Bring Back Summertime: "A true story of triumph over tragedy!"

By Jeanne Starr Gater

When Jeanne Starr Gater picks up the phone one morning, she receives the shock of her life. Her strong, robust, athletic husband, Dr. Julius Gater, is in the hospital! -- comatose, suffering from closed head injury, broken bones ... Dr. "J" IS DYING!!
A horrendous car accident that morning has left her husband unconscious, though still alive and hanging on for dear life! ..And it had been a good life -- full of sunshine! Why this! .. Dear GOD! ... Why this?!
She knows she must get to him -- and fast! "they had come through too much together. If she gets to the hospital in time, they will come through this awful thing too. But she needs all of her resources now. In her inner spirit, she petitions her God for mercy and compassion and strength to bring Dr. 'J" back from the throes of death. Next, over time, she contacts her family and friends for their positive thoughts and prayers. She begins her long hard journey to "BRING BACK SUMMERTIME."
"Thus begins the remarkable true story of one woman's courage and faith in the face of the bitterest of odds, and one man's miraculous recovery despite doctor's dire predictions. Family and friends, new and old, gather round to offer support, faith and love, as the Gater's begin their trek back to a normal life. "They encounter incredible (and numerous) obstacles from resistant medical personnel and uncooperative rehabilitation staff, to other family misfortunes. "Their very survival as a family depends on their determination to hold fast to their hopes and their faith.

BRING BACK SUMMERTIME is a soul searching story of a family's struggle for the restoration of physical strength, grace and human dignity. A story that portrays the power and strength of human bonding, prayer and the belief in the power of God to sustain and revive. "This family somehow does not allow itself to be thrown even by this devastating accident. "They continue their noteworthy accomplishments, as they struggle to deal with the prolonged recovery of Dr. "J". Their story is truly an inspiration to all, and a compelling testament to the power of belief and life saving miracles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350901313

Book preview

Book Excerpts ...

If I could switch mid–stream, I would bring back summertime and all of this would be just a passing dream.

Dear Gater, I will not let you down. Please know that. It may be an uphill battle, but I’m duly equal to the challenge. Gater, we will have our summertime again. Ain’t no car and no big Mack truck going to turn us around!

Never knock an iron soldier down. Though his armor may rattle when he hits the ground, once he gets up again, he readily stalks his prey. He was taught that way. Self–preservation is the first law of man.

"He will wake up, and in spite of stroke, paralysis, broken hips–-these transient problems, now–-he will walk again. He will be whole. The doctors must surely know that!"

There is a divine hierarchy. An organization of members of the spiritual world headed by ascended masters-–staffed with devoted workers whose last earth lives were spent in study and spiritual service to mankind.

The bonding, the love that becomes so outwardly evident in hard times carries swiftly over into our future. Man does not live by bread alone. Our links, our bonding, our love are supremely invaluable gifts, and somehow we all intrinsically know that.

Our first real setback came during my long awaited summertime. The season of our discontent was really still with us, despite the guise of the outside sunshine.

Did I think I would discover something new, or was I looking every night for something different to happen, for someone to come to my rescue?

Book Reviews

5 Out of 5 Stars

An extraordinary story of love, family and the will to survive!

October 21, 2011

Bring Back Summertime – Author: Jeanne Starr Gater

Reviewed by Will Saint-James: Free Lance Writer/Book Reviewer

Life is fragile. In the blink of an eye, it can transition from the peak of prosperity to the doldrums of despair. It can deliver a crushing blow that can literally knock one to his or her knees. Not convinced, just ask Jeanne Starr Gater, author of the riveting and inspirational book, Bring Back Summertime. In this 268-page narrative, Gater methodically takes readers on a real-life rollercoaster ride of ever-changing emotions, after receiving a dreadful phone call from a Michigan hospital on a chilly October morning in 1983. The news: her husband, Julius Gater, aka Dr. J, had been involved in a horrific three-car accident and his chances of pulling through were not at all favorable as he was comatose with massive and life-threatening injuries.

Bring Back Summertime represents a literary masterpiece of a wife’s love, a family’s love, a circle of friends’ love to stay together and pray together...and bring back Julius from the clutches of death. The book depicts an epic journey of dedication, commitment, and an unwavering faith in God to believe that life is not over...until God says it’s over.

