Brownstonelit's Blog

A wise man knows that if he goes digging through enough dirt in a cememtery… he will find an awful lot of skeletons.
Maybe even his own!

9/22/10
Autumn begins…
Did you ever feel like you were standing at the edge of a great precipice and that for want of just the right footing, great things awaited you on the other side? Yesterday was a day of such angst. I saw number patterns in everything I saw. License plates, clocks, house addresses…even the cable channels. No matter what I was doing or where I looked; the numbers were everywhere … teasing with untold wisdom. It was also Charley’s Birthday and while I received information- I do not know if it is the gift that I have been waiting for. Silly, I know. It was Charley’s Birthday and yet I sat waiting patiently at the end of my day waiting for a gift. A gift of information I was certain he would manipulate my way.
All day I kept vigil- for a call, an email… a whisper. And it dawned on me. Those things were important to me- not him and maybe… just maybe, I did receive my gift and I did not recognize it as such, because I was looking for something more nefarious. Something tied to the case. Infact I recall looking at the clock last night at 11:56 P.M. and thought- I’m sorry Charley. I thought I would have something earth shattering to share with you before midnight- and quite frankly- visa-versa. Mostly because whenever I hit brick walls in this case- I throw my hands up in the air, ask for help and he comes to my aid. And so I waited … thinking- I gave him nothing but lip service. I wished him a Happy Birthday every time I thought about him, but it never felt as though it was enough. I would have bought him a card, but to where would I have sent it? I would have baked him a cake, but hey- Who are we kidding! I would have eaten most of it and I really don’t need that right now!
Determined to do more, I thought about what else I could do that might be extra meaningful. My phone rang and I couldn’t get to it on time- so I had to replay my voicemails. I have many I saved- some just because…
Let me explain.
Even though all I could do was say the words and wish Charley a happy day, I was reminded once by my father that an act of remembrance is a gift in itself. On my father’s 82 Birthday I remember trying to call him several times that day. No answer. Each time, I called; I was forced to leave a message. Later that evening, he finally called back and had to leave me a message because I was at work. He had gotten up early that day. Brought the phone into the bathroom with him, so as not to miss any calls and then accidentally left his cell phone in his housecoat that morning- hung in the bathroom closet and had spent the entire day wondering why he had not heard from any of his ten children! When he finally realized he did not have his cell phone with him, he retraced his steps. Between kids and grandkids his phone had over 37 phone calls from all of us trying to wish him a Happy Birthday. The message he left on my phone in return is still there.
My father died three weeks after he left it and at the time I thought his response odd. Instead of saying thanks for calling to wish me a Happy Birthday; he said- “Thanks for the act of remembrance”. After his death- it finally hit me. Perhaps he knew somehow that his message would remain with me not just for the “occasion” of his Birthday- but for the remainder of my life.
I cannot tell you how many times I have played it over and over again- just to hear him speak my name- to hear him remind me that I too shared an important role in his heart. So for Charley, I wanted to give him more than just a “Happy Birthday” wish on such a special day. If I were to be perfectly honest- I thought perhaps someone would call or write of some snippet of information that would be just the piece I need to close this puzzle out and that I could present him with a finished package. All the details, evidence and conjectures tied up in a pretty little box and bow.
Instead – always the mentor and guide, Charley gave me something even more precious. At exactly 11:56 P.M. I got a call from my middle daughter who had moved out to be on her own earlier in the summer. She thought for certain I would still be up doing homework and wanted to chat for a minute. At exactly 11:59 P.M.- she lost the fresh patina of maturity and in a tiny voice liken to the precocious child she’d always been, told me that though she was glad she had moved out to try life on her own- she loved me, she missed me and didn’t want to go to bed without letting me know that. We spoke for one minute more before and as we both yawned and said our good nights- the clock struck midnight.
I got it. Subtle as a two ton truck, he is- my Charley. While I was waiting for spooky shadows to whisper to me about fictitious daggers in the night or early morning confessions of guilt by wayward strangers I may never meet- he was reminding me about the gifts that count. Solving his murder is one thing. Finding out what really happened to Rox and who she really was is another. But the thing that he wanted most for his Birthday is the gift he gave to me.
Thank you for the Birthday gift of “remembrance”, Charley…
As midnight struck and my daughter reminded me that I had a place of importance in her heart… I’m certain Charley’s daughter rolled over in her bed, gazed into the stars and in the same tiny voice liken to her as a child whispered…
“Daddy, I love you …I miss you and I didn’t want to go to bed without telling you so.”

