Salute to My Daddy, My Hero

On the eve of your 72nd birthday I peep at you from the corner of my right eye as you twiddle your thumbs from your wheelchair, your new best bud. I’ve laughed at you today, laughed with you today and been scared out of my ever-loving mind as I walked into your current home away from home to the repeated phrases, “Oh my goodness! Your daddy walked out here by himself without his walker.” I panicked on the inside, being sure not  show it on the outside as I entered in your room to find you smiling and playing with your food.

Boy-oh-boy! This year has been a doozy, Daddy. Gone are the days of you taking me as a toddler to the bar with you, perching me on the counter as you sipped your favorite elixir. (Don’t you dare judge. This was the 70s where life was easy-breezy…LOL!) Passed are the days where you called me by my nickname of “Bird” because I didn’t have hair and had legs as skinny as a bird. (Can I find my skinny legs again???) Long ago are the days where we went toe-to-toe about my curfew, my “boo” of choice, my smart mouth and your stubbornness which someone found its way to me. (I’m so glad I came to my senses with the help of neighborhood trees and your “discipline”…LOL!) Far seems the day, of less than a year ago when you helped carry and put up a Christmas tree wider and much taller than your 6ft 3inch+ frame.

Many things have changed. But what hasn’t changed is your awe-inspiring statue and spirit. In all my life I’ve never seen you weak, even now, as I type with two hands, continuing to keep an eye on you as if you’re a newborn, but super respectful of the fact that you are a good and grown man.  Even in your sickness you are
“that dude”. You’ve always been the strongest, smartest, kindest, flyest, funniest, most family-oriented, hardest working, most fiscally sound, richest (yep, I said richest), most generous, most knowledgeable, historically astute man I’ve known. And now, as sickness tries with immenent failure to dull your shine just a teeny tiny bit, I’m grateful that NOTHING, not even illness can change the fact that you are STILL the strongest, smartest, kindest, flyest, funniest, most family-oriented, hardest working, most fiscally sound, richest (yep, I said richest), most generous, most knowledgeable, and historically astute man I know.


I made a combined photo of us from the past and present. What’s changed? Not much at all. You’re still “that dude”. For all of my life, like the picture on the left you’ve had my back. From hence forth, like the picture on the right, I’ll have yours.


Bird AKA @AngelaMMoore316





He’s More Than a Daddy


Sylvester Scott is… the youngest son of 10, a childhood cotton picker, a former housing project resident, a delayed school starter and accelerated learner, an adolescent golf course attendee, and a night school goer. He’s a McDonald’s worker for years, an international Navy man, a provider for his kin, a college graduate, a proud Omega man, a history buff and rememberer of all things. He’s Ves, Slim, Mr. Scott, Daddy Scott, PaPa, Poppa Scott and so many other terms of endearment. He’s the epitome of a husband, a father, a friend, a financial expert, a decades long government employee, an “I will build two houses from the ground up for my family” man, a street-wise, hip you to the game guy, a surrogate father to those who grew up without a dad like he did, a mean kitchen dancer, a hilarious comedian, the best Heinz 57 Sauce baked chicken cooker, a prayer, a protector, a brain surgery survivor, an abundant compliment giver, a doting man, a football and reality show watcher, a super grandparent, a believer in Christ and first man to ever love me. He rocks!


He’s more than a Daddy, Sylvester Scott is my hero and September 7 marks another year we’re blessed with his presence, wisdom and love here on earth. Since his recent sickness and brain surgery each day and year are that much more special. Happy Birthday Daddy! May this day and year be sweeter than you sneaking a piece of pound cake, and leaving a trail of crumbs in the middle of the night despite your diabetes. You are loved, sir! Yes, indeed you are.

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You Better Catch Your Breath Before You Lose It


I typed this blog post on the heels of a much-needed, weekend getaway in March of 2013. In the throes of some personal and professional life changes, I found myself nestled in the middle of the celebration of my 41st birthday, while also being surrounded by a bit of “March madness” from many different sides. Having not had a great escape since October of 2012 I was blessed to be able to cruise down I-20 for a brief reprieve.

While the trip wasn’t to a far away destination and while it was definitely the definition of frugal it was FUN and that’s what I needed. Posing for pictures in the ATL sun, soaking up the rays and the scenery, sipping delicious Coca-Colas (which I’m sure taste better in Atlanta than anywhere else I’ve been) being thankful for an opportunity to simply see a sea of different license plates, experiencing new cuisine and doing a little shopping on a budget made me think about the plight of the person that doesn’t take time to breathe. “Waiting to Exhale” was only a movie!

So I offer this humble recommendation, “You better catch your breath before you lose it”. People often say, “life is short.” I’d like to suggest that life is as long as you live it. Please know, that by nature of being life, life is going to bring some things that will try to take you out or keep you under. It’s up to no one but you to do what you have to do to carry on, especially in the midst of chaos. The days of the woman or man not taking time to focus on personal help and personal rest/relaxation are over.

  • I’d rather spend $60 to relax with a hotel Groupon than $300 to recuperate with a hospital co-pay.
  • I’d rather save to go to a spa than pay to see a doctor for stress.
  • I’d rather share a fancy or frugal meal with a friend than sit in silence dining alone.
  • I’d rather sacrifice to have a hair or nail appointment from time-to-time than splurge for prescription drugs to help them grow through whatever I’m going through.
  • I’d simply rather live life than merely exist.

