Brownstonelit's Blog

1/5/11

Let’s talk about currency…
Currency is described in the dictionary as:
1. money;

a) a system of money, or the bills and coins themselves, used in a country

2. acceptance of an idea or term;

a) widespread acceptance or use of an idea, theory, word, or phrase

3. circulation;

a) the transmitting of something, especially money, from person to person

4. time when something is current;

a) the period of time during which something is current

Soooooooooo…. if we were to apply this to our players in Charley’s murder, what could we construct from this diatribe? Well, we could say that a form of currency, a form mind you that would be acceptable from one person to another could have taken place in the time frame that was current to Charley’s murder! You know… like a payoff maybe??!!

Ok… now that we have that covered; let’s discuss the most common forms of currency. Money, of course is the first thing that comes to mind….paper bills, checks and/or coins, stocks-bonds… but what other kinds of things were once used as currency in the olden days?

Think medieval times maybe. Currency could have been as basic as animals, slaves, gold, food stuffs-crops or material goods like fabrics, furs or metals, bartered chores, parcels of land… and even precious gems for those with loftier resources. Hmmmm….loftier resources, eh? Now that’s an interesting and intriguing idea-royalty in Valdosta? Even though certain folks in Valdosta back in 1966 behaved like animals, they still expected to be paid like royalty for their troubles. Hmmmm…. now what kind of currency, my dear readers might that entail? Think History Channel or the Discovery Channel kind of answers, my dear friends. Maybe even Natgeo channel? If it’s none of the above- well, except for the land thing, of course- what else might be of trade for one’s absolute loyalty? (Uh-oh, sorry- Freudian slip)… I mean… royalty in 1966? Perhaps precious gems, like rubies, sapphires, emeralds and… what’s the one everybody thinks of first??? You know, the one that turns everybody’s head with its intrinsic flash and inherent forever value? What could that be again? I can almost see them… right there … in my own little hands… (Uh-oh… Freudian slip again) I mean, in G’s hands. What are they again? You know… the small, sparkly stones that capture your heart’s desire? Facets that display and broadcast your dying (Uh-oh… sorry, Freudian slip again) I mean, your undying fidelity- to one another? Or to something anyway. Like to a secret commitment? Or to a fraternity even? Hmmmm….think…. think…think… think!

Now what do you call those things?

Oh, I know! Could they be… the illustrious diamonds of epic fame? Why yes, dear readers it just might have been such diamonds! Loose- just like the women they kept their secrets about. Now, so as to make this understandable to the generic fellons still alive and spoken in the vernacular of their bucolic peasantry:

“Reckon what little miss G was doing with a handful of those, Bubba?”

Paying someone off… or being paid off maybe?
Hmmmm… Gives a whole new twist to the term gold digger, doesn’t it? Funny thing though… about this particular arrangement, I mean?

When you think of Valdosta… who thinks of diamonds?
Silly readers- that’s so obvious!!
If diamonds are a girl’s best friend… then what do you think they are for a man?
They’re called an insurance plan!

Now what man would need to pay a lady off in loose diamonds? Or have that lady pay somebody else off in loose diamonds? Wow… that’s a really tough question! Those diamonds sure paid somebody for their silence, didn’t they?

Ha… ha… ha! The folks may have kept their silence… but too bad they forget to tell the diamonds, cause baby… they are screeching their heads off now!!!

Riddle me this:
What do these three things have in common?
Loose diamonds
New Hampshire
Politics
And the number 77

1/4/2011

While I have many more things recently learned that I could share with you… I will opt out today for something more important than the hype that comes with new information. It is something far more valuable for me to share.

It is simple. Learn to recognize the miracles in your life for there are many and be grateful that they happen.

If you are reading this… then you have already received one; the gift of sight.
If you smirked at my Polly-Anna outlook today… then God Bless you for your sense of humor and patronage!!!
If you laughed at me for saying that- there’s another; the joy of human expression!
If you appreciate my detour, but really want me to get to the order of business- solving this case… the miracle is- it is already solved- now it must be proven.
If you wonder whether or not that means that my research and this blog is over… not with what I have just learned!!!
If you want to know how grateful I am to have been chosen for this task… the answer is unequivocally –YES. (Frightened sometimes that it is beyond my skill set and comprehension… but confident that it could have been no other person and no other way.)

WHY?

Because that is my miracle.

Days ago I comforted a man who suffered greatly and lost his family needlessly. I sobbed at what his family had lost by loosing him and could not find adequate words to console… so I held him to my chest and kissed him on the forehead and told him how sorry I was.

Today I received a message from R.
Charley says- “…thank you for keeping me in your heart and for touching my forehead in the picture…”

Today I received the miracle of confirmation.
The man was Charley. I had held his photo, kissed his forehead and cried for the terrible loss and the insanity of the reasoning by those who did it.
Today- he acknowledged the act of my compassion.
Today… I am thanked… today I am blessed.

