In her darkest hour, she is still the Dawn

Dawn Fowler breaks bread with the Methodists every Sunday. And the Baptists, Presbyterians, Catholics, Episcopalians and Jews.

She is at her post as benedictions are being said and folks begin arriving in their Sunday best for “dinn-uh.” At the restaurant she manages on Forsyth Road, she leads them, menus in hand, to tables and corner booths, like pews in a church.

There are more than 50 religious denominations in Macon, which shares the claim with others as having more churches per capita than any city in the South.

And then there is Dawn’s regular place of worship, where you will find her preaching to the meat-and-three choir on Sundays.

“The Church of Jeneane’s,” she said, laughing.

No doubt, many of the best Sunday school lessons are served every Sunday at Jeneane’s at Pinebrook.

There is no sacrilege to cooking butter beans, hoe cakes and banana pudding on the Sabbath. It is more spiritual to be working at a restaurant thinking about God than to be sitting in a church thinking about what’s for lunch.

Over the past three weeks, more prayers have been lifted at Jeneane’s than perhaps any sanctuary this side of the Bible belt buckle.

On June 20, Dawn was diagnosed with breast cancer. She begins her second round of chemotherapy this week.

Her co-workers and customers have rallied at her side. They have mailed get-well cards and placed her name on prayer lists across the country. She covets those prayers and positive thoughts.

Their words are comforting to this “little country girl who came to the city” 28 years ago. She is a single mother with two adult children. She is a caregiver for her son, Bill, who turned 39 last week and is developmentally disabled.

Dawn grew up halfway between Lumber City and Jacksonville, not far from the oxbow lake along the Ocmulgee River where the legendary George Perry caught his world-record 22-pound, 4-ounce largemouth bass in 1932.

She married after graduating from Telfair County High School in 1970. Bill was born in 1978. He was diagnosed with mild cerebral palsy and has speech and visual impairments. When he was 11 years old, she moved to Macon and enrolled him in a special needs program at the Georgia Academy for the Blind. Her daughter, Ashley Dawn, was born in 1991.

Her mother, Austella Hulett, attended Bill’s graduation from the Academy for the Blind in 2000. It was a proud moment for the family. She told Dawn it was “what she had lived for all these years.” She died two weeks later.

Dawn worked for 11 years in the medical profession. In 1999, her brother-in-law, Lynn Teate, was manager for a new restaurant on Forsyth Road. He asked if she could help as a part-time cashier. It was a second location opened by local restauranteur Jeneane Barber, who owned a popular cafe on Mulberry Street.

“I took the job thinking I would be running the register for a few hours a day, then go home,” she said.

Instead, she became the face of the franchise, seating and greeting folks for two meals a day. She embraced the role of mother hen, the nurturer-in-chief. She was so active in the everyday life of the restaurant, some patrons called her “Jeneane.” (The “real” Jeneane prefers to keep a low profile in the kitchen.)

The tiny, downtown cafe attracted the breakfast and lunch business crowd has since closed. (A popular, local vegetarian restaurant will be moving into that space on Mulberry.) Jeneane’s at Pinebrook remains popular with suburban families for lunch and supper. Its marquee often reminds the masses to “eat their vegetables” and that “Southern Cookin’ Makes You Good Lookin.’ ”

Her customers and co-workers have become like family. Dawn shares in their joys and clasps their hands until the dark clouds blow over. The melting pot of patrons who come through the double doors are her “beautiful, awesome people.”

“I know many of their names and faces, but I don’t always know their titles,” she said. “I don’t know if they’re a doctor or a lawyer or a housewife. And it doesn’t matter. I just know I need to be kind to them and take care their needs. I want them to feel they are wanted. I’ve had the highest and lowest people come in here. I’ve had people walk in who didn’t have anything, who needed a meal, and I’ve taken care of them.”

Bill often comes with her during lunch. He is a fixture near the big fireplace, and the regulars adore him. He cannot always communicate and call their names, but the familiarity is there. If they arrive late, he can even point out where the rest of their party is sitting.

Now, he can smile again. He had major dental surgery a few weeks ago. The customers held a raffle to help Dawn pay for the procedure to remove his abscessed lower teeth.

“A lot of people just walked up and handed me money,” she said. “There were too many to single out. They all know I am grateful.”

Her daughter, Ashley, is engaged and recently moved her wedding from November to August so her mother will still be strong enough to attend.

“My emotions have been crazy,” said Dawn. “But I think I’ve handled it pretty well. I’m not poor, pitiful me. I’m not going to go there. God is good, and he’s going to see me through it. This Lumber City girl is going to knock it out of the ballpark.”

She has been buoyed by an incredible support system. When news of Dawn’s cancer diagnosis was posted on Facebook, it was seen or shared by more than 29,000 people.

After being closed for its traditional vacation week for employees during the Fourth of July, the restaurant will re-open for lunch Sunday. Dawn plans to be there, a day before returning for her next round of chemo.

It will be wonderful to be back, if only briefly. There’s only one problem.

“My immune system is low, so I’m not allowed to hug people,” she said.

She needs those hugs now more than ever.

This story was originally published July 7, 2017 at 5:00 PM with the headline "In her darkest hour, she is still the Dawn."