The title of this book should not be misconstrued to think that bringing back summertime is about a return to the beauty of the summer months, per se...rather, the title should serve somewhat as a metaphor, a symbol, a figure of speech, an allegory, to bring back a time in anyone’s life when things seem so special, good, happy, and relatively carefree. While the book chronicles real-life accounts of love, hope and faith in God, it does not mean that everything was always positive. Jeanne writes of Dr. J’s sometime physical and verbal outbursts aimed at those who try to help and rehabilitate him, which included her.

In addition, she describes may other perceived and real obstacles experienced in her quest to bring back Dr. J. back to life. In some cases there were major adventures and misadventures involving insurance, medical care, home health care, rehabilitation and legal issues, practices and policies in America, which could easily be topics for another book or two. Yet, through it all, Jeanne stays focused on navigating Dr. J’s long journey back to summertime; from the throes of death to stability. Keeping her family unit together was her ultimate goal as she countered daily obstacles that threatened their emotional, mental, and physical survival.

The message in Jeanne’s book is that we all have a summertime that we would love to bring back in the face of adversity. It could be bringing back a peaceful relationship with a spouse of sibling, bringing back a victory from drug addiction, bringing back a lost job or house in the face of a tough economy, or bringing back sanity from a bevy of crazy circumstances that life has a way of manufacturing and multiplying. Whatever it is that people long to bring back, Jeanne’s book lays the blueprint based on her incredible story of strength, love, commitment, and faith in God.

While no two stories in life are exactly the same, the common thread that runs from Jeanne’s story through a multiplicity of other stories is love, faith, family, and the belief that the mighty powers of God can miraculously bring back summertime from any circumstance or situation. In essence, Bring Back Summertime is a remarkable book about a remarkable woman’s courage to bring back her special summertime...and the special husband, and father that the family refused to give up on.

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

5.0 out of 5 stars

Read This Book and Be Prepared to be Touched and Inspired!!

August 22, 2012 By SJK Format: Paperback

BRING BACK SUMMERTIME (Author: Jeanne Starr Gater)

I just finished reading a book I shall not soon forget. My first reaction after putting it down was an honest ..... Wow .... !

Reviewed by Sherry King, Book Reviewer

Bring Back Summertime is a dramatically touching story depicting one family's heartfelt lessons in courage and a testament to the limitless ability of the human spirit when it is supported with unfailing bonds of love and personal faith in a 'higher power'.

Revelations come to us in many ways, shapes and forms, and when the depths of one's love is challenged by circumstance, human vulnerability can either weaken and diminish us or push one to the very limits of our personal strengths. As the reader, you are witness to the human spirit's ability to rally in a fierce battle of wits, mind over matter, belief beyond belief, in an emotionally compelling fight for control over a life.

Out of what appears to the 'medical experts' to be a hopeless situation, comes the revelation of the limitless capabilities of the human spirit when encouraged by 'unwavering faith and the bond of love' of not only each other, but also from family, friends, and community who have been touched by the news of this life changing event. This vital component touches the very soul, personifying the true meaning and significance of those precious vows taken on their wedding day; a promise 'to love, and keep in sickness and health, until death do us part'.

This is a novel; like a beautifully directed film, to be viewed from beginning to end. And when you are done and that lump in your throat subsides, you will be left with wanting to know more about this man and woman and their family who continue through the years sharing the ups and downs, the ongoing challenges and the bonds of love, laughter, tears and accomplishments with children now grown and their children's children; still defying the odds and cherishing the depths of that love for a man who continues to inspire them. Take a deep breath reader, and be prepared to be touched.

My personal thanks to the author, Jeanne Starr Gater, who had the will and courage and incredible aptitude as well as spirit, to have put this event to paper during a time of daunting personal challenges. Perhaps out of the intense need to make sense of it all, she still had the fortitude to not lose sight of the needs of her still growing family; maintaining the necessary supervision over their daily lives to encourage their activities and goals for their own personal accomplishments, as well as nurturing peace of mind and faith that a 'higher power' is a constant force to be drawn upon in their lives. Truly an inspiration for all readers particularly as we face the trials and tribulations of this extremely challenged generation of damaged spirits and wandering souls. SJK Aug 22, 2012

Bring Back Summertime

It’s been a year and yet I cry. It’s been over a year of coping, praying, hoping for the best against all odds. I’m a winner in a losing situation, so why do I walk around tonight in hopeless despair, my body wracking with pain, sobbing almost uncontrollably? The pain I’ve kept hidden in the face of friends, and relatives, and nurses, and rehabilitation people, and insurance people. All of those who’ve said, You’re a strong woman, we admire you. How proud I’ve been even of myself. And yet how angry I’ve become with myself, because allowing myself to feel the pain of a grievous situation is somehow admitting defeat. And I’ve told myself over and over again: I remain undaunted. I hear the music in the background, . . . the beautiful ones always hurt you every time. And Julius was beautiful; I remind myself that yes, he still is beautiful.

