Pointer Sisters. - Still so excited!: my life as a Pointer Sister

I would like to dedicate this book to God, family and friends, and associates.

Godfor his constant love, protection, and mercy.

Familyto my husband Mike Sayles, whose constant love and support was the driving force behind this book. My five children: Faun, Malik, Issa, Ali, and Conor. My grandchildren: Onika, Sadako, and Bailan. My great-grandson, Orland Kahnamae Coombs, who is on his way into this world. My first family: Mom, Dad, Aaron, Fritz, Anita, Bonnie, and June.

Friendsa woman needs her girlfriends, and my very first was Gloria, who was with me from kindergarten through first grade. After Gloria, I got lucky with a succession of close girlfriends. They include Marjorie, Edna, Pat, Mary, Betty, Shirley, Cledie, the entire Watson family, Helen, Carolyn, Laura, Natalie, Cecille, Mindy, Cynthia, Sue, Irma, Minnie, Andrea, Leslie, Jeanie, Barbara, Eve, Luci, Ria, Luisette, Paula, and Kathy.

A woman also needs her unique friends: Max, Christian, and Craig.

A woman also needs prayer and spiritual support. It started in the Church of God with my mothers friends, whom she called her Prayer Band: Imogene Lee, Willa Mae Tires, Ali Mae Reed, Lillian, and James Hirt. And special thanks to Pastor Charles E. Blake of the West Angeles Church of God in Christ in Los Angeles.

Associatesa woman in music needs her band. This is my A-Team: Will Lee, Stacy Henry, Jervonny Collier, Steve Sullivan, Kevin Flournoy, Fred Clark, and my precious niece Roxie McCain Pointer.

A woman can use a little advice every now and then: to all our past and present managers and attorneys, good and not so good. There have been lessons in all our choices.

A woman also needs a support team: radio deejays, concert promoters, drivers, pilots, flight attendants, sky caps, airport ticket agents, and of course, fans around the world that make everything possible.

A woman also needs her music, the greatest gift in my life. I cant think of my life without it.

Ruth Pointer

T o my patient wife Zoe for putting up with my crazy hours and obsessive behavior traits essential for writing a book; Pete Ehrmann, whose editorial touch and lightning-speed work enhances everything I do; Ruth Pointer, a true survivor and one of the hardest working individuals I have ever met; Mike Sayles, who championed this effort from the start and made it happen; Mindy Lymperis, for her brave recitation of her history with the Pointer Sisterswe bonded quickly, and I know I have made a friend for life; Jeremy Roberts, who introduced me to Ruth Pointer; Tom Bast of Triumph Books for his steadfast belief; and to Michelle Bruton, who took great care to put the final gloss on this work.

Marshall Terrill

Contents

Introduction

There are just some things you should never have to tell your children.

Ive always tried to shield my kids from my past. I knew from the beginning of this book project that I could be opening up a Pandoras box. But the kids are grown. I feel my husband and I have given them enough life tools to face any ridicule that may come from making the more private parts of my life public. Not only are they old enough to understand a few things, they are old enough to forgive. Still, opening myself up to the scrutiny of the world opens them up to having to deal with the onslaught of oldand some not so oldand painful wounds.

The world has known me as part of The Pointer Sisters for over half my life. And thats been a very public life for the most part. But when it comes down to brass tacks, there are certain truths we must all face about ourselves, and sometimes you dont always like what you see when looking into the mirror. In my case, there were a lot of things I didnt like in that reflection. I would like to say that I saw a stranger, but what I saw was the true reflection of who I was. An alcoholic, a drug-addicted woman who thought more about getting high than tending to her familys needs. I was a torn soul and I didnt like it. But I couldnt do anything to set things right. At least, that is what I allowed myself to believe. But the beautiful thing about being broken is that it allows you to pick up the pieces of your life, if thats the route you want to go. And I did so want to journey along the path of sobriety. I just didnt know how to fit the pieces of the puzzle that was me together. So I lived with the beautiful lies I told myself. They were so much more palatable than the ugly truth.

Self-deception binds you to a spiderweb of excuses; it chokes your humanity right out of your soul. I had children I had to raise, and here I was waiting for God to slap me in the face and chastise me for my failures. The truth was I didnt feel a real kinship with God. I was never going to be perfect, and I knew that from the time I was a child in my parents church. I had no sense of Gods mercy or his love. I had no clue that His grace would set me free. And God knows that I had been searching for that freedom since I could walk.

There was a certain slavery, a vicious poverty in my unrequited journey toward accepting the truth about myself. Its been a long path of muddy self-indulgence: cocaine, alcohol, food, and sex. God felt distant. I was lost, but angry. I was bound by the notion that my lifestyle wasnt hurting anyone, yet deep inside I knew that if I didnt straighten myself out soon that I would die, leaving my kids without a mom.

Sometimes you need silence in order to listen to God whisper to youand hes been whispering to me a lot lately. I think hes been telling me its time.

This year I celebrate my third decade of sobriety. It wasnt an easy adjustment, and it took a near-death experience to get my undivided attention. But I have been faithful. I have been diligent. And it has taken years for my life to settle down. I do not take my sobriety for granted. After all, it is a gift from God.

I have shared my story with my 12-step groups (you read that correctlyit is plural) and others who have needed guidance, but never with the public. Gods timing is always perfect, and I had to wait for my cue.

So, let the music begin.

Ruth Pointer, April 2015

1. The Devil You Say!

You always look back wondering how life could have played out differently. Growing up, our household was totally straight-laced and strictly run according to religious values that allowed for little freedom or individuality. Maybe if my parents had embraced the notion that the quest for unattainable perfection was impossible and that my childhood didnt have to be so rigid, I would have coped better. Maybe I would not have ended up pregnant, drunk, high, and alone back in the day. But those are big, hypothetical maybes. Todays version of me gets that kids need rules. They need structure and support, but they also need freedom to define themselves by cause and effect. Sometimes that means falling short of expectations, making mistakes. Getting broken.

I wish someone had told me that being flawed was more than a rite of passage. It was okay. It was part of growing up and into yourself. It was part of learning. It wasnt an entirely unhappy upbringing, but it sure was filled with pressure, disappointments, and unrealistic expectations handed down to me from my mother and fatherboth of whom were ministers of fear and flawlessness. Im not knocking the ministry. All Im saying is that its hard to feel like a normal kid when the word no is the most constant word in your household.

No lipstick. No fingernail polish. No makeup. No skirts above the knees. No jewelry. No records. No movies. No dancing. No dating. No impure thoughts. No alcohol. And definitely no sex until marriage!