The day I was attacked by 5 teens at Subway at 5225 Highway 85

Hey friends,

Today, I’m peeling back the curtain to share a story I haven’t spoken about before. It’s raw, it’s real and honestly, it’s something that has shifted how I approach safety and vigilance in my everyday life. A few Tuesdays ago, what started as a simple lunch stop turned into a whirlwind of chaos that left me physically hurt, mentally shaken and utterly resolved to take steps to ensure nothing like this happens again.

I wasn’t feeling well that morning and decided to call out from work. After a trip to the doctor, Terry wanted to grab lunch at Subway, located at 5225 Highway 85, Atlanta, GA. I tagged along inside, figuring it’d be a quick stop.

Little did we know, trouble was brewing. While we were inside, five African American boys entered the Subway. The lone employee—a young pregnant woman—immediately recognized them and told them to leave, reminding them that they’d been banned weeks ago for stealing money from her tip jar. Only one of the boys was allowed inside, but things didn’t end there.

When the employee asked their ages, the response was shocking. One boy claimed he was 13 and another 15, casually adding that they didn’t feel like going to school that day because they were there the day before. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the employee, who tried to reason with them, warning the lingering boy to steer clear of bad influences.

As Terry and I headed to our car, I could sense something was off. The boys were still outside, yelling and scheming. My instincts kicked in—I dialed 911, anticipating trouble. That’s when they rushed toward me, the old chubby white guy they thought they could bully and gang up on. The boys surrounded me, shouting taunts, screaming I was racist in spite of knowing nothing of me, daring me to swing at them. It was a surreal moment—the kind where time feels frozen. Terry shouted at me to get in the car, but I held my ground, refusing to become the aggressor, mostly because of their age and I didn't want to be the one that gets charged with assaulting a minor. Then it escalated. One boy slammed the car door on me—first against my leg, then grabbed my shoulders trying to slam me against the door from the inside. Another kicked Terry’s car door, breaking the handle and denting it. Amid the chaos, they realized I’d called 911 and tried to snatch my phone away. And here's where things get crystal clear: we’re in an open-carry state. While I wasn’t armed at the time, you better believe that going forward, I’ll open carry at times when I know I'm in a place or around people I know are dangerous. Holding a weapons carry permit is handy for concealed carry, which I do everywhere but work where it's not allowed. Even if I didn't have my permit—permit or no permit I would still carry.
This experience has been a wake-up call. From now on, my Ray-Ban smart glasses will be charged and ready to record photos or videos of anything remotely suspicious. Having an additional layer of protection and evidence brings me peace of mind.

The Lighthouse Garden Apartments where the boys ran to.

The Subway employee valiantly ran out to intervene, forcing the boys to scatter to a nearby apartment complex. Police eventually arrived, took our statements and promised(???) to patrol the area, looking for the boys from the security footage captured by the Chervon station and Subway—a promise that feels more like a brush-off. Adding to the frustration, our car insurance called me first and stated that if claimed they would refuse to cover any medical expenses I may have incurred since the car wasn’t moving. Also, the fact that our deductible is higher than the cost of repairs, this is completely on us since the police haven't been any help even though I gave them a pretty good idea of where the boys live, Lighthouse Garden Apartments, as well as the idea of cross-referencing attendance records of any teenagers in the local school that match the descriptions we gave and appeared in the security video in the parking lot. They kids have already made it clear their banning from not only the Subway but the entire property owned by the adjoined Chevron gas station over 2 months ago, will not stop them from being a problem. Also, the "Manager" of the Subway is never in when I call to speak to her, they didn't fill out an incident report and the law offices I called to ask advice on any recourse stated that the State of Georgia is about to have a bill signed by the republican governor, Kemp, making it almost impossible to sue a business whose security failed to keep their guests safe, meaning there will be little liability if you are injured or killed on their property.

Oh, and because life enjoys piling on, our brand new fridge’s ice maker broke down, the part that needs replacing was on backorder from Frigidaire and when it finally came in and the repairman was scheduled, he failed to show up—Frigidaire is sending another sometime soon, just another hiccup in a week of chaos.