I remember how I told him even after the accident, Honey it’s got to take more than a car and a big Mack truck to turn us around. Somehow, unconsciously, I’m still trying to separate and backlog the painful reality of the day that began an unusual plight for us. Forty–six years old, a Ph.D. in computer science, years of hard work and struggle to reach a point of no return. Surely it couldn’t be happening.

I sat there on the side of the bed trying hard to understand the lady on the other end of the phone. Do you have someone to bring you to the hospital? My head was clogged and my entire body still cloaked with fever. Perhaps I was still dreaming. I wasn’t quite over the flu. I had been moving books all day the day before to the basement, breaking down bedrooms, trying to get a new upstairs guest bedroom in order. Despite admonitions from my nineteen–year old son, Robert, that I should be in bed nursing my cold, I couldn’t stop moving the books. When Julius came home, I asked him to move the red leather couch to the basement. He said he had to go jogging first. He was in the best of health and was jogging up to 14 miles a day now. But I look again at the side of the bed and he’s not there. He actually is not coming home this morning or tomorrow morning. He’s in the hospital. They say he’s suffered injuries from an automobile accident–- they can’t tell me how severe. Do you have someone to bring you to the hospital? I heard again. Sure, I can be dreaming because I got up twice this morning already despite my flu and looked at the clock. Seven a.m. –- he was supposed to awaken me so I could comb Mimi’s hair before she went to her gymnastics class. But I knew they hadn’t left yet because I could hear them in the bathroom. I’ll just lay down for a little while longer since I don’t feel good, then he’ll let me know when it’s just about time for them to go. So why are these people on the phone asking me to come to the hospital? Julius, what is going on? Julius I love you. Why am I hearing these things and wondering why you are not coming home? But they said come to the hospital. It must be serious if they’re asking me to have someone bring me.

I recalled a few weeks before, nervously running to look out the window, thinking he wasn’t coming home from work; a big sigh of relief as I did see his brown Colt pull into the driveway. And now I have flashbacks of the Colt–-smashed, crumbled, and crunched like an accordion because an accident did happen! As I glanced back at Julius’ side of the bed, thinking he’s not here, I did not panic. Yet days later the memories of my worries, perhaps a premonition, crept in of the impending accident. Too many days I went to the window and looked out the blinds wondering, Where is he?

Mimi, where is your Father?

Mom, he’s still jogging. You know he’s up to 14 miles a day so that’s why he’s still jogging when it’s dark outside.

I don’t dare tell him that I keep thinking he’s going to get hit by a car while jogging on that path–-that will only bring bad luck. So I keep my fears to myself. So why is this lady on the other end of the phone telling me to come to the hospital? Put on your clothes, Jean, and go, I told myself. "No, don’t call anyone, because he’s probably all right. As I stand there later watching him fighting for his life, the horrible reality sets in that he’s not all right. Why did they ask me if he wanted a television in his room if they didn’t even know if he was going to live?

