Brownstonelit's Blog

7/15/11

It is just seconds shy of midnight and while I have been writing now for hours… I am compelled to stop before slumber and write to you all to tell you how blessed I am. This week I have been privileged again to accompany another great soul into the hereafter and while I was not close to this woman… I know what waits beyond for her and wish her well in her travels.
As for those who have already passed, I am here for you. Charley has spoken some this week. He tells me that the 17th will bring a shift to this investigation and I am eager to see where it will lead. I have also heard from another source that has recently crossed, and for whatever Karma she now serves… we will all benefit as she is helping me with Charley’s murder. She knew of Jessica and Roxanne and while she was not gracious in her appraisals of them on this plane- I am certain now she sees they were but young women lost to the way. She tells me Roxanne was murdered on the 7th of October at the base of the tree where everyone carved their names- the one so near to the clubhouse that you can see it from there. She shows me that and that the number 77 is also significant. What badge did that number grace? And on whose chest was it worn? And she wanted the men to know about Albert too. I need only ask…
You cannot hide from me. M will tell me what I need to know. She tells me about the coffee can- the coffee grounds in the F/U message that was sent to Hazel- (Charley’s widow) in the kitchen of Charley’s home. She talks about the loose canon with the penchant for Russia Roulette- the fourth in flannel!

And while M is doing her best to help from afar, my mother sends wishes that we let our worries and concerns about the events on Valentines Day go- the Valentine’s Day in the year of my father’s death. This she gives as message for my sister. For me, she laughs and tells me to fix the blind in my laundry room that has been driving me nuts.

I have so much to be thankful for. I have my family and my faith… and while those of you who worry that I have some how crossed the line… fear not. I am more grounded now than ever before in life. I know that love does not end at what we perceive as the end of life. We are but a breath apart in death.

Thank you Charley…
Thank you Rachael…
Thank you both for teaching me that I have so much more to do with my life than what I have already done.

I was writing about you today, Grim. You always said you wanted to be in a book. Well baby- you got in it alright! It’s not really the part you’d thought you’d play… but then you never really knew… what it was…I knew!

7/9/11

What do the B-52’s, high ranking state officials, 1966 and Valdosta all have in common?

Don’t you just love the oldies? I know several folks in Valdosta who really dug them… and some who buried them! Care to dance, Grim?
Now let me see… where did I leave my dancing shoes?
Oh yes, down by the tree where everyone carved their names. You know- not far from the clubhouse. I can even see it from here.
No… silly me. That’s not where I left my shoes! That’s where I was beaten and strangled.
Maybe I left them in the lake?
Hmmmmm…. no. That’s where I was before they moved me.
Gosh… guess I’ll just have to wait for them to turn up!
But don’t bother to go looking for them, Grim. I already know where they are.
Hmmmm… kinda makes you think doesn’t it?
If I know… guess how many other people know now too???
C’mon Grim… sing it with me!
The love shack is a little old place where___________ and ______________ can get together!!! Love shack baby!

Title: The B-52’s – Love Shack lyrics

If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says
15 miles to the… Love Shack! Love Shack yeah
I’m headin’ down the Atlanta highway,
lookin’ for the love getaway
Heading for the love getaway, love getaway,
I got me a car, it’s as big as a whale
and we’re headin’ on down
To the Love Shack
I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20
So hurry up and bring your jukebox money

The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee.
Love baby, that’s where it’s at,
Ooo love baby, that’s where it’s at

Sign says.. Woo… stay away fools,
’cause love rules at the Lo-o-ove Shack!
Well it’s set way back in the middle of a field,
Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back

Glitter on the mattress
Glitter on the highway
Glitter on the front porch
Glitter on the hallway

The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack bay-bee! Love Shack baby!
Love Shack, that’s where it’s at!
Huggin’ and a kissin’, dancin’ and a lovin’,
wearin’ next to nothing
Cause it’s hot as an oven
The whole shack shimmies!
The whole shack shimmies when everybody’s
Movin’ around and around and around and around!
Everybody’s movin’, everybody’s groovin’ baby!
Folks linin’ up outside just to get down
Everybody’s movin’, everybody’s groovin’ baby
Funky little shack! Funk-y little shack!