Life isn’t always smooth sailing and sharing our struggles helps us find strength. Have you ever had an experience that shook your worldview? How did you bounce back? I’d love to hear your thoughts or stories in the comments below—it’s moments like these where connection means everything. And if you're interested in showing support, whether through a thoughtful comment, sharing this post or even a token of appreciation *help with the cost of the door repair* know that it’s deeply appreciated. Every ounce of support makes a difference.

Thank you for letting me share this journey with you.
Until next time

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Saturday GLOWcase: The Glow of Friendship: Vanessa Bello's Journey with GLOW

In February 2017, the vibrant city of New Orleans was the starting point of a remarkable adventure—a cruise with the ladies of GLOW. It was on this neon-lit journey that I first met Vanessa Bello. Amid the excitement and celebration of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (GLOW), our shared passion for the 1980's wrestling show ignited a friendship that would endure the years. From that initial encounter, our bond grew stronger, culminating in another exhilarating cruise in March 2024 from Miami, where we, along with stars of GLOW and fellow fans, created memories that will last a lifetime. GLOW isn’t just a show to us; it’s a community, a connection, a shared passion.

Vanessa (in white) at dinner with Tina Ferarri, MTV & Lightning

Vanessa grew up on the quiet side of a very churchy town in central Massachusetts. Her street wound its way between two busy highways—one leading to Sterling, the home of "Mary Had A Little Lamb," and the other to Clinton, a once-thriving industrial city now more known for its abundance of bars. Her childhood home was an old, mossy green, single-level house nestled amidst rolling, thickly forested hills, next to a decaying red dairy barn. The barn, owned by neighbors living in a house built in 1776, had seen better decades but was still operational. Vanessa's house, constructed in 1830, was originally a sheep farmer's residence, complete with a large, spacious barn.

A young Vanessa, on the right, with her sister and dad

In this serene neighborhood, traffic was rare, and life was peaceful. Vanessa's parents were very conservative and deeply devoted to the Catholic Church at the center of town. They sang in the choir, and her father often read the gospel from the pulpit on Sundays. Television, with its perceived smut and violence, was frowned upon in their household.

Young Vanessa watching the TV she discovered GLOW on

Despite this, Vanessa found fascination in the world of wrestling. Rare were the times she could see women actually wrestle on their old TV with its rabbit ear antenna. Wrestling became a rare treat, a luxury she savored whenever she could. The arrival of cable television in 1989, after a neighborhood lawsuit, opened up new possibilities, but women's wrestling remained a rare gem. Her exposure was limited to wrestling magazines at grocery stores, where she eagerly flipped through pages to catch glimpses of her favorite wrestlers.

Vanessa in 2009, a time she struggled with her identity

As Vanessa grew older, she grappled with her identity. Her fascination with women's clothing and femininity clashed with her parents' conservative beliefs. Dressing up in glamorous dresses and frilly gowns as a child was initially seen as cute but quickly became unacceptable. Vanessa learned to hide her true self, living a lie and harboring resentment towards her situation. The Sears and JCPenney catalogs that arrived in the mail became both a source of excitement and depression, as she dreamt of a future where she could wear those outfits openly.

Vanessa with Melody Trouble Vixen MTV & Roxy Astor

Amidst these personal struggles, the debut of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling (GLOW) offered Vanessa a ray of hope. The all-women wrestling program became a symbol of empowerment and a connection to a community that celebrated strong, fierce women. GLOW represented more than just entertainment; it was a lifeline for Vanessa, offering a sense of belonging and identity.

When asked what does G.L.O.W. mean to her, Vanessa's answer: Everything!

For Vanessa, GLOW is not just a wrestling show—it's a testament to resilience and self-discovery. It represents a world where she can embrace her true self, free from judgment and societal constraints. Through the highs and lows of her journey, GLOW has been a constant source of inspiration, reminding her that she is not alone. The friendships forged on those cruises, including ours, are a testament to the power of community and the indomitable spirit of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling.

Tina Ferarri, Vanessa, Sunny, me, Ashley Cartier & Natalia in Cozumel

As we celebrate these incredible memories, I invite you to share your own stories and experiences of G.L.O.W. Whether you met any of the wrestlers in person, watched their mesmerizing performances, or were inspired by their strength and charisma, I would love to hear from you. Feel free to leave comments and share your memories of GLOW. Let's honor these incredible women, crew and fans together! If you feel inspired to support our efforts in keeping the spirit of G.L.O.W. alive, your contributions in any form are greatly appreciated. Every little bit helps me continue sharing these stories and celebrating the legacy of the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling. Thank you for being a part of this wonderful community!