Robert, Julius has been in a car accident. He’s in Beaumont Hospital on 13 Mile Road in Royal Oak. Please pick up Mimi for me from gymnastics, while I get ready and then we’ll all go to the hospital together. Instead of a somewhat rational reaction, Robert started screaming, ran out of the house and was at the hospital long before I got there. But still I can’t panic. I have to pick up Mimi. I threw on some pants, washed up quickly, and blindly headed for the Y to pick up Mimi. I told myself over and over again, It’s all right, it’s all right! Thirteen Mile East in Royal Oak. The Y was right near 13 Mile Road so perhaps 13 Mile Road will go through all the way to Royal Oak. It dawned on me that I didn’t even know how to get to the hospital. A few blocks from the Y, after I had picked up Mimi, I approached the intersection of 13 Mile and Orchard Lake Road. All I could think was, Julius, I love you and God, dear God, please let everything be all right. As Mimi and I sat there waiting for the police clearing the intersection to give us the go-ahead signal, I told her, Mimi, this may be where your father had his accident. Those scornful words bore reality as I looked up and the picture before me tore me apart. The Colt, our little pony, was on a tow truck in a gas station across the intersection, smashed, wrecked, twisted almost beyond recognition. As I pointed the car out to Mimi, we both began screaming and crying and I quickly rolled my window down to yell at the policeman that My husband, my husband was in that accident, and that’s his car over there–-you’ve got to let me through. He looked at me in slow motion and said, Are you Mrs. Gater? I said hysterically, Yes, yes, please let me through!" He directed me through the intersection. Still crying, I wondered why the traffic was moving so slowly, why the lights were taking so long to change. I reminded myself that I had to pay attention to the lights and get to the hospital safely. I wondered why it was taking me so long to get there. If it was taking me so long to get there, how could he still be alive? His car was smashed so terribly . . . like an accordion. As I continued to drive for the next endless twenty minutes, I told myself that it couldn’t have been that bad. I just imagined the car was so terribly wrecked. If it had been smashed that badly, they would have never gotten him out of the car. I breathed a sigh of relief. He’s at the hospital and he’s all right. But my God in heaven how? How did he get hit by a car and a truck and so early on a Saturday morning? So early that witnesses to the accident said there was hardly any traffic out. No reason for the accident to happen. Not on a highway. A clear day. As I watched him now struggling for his life, I asked myself, I told myself, that it must have been meant to be. But Dear God, these things don’t happen in real life and not to good people . . . and Julius and I considered ourselves ‘good people.’ Dear God, the doctors really aren’t telling me this. What a terrible dream. Someone please help me wake up!

Admissions procedures were over. I’ve been at the hospital now for over a half hour and no one has really told me anything. Robert and Mimi and I are in the waiting room. We don’t know what’s going on. The suspense alone is almost intolerable. I walk into the hallway to get some water. A young blonde white doctor in his early thirties approaches me. Are you Mrs. Gater? he asks."

Yes, yes.

Well, let’s find a room where you can sit down.

As we walk briskly, I’m concerned, he knows I’m concerned–-why doesn’t he tell me something, something!

I’m Dr. Tigel.

Yes, Dr. Tigel, how is my husband?

Not so good I’m afraid. Let’s go in here.

Not so good . . . rings in my head. My legs nearly go out beneath me, but again this doesn’t happen in real life and I’m not easily upset. Not just by some simple words, not so good.

Sit down Mrs. Gater. Your husband suffered some very nasty injuries and also a stroke. We’re trying to piece it all together.

But you say not so good. I’m thinking I’m still very much in control, I’m not, I refuse to fall apart. I’m thinking . . . injuries, bad injuries, a stroke.

What are his chances? What are his chances for survival?

I’m afraid less than fifty percent.

Doctor, please, I don’t care what you have to tell me. I don’t want to hear anymore. I just want to see him, and I want to see him now!

Mrs. Gater, before you go into the emergency room I want to warn you, you’re not going to see a very pretty picture.

I don’t care, I want to see him now, please.

Dr. Tigel politely escorted me to the emergency room and Julius– -my Julius–-laid there on a table, fighting for his life. Why was he on a table like a slab of open meat? He’s definitely not resting comfortably. Of course he can’t rest–-his whole body is traumatized. All the folks around the hospital, right there in the emergency room . . . seem to be insensitive to the situation. There are other emergencies in the room. If he’s fighting for his life, then what are ‘they’ doing to help him? Don’t they realize that once his life is gone, he is no more . . . my husband is gone! He’s not a slab of meat, and he doesn’t deserve to die.

In the next few minutes I hear doctors describe his injuries: broken hip, fractured ribs, collapsed lungs, internal bleeding, stroke, blood pressure over 200. We may have to operate to save him!

May have to operate! I retort. But if you don’t have to operate . . . if you don’t have to operate? I want you to know that my husband is a good man . . . he really is a good man!"

But Mrs. Gater, we’re doing all we can to save him!

I wasn’t hysterical. I wasn’t crying and I did not overreact when I saw Julius fighting for his life. Somehow, though even without all the medical facts, I knew my husband, my beautiful Julius, could not withstand an operation. I watched him with his one hand and arm flailing in the air, his eyes staring fixedly towards the ceiling, and I thought Dear God . . . please he’s in your hands and your hands alone.

Dr. Tigel, I want my daughter to see him.

Mrs. Gater, that wouldn’t be wise.

She must see him, I insisted.

Reluctantly, he said: Okay.

