I can't get this story out of my head. I saw it on the news yesterday. A murderer that was declared insane escaped! How? He disappeared at the county fair. Does that sound crazy to you, too?
Yes, it seems there were eleven guards for thirty-one patients. (We don't call them criminals. That would be rude.) The patients were on a field trip to the fair. I guess it's not nice to keep them isolated. They have rights you know! I'm not sure, (they didn't say), but I'm thinking they were not handcuffed.
Have you ever tried to keep track of one person at a fair? I've looked away for a split second, only to spend 15 minutes trying to find the person I was just standing next to. After all, isn't there an old saying 'lost in the crowd'? There's a reason!
Maybe they assumed that, since they had all these fun-filled field trips, no one would ever want to leave.
The news report said it appeared to have been planned. Apparently, he had been ordering packaged foods. They think he probably loaded them up in his backpack that he wore to the fair. (He doesn't sound so crazy to me.) I suppose he would have felt violated if they had searched the backpack before leaving for the fair. It's normal to pack luggage for a trip to the fair... right?
I've resisted the impulse to investigate his case. I don't know whether it was an 'in the heat of passion' crime, or if he stalked someone and hacked them up with an ax. It doesn't matter. Call me narrow minded if you want; but I don't want someone that murdered someone, and then was found insane, to be riding the Scrambler with my grandkids.
So, since he had the mental ability to plan this escape, does that mean insanity can't be an excuse for it? Will he now, finally, go to prison? That is, if he's captured... hopefully before he strikes again.
So tell me... who's insane here?
Sunday, September 20, 2009
A bit of this, a bit of that...
Hmm... Is it bigger than a toaster?
Almost...
These potatoes grew so large they burst open!
Almost...
These potatoes grew so large they burst open!
OK, this is the last you'll hear about the sweet potatoes... (that is, until my Farmer's Market Challenge post.) I wanted to show you the storage rack Hubby built for them, using wood from skids. You know we love to re-purpose. This room in the basement is behind the stairway. It is dark and cool. We will have to expand the rack next year, as Hubby is already talking about 3 rows instead of 1.Speaking of re-purposing... notice the Christmas candy bag? Makes a nice way to keep garlic.
Being confined to the AC put me way behind on the stairway garden project. Hubby finally took over for me and stained the new steps the other day. Don't they look great? Since the red crushed brick flows down from above to the stone steps below, the wood color adds to the continuity. (Note the chives I planted next to the wall.)
I wasn't out there to harvest the chives when they were small. Better late than never!
This bad boy is huge!It reaches all the way across the sink!
They still taste great. I'll be chopping and freezing some for use over the winter. They don't keep their flavor when dried. These are onion chives. I will add garlic chives next spring to the other side of the steps. I'm thinking about putting some in a flower pot to see how they do inside over winter.My dining room table is really wide.
This shows better how huge this thing is...
Of course, I couldn't resist posting a picture of Sadie. Here is her happy face...
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Harvest Smiles
Hubby was born to be a farmer. He loves growing things, and takes such pride in his harvest. This year, I suggested he grow sweet potatoes. They are so expensive at the stores, and my MIL and I eat them often throughout the winter.
It seems that as he digs up the mounds, the potatoes keep getting bigger and bigger! Here are two that he brought in today...
The one on the right weighs about three pounds.
The one on the left weighs over four and a quarter!
The one on the left weighs over four and a quarter!
I not much of a potato eater in the summer,but I might have to make an exception...
Swweeet!
I love sweet potatoes! This is the first year we've grown
them in the garden. According to the seed catalog, you can
leave them in the ground much later than this, but my FIL
was anxious to dig a mound and see what they had.
They got quite a lot out of each mound!
them in the garden. According to the seed catalog, you can
leave them in the ground much later than this, but my FIL
was anxious to dig a mound and see what they had.
They got quite a lot out of each mound!
Some were long and skinny, some short and fat. Some got so big they broke open!
When you look at this one, keep in mind that Hubby is 6'5" and wears a size 14 ring! Yep, it's a big potato!
When you look at this one, keep in mind that Hubby is 6'5" and wears a size 14 ring! Yep, it's a big potato!
Of course, anytime something's going on, Nekoda is nearby watching... and Buddy's never far from her.
The garden looks like a jungle now. The morning glory vines have staked their territory. There are a few tomatoes struggling to turn red. FIL has turnips left to harvest, too.
The rest will have to wait until tomorrow...Tuesday, September 15, 2009
A Tale of Two Tractors
I hope my horses are happy. I gave up my new front yard for them. We've lived in the middle of this old corn field for six years. Each of those years Hubby promised me a new front lawn. That lawn always gets knocked down a notch on the to-do list when those other random farm projects pop up.
