07-14-03 @ 10:12 am EDT

WELL...I would have been here much sooner, like, FOUR DAYS AGO, but as soon as I tried to dial up again Thursday morning around 9:30, I got a "no dial tone" message. Lovely providers Charter (cable) and Ameritech (phone) decided it would be nice to visit on the same day and shut us off for nonpayment. (It's not as if we just don't want to pay. It's that we don't have the money and the prices just keep going up while quality of service goes down.) Plus, Ameritech's idea of "We'll have you turned back on in 24 hours!" really means "We'll probably turn you back on some time in the next three or four days, if you're lucky," so, four days later, here I am. We are still without cable so I've been missing a lot of my shows...I don't want to talk about our financial situation any more as Charter is up in the air, even though we'll probably be keeping them at least until the NEXT big crisis...which should be in a few months, if the pattern holds.

What's more, after I finally found out I could log on again, I noticed the phone company guy out working on the box on the pole in our yard...fanTAStic. The last time that happened, the guy jammed a bunch of wires that had been lying out in our yard exposed to the elements for WEEKS back into the box, and our lines have been crossed with some OTHER lady's lines ever since...which was...two years ago. (Check my September 2001 entries for confirmation if you don't believe me. I believe the entry in question is entitled "Strange..." or some such.) When we called them to complain, they said they'd "look into it." That was, like I said, two years ago. (I already told you Ameritech's idea of time is vastly different from the average person's.) So...needless to say, seeing that guy out there made me nervous. Will it even let me post this entry? It's sad when you have grown so used to EVERY utility f**king up all the time that every time you turn on the TV or log onto the computer or even open the door (heaven forbid there should be a shutoff notice on the door...oh yes, I forgot to mention that NEITHER Charter nor Ameritech thought it would be necessary to inform us we had actually been shut off, so, without phone access, we had to sit here wondering if there was some outage or something...I'm really wondering, whatever happened to leaving the little yellow notice on the door?--at least that was informative, if not welcome), you cringe, expecting the worst....will my ISP work today? My e-mail? My phone, my cable, my computer? Will the power still be on? The gas? Will the car insurance be revoked today? Etc.

Oh, one more little thing...the reconnection fee for Charter, who bills us about $30 a month? $200. Yesterday, Ma seriously considered DirecTV. (Though Dad shot the idea down. Says they come loaded with all sorts of hidden jacked-up fees the same as Charter, though by now, I'm honestly thinking, can any service be WORSE? At least DirecTV doesn't hold a monopoly on satellite services in our area, the way Charter does with cable. No other cable providers are willing to move in.)

So, what HAVE I been doing the past four days? It felt like a lot longer. Primarily, worrying about my e-mail being deleted from here (somehow it escaped that fate...*sigh*), and feeling...INCREDIBLY lonely. You never know how alone you are until you have no way to reach the outside world. And no damn CABLE to keep you distracted from that thought! Sure, I bet nobody even noticed I was gone...I tend to disappear for periods even longer than four days, and nobody bats an eye because it's normal for me. But when I disappear through no fault of my own (or IS it my fault...my parents insisted it wasn't when I told them, but I don't believe them...how can they claim I haven't contributed to this problem we have...?...but I can't talk about that right now), it just feels a lot worse. The world felt so shut off and I felt so secluded here. I actually felt more paranoid--what if I needed to call 911, or what if there was an intruder? I couldn't even post an SOS online. Weird, how the online world, which admittedly is secondary to the telephone (well, it relies on the phone line and not vice-versa, doesn't it?), seemed to pop up first in my thoughts all the time. Like I would actually come and post "HELP! I'M BEING MURDERED!!!" in Skew before thinking to dial 911. But there WERE a lot of times when I had to snap myself out of thinking such bizarre things as, "I will have to call Ma at work to tell her to call home to see if our phone is working yet, and if it isn't, she has to call Ameri...DAMN IT! I CAN'T call her at work!!" There are just too many things we take for granted, until they're taken away.