Be well… finding the blessings in your day today and know that everything you do is perceived by those who have gone on before us. Knowing this… will you change how you live???
Thank you R.

1/3/11
Jessica may have been killed because she was pregnant.
The pendulum of guilt swings back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and slows to a crawl and then stops…

Whose name do you think it landed on? Now this is what I call one hellacious game of Twister!
I’ll give you one clue…

Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

He didn’t!
Hmmmmmm….I’d give you another clue, but that would definitely give it away.

Until later then!

1/1/11

Note the numbers in the date above… 1111.
In numerology you would pick up the first three numbers 111, or the split sequence of 11 and 11. In Angel Numbers by Doreen Virtue you would pick up the first three as well.

111:

“…This number brings you the urgent message that your thoughts are manifesting instantly, so keep your mind-set focused upon your desires. Give any fearful thoughts to Heaven for transmutation…”

Last night at midnight I kissed my husband, prayed for renewed confidence in my life purpose and then offered up a small prayer that my children be safe and happy in their chosen paths.

I sent out messages of Happy New Year and hope and received several back in kind. With the clock ticking its way into the new cycle, the New Year officially began at 12:01 A.M. and I officially went to sleep at 12:02 A.M.!

But not for long. The first of my visitations began at 2:24 A.M. with a misguided Happy New Year’s call!

224:
“…The angels are boosting your confidence, faith, and trust, as these qualities help them answer your prayers…”

I went back to sleep and then awoke at exactly 4:44 A.M. It was right after a bad dream. In my dream, I was somehow left alone in an apartment. My children were all grown and my husband was out of town on a business trip of some sort and had promised his brother he could borrow some tax program to do his taxes- but he never showed. It got later and later in the day and finally irritated and tired, I went to bed. An hour later I heard the lock on the front door click, and then heard it squeak open… I was a little more than pissed. How dare he come so late in the evening without even calling to see if I was still up! Angry, I grabbed my robe and went to the bedroom door, but did not turn the light. As I was wrapping my housecoat around me, I heard someone bump into a table and swear. I wondered why the idiot hadn’t turned on the light and then realised…

The voice that had sworn a blue streak sounded strange. I placed my ear to the door and found suddenly there were two voices. Suddenly the bedroom door flew open, hit me in the head and caught me off guard. Yelling ensued and a man grabbed at my arm and pulled me close. He stank of booze and his words became as foul as his breath. I was being robbed and held at knife point. The young black male was rubbing the blade of the knife along the ridge of my throat and telling me to keep quiet. He asked about money and jewelry- I gave it up- then he wanted to steal my television and so I motioned to where it was across the room in the dark and my only thought was to get to the kitchen and save my computer from detection as I cold not recall the last time I had backed it up. A door slammed- all went black and when I woke… I looked at the clock and pondered that my fear had been misplaced. I could have been killed and yet, I was not fearful for my life- just for my manuscripts. The time again… 4:44 A.M..

444:
“…There are angels – they’re everywhere around you! You are completely loved, supported and guided by many heavenly beings, and you have nothing to fear…”

I rolled over and thought about the intended lesson of my dream and drifted back into slumber slowly. At exactly – you guessed it- 5:55 A. M. I awoke again with a start.

555:
“… Huge changes are rumbling throughout your entire life! To keep theses changes on the highest possible course, be sure to keep your thoughts positive, and stay centered in prayer and affirmations…”

“You ain’t just a woofing!” I whispered into the air, then smiled at the clock and rolled over again. Messages received, I snuggled into the covers happy in the knowledge that there was no such thing as 6:66 A.M. on any clock because an hour only contained 60 minutes in it! Finally a chance to sleep, I sighed in to my pillows! But you guessed it! As fate would have it though, I had forgotten to turn off my alarm the evening before and at exactly 6:59 A.M. it began to ping in my right ear! BEEP…BEEP…BEEP…

659:
“Call upon the angels to help you make changes that will allow you more time and energy to devote to your spiritual calling and Divine life purpose…”

Another message received and dually noted, I smirked into the morning…why? Because when I get up later on this morning…the first change I intend to make in this New Year will be… to get rid of my bedside clock!!! Apparently, I don’t need one!

Happy New Year dear ones… use this year in your life wisely. Those of you who understand the phenomena of 11:11… Bless you! Those of you who don’t- educate thy selves and soon!!!

This is going to be a very exciting year!