This is it. This is the week that I was supposed to definitely get my new lawn. Guess what? Not gonna happen. But that's OK with me. We were going to do the lawn and the back pasture. Then some things happened that made us rethink the investment. We decided we should only do one or the other. I picked the pasture. Yep, me. My horses rank pretty high on my priority list. 'nuff said.
Hubby had already sprayed the pasture, killing all the grass and weeds that were growing there.
Hubby has a part-time job in the summer working for Mark's landscaping company in exchange for grass seed and fertilizer. It's nice to have friends with heavy equipment! This is Mark's harrow rake. He uses it to smooth the tilled ground.
Mark has a really nice tractor. I'd love to have an enclosed cab! When I sell my book, a bigger tractor is on my list. (I know... I dream big.) This is Mark using the harrow rake to smooth the pasture, getting it ready to plant.
Hubby took the tiller off and installed Mark's seeder. This is Mark on our tractor, spreading the grass seed and then the fertilizer.
The best time saver of all... This is Mark's straw blower. Hubby is just getting over a bug, so he gets to drive Mark's truck. A friend volunteered to cut open the bales and heave the straw to the blower. Now that's a real friend! The boss is operating the blower.
I am a safe distance from the mess, using my zoom while standing on the bedroom deck. It makes me want to gasp for air just looking at this picture!
So now the field is ready, but the weatherman said it will be dry for several more days... Come on rain!
This is it. This is the week that I was supposed to definitely get my new lawn. Guess what? Not gonna happen. But that's OK with me. We were going to do the lawn and the back pasture. Then some things happened that made us rethink the investment. We decided we should only do one or the other. I picked the pasture. Yep, me. My horses rank pretty high on my priority list. 'nuff said.
Hubby had already sprayed the pasture, killing all the grass and weeds that were growing there.
Here is Hubby on our tractor tilling all the dead stuff under and loosening the soil.
Hubby has a part-time job in the summer working for Mark's landscaping company in exchange for grass seed and fertilizer. It's nice to have friends with heavy equipment! This is Mark's harrow rake. He uses it to smooth the tilled ground.
Mark has a really nice tractor. I'd love to have an enclosed cab! When I sell my book, a bigger tractor is on my list. (I know... I dream big.) This is Mark using the harrow rake to smooth the pasture, getting it ready to plant.
Hubby took the tiller off and installed Mark's seeder. This is Mark on our tractor, spreading the grass seed and then the fertilizer.
The best time saver of all... This is Mark's straw blower. Hubby is just getting over a bug, so he gets to drive Mark's truck. A friend volunteered to cut open the bales and heave the straw to the blower. Now that's a real friend! The boss is operating the blower.
I am a safe distance from the mess, using my zoom while standing on the bedroom deck. It makes me want to gasp for air just looking at this picture!
So now the field is ready, but the weatherman said it will be dry for several more days... Come on rain!
The Stranger I Mourn Part II
Sometimes life's ironies and coincidences stun me...
I wrote about this stranger, and how his death impacted me. I think about him on September 12th of every year. Odd that he doesn't always come to mind on the 11th. The 12th was the day all the pictures hit the doorsteps. That image was the most dramatic to me. The planes striking the towers, the towers burning, the collapse, the injured... Those pictures were all horrendous, but this one particular image - it was personal. It was a man seconds away from certain death. Watching someone die.
A facebook friend posted a link last night. Incredibly, it was an hour-long documentary about the falling man, and the quest to identify him - to tell his story. I looked at the clock. It was late. I started to close my browser.
I didn't analyze the photo in the paper that day. One glance was enough then; but now my emotions have been tempered by eight years. Did I want to know more? Did I want to revisit that image that had such a profound effect on me? Most importantly, would I regret it?
I clicked. "I'll just watch a minute or two."
It wasn't mere curiosity. This man was a part of my life experience that defines who I am - what I believe. Even though his role in my life was brief and distant, it was significant. I wanted to know more about him.
The film documented not only the events unfolding that day, but the thoughts in the mind of the photographer of that picture and the others involved in this quest. Society had determined to file away the pictures. The coroner's office had said there were no jumpers - only people that were blown out or fell. This group was determined to let the jumper's stories be told - to remove the shame we attach to such an unspeakable act.
Call me naive, but I disagree with this group on that note. I never thought of it as shameful and I don't think any of the people I know did either. It wasn't suicide. It was a choice of how to die, if, in fact, they did choose. After re-watching the footage of the people filling the windows, I believe a lot of these people simply fell. There were so many crammed together, trying to reach the fresh air.
A man that had lost his wife that day was featured in the film. He felt certain that she had jumped. The man had talked to her on the phone during the fire. He had identified his wife as a person in a photograph that had fallen from the tower. The person was dressed in the same colors of clothing and had the same hair and build. He said he gained closure from the picture. He said it had troubled him... the not knowing. He was at peace now that he had an answer.