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Grandma Ella Ree Manning: A Legacy of Love and Lessons

My granny and grandfather with my dad

Grandma Ella Ree Bunch Manning—Granny to all of us—would be 104 today. Born on February 21, 1921, she was a remarkable woman whose legacy still resonates with our family. She married my grandfather Obdean in her teens and was stunningly beautiful, the kind of beauty that could have graced magazines had her life taken a different path. But Granny was dedicated to family, her life revolving around Alabama and Mississippi. I don't think she ever travelled further than Florida, Louisiana, Missouri or Tennessee.

Aunt Joan often shared stories of Granny's dedication long before she had children of her own. She took care of her brother Harry's twins, Ermon and Thurmon Bunch, who would later be part of the musical group The Plainsmen. Elvis Presley was a fan of the twins and later became a personal friend. Granny would walk the twins to school, carrying them when necessary because they lacked proper shoes to navigate the sandspur-lined dirt roads. All the while, her sister, Aunt Velma would trail behind, lost in her own world. Granny was the glue that held our family together for a long time, even after the death of my grandfather a day before my first birthday. She never remarried or even dated. As a kid, I watched my Uncle Mike, Uncle Gene, Aunt Joan and eventually my parents go through divorces, causing the family to fragment. But through it all, Granny remained our rock.

Granny was a phenomenal cook, specializing in Southern cuisine, and she could fry anything to perfection. She also sewed beautiful quilts for all her grandkids. I still wish I had mine, but it was lost when we were evicted from one of our houses. Granny was a master at a sewing machine and I feel like everything in her closet, except her winter coats and night gowns, may have been her own creations. She was a heavy smoker, going through about a carton a week. Granny never had cable TV—just an antenna on the side of her house that picked up three network channels and a few independents. Every morning, she would rise early, cook breakfast, and make coffee for the adults. She'd be in bed by 6:30 or 7:00 p.m., always watching the local news on WKRG Channel 5 before turning in.

Granny loved doing word searches, crossword puzzles, and variety puzzle books. She was a product of her time, a bit racist by today's standards, but it was a different world when she was growing up. She would often use the generalization of people that weren't like us as a means to keep us in line, or at least away from the wooded areas where they were lurking and waiting to kidnap us. Despite this, she cared deeply for all of her grandkids and even some great-grandkids. My cousin Crystal was especially close to her. Uncle Mike used to joke that Crystal was six but a year away from turning seventy because her best friend was Granny.

Granny slept with a gun next to her pillow and made sure all doors were locked from the inside. She was deaf in one ear, so if you got locked out after she went to bed, you were in for a tough night, or at least until my Uncle Mike or one of the other adults who seemed to always live in her house would arrive home. Once, when Granny visited us in Florida, I found myself locked out while she took a nap, oblivious to my knocking and ringing the doorbell.

While she wasn't particularly religious, she had a large Bible in her living room. She might look at it occasionally, but she never forced any of us to pray, a trait I appreciated. Granny was not a lady who cared much about looks but she did take care of herself. I remember her putting curlers in her hair and sitting under a pastel-colored tabletop hair dryer, painting her nails, doing puzzle books or reading library books my dad would check out for her.

Granny was a disciplinarian, instilling a healthy dose of respect in us with her preferred method of punishment—the switch. She would send us out to the yard to pick our own switch, ensuring we learned to choose wisely if we picked one that was too small or unwieldy. As we grew older, Granny kept a random stick in the house as a reminder for the great-grandkids. She didn't intend to use it, but our stories of the switch were enough to keep the younger ones in line. They learned from our experiences and knew Granny meant business.

Granny also had a deep love for animals and insisted we respect them. I remember the time I shot a squirrel with my BB gun. Instead of scolding me, Granny turned it into a lesson. She taught me to skin it and she then cooked the squirrel, showing me the importance of respecting life and the consequences of my actions. It tasted surprisingly like her delicious fried chicken, but the experience was enough to teach me a valuable lesson I'd never forget, I haven't eaten squirrel since.