Happy Birthday Charley…
Now make a wish and blow out their candles!
I can’t wait for “them” to open your present…they should have it by now!

9/19/10

I can’t quite get over the 1223 Bakers Way reference. Now to be sure, there is a building at that address and like I said it is in Manhattan, Kansas of all places. Even more insane is that it is the American Institute of Baking. Now the thing that gets me- which is what I love about this kind of backwards research- is that some of the first impressions by R in regards to Rox are about baking. She sees Rox making a pineapple upside down cake. She see her in a very nicely equipped professional kitchen. Another name is suggested- Wisenbaker- and again there is an association somehow, but it is the ‘baker’ portion of the name that comes through the most. So my dear Charley- what is it they are trying to guide me to? What do we know about Rox so far?
She is very pretty- well put together, so to speak. She has long dirty blonde hair. Likes to bake- has a thing about cosmetics; or that the family is in the cosmetics business. She is between 18 and 22. She likes to wear jewelry- she has a necklace with a “V” either engraved into it- or it is in the shape of a V. We know she received two roses- has white poodle that is continually around her. She dates older men. We know Theodore Shilning gave her a broach with a purple orchid on it; though this ‘relationship’ may have been when she was younger as her father seems to have been unhappy with her choice. And generally one’s father knows his place after the age of 18.

We also know that at some point she was with, “the four who wear flannel” from Valdosta-or maybe some of the men from the Tifton WOW lodge 1545. Seems a crap load of stuff took place there too- but I feel for this scenario she is more closely tied to Valdosta. We know the man with the small fishing boat saw and heard some things. We know she has a tie to – or a connection to the grim reaper and the MOT. Do you not recall the blog about, “… the crow threatened to to scratch out grim’s eyes…” We know that grim is tied to Rox and Rox is tied to the MOT. That she was possibly raped and strangled and that her remains may be sitting at the bottom of…

Oh now, I can’t tell you that! That wouldn’t be fair. You must wait same as I to find out if all this is true first- then we go for the body!
Now, one would think we know a great deal about Rox and yet… I will have to ask Charley to keep plugging the holes on this one.

So what is the connection to the American Institute of Baking? Why was it important they tell me about Theodore and where is this building with the yellow flag or banner about a flagpole?

Talk to me Rox. I cannot help the MOT clear his name or discover your true murderer if you do not talk to me. Talk to Charley- he knows how to get me the information. He understands the shorthand. You have until Wednesday Rox. That’s Charley’s Birthday and I would like to give him another present that day – closure on this case.

The book is in outline Charley. All I’m waiting on is Rox. Explain to her that I can only piece so many parts of the puzzle without her help. Give her up to me Charley, so that I might set you both free.

9/18/10
The thing I love about Charley is that he is a very generous man. When I offer to give him a present- he gives me one back!

Theodore – who are you?
You gave a purple orchid broach to Rox, even though her father didn’t want you seeing her anymore. And who lives at 1223 Bakers Way? And the flagpole with the yellow flag and banner…
The decorative plate with a palm tree on it?

Are you trying to tell me Theodore is from South Carolina- the Palmetto state? Or from Florida? Grim reaper- got any relatives in South Carolina???

I Googled 1223 Bakers Way and it came up in three locations. One is in Manhattan, Kansas. Interesting segue, especially when the first few clues about Rox had her baking a pineapple upside down cake. How odd too- when I was a kid, that was my favorite kind! I even asked for it on my Birthday. How ‘bout you Charley? Want that for you Birthday cake?

See the kind of gifts I get from Charley? Always something, but always with the caveat of…
Figure it out, kiddo… figure it out!

Charley- you’re a funny guy. Afraid that if you give it all to me, I will walk away and we shall lose the contact? Never my friend- we are eternal now.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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…