The bottom line is, the life you have is yours to live. Live it! Do whatever you have to do (in a healthy, productive, refreshing, and relaxing way) to live. Plan if you have to. Save if you have to. Prepare if you have to. Share if you have to. Be creative. Be crafty and be sure you catch your breath before you lose it. Now breathe:)


Happy Birthday to Me and God Bless My Parents


March 16 is my birthday!!! YAY! Four years after originally posting this post I still thank God for allowing me to see another year. He’s done so much for and within me over the last now 45 years and for that I’m eternally grateful.

As excited as I am today about “my day” tomorrow I understand with full clarity that who I am is because of Who I serve and Who He allowed to parent me. My parents, Sylvester and Angenetta Scott ROCK!!!!


Each year I get them a present for my birthday to thank them for doing whatever they had to do to connect, love each other, have me, love me, rear me, provide for me, whip me, guide me and most importantly stay together. This year my sweet husband purchased them a picture from the both of us of them at our wedding which now hangs on their wall. (Awwwww…aren’t they adorable?!?!) So, thankfully, I found this post as again and enhanced it as an offering of the gift of my words.

I want to publicly say THANK YOU to them for being the perfect parents to me (especially when I acted far, far, far less than perfect). A lot of people know me now and see the works of many to get me half-way together, but let me tell you, your girl Angela has come a long way, especially from teenagedom. I have to say THANK YOU to my father for working since the age of seven until retirement almost six decades later and not having his father in his life, but being stubbornly determined to be all that he didn’t have for his children and other people’s children. He is the most loving, sensitive and tenacious provider, protector, comedian, detailed question asker, streetwise/bookwise combo, financial expert and human encourager I know. Now, as he’s overcoming health challenges which caught us all by surprise in 2016, his strength, determination and care for his family shines even more brightly as a source of inspiration for me. I have to say THANK YOU to my mother for being the most selfless, caring, loving human I know, pressing through her own personal pains to provide joy to so many. She’s the best best friend, listener, problem solver, caregiver, chef, surprise planner, Santa Claus, prayer partner, sounding board, voice of reason, Godly example of wife/mother/grandmother, personal chef, good friend to her friends, project workerbee, organizer, birthday/holiday card sender, confidant, and intercessor I know. I simply adore, admire and respect them more than these 600 words could say.

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At the time I first wrote this post four years ago I said…”Neither of them bother with “that Facebook”, and my mom rarely has time to read my blogs because they’re busy taking care of my beautiful nieces and enjoying dates after all these years, but somehow, someway I know these words will reach them and I hope they linger in their hearts forever.”

Now, my mom is on “that Facebook”, but barely as she balances life “the remix” since my dad’s illness. Those beautiful nieces are in school, and the dates they enjoy, mostly at Cracker Barrel or McDonalds as my dad continues to show last year’s sickness who’s the Boss, are truly a testament of their love for each other, which is a testament of their love for me and those who love them. So again, just in case they don’t see this for themselves, I know somehow, someway these words (and I pray my actions) will reach them and linger in their hearts forever.

-The proud daughter of Sylvester and Angenetta Scott

My Sister Still Dances in Stores

The following was posted years ago regarding my sweet sister who celebrates 35 years of LIFE today. Through rapid-fire, ups and downs which would have taken many out, she still dances in stores, on streets, even in parked interstate traffic one day as we traveled back from a road trip. So today, I celebrate Kristy Lee…the Dance Machine! Happy Birthday, Sissy!


I have a confession to make. My sister dances in stores. Yeah, yeah, I know that might not have been what you wanted to hear and I also know that really wasn’t my confession to make, but I just had to share that news with someone.

She’ll probably have a fit because of the fact that I’m even blogging about her, but being nine years older, and being the only one of us that’s actually writing on our blog right now does have some serious advantages.

That’s why I want you all to know my sister dances in stores. I know that might sound crazy, but to me it’s absolutely one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. Right in the middle of our favorite Publix, Walmart, Target or any other establishment for that matter, she will break out into a brief, but festive dance.

I’ll be the first to admit I was embarrassed the first time she started doing this years ago. Being as poised as I think I am I initially whispered to myself, “What will people think?” as she strutted, hopped, shimmied or sashayed down the aisle between the Windex and Ziplock bags, or the Hotpockets and Hamburger Helper.  Like an unexpected storm on a hot, Alabama day, each time we’re together some sort of dance is bound to pop up and out of her. Moving past the embarrassment I looked deeper, having watched my sissy grow from a little girl to a woman, and mother. I reflected on all she’d been through, as most humans have, and realized that she’d never lost her dance.

I have no clue what propelled her to begin to break out into spontaneous dance when she first started doing it years and years ago. I’d even go so far as to speculate that each time she breaks out into dance an inner strength and fortitude is stirring up like the wind on a day of shopping on Magnificent Mile in Chicago. What I don’t have to wonder or ponder about is the fact that life has thrown her enough curveballs to shut her internal “party down”…and yet, she still does her dance, and even gets smaller in size with each shake, shake, shake. What an inspiration to me, that no matter the matter she’s determined to keep moving.

So I’ll say, “Dance on sister. Dance on!” And the next time you feel the impulse to “bust a move” grab my hand and make me join in.