There’s one more thing I must do before I can achieve my goal. . . .
What matters today is where I drive my life from here. The merry-go-round is slowing down, and when it stops . . . will anything be waiting for me?
It’s time. Time to burn the negatives. The lights are flickering now. There’s a curve up ahead, and I’ll go off a cliff if I don’t slow down and turn on the lights. . . .
The Ferrari entered the turn. I geared down but still had too much speed to take the curve. The vehicle went off the cliff and rolled three times, coming to rest upside down on a steep bluff.
My lights should have been snuffed out for good. It should have been a wrap.
But instead—the lights turned on. . . . And my life was just beginning.
The Saga Continues. . . .
February 15, 2008
It’s been ten years since the first publication of this book. A lot has happened in those ten years. It’s another book. The result of writing my memoirs has not only changed my life, but the lives of so many people who read this book and contacted me with their revelations. They conveyed to me that they saw themselves on the pages. All their stories were different, but the same. They said, if I could do it with what I was up against, then they could do it. I had no idea my writing would send this kind of a message. There was no hidden agenda in my words. I was just telling my story. Their encouraging disclosures took me on another path in life. I began to speak in shelters and prisons in hopes of inspiring even more people to make positive changes in their lives. I came to the conclusion that this was God’s plan for me. I was meant to live the life that I did in order to come out on this end of it to help other people find their way.
My love life hasn’t changed much, but the loves in my life have served to change me. My friend Susan Stafford, who was the original Wheel Of Fortune hostess (before Vanna White), was living in my guesthouse. She had a big birthday bash in a private home in Bel Air. It was there that I met Chuck Woolery. Soon after, Susan moved out and Chuck moved in. It was a real “Love Connection.” We ventured on a romantic sailing trip in the British Virgin Islands, flew to Louisville for the Kentucky Derby and attended many awards dinners and other functions together. During that time I became president of Safe Passage, an abused-women’s organization, and Chuck was there to lend his support for the cause.
I believe people come into your life for a reason. Chuck’s purpose in my life was to awaken my spiritual side. I have always believed in God and been acutely aware of the angel on my shoulder, but I wasn’t walking the walk. Chuck and I spent many mornings over coffee on my patio reading the Bible. My perspectives on life began to change. I felt that God had a purpose for me, that I had survived for a reason. I began to follow the path that I believed to be my destiny, which did not include Chuck. I knew the direction I chose to go was the right one as life was unfolding in ways that validated my thoughts every day. One such experience is when I was invited to a prayer breakfast with the president in Washington, D.C. I was filled with a spirit and an overpowering need to help people in crisis.
It seemed at every turn I was led toward my perceived destiny. I was asked to go to the Canon Air Force Base in New Mexico to speak to a group of officers about domestic violence. At the time, soldiers were coming home from Iraq and killing their wives. The military wanted my perspective on how and why this kind of abuse occurs and what signs to look for. When I finished my speech I got a standing ovation. Colonel John Posner presented me with the commander’s coin. I didn’t understand the significance of it then, but I learned later that only the highest of dignitaries get the honor of receiving that coin. I silently asked myself, “How did I get here?” I was given a VIP tour of the base and offered a ride in an F16. I had recently had four vertebra fused due to a seventy-mile-per-hour head-on crash while filming a chase scene with Bobby Unser Jr. in downtown Los Angeles. It was too soon after the surgery, and my neck couldn’t take the g-force. I do have an open invitation to take that ride, however, and I plan to take them up on the offer.
Evidently Colonel Posner thought I was a good candidate for the Joint Civilian Orientation Conference (JCOC) and nominated me for an extraordinary trip with the military throughout the European theater. Out of twenty-five hundred nominees, only forty-five people were selected. How a former wheelwoman for the Mob found her way into that elite category of people chosen, I will never know. After accepting the invitation from the Secretary of Defense Donald H. Rumsfeld to participate in the Defense Department’s program, I got the incredible opportunity to learn firsthand about U.S. military personnel, their equipment and capabilities, and national defense strategies.
We started out at the Pentagon, where we were given a tour that included the top secret Military Command Center. Most military personal are not even allowed in this area, let alone civilians. General Pace briefed us as to what to expect for the rest of the journey. Up until this point we had no idea where we were going for security reasons. We were told that we were a potential target for terrorists. That fact didn’t faze me. I’ve had a lot of experience with terrorists. In reality, I was even more excited to embark on the unknown. I never have lost my appetite for adventure. And this was by far the greatest adventure of all. Many times we were off of a military base in Europe, we had a full-on police escort to and from our hotel, sort of like when the president travels.
From the Pentagon we were taken to the Marine base in Quantico, where we participated in an obstacle course. We lost one of our collegues, who pulled a tendon and couldn’t continue with us for the remainder of the trip. After a pleasant dinner at the officer’s club, we were then shuffled off to Andrews Air Force Base, where we boarded a C-17 and headed for Stuttgart, Germany. I was lucky enough to be chosen to sit in the cockpit for takeoff. I was surprised at what little effort and the relatively short runway it took to get off the ground. This is a huge aircraft, designed for carrying tanks and heavy equipment to the war zone. There weren’t many seats inside. In fact many of us had to ride on seats attached to pallets on the sides of the aircraft. I got one of the six available beds. Sometimes being a female works in your favor. While I slept, they did an air-to-air fuel transfer over Iceland. We arrived at the U.S. European Command Headquarters, where we were met by EU-COM’s leadership for an update on current operations pertaining to the global war on terrorism, followed by a reception with General Wald.
