I simply called her "Stephanie"

How do you go before thousands of people and report the death of a special friend?

I had that undaunting task last week. My friend of 17 years, Congresswoman Stephanie Tubbs Jones died last week suddenly and unexpected of a brain hemorrhage due to an aneurysm.

When we were together there were never any titles, I was simply Romona and she Stephanie and that's just the way we liked it. We laughed a lot.

I first met her years ago when she was Cuyahoga county prosecutor. She and her late husband Meryvin were at a gala at I believe the then Stouffers Hotel.
I was new to town, didn't have a date and didn't know most of the hundreds of people at the event.


She walked over to my table, flashing a big smile and introduced herself and her husband and quickly said; "why are you just sitting here rocking to the music, get up and dance girl." "I don't know anyone most people have dates and there are no single men here, I shyly replied." "Come on she said grabbing my hand and dance with us, we don't care!" There I was on the dance floor with the two of them, just laughing the night a way... and a friendship was born.

I still look at her emails everyday, I can't bring myself to hit the delete button.
The latest one was about my husband. She so wanted to help bring him to Cleveland because she knew I had grown tired of the commuter marriage. She was armed with his resume determined to help him in his job search.

I keep watching and listening to her on my wedding DVD and the beautiful video message she left for me. She was so thrilled for me even though the love of her life of 27-years had passed on.

And the end of her message she tells me she love me and to call her anytime, no matter where she is, she'll always be there for me.

I get upset during that part, because I can't call her anytime, she's gone.
But through my faith, I know the words she spoke are true. Stephanie will always be here me and the thousands of peoples lives she touched.

My Fondest Memory of Fannie Lewis

I arrived in Cleveland in January, 1988.
One of the first people to contact me and welcome me to Cleveland was City Councilwoman, Fannie Lewis.

I'll never forget how polite, but direct she was over the phone. She said: "Welcome young lady, do you know about my area, the "Hough neighborhood." I replied, "Yes, I know there were riots and fires there. "Yeah, but there's a lot more to Hough today, " she said, " and I'm gonna show you. I want you to meet me on Saturday and I'm gonna give you a tour of Hough". I remember saying "Okay, all the while thinking, its really cold for an outside tour right now.

But there was Ms. Lewis, waiting for me at our scheduled location, eager for me to see the area she represented. The sun was shinning and the weather actually wasn't too bad that day. I just remember how fast she was walking and how passionate she was about trying to make the area a better place.

I will remember her as a woman who "walked the walk...and talked the talk." What you saw was the real deal... a true fighter for the causes she believed in.

She will truly be missed.

Who am I?

I've always been proud of the fact that I know exactly who I am, I've never had to question it.
A country girl, born and raised in rural Missouri, I've been working since I was ten years old with my 10 siblings helping my Mom support us.
I worked long hours during every summer vacation in the corn and soybeans fields, picked strawberries and worked at the local shoe factory.

A college education and a lot of hard work and determination helped me to realize my dream of becoming a broadcast journalist.

I am the sum of all those years of life experiences rolled up into one.

But this weekend as I helped my husband and brother move my sister out of her third floor condo in Sagamore Hills with no elevator, a half dozen folks or so... made me stop and ask myself the question. Who am I or Who did they think I am?

We started around 9:30 Saturday morning and finished about 3pm. For hours, I carted out boxes, lamps, end tables, chairs and a zillion other odds and ends up and down three flights of stairs! To say I was exhausted would be an understatement!

Along the way, I would get stopped and asked; Aren't you Romona Robinson? You're on the News! Romona, what are you doing? I smiled at all of the curiosity seekers, answering their questions, even asking a few if they'd like to help!

But it was the question two ladies my husband overheard saying; Why is Romona Robinson carrying stuff, helping somebody move?...that spawned our conversation about how people perceive people on television.

Do they have visions of me being chauffeured around by limo, sipping on champagne and caviar, a team of hairstylists, makeup artists and a masseuse waiting on my every whim? Sure, I pamper myself once in a while, but I truly have a pretty normal life. I shop for my own groceries, take out the garbage and do some of my own lawn care.

I enjoy my family and friends, I'm fiercely loyal, when ever they need me; "that includes moving," picking up their kids from school, hospital visits etc.

I enjoy people in general, working in my community, like so many other unsung heroes who don't get the recognition. I learned from my Mother that you should never forget where you came from and who you are.

That's why the answer to those ladies question was so clear; Why was I carrying stuff helping somebody move? Because, that's just "WHO I AM."

"LONG ROAD HOME"

You know the saying; "There's no place like home.
I thought long and hard about that phrase as I took a trip back home to attend my Aunts funeral recently.
I grew up in Wilson City, Missouri, population 212 surrounded by corn and soybean fields.
I rented a car at the St.Louis airport and was on my 150 mile long road home. Its not a bad two and a half hour drive, straight down I-55 South. This is gonna sound weird to some, but I always smile when I hit Benton, Missouri, which is about 20 minutes from my sisters house in Charleston. I smile because a warm summer breeze lifts the thick smell of cows and horses into the air. It's a familiar smell that lets me know I'm almost there.
I don't get all the way to Wilson City very often, since my Mom moved away to Jefferson City, Missouri several years ago.
I was struck by all the delightful sights and sounds I had stored away in my memory.
There was the young fresh corn stalks sprouting for miles and miles. I had walked these fields picking corn for days and days, year after year since I was ten years old. The tractors were plowing the soybean fields, kicking up dirt twenty feet high. I reminisce about the 10 hour days my sisters and I spent working, chopping soybeans to help my Mom provide for us. I just kept smiling as I got closer to my sisters home in Charleston. Its about 5 miles from where we grew up.

