My two-cents worth and then some. An online journal by LP Brown.

Browsing Category The Way I See It

Jodi Arias Dethrones Casey Anthony

by on ·Opinion, The Way I See It

Mirror15460337Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who’s the most hated woman of them all?

Not since the Casey Anthony trial aired in 2011, have I been so captivated by a live televised courtroom trial; albeit one that features yet another woman who — in the court of public opinion — is the queen of evil, more familiarly called the “most hated woman in America.”

I admit that I am hooked on live courtroom programs. If I could I would rather view every live courtroom trial on TV than watch a single episode of Scandal. Okay, I perjured myself with that statement and request that it be stricken from the record. In my opinion Scandal trumps all other TV shows. But this is not about Scandal. It is about the reigning courtroom drama queen.

My research reveals that the first woman to hold the title was Madalyn Murray O’Hair, founder of the organization American Atheists. O’Hair was born on April 13, 1919, decades before courtroom trials became a television staple. But because her U.S. Supreme Court case contributed to the removal of prayer in public schools, proponents of universal prayer dubbed her America’s most hated woman. In August 1995, O’Hair, her son Jon, and granddaughter Robin suddenly disappeared. Six years later, in January 2001, one of the men convicted of kidnapping and murdering O’Hair and her relatives led police to a Texas ranch. Buried there law officers discovered the mutilated and dismembered bodies of the trio. Some considered it poetic justice.

The second infamous person to hold the uncomplimentary title was Casey Anthony, accused in 2011 of the death of her two year old daughter, Caylee. The child who lived in Orlando, Florida with her mother and her maternal grandparents had not been seen by the grandparents since June 16, 2008. She was reported missing to 911 a month later by Casey’s mother after Casey could not substantiate her daughter’s whereabout. Caylee’s decomposed remains were found in a garbage bag, in the woods, in December 2008. On July 5, 2011, despite overwhelming evidence including the then 25 year old’s proven web of lies, the jury found Casey not guilty. Outside the courthouse, TV cameras revealed the outrage of numerous nail-biting angry people. They, like many spectators who had been in the courtroom or  had viewed the proceedings on TV asked, about the jury, “What were they thinking?”

Now, Casey Anthony — who has been in hiding since her release — has been dethroned by the infamous Jodi Arias.

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When Sparky Lost His Spark: A Dog Dies of a Broken Heart

by on ·General, The Way I See It

Old ShepherdMy Aunt Sarah died over 16 months ago. During a recent conversation I had with her husband, my Uncle James, he shared with me a story about their dog’s unusual behavior following my aunt’s death.

As a dog lover, I’ve always been impressed with stories I’ve heard about the instincts and loyalty of animals and how some of them travel great distances to reunite with their owners. And research has proven that dogs have an innate sense of protection for the people with whom they live. After my uncle told me about their family dog’s performance following my aunt’s death, I am even more convinced that just as dogs are “man’s best friend” we are theirs also.

When my aunt died not only was she mourned by numerous relatives and friends who traveled from far and wide to celebrate her homegoing, unbeknownst to us her absence was also felt by her family owned German Shepherd named Sparky.

My aunt and uncle had owned Sparky for many years and although I never knew the dog’s precise age, I do remember him being a frisky, energetic young canine that could easily intimidate anyone entering my aunt and uncle’s yard. Back then, when my aunt saw our family arriving at her home and then backing away when the dog appeared from around the side of the house, her confident words before shooing him away, “He won’t bother you.”  didn’t make me feel any less afraid of that dog. It’s like a dog owner telling me, “He won’t bite.” and me thinking, “He’s got teeth, doesn’t he?” As I said, I do like dogs, providing they don’t frighten me. I remember being wary of Sparky even after he grew old and slow; because as is a dog’s nature, he was no less territorial.

Long before Sparky became a member of their household my aunt and uncle lived in New York City. After retiring from their jobs in the Big Apple, they built a spacious brick house on family-owned land in Eastern North Carolina, outside a small town with a Mayberry feel to it. Several feet across the lawn from my aunt and uncle’s place, within shouting distance, is an old wood frame house built by my grandparents during the period dominated by World War II. They lived there until their deaths. Grandpa, the town’s popular Baptist preacher, who I never had the pleasure of knowing, died in 1946. Grandma left us in 1987. I cherish memories of the wonderful times that my immediate family and I spent visiting between the two houses over the years when grandma was alive.  After grandma died, my aunt and uncle’s home became the primary gathering place for many family members on holidays, getaway weekends, and other occasions.