Hop in my Chrysler,
it’s as big as a whale
and it’s about to set sail!
I got me a car, it seats about twenty
So c’mon and bring your jukebox money.

The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack baby! Love Shack bay-bee!
(Love Shack…Love Shack…)
Love Shack, that’s where it’s at!

Bang bang bang on the door baby!
Knock a little louder baby!
Bang bang bang on the door baby!
I can’t hear you
Bang bang on the door baby
Bang bang on the door
Bang bang on the door baby
Bang bang
You’re what?… Tin roof, rusted!

Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love baby, that’s where it’s at
Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love baby, that’s where it’s at
Huggin’ and a kissin’,
dancin’ and a lovin’ at the love shack

Roxanne just loves that song- Jessica too!

I just love feathers! One has fallen in front of me everyday for the last three days and another fell in front of me this evening on the boat… but it was what information was received before the sunset swim that made my day.
Welcome back Miss M… I have missed you!!!!!!

The writing is going beautifully. So much to tell… so much to tell… so much to tell!
Still waiting for the feathers to settle. I’m listening Charley. Talk to me.

7/4/11

Another feather has crossed my path and so I must remain vigilant for whatever message is being sent my way. Something is in the air. You can almost feel it tip-toeing around you. Today is a holiday and so I will save my energies for that, but I will keep my senses on high as there is never a feather, without an event to follow.
What have you got planned for me now, Charley? It’s about Jessica, isn’t it? This is just about the time of year when she was murdered. What more is there to show me? She told me about the bloody shovel… the compass and the barbed wire too. What else didn’t you tell me that I should know, since M is gone and can no longer speak for her?

A feather for your thoughts?
Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm………

7/2/11

Yesterday was the first day of my vacation and it was spent in blissful existence, pecking away at my laptop for the better part of the early, early morning. Occasionally I would look up and the view from my writing desk shown the lake calm and strategically poised for the day. In between subsequent yawns, the sun crept slowly across its rippled surface… tugged away the covers of the night and wiped its weary eyes with a cloud or two before releasing itself into the dawn. I cannot tell you how dear it was to have quiet thoughts and hot coffee as my only companions, contented to write untethered by obligation for hours upon hours. Later in the day I enjoyed the scenery of a short road trip into town and then spent a quiet evening curled up with my book about the dead- Unfinished Business by James Van Praagh. I was happy and comfortable, but even more so… I was edified, productive and the feeling was exhilarating. It is one thing to work… and unlike many, I do love what I do- politics aside. But when you have the chance to work on your own projects… Well, let’s just say it was good therapy for the frustration that has been following me since November of last year.
A job should be a place where one can cultivate a skill and advance or retreat according to ability- but not by wave of emotion or polarizing politics. Perhaps it is fair to say that I grow weary of the drama that takes place everywhere but on the stage these days. That being said… I wanted to tell you that in the course of my writing yesterday, I was championed by those at my side- Charley, my mother and father. It was amazing the palpability of their proximity and I am grateful for all the small and large signs sent my way. You think so much of life is void of their touch? That they do not see or hear what we think?
Such foolish mortals we are.
Suffice it to say that even in the mundane and rather offensive rigors of life- they find a way to make contact. Think naught?
When finished with my writing for the morning, (which began just after I threw out everything I had written up until then) I chanced to see a patch of dog urine on the carpet outside my office. Needing to stretch, I willfully got up and proceeded to the kitchen to get carpet cleaner and paper towels. Having secured both I returned to the spot, folded the paper towel in half and noticed the decoration on the towel itself- a dragonfly. Those of you who have seen the Kevin Costner movie of the same name know the meaning of its significance. Immediately, I thought of my mother and whispered thank you for the gesture. When I needed yet another paper towel to repeat the process, I followed the exact same routine. And what do you think was the design that headlined the other side of this paper towel? A butterfly! Immediately I made another response- thank you father. Why? Because odd as it seems for a man who was every bit a man, the father of ten, beloved of my mother and an all around compassionate and amazing individual… my father told me after my mother died, that if he could come back as an animal- he wanted to be a butterfly.
Now, as a woman who grew up in Iowa, had a raging Black Beauty complex as a child and later bought a 30 acre horse farm filled with every animal known to Noah… you could have kicked me over with a toothpick! I kept thinking to myself…how was it possible that this incredible specimen of manhood, my mentor- my sage, wanted to come back as something as dainty, fragile and timid as a butterfly? So of course you know me… I decided to think it again- out loud!!