While she had a sister, Velma, they were never close and didn't have much to do with each other unless Velma showed up for a visit. Granny would immediately instruct all of us kids to watch her and anyone she came with to make sure they didn’t take any of her belongings while she was distracted. That side of our family was wild, and I have many stories to share about them as well as my own immediate relations in the future.

Ella Ree Bunch Manning

Every Christmas, Granny could expect gifts like house slippers, kitchen items, or something to read, and she was always grateful for everything she received. The last time I saw Granny, my friend Ry (known as Stig to some of you) and I visited her at her house on Repoll Drive, on our way to the fair in Mobile. Granny didn't seem too impressed with Ry, but much like the time I invited my friend Costa to visit while I was living with her, she was the perfect hostess. She fried up some pork chops, mashed potatoes with gravy, and biscuits. Despite our intention to save room for fair food, we couldn't resist her cooking and enjoyed the meal and our visit with Granny.

Granny passed away in May 2002 after battling lung cancer, but even in her final days, she tried to sneak to the hospital roof to smoke. She was a resilient and stubborn woman, and we all loved her deeply.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Granny Ella Ree Bunch Manning. Your legacy lives on in all of us.

Thank you for reading this tribute to my remarkable Granny. If this story resonated with you or if you have similar memories of a loved one, please feel free to share in the comments. I love hearing from all of you and learning how our shared experiences connect us. Your thoughts and stories mean the world to me, and together, we can keep the memories of our loved ones alive.

Stay connected by following me for more stories and updates, and don't forget to like and share if you enjoyed this post. Until next time, take care and cherish the moments with your loved ones.

A Recent Life Threatening Situation

Life has a way of throwing unexpected challenges at us, and the week before last was a testament to that for me. I've had ear problems for as long as I can remember—from ear infections as a child to almost complete hearing loss in my left ear as an adult. Over the years, I've undergone numerous procedures, including the insertion of ear tubes; I'm currently on my 8th set due to persistent middle ear infections caused by eustachian tube dysfunction.

Recently, I had a particularly troubling ear infection. The latest set of tubes had been accompanied by a residual fungal infection, and despite my ENT's best efforts, the prescribed Clotrimazole drops caused itchiness, redness, and swelling in my ear canal. So, my wonderful ENT decided to try a different approach with fluconazole, an oral medication. A couple of days into the 14-day course of fluconazole, I started experiencing some tummy troubles. Having had stomach issues with certain antibiotics before, I thought I could manage until the course was over. Little did I know, the medicine was breaking down in my body and wreaking havoc on my system.

Thursday morning started like any other day. I took my medication and headed to work, with a rumbling tummy that I hoped would settle. I barely made it to the restroom before passing through employee security. I was a tad late, but when nature calls, you have to answer. An hour into work, after several trips to the restroom, I began feeling weak. I informed my manager about my condition, and while explaining, I nearly passed out. I managed to pull myself together and called Terry to tell him I was heading home.

Despite resting on Thursday, I still felt off on Friday. I followed my usual routine, hoping I was just dealing with a bug. However, after taking my medication that morning, I was hit with a severe stomach ache, a massive headache, and even hallucinations similar to those caused by Ambien. I knew I had to leave work immediately. When I got home, Terry was ready to take me to the emergency room, but I insisted on trying to manage at home. I attempted to eat and rest, hoping the symptoms would subside. However, by the time it was night, and after another dose of fluconazole, my condition worsened. I realized it had to be the medication causing all this havoc.

Finally, after a rough night, I threw away the remaining medication to avoid any more accidental doses. Slowly but surely, I began to recover. I now understand that my liver disease makes me more susceptible to the adverse effects of medications like fluconazole. I have an ultrasound scheduled on the 17th which will hopefully ensure there’s no further damage than what we already knew I had.

A week later, I'm still experiencing some residual effects, but nothing as severe as before. I realize looking back that I put myself into a life threatening situation and I could have died. At one point, while sitting on the toilet, I was shivering because I was hot and cold and had chills. I had visions that I was dying but too stubborn to admit it at the time. This experience has taught me an invaluable lesson: always pay attention to what my body is trying to tell me.

Thank you for joining me on this journey of resilience and recovery. I’d love to hear your thoughts and any experiences you might have had with similar health scares. Your support and words of encouragement mean the world to me. If you find value in my story and would like to contribute in any way, I truly appreciate it. Here's to better health and always listening to our bodies! 🌟