny that I never leave home without them. The prunes, I mean.) If she were physically absent from catering to the ten pack, her husband would most certainly have to…relieve her…of her burdens.




It is unpleasant to gently make yourself sick; it’s also unpleasant when you have to remind a spouse that goes MAWOL about remaining in the present. It is also unfair to be ignored when asking that other half to take responsibility in a relationship and be just that. So sometimes you have to take yourself out of the picture to capture their attention when getting help the hard way is the only recourse you have left.

Sometimes that recourse can be … prunes.

Harlem’s Love Story…

For your reading enjoyment, find the fifth installment of “Harlem’s Awakening”…This is the “True Hollywood Story” (as it were) behind the love affair between Joe and Harlem that plays out in the cabaret, “Harlem’s Night”.



Type of Girl…Chapter 5

It wasn’t until the top of her third drink that Harlem finally started to feel the warm brown velour blanket known as “Scotch-n-Soda” wrap itself around her pain.

“Mmmm. That’s better,” she sighed. She continued to focus on Joe, the source of her pain, as he played through his second set. She watched as his fingers tickled the upright bass…She laughed out a loud and indignant “Ha!” in response to her recollection of how only an hour ago, when she’d first arrived at the Cornett Lounge to see Joe, that the very same sight of his playing had given her tingles. This sight, now shrouded in an ugliness best explained by a shrink, made her want to throw up.

Again, “Ha!” rumbled from her chest and burst through her lips. She abruptly turned to the bar, away from stupid Joe and his stupid bass. She became aware of the interesting fact that despite what had happened tonight between them (really, what had not happened), she couldn’t and hadn’t forced herself to leave this place. A woman of sound mind and body would have grabbed her wrap and haughtily stomped out leaving a cloud of pressed powder and perfume in her stead. But not Harlem. Not the Harlem who seemed to be a glutton for punishment, despite all the love warnings she received from her female ancestral past like, “Men only want one thing!” …

“I’m stronger than that,” she whispered to herself. She took a long cool sip… “I’m a baaaaaad motherfff----” A tap on her shoulder interrupted.

She didn’t dare look. Whoever it was would certainly be a bother or a bore; neither being something she wanted to deal with right now. She kept her head down hoping the person would just go away…Tap. Tap. Tap. Oy. She peeked to her left to address The Tapper. It was Sarah. Stupid Joe’s stupid Sarah.

“You’re still here, honey.” The words seeped from her mouth in not quite a question but more like a toned-down reprimand.

“Am I?” Harlem replied. She looked around, pinched herself once for good measure. “Why yes, yes, I am still here. Funny. Isn’t it.”

“If you say so.” Sarah nodded to Scotty, the bartender.

“More champagne for you all?” Harlem asked with bitterness disguised as politeness because she didn’t have the balls to be a bitch.

“Your dear of a friend Harold just poured himself the last drop.”

Harlem smiled to herself. Harold had become her ally and he didn’t even know it.

Sarah continued in her uber-pleasant way, “I’m getting myself a little something else. Can I interest you in a martini?”

A martini? Harlem would have preferred a rope. By Sarah’s returned expression, Harlem sensed Sarah knew exactly what she was thinking. Of course, exactly who would be hung was what Harlem imagined Miss Sarah was now trying to craft. Rather than see it ‘round her own neck, Harlem grabbed hold of the proverbial rope and said:

“I’d love a martini.”

“Smart girl,” Sarah replied.

They waited a spell for Scotty to deliver. The silence between them hovered like a hungry hawk patiently circling a lush field stocked with tasty brown mice. Harlem licked her lips. Sarah coughed discretely. They both shifted their gaze and female attention to Joe as he played on stage. His head was bent low and his hat had fallen dangerously low from its usual perch on his head. Knowing Joe, he probably willed the hat to stay put, and it listened, respectfully. His smooth chin was the only visible part of his extraordinary face. He was bathed in pale yellow candlelight and the swing notes he played seemed to dance around him, through him like exotic indigo, gold and crimson butterflies.

“He sure is a dream, wouldn’t you say?” said Sarah.

“Ohhhhh…,” Harlem stalled.

Scotty delivered. Sarah delicately slid a frosty martini Harlem’s way; her bony fingers bare save for crimson polish and an intimate pearl ring. Sarah sipped her own martini with a familiarity of which Harlem was slightly jealous as she casually fumbled the awkward glass to her mouth.
Sarah continued softly, “So handsome.”

“Mmmmm….” Murmured Harlem.

“And wonderfully talented in…so many ways. Wouldn’t you agree?” And with that, heavenly Sarah slid her honeyed eyes Harlem’s way. They landed deep in the center of Harlem’s own deep amber eyes. Neither shifted. Neither strayed.

“So many ways?” Harlem said somewhat seductively. “Yes, I s’pose I’d have to agree with you, Sarah.”

Sarah leaned in toward Harlem, softly turned Harlem's chin away with her pearled hand so she could whisper this in Harlem’s ear: “You’ve just confirmed you’re the type of girl who would.”

Harlem, mortified, could still feel the heat from Sarah’s breath in her ear as she watched Sarah slide her remaining martini down her thin throat like an oyster falling from its shell. She then licked her lips, gave Harlem a demeaning kiss on the cheek and smiled, “See ya around, sugar.”



(c)2007 Pen and Peppur LLC