:(

Well anyway...I tried to keep myself distracted in the meantime. Which means I typed. A LOT. Primarily typing up the dreams from my little dream journals from '92. I did barely any writing, I hate to admit. :( Though I have been working on Part 9 of the Chronicles, a tad on the Apsiu worldbuilder profile, and I did start a new story about the future daughter of Silver Eagle Feather. (More on that should I ever finish it.) I dug out and listened to a few of my old, old tapes, from back when I used to improvise a lot of comedy in the voices of my characters. I even found my VERY FIRST such tape from when I must have been around eight or nine...but the sound quality was so fuzzy I could not even understand most of it. (*cue dumb thoughts of someday being rich enough to hire forensics specialists to digitally remaster my tapes...right after I transfer all my music cassettes to CD*) So I listened to ones from the early Nineties. They weren't as funny as I had remembered. Have I gotten jaded or was I just not in the right frame of mind to enjoy them properly? Or was I just not that funny? :( Though I did find an amusing segment where I took a microphone and screamed some song about "my mother is a manitou." I listened to music, and even started a new radio mix tape the way I used to record the music I wanted...though as soon as I pushed record, of course the radio station REFUSED to play the three or four songs I've really wanted on tape for weeks now. And yesterday when I turned it off, those very songs came right on. *sigh* I read more of The Ojibwa Woman so that I actually finished a section. Crap! I have not read more than like a page or two a day in ages... I opened up a brand-new (well, untouched, at least, though I've had it since around 2000) jigsaw puzzle and started on it. I watched Princess Mononoke again and finally figured out that was Billy Bob Thornton...even though I knew it already, I just forgot. What an awful choice for a monk's voice. I thought of watching Spirited Away again but didn't get to, as the VCR is such a hassle without the cable; I have to disconnect it, in order to connect the rabbit ears which make the local channels at least presentable, if not clear. (And only NBC comes in slightly when the rabbit ears are disconnected, so, forget recording CSI to watch later on...) And I've sat in silence a lot more often, because we're trying to conserve a bit more power, though I know that THAT will not work for long. So, no more late-night A&E to keep me company when I'm not really watching TV. (Even if A&E were on right now, which it probably will not be for the next couple of days, at least...)

Ma and I DID go to Gordon Turner Park yesterday morning, on her suggestion, which was nice. :) I never realized before how much I love living on a Great Lake. Okay, so it's like a ten-minute drive to the city beach. But we live a lot closer than many people do. I really do think we're luckier than most that we can live so close to one. And I never noticed before how you can see Mackinac Island from the picnic table under the trees, with the bridge to the side of it...I saw the teeny-tiny hump that is Fort Holmes, the highest point on the island. It was hard to believe that tiny strip of land is the place I know so well, even better than I know my home city. I really wish I had the guts to go there by myself sometime, and I often wish my readers could come with me so I could show it off to them...I know that is just wishful thinking though. Aside from P., who I believe lives in Nova Scotia (sorry if I'm wrong, P.! >_< ), they all live way too far away, and schedules would never permit it...it seems every damn year when I settle on a day, a big thunderstorm moves in at the last moment. Happened like the last two years running, at least. Last year we spent the day I had intended to spend on the island at the flea market on the fairgrounds instead, with puddles of water so deep they formed mini-Great Lakes in the pavement, and the wind whipping so hard that the tents were practically flying away so everyone sought shelter in the animal barns with their rattling roofs. I liked to think that the GeeBees were mad at us for not paying them a visit as scheduled.

After eating Kentucky Fried Chicken I went walking along the boardwalk (the same one from the climax of D Is For Damien) again, then went back to stick my feet in Lake Huron. Lake Huron is my favorite lake in the world! I officially say that today. :) The water was WARM. Can you believe it? I took some pictures of the textures and ripples it formed...they were beautiful. I even made one into my current desktop. Desktop by Tehuti. ^_^ I picked up a clam and tossed it away. Then after dawdling way too long I made myself go back to shore. My sandals are still wet, even about 24 hours later...will they ever dry out? I've had them since about 2000, and the cloth is finally wearing off the soles... :( They are the same sandals I've used to walk across the Walnut Street Bridge in Chattanooga, and around the island a few times, as well as on all my walks around my own area.

Low point, Ma got me to try out some scrubs, which do not fit me...I guess I'm even fatter than I thought. Scrubs are okay for tops, but not for pants, which need to stretch. I hate how just trying on clothes that don't fit makes me sit and dwell on how fat and disgusting I am, and how much fatter and more disgusting I'm bound to become, and how fat and disgusting I've always been and always will be. :*(

And then there was Laundromat. Which is almost as mindnumbingly dull as watching the morning shows because there are no dramas to watch at eight AM unless you have cable. But the trip to the beach made that worthwhile. It didn't make the scrubs worthwhile, but the rest of it was fine.

