Cupcakes were a sweet passion for 18-year-old Sara Brinson.

Every holiday, she would stir batter, concoct icing and bake cupcakes of every kind for family members and friends. On Easter morning, April 9, 2007, Dana Brinson snapped a photo of her daughter wearing a light blue sweater and grinning widely over a white-topped cupcake. Nothing in Sara’s face indicated she would be gone the very next day.

“She passed away the next morning of a cardiac dysrhythmia,” Brinson says, “which we never even knew she had.”

A senior at Heritage Hall, Sara was just six weeks from graduation. Although she planned to attend Oklahoma State University, Sara and her aunt tossed around the idea of opening a cupcake shop. It was a sweet dream — one of those ideas people always talk about as “Wouldn’t it be neat?” rather than “Let’s do it!”

Sara would be amazed, says her mother, to see how successful her dream of a cupcake shop has been. At 7 NW 9, Sara Sara Cupcakes offers cupcakes as fat and sweet as an old grandmother, in flavors ranging from strawberry to Sara Cinnamon, named after a lost child as vibrant as the spice itself.

But Sara Sara is more than a purveyor of desserts – it’s a cozy, white and pink farmhouse-style shop that encourages the story sharing of children gone too soon, of parents still marked with grief like a tattoo, of friends who return laughter by sharing memories and of hope that silent diseases can be caught before more children fall.

“Sara Sara Cupcakes is a tribute to Sara, but it has become something that, if we didn’t have, we’d miss it,” says Brinson. “It’s a way to help us remember Sara, but it’s also a way to help people who come in. It’s a way for us to help other families from losing a child too soon.”

The business dedicates both profits and energy to benefit the OU Medicine’s Heart Rhythm Institute.

SWEET HEARTS
The Brinson family suffered through their grief after Sara died. They went to her graduation at Heritage Hall, where a diploma passed into their hands for a student who could never wear a cap and gown. They mourned.

And on that celebration day, Sara’s cupcakes were missed.

“My sister started talking about doing a cupcake bakery,” Brinson says. “She went to New York City, Chicago, Dallas and all these cities to their cupcake bakeries to see how it could be done.”

Sara had a family tree as big as a redwood, and family members threw themselves wholeheartedly into the cupcake idea. Brinson’s cousin, Eric Smith, took time from his chef’s job in Chicago to help develop the sweet recipes for Sara Sara. Everyone got involved.

On Thanksgiving Day 2008, Sara Sara Cupcakes opened its doors.

“We found that a lot of people thought that if we only sold cupcakes, we couldn’t make it,” Brinson says. “But it really caught on. We’re opening a Sara Sara Cupcakes in Edmond this summer.”

Still, the family wanted to raise money to prevent the death of other children. Brinson started selling Sara Sara Cupcakes T-shirts, with every penny going to the Sara Caroline Brinson Children’s Heart Research Fund. Others, hearing Sara’s story, donate to the fund on their own. Brinson doesn’t know how much has been raised in her daughter’s name, but she knows that other parents have to be warned about a heart defect that claims so many.

“Just a simple EKG test for every child would save lives,” she says. “The first sign of a dysrhytmia is usually death.”

What Brinson didn’t expect was the bond she would share with so many other parents who walked through the doors of her bakery. Parents, brothers, sisters and spouses feel compelled to share their stories of loss over pink icing and cold strawberry milk.

“It’s not just people who know someone with dysrhythmia, but others who tell us their stories, other families who lost children,” Brinson says. “People share an affinity with us. It’s almost like a friendly support group.”

And cupcakes make everyone happy. Even talking about a pain as deep as the loss of a child is made easier with a friendly smile and a sweet dessert.
“Our family really needed to have a focus after Sara died, but Sara Sara Cupcakes has become so much more than just a business,” Brinson says. “I think we’re successful because of the family involvement, the cause we support. People come to see what we’re about, but in the end, they come back because they like the cupcakes.”

FIGHTING FOR A CAUSE
In Oklahoma City, Sara Sara is not the only company created for a cause. From a lawn care service that supports breast cancer research to hometown companies fighting against hunger, many businesses champion a cause, hoping others will do the same.

The Made in Oklahoma Coalition set a goal in April to sell 1 million paper towel rolls by the end of that month. A portion of the sales went to the Oklahoma Regional Food Bank’s Food 4 Kids program, which provides nearly 8,000 chronically hungry elementary school children with a backpack filled with nutritious, kid-friendly food on weekends and holidays throughout the school year.

“Oklahomans by nature are generous, and I think they want to help people – especially children – in need,” says Richard Wasson, executive director of the MIO Coalition. “When kids go to bed hungry, we can do something. We can take something we buy and use every day, like paper towels, and make a real difference in hunger in Oklahoma.”

From March 2009 to April 2010, MIO raised more than $48,000 for the program. As a result, more than 170 children have been added.
Oklahoma City’s Pink Ribbon Lawn Care also dedicates a portion of its profits to help a cause. Started by Adam and Debra Brunch after she was diagnosed with breast cancer last December, the landscaping business directs 10% from every job to help families affected by the disease.

photo Sara Sara Cupcakes. photo/Mark Hancock