“Dad? How is it possible that you-this incredible specimen of manhood, my mentor- my sage, would want to come back as something as dainty, fragile and timid as a butterfly?”
His response?
‘Because a butterfly lives but 24 hours and in that time it must do and be everything it can to have every experience possible before it dies. It never wastes a single second of its life on worry or fear. It just lives!’
It pains me to say this, but for two seconds I seriously considered not throwing that towel away, but… the urine won out! Like the butterfly my father wanted to be, the stained paper towel had a shelf life of… zero minutes!

So why would I spend 15 minutes writing a blog about dragonflies and butterflies on pee’d paper towels? Because you need to look at even the most mundane things in life as a way of connection to another soul- both dead and alive! You are surrounded every minute of your day by loving guides who wish only to help you evolve. They don’t have all the answers anymore than we do, but they do have our best interests at heart and they hold the bigger picture up to our faces every now and then and ask us to see what we can become.
Do I wish to become a butterfly?
No… I do not, because unlike my father I no longer wish to be in a rush. I am weary of the break neck life of nonsense that clutters my day. I want to live each 24 hours… not just one round of 24 hours and so I say to you dear readers… SLOW DOWN. Don’t just stop to smell the roses along the way. Plant the damn things yourself and then sit back for a season or two and watch them grow!

Isn’t life amazing? Who knew you could get so much insight out of dog piss???

6/28/11

I was not the only one to see the feathers fall…
There are others who know of what I speak. Almost two years ago they told me about her… the woman with the injured foot. Speak to her for she knows many things. She will talk… she will tell.

The clouds gathers at the edge of the storm and you can feel the slight upturn of the breeze from here. Did she talk… did she tell? Of course she did, you fool. No one wants to carry such vile secrets with them into eternity, for there can be no way to take such words back… or bury their meaning once spoken.

Look to the bloody shovel and the compass she told me…
Look for the lack of water in the lungs…
Look for the bruises…
Look to the Fort…

Look to Grim!

So, did she talk about everything? Do not be foolish enough to think that only the dead have something to say, Grim. They talk… in the end… they all talk-DEAD or ALIVE.

6/27/11

Like tin soldiers… one by one they fall.

Yesterday another key witness died and their demise grieves me in more than one way. For this individual’s soul- may the path of illumination be clear and may their contribution to this case, have not be in vain. Because I know there is a process that must first take place; I do not see further information from this source for awhile on the other side of the veil… but while alive… this individual was a great help to discovering more about what happened to Jessica and Roxanne, both. And how ironic is this?
The day before that… a feather.
Yesterday… another feather.
So much information gained and yet, so much information lost. The clock continues to tick for them all and now I find out that at the same time I was driving through Augusta on the Carl Sanders Highway- past the burial home of the MOT- this individual was making their way to the ultimate weigh station, stalling in their path, waiting on further directions. I knew something was afoot in the cosmos even as I saw the sign. And last night I saw a missed call on my phone and knew something important had happened. Then late into the wee hours of the morning, as I passed through the same area on my way back home from Columbia, S.C., I saw the sign again as lightening flashed across the sky and I knew it was not just for grins that it continued to present itself to me.

Thus far this weekend has seen two deaths and we know they always come in three’s, so… the clock ticks.

How many more tin soldiers will fall before we can end this case? How many more obstacles to surmount before my dear Charley, Jessica, Roxanne and the MOT receive justice?

How are you feeling Grim and who would you rather face? Those who must now carry on the torch of investigation… or the ultimate investigator who already knows all your sins?
Tick… tick… tick… tick…

Remember when I said a great secret or a hidden message may be revealed to me this month? Well… it has… but it may not be what you think! Great revelations are seldom what we expect!
Until later then…

Happy Father’s day dad…