Archive for September, 2010

Today I received some information…

September 14, 2010

9/13/10
Today I received some information and for the first time since starting this blog, I went to my “Recent Documents” to record it and the title for this blog was not amongst the list of them.
What does this tell you?
While Charley is still very much a part of my day, he has become less of my obsession. Attentions now are multifaceted with course studies, papers and two productions to produce, just as I predicted. His 8 x10 is still on my desk and I still check in with him, but I am now in a holding pattern till he jump starts this thing again. The weeks are rolling by and I do not want for him to get lost among the dates of things that mark time, but do not change it. His birthday is coming up soon and I cannot help but wonder how it will be celebrated this year. I owe Charley a debt of gratitude. He took me from a difficult place in my life and captivated my mind so I could navigate that space by flying above it and focusing on something else. For this, I am eternally grateful. So now it is time for me to give back.

What do you want Charley?
Do you want for your killer to be named?
I can do that.
Do you want for the world to know why you were killed?
I can do that too now.
Do you want for those people to have their names called before a community who closed their eyes and left your dignity to rot beside you?
I can do that as well and without hesitation.
Do you want forgiveness? For that you must speak to your spouse and your maker.

Do you want your life back?

I am not God, Charley. I cannot give you back this plane, nor the time stolen from you all. But I can give you a chance to breathe again through my words- through your daughter’s new understanding of you. She knows you now Charley, in a way she could have never before you found me. I tend to forget sometimes that your 8 x 10 image was as foreign to her as it was to me when this project started. How different now things are- how forever altered our impressions of you.

You are not the cold hearted prig, or the fragile sinner their shadows cast you as. You’re a heck of a nice guy who got his head turned by a pair of long legs, black eyes and an even blacker heart… none of which should have risen to the cost of your life. So you think about it Charley. What do you want for your birthday this year? You name it- skies the limit… or maybe not?
Just slip your wish list under my pillow and I will see what I can do about it. Think Charley, think.

In the meantime, I believe I already know the first wish. Let me help…

“Julie? Your father says he wants you to know- he would never have left you- never.”
Remember from another reading…

“Do you understand clapping of the hands and the signing of a heart in the air? It is for you, Julie. His heart belongs to you.”

Thank you Julie.

September 10, 2010

9/10/10

Today I received a note from Charley’s daughter that said she could not thank me enough for what I am doing. Truth is I cannot thank her enough. When R told me this would become a life altering experience, I knew that on a deeper level she meant that I would look at life differently from then forward. What I don’t suppose she suspected is that I would also look at death differently too from that point forward.

A little anecdote…

Once when I was pregnant with child number two, I had a dream that I had died. Could have been late night pizza or ice cream, or even gas – but I digress. In the dream it was the next morning. It began like any other day in my life as a stay at home mom back then. I was washing dishes, heard the chatter of neighbors through open windows and the barking of dogs… then suddenly a cacophony of twisting and crunching metal. When I rushed to the front door of my home and opened it wide, I saw cars piling one atop the other in an endless chain of wrecking for as far as the eye could see. Smoke and steam poured from every hood and window. Some people lay stagnant on the ground in great distress or death and then in the midst of this chaos… absolute silence, filled with light. In this light all pain was removed and some of them began to levitate and ascend towards the east. (Odd as this may be- I was living near the base of Stone Mountain at the time.) The silence was disarming and the thought came to me “some will stay and some will go”. In the next second and without any pain or effort, I began in my ascension. Now, one would think at this point- ERROR! I know I did…

But there I was, among those moving away from my front doorstep and away from my child and husband now frantic for my safety. In the instant I grasped the gravity of the situation- (no pun intended) – I began to argue with the force that seemed to be in control of my ascent. Now, those who know me well see my arguing with deity more as a fate accompli- than a shocking revelation. Never the less, the more I argued my case- the swifter my ascent until at one point I heard myself very defiantly say, “No. You do not understand. I cannot leave. You speak of perfection and of eternal harmony and yet, perfection for me lies below. There… with bawling babes and barking dogs. A mortgage bigger than my budget and a life that doesn’t always comply with my visions- but it is mine and it is there that I belong. I am not ready to go and so as much as I fear I have offended- I refuse to go.”

The next thing I remember I woke with a start- cold sweat and after checking surroundings- proceeded to call my mother at 3:00 in the morning to tell her I had died, pissed off the powers that be and then was rather abruptly afforded my wish to stay.

I tell you this because; I can no longer call my mother at 3 in the morning or even at 3 in neither the afternoon- nor my father. I have lost both parents and while it sucks beyond belief to be an orphan at 52- I am still much further ahead than Charley’s daughter who never even got to know him and lost her mother even younger than I did mine. Through various readings with R, occasionally I may get a message or an impression of my folks and “…to know that they are exactly where they are meant” (quote from St. Teresa of Avila- patron saint of all writers’- me!) brings me joy.

But even beyond that, I am happy to be of service. To know that I am exactly where I am meant to be. This experience has altered the course of my life. Oh to be sure I would always be a writer. For me it is breath itself. But to have purpose in that writing. To give voice to those who can no longer speak…to be given such a gift to be used as tool for good? Wow!

Life altering experience, she said?
Oh yes… I am forever altered.
Thank you Charley.
Thank you Julie.
Thanks mom and dad.

There is no turning back now…

September 9, 2010

9/9/10
The official wheels have been set in motion…
There is no turning back now. Not for Charley, not for me and not for those who know what they have done.