My sisters and I couldn't wait to go to Boomland in Charleston. It's a local truck stop\fireworks store\burger joint, arts and crafts, groceries and anything else you might want.

Charleston is also where I went to High School, so imagine my shock when I ran into one of my English teachers, who I hadn't seen since I graduated high school at 17!
Ms. McCullough and I relived the days when I was so shy and hardly said a word in class. My how times have changed she said, "My Romona, who I couldn't get two words out of is now an anchorwoman in the big city."
There really is no place like home, I thought on my drive back to the airport. Cleveland is my home now and I love it here tremendously, but that down home upbringing in Missouri helped to shape the woman I've become today. I feel its part of why I can give and share so much of myself with my community.
I was reminded during my long drive home of just how much struggle, hard work and dedication it takes sometimes to make it in this world and if you're lucky, someone will share a glimpse of their long road home with you.

"THE BEE ENCOUNTER "

WHAT A FRIGHTENING FIND IN MY BACKYARD THAT STILL GIVES ME CHILLS JUST THINKING ABOUT IT.

THE OTHER DAY I DECIDED TO PULL WEEDS IN ONE OF MY FLOWER AND SHRUB BEDS THAT'S SHADED AND RARELY NEEDS MUCH MAINTENANCE.

AS I KNELT DOWN GRABBING AN ABUNDANCE OF NEW WEEDS OUR RECENT RAINS HAVE PRODUCED, I HEARD A BUZZING SOUND A FEW INCHES FROM MY FACE. I SLOWLY LOOKED OVER AND COULDN'T BELIEVE MY EYES. IT WAS A MAMMOTH OF A HIVE, A BEE COCOON OF SOME SORT. IT LOOKED LIKE IT COULD HOUSE HUNDREDS, EVEN THOUSANDS OF SWARMING BEES.

HOW COULD I HAVE MISSED THIS HUMONGOUS HIVE? IT MUST BE TEN TO TWELVE INCHES IN DIAMETER AND I WOULD THINK IT TOOK YEARS TO CONSTRUCT.

MY NEXT ORDER OF BUSINESS OF COURSE IS WHAT DO WITH IT AND HOW TO DESTROY IT. MY HUSBAND WANTS TO GO "RAMBO" ON IT HIMSELF, BUT I THINK WE SHOULD PROBABLY CALL AN EXPERT.

IF YOU'VE HAD A SIMILAR ENCOUNTER, I'D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR STORY AND HOW YOU HANDLED IT.

"The Day My Heart Stopped Beating"

It was this past Wednesday morning around 7:45. My husband had arrived overnight with our two new house guests. Razz a mighty miniature pincher and Roxanne a beautiful sweet-loving miniature Schnauzer.

They belong to my sister-in-law who is recovering from surgery in New York, so I agreed to look after her beloved pets while she recuperates.

Rodney got up early Wednesday to let the dogs out including my Velvet, a miniature poodle. A few minutes later he returns with a look of horror on his face saying the "dogs" are gone! What do you mean they're gone, we have a fence I said. Please tell me their collars were on when you let them out? Yes, he replied but they have no name tags with phone numbers.

I scramble out of bed, hair not done, no makeup, not stopping to brush my teeth, grabbing a miss-matched sweatsuit and headed straight for the car. Rodney searches our neighborhood, knocking on doors, while I decide to patrol a development behind ours.

We search frantically, calling their names to no avail. I literally stopped breathing with thoughts of how to tell a woman who's in the hospital that I've lost her most beloved possessions, "her children!" I notice people are beginning to stare as I continue casing the neighborhood, I wonder if they'll call police saying a strange woman is lurking in their backyards and yelling out loud to herself. If I had stopped to think about it for a moment, I must have looked quite ridiculous, but there was no time to care about that.

As I headed home with my head held low, I couldn't believe my eyes, two dogs darted out in front of my car, Its "Razz and Roxanne!" I spring from the car and yell for them, Roxanne immediately runs towards me and jumps in the front seat, but Razz takes off in the opposite direction heading into the near-by metro-park.

He's so tiny, I lose sight of him as I drive around screaming his name, calling Rodney on my cell to come help search near the park. He tells me to head home and get Roxanne's leash, thinking she'll be able to lure him out of the park.

I arrive home, pull into the drive and I see the most beautiful sight I think I've ever seen...Razz is at the front gate trying to figure out how to get back in to the gate!

How could this be? How could a dog who just arrived at a new house hours earlier find his way home? I didn't care about the answers, my nightmare was over, I could finally "breathe" again.

"A Gardner's Paradise"

I have dabbled with indoor and outdoor plants for years. I discovered in those years that I don't have a green thumb when it comes to growing plants inside, but I've gotten a lot better over the years outside. However, my garden is still a "work in progress."

My many mistakes have not deterred be from what has become truly a passion. I love gardening and trying to create a backyard oasis.

I've discovered that a lot of my co-workers love gardening almost if not more than I do and they're pretty proud of their labor of love in the yard.

I've included some photos of our outdoor prized possessions.

I'm thrilled with my thriving Weigela. Its a perennial that's grown more than 10-feet tall and spans about 12-feet wide. When I bought it six years ago, it was just a two foot shrub.

Check out Meteorologist, Betsy Kling's humongous Sum and Substance Hosta and Lydia Esparra's beloved Japanese Maple Tree.

Do you have a plant, shrub or tree you want to boast about?
I'd love to see photos of the jewels in your yard.

Just send pictures to me at romonarobinson@wkyc.com and I'll post them here!