I rushed back to the waiting room. Though Mimi was only nine years old, she was a very bright and beautiful little girl, and I knew she would be strong. I told her, Mimi, when you go in there to see your father, it’s not going to be a pretty sight, but please, I don’t want you to pay any attention to that. I just want you to tell him that you love him. And I want you to tell him that he’s got to pull through this-–that he can do it--that he has to get well because he’s got to see you perform in the Olympics in four years.

My Ms. Mimi held my hand tight as we walked back into the emergency room. She spoke quietly to her Father. Though he still remained unconscious, I know he heard her. Daddy, Daddy I love you. Daddy, you have to get well. Daddy, you’re going to be all right. Daddy, don’t forget you have to see me perform in the Olympics in four years.

Dr. Tigel then said Mimi had to leave. As she left the emergency room she repeated, Daddy I love you. You’re going to be all right. Daddy I love you. From that moment on we filled whatever remained of Julius’ conscious spirit with our love and with our bequest–-please Julius we’re not ready for you to leave us–-despite the odds. As I watched him lay on that table groping and clinging for life, I felt he could only survive with our help. Our spiritual love and prayers were all that could keep him in our world at this point. As I left the emergency room, I searched for a telephone. My strength and composure were leaving me. I tried to pray, but I couldn’t–-and something said: Call Pauline. By now I couldn’t keep the tears back. The nurse at the station offered me the use of their phone. I said I had to call long distance. She offered to dial the number for Mother. Thank God, Pauline, Mother, was at home.

Mother, I sobbed, Julius has been in a terrible accident. He got hit by a car and a truck. The doctors have given him less than a 50 percent chance to make it. Mother, you’ve got to pray for him–-you’ve got to get all the Saints to pray."

Mother, after a gasp or two began praying right there over the phone. Pray with me, Jeannie. We have to bind every evil spirit and surround Julius with the ‘blood of Jesus.’ Jesus will save him.

Mother prayed for so long that as my tears flooded my face, I was startled as I could only think that I’m talking long distance, but I’ve got to make another long distance call to let his mother know. The nurse dialed Lila’s number in Chicago for me, too. Mom, I cried, Julius has been in a terrible car accident. Please, I want you to pray for him because I love him so much, and I don’t want him to die. I could hear Mom screaming on the other end of the phone and the phone drop. She picked it up again and tried to sound strong for me. Okay, Anne, everything is going to be all right."

I told her like I told Mother, He’s in Beaumont Hospital in Royal Oak, Michigan. Mom, please pray. I have to go now.

I didn’t have the strength to call anyone else. I went back to the waiting room and watched Robert cry. Though he was 19-years old and Gater’s stepson, he sat there citing all of Julius’ virtues; and the fact that no one like Julius should have been in an accident. If anything, it should have been him in there in that emergency room, not Julius, because Julius was too good. Why do bad things always happen to good people? The good always die young, you know. If this could happen to Julius–-a man who was always smiling, who was always going out of his way to do things to help others, who didn’t cuss, fuss, gossip, smoke or any of the really terrible things that you associate with ‘bad’ people–-then my God, this could happen to anyone! Then why, why didn’t it happen to someone else?

I sat there for what seemed like an eternity–-numb, waiting to hear something else. Thinking only that he has to have a miracle and God will grant him that miracle because he deserves it. We deserve it. I looked up and Aunt Marion and Uncle Wilbert were there. Mother must have called them for me; she probably knew I wouldn’t think to do so. We did have a few relatives in Detroit we stayed in touch with since our move from Chicago only three years before. As Aunt Marion and Uncle Wilbert tried to offer some consolation, I told them as much as I knew but more consciously I felt I had to focus my spirit and my thoughts on Julius. I somehow had to give him my strength. I heard some of their words, but I nearly jumped when I overheard someone say the doctors were on the phone trying to make a decision as to whether or not they would operate on Gater. I also heard them say they had decided to move him to ‘intensive care’ and nix the operation. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief because somehow I knew he still, still had a fighting chance-–‘without’ the operation.