It is New years Eve…
Hold onto your hats because after today, this thing begins to fly! The clock has begun to tick. Can you hear it? Tick… tick… tick…
Tomorrow is the first day of another nine year cycle for me. As Betty Davis says, “Hold on… it’s going to be a bumpy ride!”
When I stop to think about the real players in this thing, it just wants to make me say…
Bumpy ride? Wow, is that an understatement!!!! It will be more like the roller coaster from hell.

Happy New years to you and yours… be well. Why? Because you’re not going to want to miss what happens next!!!

Tick… tick… tick… tick… tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…

12/30/10

When thinking about the long arms of those involved in Charley’s murder and the amount of lies necessary to keep this cover-up afloat for 44 years, I am remanded that caution may the better steward of truth till all are squarely on board and ready to move this thing forward. Numb with anticipation on how this will eventually play out, my heart has raced at a staggering rate since the epiphany of two days past. In an effort to distract, I rummage through real estate in far away places-dismantle Christmas stockings and holiday cheer. I ponder the patterns in the clouds, chart the weather and dabble at opening paragraphs while plotting my outline. Still nothing breaks the adrenaline… the rushing of blood coursing through my brain feels like a thoroughbred, heady with fright and daft with wind in its ears as the enormity of what is about to ensue nips at its hocks, spurring it on..

Numbers collide in my field of vision. I carefully try to reap the benefits of their wisdom and absorb their message of calm. But nothing dissuades the angst I am drowning in, till my phone rings and for a moment I am held captive by an educating anecdote…. a chanced warning from a cherished colleague. Even in humor… there is benign wisdom.

I paraphrase…

“…A man went out for a drive in the country. As he passed in front of an insane asylum, one of his tires went flat. With uneven keel, he pulled the limping vehicle to the side of the road and set about to fix it. First he removed the deflated tire, careful to place all the lug nuts safely inside the hubcap at the edge of the road. Next, he went to the trunk- removed the spare and came back to the front by way of the shoulder. As he neared the front of the car, his foot faltered on the edge of the asphalt. Suddenly he pitched backward, stepping on the inverted pan and watched as the ruptured hubcap spat its contents into the air, with all landing in the grassy landscape beside him. After a frantic search and unable to find them, he sat- scratching his head-perplexed as to how he would be able to manage the repair.

A small snicker carried across the lawn and garnered his attention. Dressed in pajamas, a man who had been silently watching his endeavors from behind the bars of an upper room hollered, asking if he could be of some assistance. Humored by the irony, the man with the ailing tire responded; asking just how the hell he could attempt such a feat from inside his cage?

“Simple”, said the man from behind the bars. “Just remove one lug nut from each of the other remaining three tires on your car and that should be enough to hold you until you can get yourself to a gas station where you can buy some new ones to replace the ones you’ve lost!”

“Remarkable!” said the driver and slapped at his knee. “I should have been able to think of that myself!” The man in the pajamas nodded in agreement, much to the chagrin of the man in the street.

“How on earth did you ever think of that… all things considered of course?” chortles the driver, making public mockery of the man’s obvious assumed deficiency and current residency.

Not appreciating the driver’s condescending attitude, the man behind the bars puffed up his nightshirt collar, looked down at him… smiled an impish smile and replied…

“I might be crazy… but at least, I’m not stupid!”

Here in lies my lesson for the day:

They did what they did 44 years ago.
They might have been crazy at the time… but they weren’t necessarily stupid, so perhaps it would be wise for me to be very careful.

Lesson for them…
It is 44 years later and I am neither crazy, nor stupid… so perhaps it is they who should be very careful!

(Thanks for the joke and the reminder, L.)

So riddle me this…
Who loans out the house? The house in the woods? And who orders sex like pizza and gets it delivered by the man that belongs to the red sports car? The one who runs errands… who picks up… and drops off? The one who delivers secrets and carries the package from here to there? Shhhhhhhhhhhhh… keep it quiet! They will see, they will hear.

Bed springs that squeak, but do not sigh live in the  house whose walls are riddled with guilt and blood.

Riddle me this…
Is this the house with the shingle roof? The hut… tucked away? Hmmmmm…
Long drive… long walk… long legs and long nights.
Do you  know?
Can you see?

Google Earth this __________________________.

Getting nervous, Grim?

Squeak…squeak…squeak…squeak…squeak…sigh! 

The walls will talk- they have much to say. They have much to show… maybe even who really owned the lighter?

12/28/10

If you go back to 1/15/10 at the very beginning of this adventure you will read about a dream I had concerning my parents and a train…
In the beginning, I did not understand. But now, I know what it was that I was being shown. It was the night of their honeymoon. They had been given train tickets and a night’s stay at a fancy hotel in Minneapolis as a wedding gift from her folks. The reason why she didn’t… or perhaps…couldn’t recognize me in the crowd of onlookers as she boarded the train with my father, was because I was as of that moment… at least in heaven… not born to them yet.