After arriving in Europe, we traveled on a C-130 to every other country we visited. Upon landing, a red carpet was rolled out for our arrival. We disembarked flanked by saluting soldiers standing at attention. None of these aircraft was built for comfort. We were not considered civilians anymore. We were military personnel. We wore earplugs on the planes, and were issued helmets and flak jackets and other body armor. We rode in tanks with live fire from Apache helicopters shooting above us, and fired every weapon the military possesses.
After long down-in-the-dirt days on the bases, we always had a reception dinner hosted by the four-star general of whatever arm of the service we were visiting. Our days were long, starting out at four a.m. and ending at eleven p.m. We all understood in short order the meaning of military time. They really mean business. On many occasions there was no time to shower before joining our welcoming dignitaries at our reception dinners. In Naples, Italy, we boarded the USS Mount Whit ney and headed out to sea. We were welcomed on the ship by Admiral Harry Ulrich, who is the Commander of the Naval Forces Europe, as well as the one in charge of NATO operations for the Navy. The Navy put on an exciting and informative show on our behalf. We experienced aircraft landings and launches, observed amphibious landings, noncompliant maritime interdiction, and other warfare demonstrations. In England the Air Force displayed their military might with an impressive air show that included an aerial demonstration that featured one C135, two F-15s, and two F-16s. They did several passes and air attacks, blowing up a target on the runway. They also demonstrated an in-air fueling.
We were in such top secret areas with wal
l-to-wall screens monitoring terrorist hot spots all over the world. When a world crisis happens or is about to happen, this is the place where it is detected first. Their mission is to provide intelligence to the U.S., NATO, and coalition forces. It was so top secret that I had to be escorted by two soldiers to use the restroom, and they waited by the door to escort me back. I could go on and on but I have to stop somewhere.
I have been truly blessed to have had this experience. Very few people, even those employed by the Department of Defense, get the opportunity to interact with such an encompassing cross-section of military leaders and service members of all ranks. The most memorable moment though was visiting our wounded soldiers at the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Ramstein, Germany. Their sacrifice for our freedom brought tears to my eyes, yet these young men and women with missing limbs had such high morale and positive attitudes, not unlike all the soldiers I encountered throughout this trip. Their bravery will stay etched in my memory forever. I came away from this extraordinary adventure with a profound appreciation for our military. To say that I am proud to be an American would be an understatement.
Just when I thought I had it all figured out, the man upstairs threw me a curve ball. My twenty-seven-year-old son, Dustin, got a forty-year-old woman with a history of drug abuse pregnant. In the past she apparently had two other children who were placed in the foster-care system and adopted. I was not privy to her background at the time. I didn’t even know she was pregnant until two weeks before she delivered. I went to the hospital to see my beautiful little granddaughter, Angela. She was named after my mother. The bond was instant. I felt this little angel was going to be a special human being who would contribute something great to the world. The next time I went to see her . . . she was gone, taken by the state and placed in the foster system. I called the foster mother and asked if I could come and see the baby. She was very tart in her response: “No, only the mother can visit. Besides, she’s sick.” Concerned, I asked, “What’s wrong with her?” “She’s been projectile throwing up. Drug babies do that,” she answered, again with a sharp tone. Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep all night. I really didn’t have a grasp of the situation and why my granddaughter had been removed from the hospital so abruptly. I called the next day to check on the baby, and a fifteen-year-old boy answered the phone. He was left alone with Angela and didn’t know where his foster mother was or when she would be returning. That put me into a panic mode. I immediately called social services and said that I was the paternal grandmother and that I wanted the baby. It took five days to make the transition. In my mind’s eye I kept hearing her crying and seeing no one coming to comfort her. It drove me nuts.
Little did I know at the time that this would be my destiny. I was positive I was traveling down the designated road. Just another reminder that since I had handed my life over to a higher power, I am no longer in the driver’s seat. I adopted Angela on December 17, 2007, after twenty long months of emotional ups and downs in the court system.
As for my children, Toni and Barry divorced. She is now happily married to a wonderful man (Ron Anders), and they have given me two beautiful grandchildren, Skye and Jimmy. She’s a fantastic mother. Its kind of fun raising our little munchkins together. Who would have ever thought it? Life never ceases to amaze me. Dustin still has a lot of growing up to do before he will ever be a responsible daddy. I pray he does it soon. He is missing out on the precious years of Angela’s life. Of course, true to form, Richard has made it difficult for Dustin to bond with his daughter. He took him out of his will, afraid that Angela’s mother was only after his money. The word on the street in the drug world was if you got involved with Dustin, you could be either very very rich . . . or very very dead. Dustin was pulled between loving Angela and resenting her. After I retrieved Angela from the foster system, Richard then told Dustin that if I put her back in the system, he would put him back in the will. Georgia Black swung into action, telling him that this baby was not a piece of trash that you just throw away! I told him his money was safe, that I would adopt the baby and the financial obligation would be mine alone.
Due to a stunt gone wrong, I was forced into an early semiretirement. I’m sure this was part of God’s plan too. How would I have been able to care for this child if I were on location the majority of the time? I still have my stunt company and I take jobs that are local that don’t jeopardize my neck, but Angela is my priority. I no longer go to parties and jet off with my friends on a whim. I’m grateful I had those experiences. I have lived. But I never felt happiness like I feel it today. Angela SofiaBella is a gift from God. It’s like I’m given a second chance to apply all my previous parental mistakes and do it right. Maybe someday my little angel will pick up where I left off. I know she is here for a reason.
Like I said, this is another book. I plan to write one soon (between Angela’s naps.) Check my Web site often at www.thecompanyshekeeps.com for updates on my progress. Feel free to e-mail me too at Stuntlady@aol. com. I enjoy hearing from my readers and helping when I can. The saga continues. . . .
The Company She Keeps Page 48