In the rear of those two houses, partially encircled by a forest, is the small, family cemetery, the final resting place for a number of our family members. It is a quiet place where the living who visit the gravesite can connect spiritually with our departed loved ones. Apparently, Sparky connected there, too. 

I will tell you Sparky’s story as my uncle told it to me. 

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Desperately Seeking Closure

by on ·General, The Way I See It

QuestionI think he’s dead. I don’t know for sure. I hope I’m wrong. What I do know is that he is missing. Not knowing what has happened to my friend has me in a quandary, so perhaps you’ll understand if I switch between speaking of him in the present and past tense.

In the years since we’ve been platonic friends, Kenny G – my nickname for him – rarely missed sending me a card for my birthday, Christmas, and other special occasions; or phoning me every few weeks just to keep in touch. For him not to send a Christmas Card or call me last month to say “Happy New Year!” was very unusual.

Although we attended the same high school — he was a few years ahead of me — and grew up blocks apart, we never actually met until 21 years ago; and over time we learned that we knew some of the same people from school and the old neighborhood.

The last time I saw Kenny G was a few weeks after his birthday last October, when he stopped by my home and visited for about half-an-hour with my beau and me. Before leaving he hugged me, shook hands with him, and said “See ya’ later.” to us. That was four months ago. Since then I have left several messages on his phone — the calls went straight to voice mail — and sent notes to his last known address, but received no reply.

Recently, while scrolling through my cell phone messages I discovered that

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Resistance to Change: A Baby Boomer’s Perspective on Computers and the Internet

by on ·Baby Boomers, Technology, The Way I See It
“A lot of people resist transition and therefore never allow themselves to enjoy who they are. Embrace the change, no matter what it is; once you do, you can learn about the new world you’re in and take advantage of it.” ~Nikki Giovanni 

“Why can’t things go back to the way they use to be?” That rhetorical question was asked by my friend, Jay, a fellow boomer who frequently expresses dislike for most things technical including computers and cell phones. His disdain for such gadgets is not only the result of occasional encounters with computerized devices that refuse to yield to his touch; it is ongoing warfare with any gadget that requires more steps to operate than turning it on and off.  And although he occasionally uses the Internet, he feels that he could easily live without it, without email, without cell phones and texting. I could go on, but that might imply that he is a dinosaur, which would be an insult to every prehistoric creature ever recreated in a computer simulation.

Humans are creatures of habit. We get used to doing the same old things, the same old way. Change will never be embraced by everyone, nor will resistance to change prevent it. Like it or not — change happens; so the sensible thing to do would be to accept and enjoy it.

I recently went to the post office to mail a small package. Sometimes when I go there, I purchase a roll of stamps that usually lasts for several months, because I use them infrequently to snail mail a birthday card or send something to one of the few organizations that still doesn’t offer online services. On this particular day, when the clerk asked me if I needed stamps, I said that I didn’t need any and she replied with a wide grin, “You know y’all have to mail those bills, don’t you?” I returned her smile and responded innocently, “No, I pay my bills on line.” 

Freeze!  Apparently, I said the wrong thing on the wrong day, because

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A Never Ending Open Season on Black Males

by on ·Baby Boomers, General, Race Matters, The Way I See It

Did the Sanford, Florida police simply take George Zimmerman’s word for what happened to Trayvon Martin on February 26? No questions asked. No investigation. No lockup. Did they see a cut and dry case of  stand your ground — Black man down? End of story?  Thanks to a national outcry for justice, it is not going down like that.

Like people throughout the country, I am hurt and fire-spitting angry over the unfortunate shooting of Trayvon Martin. I have one son and six young grandsons. They are all Black. That gives me a strong vested interest in the circumstances surrounding Trayvon’s senseless killing and the call for justice.

What mother of a Black male child cannot relate to this most recent tragedy and does not fear for her own offspring? Even those of us who have had “the talk” with our young, male children know that just warning them is never enough. Making our boys aware of the dangers of simply being a Black male, combined with the ongoing racial stereotyping and negative judgments against Blacks in general is a struggle that requires endless vigilance.

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