Dear God, you’re telling me now, somehow I know that he will survive, that your tender mercies surround him if we believe, if we believe in You, You will bring him through. I offered a silent prayer of thanks. I moved from the emergency room to the fourth–floor intensive care waiting room. As more of our family and friends began to arrive at the hospital, and as the phone calls began to pour in, I thought . . . Julius will live. They tell me later that I did not cry, that I was not visibly upset. And it wasn’t because I wasn’t upset–-it was only because I was forced to function in a positive spirit and that spirit was keenly focused on the next thread of ‘good news.’ Aunt Joyce arrived, and as she watched Julius in intensive care still flailing and fighting for his life, she asked me if she could pray for him. Yes, I said, of course, please do. I watched her pray, and I prayed. I did not have time for tears, only time for compassionate and sincere belief in the fact that my prayers would be, yes definitely would be answered, because, yes, Julius deserved to live.

My concern, however, was that since I had been praying so much in the last few weeks before the accident, how could it possibly actually happen without any forewarning to me. I have been psychic to an extent, and usually when something is going to happen to someone close to me, I could see it psychically or in my dreams. At the time of the accident, it really bothered me that I had no pre-inclination that ‘this’ was going to happen to us. Thoughts of insurance policies crept into my consciousness, and the fact that Julius had been bragging weeks earlier about how ‘well fixed’ financially I would be if something happened to him. I began to get angry. I began to feel if he hadn’t talked about it so much that this terrible tragedy would not have happened to us. Dear Julius, don’t you know we love you. We don’t want to exchange you for insurance policy money. I forced myself not to think about insurance policies, that would be ill–boding. It would make the end of the present peril a reality. I fought hard to erase impending visions of funeral scenes from my head. I erased them with my white magic cross every time they attempted to appear, and I told myself it would not happen. I erased dollar figures of insurance monies from my head and sought to dwell on Julius coming through–coming out of this coma and this wretched nightmare that was threatening to betray our future and the future of my family. I thought, and I prayed that God’s will would be my will, and that my will would be done because Christ bore the stripes for me and for thee, and that He said, Ask, and it shall be given. And dear God, I ask you today and tonight and always for renewed life and spirit for my Julius. We selfishly want him around much, much longer.

As the afternoon hours crept away on the intensive care floor at Beaumont, I realized heart–throbbing, emotional–robbing pain was a part of life for so many people everyday. People all around were crying–-scared, frightened to death of losing loved ones. Heart surgery patients, brain surgery patients, and even patients who had been in intensive care for weeks had someone near who wanted their crisis to end. In the weeks ahead, people and families would come and go. Some sustaining their hopes and prayers by going to the eleventh-floor chapel area to pray. We formed a bond, somehow trying to console one another–-your daughter, your husband, your father made it through another day . . . everything is going to be all right. By God’s grace, everything is going to be all right.

They brought in a young eighteen–year–old white girl named Lisa. Her car had been hard hit broadside. Her injuries were not as extensive as Julius’–- no broken bones, no internal injuries, just head injuries. She would make it! The nurses informed us that accidents, near deaths from drug overdose victims seemed to run in patterns. They said that Julius and Lisa were the two main critical car accident victims they had had in months. The entire staff was pulling for them to make it. The compassion and caring concern from the intensive ward staff was evident. Responding to crises was their job. Offering emotional support to families and concerned relatives and friends was their job. Often you could tell they didn’t know what to say for fear they would say the wrong thing. He’s in a coma, but if he makes it through the next three days, his chances for survival will be much stronger. Arterial lines monitor his blood pressure which has been extremely high since he suffered the stroke. The lung machine is helping him breathe, but he is breathing some on his own. We have to keep certain fluids in him to stabilize his blood pressure and to keep his brain from building up too much pressure. The attendants in green come in every half hour to check the oxygen unit to prevent excessive moisture build up and to change the hoses. Oftentimes they all look at you like, We’re sorry, we don’t know what to say. You can see it in their body language; you can see it in their eyes.

As the phone calls buzz in the waiting room, the room attendant relates to me how lucky I am to have so many people calling to inquire about my husband. I’ve been taking messages for you and I told some of them to call back, he said. I don’t normally do that, but Mrs. Gater, I really hope your husband is going to be all right. It seems a lot of people care about you. As the phone rings again, he hands it to me saying, It’s your daughter calling again from college.

Mom, it’s Crystal, she cried. I wasn’t home when Robert called, but my roommate Yalonda said Julius was involved in a car accident. Is he going to be all right?

Sure, I said calmly. He’s unconscious right now, but we’ve been here since early this morning and it’s been almost twelve hours since the accident. I’m sure he’s going to be okay."

But Yalonda said Robert sounded pretty upset. How bad was Dad hurt?

Oh, he suffered some broken ribs, a broken hip and a stroke, but he’s going to be okay Crystal–-don’t worry–-just pray for him.