Talk to me Rox- talk to me…

September 7, 2010

9/7/10

I warned it would exceptionally difficult to maintain the kind of breakneck schedule I held over the summer as far as research achievements goes and it bothers me that I cannot continue to reproduce such efforts in this season. When I search for the face of Charley on my desk now, it seems obliterated by textbooks and conference topic notes and revisions of scripts for work. So to you dear friend, I apologize as I never meant for my life to get in the way of my living. On the other hand, it is exactly what Charley would have wanted—for me to not continue to pursue his death, at the expense of my life. So to you I say thank you, with the caveat that I would like to give you a birthday present at the end of the month. But in order for me to do this, I still need your help. I have put out feelers everywhere and now must sit and wait for the feather to drop. The message… that will tell me what I wish to know about Rox. I am single minded when it comes to this.

Either give me her name or her mother’s name or dispel her myth completely as I have no more energy to afford her this month. Just as you ventured out from the muddy bulwarks of your prison Charley, I ask that of the young female who lies entombed in the same.

Talk to me Rox- talk to me…
I promise to listen, if only you will speak.

And the list of clues goes on…

September 3, 2010

9/3/10

We are now in the month of September and I am reminded that there are many dates of great significance in my life in this month. September 1st for example is my wedding anniversary. Various other landmarks fall within this month and then there are two dates towards the end of this month that are even more significant for the following reasons; one is Charley’s birth date and the other because, if my intuition is right… one is the date of (the female energy known as) Rox’s death.

You know how I always say the good Lord places people in our paths at the exact hour of our necessity. Well, I have had such a necessity and last week a person was placed in my path. And that person then led me to another person. Yesterday I contacted that person. That person in turn has many others they will contact and so as the train of information gets longer, I hope the necessity for it will get shorter and I will find the answer to my query. Who was Rox?

Aside from my lingering doubts about my research, I know now that going back to school was the right thing. The courses I am taking and the things I am learning will be of great benefit to my craft. Guardrails constructed that needed to be and patience learned that had to be if I am to do this right. Grateful also to my colleagues at CCIRI who continue to field educate me as I continue to file my formal reposts. September is also a month of change, though quite frankly I am up to here with change. My world of late should come equipped with revolving doors and never mind the yellow and red lights on the traffic pole- everything is a go- everything green.

This month I have already written my chapter for a potential CCIRI text and honored to have been asked. I have stayed on top of my homework and classes, met with a writers group and tried desperately to keep Charley in the mix and at the forefront of my intentions. While the rush of information has lost its bloom for the time being, I can only assume that this is the calm before another storm… or that this is Charley’s way of letting me catch my breath and making certain that my mastery catches up with my materials. This is such a fascinating experience and R was right; this book will be life-altering, it already has. I’m 52 and restricting my entire life around my writing and my education in Criminology; both formal and on the job.

With that in mind I will look again at what information I have and remain open. Something somewhere is still hidden. I will have to let it unfold as I can no longer dog every trail with the same tunnel-visioned energy as the summer.

“the man who drove the fire truck…a man with a fishing boat who may have seen things… heard things… twirling lights… a call number and surrounded by lakes…a necklace with a V… long blonde hair… two rose and a little white poodle… hands around her throat and the 4 who wear flannel…broken pieces of a chandelier and the little girl who fell down a ravine at the age of nine…”

And the list of clues goes on…

How did we get there?

September 2, 2010

9/2/10

Rape you say… how did we get there?

Supposition:
Supposition is defined by Encarta Dictionary: English (North America) as;

1. hypothesis
something that it is suggested might be true, or that is accepted as true on the basis of some evidence but without proof

• That seems a reasonable supposition on the basis of his previous behavior.

True. I do not know all the variables that go with this plausible scenario. But based on his (the grim reaper’s) previous behavior, it makes perfect sense. Why would you orchestrate a murder? Now mind you, I did not say he physically committed the murder of Charley. That, he left for someone else without conscience to do. And Rox? Why… it may not have even been his fingers on her throat. But if we look at Encarta’s definition of the grim reaper…

Grim reaper:
DEATH PERSONIFIED

a personification of death, shown as a cloaked man or skeleton holding a scythe

What I have been presented with are the images of a girl, several men, a hotel room, hands on a girl’s throat, water and a necklace with a V in it.

We know that Charley did not commit suicide. He was killed. We know that the level of his infraction must have been high stakes enough to warrant a cover-up that has lasted for over 40 years, so his adultery is a misnomer. On more than once we have been presented with the possibility that Charley found out something that, to quote the grim reaper’ would…
“Blow this county wide open.”

One man’s starry gaze does not rise to the level of such a prognostication, so we must look elsewhere’s for motive. We know from historical reference that the county back then was awash with illegal activity. Moonshine was child’s play. Drug running was in its infancy… but porn and prostitution was a steady source of income and entertainment for civilian and law enforcement alike. Prostitutes were a commodity. But what if one of them wasn’t? What if one of them was so new at it, that you could scarcely buy her a drink today legally? That is… IF… she was still alive.

Soooooo, what do grown (notice I did not say mature) men in a hotel room want with an 18-22 year old girl? And why do you build a clubhouse on a lake so far from where you work? Could it be for the scenery? The rest and relaxation? Or could it be because the fishing is better farther out of town and out of eyesight?

Think I’ll grab me a pole and do a little fishing myself this weekend! Care to join me? The water’s nice and warm this time of year…
Until later then.


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