It turns out that what I thought was a dress shirt and suit pants, was actually a restaurant jacket and dark jeans. In the beginning, they believed the man to be a pastry chef working in Windows on the World, a restaurant in the World Trade Center. An article appeared in a newspaper, identifying him. This man had a wife and three daughters, the youngest was thirteen. I will not print his name here. The family did not want it to be him. Their religion told them that, had he made this choice, his soul was doomed to hell. Through the quest of this group, it was proven that the man in the photo was not this chef. The family was relieved. They felt as though his name had been cleared of any wrong-doing in the eyes of God.
A group of workers from the restaurant agreed to look at the enhanced photos. They ruled out all but a handful. Finally, the owner of the restaurant agreed to view them. At first, he had been adamantly opposed. He had stopped somewhere before work that day. These people were his family. His grief was deep. The interviewers ran through the remaining names while he examined the photos. When they said Jonathan's name, he was silent. He believed the man to be Jonathan, but could not say for certain.
Jonathan was a sound engineer for Windows on the World. His expertise was used for conferences and other functions. His sister described him as a happy man - the kind that makes others happy. He enjoyed life.
John Doe or Jonathan Eric Briley? It was a desperate moment. We will never know for sure if the man in the photo was Jonathan. We will never know for sure who made the choice and who didn't. Does it matter? Would it matter to you?
I suppose if it was my husband, I would want to know how he died... But would I need to know the details, or would the fact that he died there, on that day, from that act be enough?
John or Jonathan - may you rest in peace.
I wrote about this stranger, and how his death impacted me. I think about him on September 12th of every year. Odd that he doesn't always come to mind on the 11th. The 12th was the day all the pictures hit the doorsteps. That image was the most dramatic to me. The planes striking the towers, the towers burning, the collapse, the injured... Those pictures were all horrendous, but this one particular image - it was personal. It was a man seconds away from certain death. Watching someone die.
A facebook friend posted a link last night. Incredibly, it was an hour-long documentary about the falling man, and the quest to identify him - to tell his story. I looked at the clock. It was late. I started to close my browser.
I didn't analyze the photo in the paper that day. One glance was enough then; but now my emotions have been tempered by eight years. Did I want to know more? Did I want to revisit that image that had such a profound effect on me? Most importantly, would I regret it?
I clicked. "I'll just watch a minute or two."
It wasn't mere curiosity. This man was a part of my life experience that defines who I am - what I believe. Even though his role in my life was brief and distant, it was significant. I wanted to know more about him.
The film documented not only the events unfolding that day, but the thoughts in the mind of the photographer of that picture and the others involved in this quest. Society had determined to file away the pictures. The coroner's office had said there were no jumpers - only people that were blown out or fell. This group was determined to let the jumper's stories be told - to remove the shame we attach to such an unspeakable act.
Call me naive, but I disagree with this group on that note. I never thought of it as shameful and I don't think any of the people I know did either. It wasn't suicide. It was a choice of how to die, if, in fact, they did choose. After re-watching the footage of the people filling the windows, I believe a lot of these people simply fell. There were so many crammed together, trying to reach the fresh air.
A man that had lost his wife that day was featured in the film. He felt certain that she had jumped. The man had talked to her on the phone during the fire. He had identified his wife as a person in a photograph that had fallen from the tower. The person was dressed in the same colors of clothing and had the same hair and build. He said he gained closure from the picture. He said it had troubled him... the not knowing. He was at peace now that he had an answer.
It turns out that what I thought was a dress shirt and suit pants, was actually a restaurant jacket and dark jeans. In the beginning, they believed the man to be a pastry chef working in Windows on the World, a restaurant in the World Trade Center. An article appeared in a newspaper, identifying him. This man had a wife and three daughters, the youngest was thirteen. I will not print his name here. The family did not want it to be him. Their religion told them that, had he made this choice, his soul was doomed to hell. Through the quest of this group, it was proven that the man in the photo was not this chef. The family was relieved. They felt as though his name had been cleared of any wrong-doing in the eyes of God.
A group of workers from the restaurant agreed to look at the enhanced photos. They ruled out all but a handful. Finally, the owner of the restaurant agreed to view them. At first, he had been adamantly opposed. He had stopped somewhere before work that day. These people were his family. His grief was deep. The interviewers ran through the remaining names while he examined the photos. When they said Jonathan's name, he was silent. He believed the man to be Jonathan, but could not say for certain.
Jonathan was a sound engineer for Windows on the World. His expertise was used for conferences and other functions. His sister described him as a happy man - the kind that makes others happy. He enjoyed life.
John Doe or Jonathan Eric Briley? It was a desperate moment. We will never know for sure if the man in the photo was Jonathan. We will never know for sure who made the choice and who didn't. Does it matter? Would it matter to you?
I suppose if it was my husband, I would want to know how he died... But would I need to know the details, or would the fact that he died there, on that day, from that act be enough?
John or Jonathan - may you rest in peace.
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