Oh, Mom, I need to come up there to be with you, but I don’t have any money, and I have so many things to do for school, she cried.

Crystal, if I thought you needed to be here, I would tell you to come. He’s going to be all right. I just got a call from Uncle Donald, he’s bringing Mom and Pat up here to see Dad tonight. They’ve already left Chicago, and I’m going to have to leave the hospital to go home and meet them in a couple of hours so I can bring them back to the hospital. But everything is going to be okay, I assure you-–so don’t worry!

My mind was now moving a mile a minute. I did not want to go home, even to be at the house when Mom and the rest of the Gater clan arrived. It was too risky. Dr. Scratch, Julius’ neurosurgeon, had approached me a couple hours earlier. As this tall, handsome, dark–haired man, in his late forties or so, signaled me out of the waiting room, my heart jumped two quantum leaps. No bad news please, I don’t want to hear any bad news. He quickly reassured me as he offered me coffee in his office that no, there was no bad news. He just wanted me to understand what had happened to Julius, and what their major concern was. I listened intently as he explained that Gater had suffered a stroke in the right hemisphere–-that they didn’t know if the stroke was caused before or after the car accident. His eyes searched me as he carefully chose his words, It was a small bleed, so it left some hemiparesis or paralysis on his left side. We don’t know if he has any spinal injuries or not. We don’t know if his neck is broken, but we’ve taken every precaution to keep him still and stablized.

Just a very small bleed . . . I heard the words over and over again. In the days ahead more questions arose. He was not waking up as they had predicted.

Flesh of my flesh–for better or worse–-til death do us part. Death, I’m sorry, you don’t want this man now. I refuse to let you have him. Not now. You came without warning, but we shall fight you with our bodies, our minds, our souls, our spirits, and the power of our love and prayers. We have many friends and relatives from Chicago, to Detroit, to Phoenix, to California; and like a galestorm, the power

Reviews for Bring Back Summertime

[allizabeth · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Description: Bring Back Summertime is the true story of Jeanne Starr Gater's life before, during, and after her husband Julius' near fatal car accident, and the extreme faith-driven rehabilitation that followed.Review: This memoir is a remarkable and inspiring page-turner that will leave you believing in the unimaginable powers of love and faith. Jeanne Starr Gater's detailed writing style pulled me in from the first few pages, and her amazing story kept my attention throughout. What she and her family went through was devastating, and the amount of emotion presented in this book had me feeling like I was going through it with them - the good and the bad. The people and places were very real to me and I enjoyed looking at the mini-album in the back of the book to see what everyone really looked like versus my mental representations. I am glad that I read this book, and I felt that it was a very worthwhile read. Jeanne Starr Gater is an incredible woman and writer. I recommend this book to those who want to have their faith restored and inspired.Rating: On the Run (4/5)*** I received this book from the author in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.

[autumnblues · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A real life true story of the struggle, fight and faith of one women to bring her husband back home functioning after his near fatal accident.I love reading life stories and memoirs so I was quite interested in reading Bring Back Summertime. In Bring Back Summertime the author Jeanne Starr Gater takes you through her life before and after the accident of her husband, Dr. Julius Gater. From his first hours in the hospital, that later turned into weeks, and later after his transfer to a rehab and nursing facility. Mrs Gater shares her pain, agony and most importantly, her fight for the life of her husband. From the very beginning, Mrs Gater never gives up hope and her prayers are answered as her husband finally opens his eyes while in the hospital. But that is only the start as now Dr J. Gater has to learn again like a newborn, how to swallow his food, speak and walk. Mrs Gater takes you on this long journey of her life that does not end once she brings her husband home. Dr J. Gator still needs around-the-clock care and she struggles to manage that while trying to bring in some income for her family. With the help and support of friends and family, but most importantly God, Mrs Gater stands strong and keeps a constant vigil on her husbands care while he continues to slowly make progress month after month. I really enjoyed reading this book and Mrs Gater is a conscientious writer with a purpose. She makes sure to get out all those fine details of her husbands progress. My only problem with this book was that I felt it was a little long and drawn out. Something tells me that it was longer and she had to shorten. I am sure she has a lot more to tell and I can only imagine what other situations she had to deal with when it came to her husbands crisis and his care. Even so, this story is a true inspiration and I was pleasantly surprised by the photos of her family in the back of the book which gave this book more substance and helps the reader establish a more personal connection.