I often think of that dream. It reminds me of this case and how, as always it has worked itself backwards to me. Odd, isn’t it? That at 52, I should be shown my parents leaving for the beginning of their wedded bliss and me- standing in the crowd watching- not even a twinkle in their eye yet? In fact… there were six other twinkles before they ever got down to me. I am number 7 out of 10. Still… it was appropriate that they take me back to the beginning of their story- that I might appreciate the beginning of my own. Dead, they can take me there. Alive… they could not. Fitting prologue, as this is the way I write as well. I start at the end and work my way backwards to the beginning.

I love the fact that Charley understands this about me and so that is how he has allowed his story to unfold. From his ending… to my beginning… of his story.

“Chapter One…

It was getting late. The rain had danced around the clock from early that morning, till well after supper and while her cigarette lay dying in the ashtray- he eyed the second hand as it swept past the top of the hour and calculated his departure for the ride outside of town. She stood rigid at the sink and offered him a cup of coffee for the road. With even timbre he agreed. She wrung her hands on the damp kitchen towel clinging to her waist, while he plopped his Fedora atop the fridge before sliding into the chair opposite her. They had been fighting all day, but here finally… caffeine proposed a treaty and she took advantage of the moment to quietly reinstate her sovereignty and gauge his resistance to recommit…”

And so it begins Charley… your story… your night… your murder… your revenge!

12/28/10

My dear Charley,
Here on the cusp of a new year, I stand at a crossroads as to which direction I should take. If what I discovered yesterday is the tragic impetus why all this took place, then I am duty bound to keep silent and wait for those whose ears are ripe and skill sets vetted for such information. But is that what you want me to do? Keep under lock and key what has not seen the light of days in 44 years?

You, my dear man… for want of another’s ego and reputation… you and your remaining life was sacrificed? My heart, infantile as it is in my current evolution bleeds from generations not my own for your fathomless loss. Not with vengeance, but cognizant with compassion for the collateral damages suffered by your family do I walk headlong into the fires before me- certain to be burnt in the process by those who will deny and brutally call my reason into question. As your loyal second, I shall continue to pursue this causation and carefully chronicle each step in an effort to be most effective on your behalf. As you have always backed me with the steely strength burgeoning behind those gray eyes, I shall with token likeness push forward into the unknown.

With steady determination guide this hand across each page and follow with blithe spirit all mental escapades that I might wander until I reach the ultimate destination of justice you desire. Oh Charley… why you chose to wait for me to tell this tale confounds me and yet perhaps no other vessel was both willing and emotionally disposed to take such a protracted journey. I think about all the people whose lives were altered by your birth. I think about all the people whose lives you could have graced after the fact and am humbled by your decision to rest such a weighty proposition upon such feeble shoulders as my own to serve as prompt for destiny.

It is with both honor and humility that I shall act as courier and scribe for your voice. Lead now with tempered judgment where it is you need for me to follow further and place my own as guardrail to give heavenly margin to all I am about to do. Could you have found a better Michael to fight your battle on this plane, would such a platform do better in their gilded hands? If so, then I beg that you allow them intercession so as to do better justice to your cause than such a fledgling as I. As another lamb patiently wandering in the Garden of Gethsemane, I ask not that you consider a more noble warrior to carry your shield, but rather that you bolster what tenacity you see in me to weather what will surely become the perfect storm upon publication of this intent.

My dear reader… for those of you whose fidelity has been great, know this – that if I could tell you now what all this had led to… you could no more be as shocked and saddened at the lowest common denominator of such lecherous and vile folly as I.

It is sometimes difficult to understand the shorthand of the dead and so my delays while they have been many… have also educated greatly. I have proposed my supposition and now wait for confirmation as to the governed direction of my confidences…

God help those who will litter this path with their lies.

Go to page #32 of the journal…she whispers. Go there- there is more for you.
In deed there was. For how do you present a gun to a victim’s wife that should still be in Atlanta at the GBI State Crime Lab? How do you ask that same widow to identify a gun she has never seen before in her life? Why do you list the gun as a 38 Special on the Crime Lab Report and then demand information from the widow about a 38 snubnose?
Hmmmm….?
And then, how do you tell her it was issued by the government to her dead husband- when the government appears to have no record of that gun on file anywhere? How do you manage to gather evidence, bury a body,send said evidence to State Crime Lab 1/2 a state away, get the test done, get the results and get the weapon back in your posession to do all these things between Atlanta and Millen, Georgia all in less than 72 from the death of the victim?

How???
You don’t!
Not without help from the inside. But why would someone on the inside in Atlanta give a rat’s ass about a small time Treasury Agent in a litter box like Valdosta in 1966?

If what I think I have figured out is true…the New Year won’t be very happy for those still alive and know why too!