Today around 7:45 I picked up the phone and...heard a buzz. I hadn't expected that, honestly. I thought for sure Ma would have to go to work and call them yet AGAIN to demand they turn it on. (She doesn't believe in demanding what we are owed. She thinks they should turn it on in their own time. Which could be YEARS, as you've seen! I don't understand how when somebody promises something in a certain period of time--like 24 hours--she just brushes it off even if it's four days later and insists that the operator was either mistaken or stupid. I don't think they even had to drive out here to turn it off and on--so why couldn't they have turned it back on on Friday morning like they promised??) But it worked. I logged on, moved my e-mail-in-danger-of-deletion, checked out a couple of sites I've missed (someone from a board I'm at has died...it feels like I've been gone way longer than four days :( ), and...logged off again! Because I had to wake up Ma. *sigh* But here I am now, posting in Skew.

I was actually reluctant to log back on and try to settle again into the way-too-much-Internet-a-day routine because...what if it's taken away again? I really can't decide what I'd want more, Net or cable. Maybe I should just grow used to not having one. I know I can't do that, but it might become a necessity, soon. I can't bear to think about it.

I know, I sound very spoiled; others I know are in danger of losing their very HOUSES, much less unnecessaries like cable and Internet. But I've already gone over how much I rely on the Net...it's my only means of communication with the outside world, literally. (So to those who always say, "It's just the Net, get over it"--get over YOURSELVES, please.) Remember how I thought of this place before I thought of even the phone line? And cable, well...when you need an escape, there are all the law and crime dramas and animes and such to fall back on. The Net is my way of connecting to the world. Cable is my way of disconnecting, when the world gets to be too much. How do I decide which one I want or need more?

Being absent for four days, I actually have E-MAIL in my webmail inbox aside from subscription/unsubscription notices from the Group nobody ever posts in anyway, and chat notices from a Group *I* never post in anyway! Actual MAIL! Which I'll probably take too long to reply to, as always... >_< But it feels good to be back here. Even if it was only four days. Four days feels like forever when you have practically nobody else to talk to.

Which reminds me. Remember my postcard project? No, I have not forgotten it. I guess it's just on hold indefinitely. I can never get Ma to find the time to get proper postage, and she won't let me mail them with regular postage as it wastes money. So, I have cards which must just sit here for the time being. :( Which makes it kind of awkward for me to post this. But, I got to thinking yet again of what it would be like if I were to disappear from the face of the Net and nobody were to ever know, much less to be able to find out what happened. (Like my parents would ever reply to any of you guys even IF they were able...they think I am stupid just for saying hello to people online, really.) I'm too reluctant to post my snail-mail address on the Web and I can't afford a PO box. So if there is anybody out there who really enjoys reading me or whatever, and feels safe doing so, feel free to send me your snail-mail address via any of my e-mail addresses. I won't use it to send you anything unless absolutely necessary or unless you want me to...whichever. I just want something tucked away in the back corner in case worse comes to worst. I hate the thought of being completely disconnected from the world, with no one to tell.

Even if you've already given me your address please do it again so I know you're one of those who doesn't mind being on file with me...I won't use them for anything, I promise, unless you want me to. And you don't have to send me it if you don't feel safe doing so. I fully understand if you don't want the weirdo who posts the long journal entries about cable and the Internet to have your personal address. I probably wouldn't want me to have it, either. It's just there as a lifeline.

Wow, check out this article I found while searching for the name of that footbridge...speaking of searching, I REALLY MISSED THE NET!

Times Editorial

Lynching on the Walnut Street Bridge

Ed Johnson, a young black Chattanooga laborer, had at least four hours to anticipate his brutal midnight lynching here 94 years ago on the Walnut Street Bridge. The armed lynch mob invaded the county jail at 8 o'clock that March evening and began battering the locked interior doors with sledgehammers. With a jeering crowd swelling outside, cursing him and calling for his death, Mr. Johnson had to know that nothing would save him before the mob got to his third-floor cell.

The mob was anxious to beat a Supreme Court order, announced that day, for a new trial for Mr. Johnson. Despite widespread rumors of the pending lynching, Sheriff Joseph Shipp had told all but one old jailer to stay home that evening. A Chattanooga Times reporter's call about the gathering mob summoned the sheriff back to the jail. But when the mob refused to disperse, Sheriff Shipp cowered in the jail's unlocked bathroom. Chattanooga's city police and National Guard were nowhere to be seen.

When the lynch mob finally hauled him out of the downtown jail at 11:20 p.m., the uniformed sheriff's deputies Mr. Johnson saw in the crowd were not rescuers, but rather part of the public spectacle.

Mr. Johnson was force-marched and dragged to the bridge, beaten, reviled and showered with spittle. Yet he calmly turned aside demands for a confession with brave professions of innocence. That only infuriated the crowd, which hung him from the second span and then shot his jerking body dozens of times. Among the 100 watchers were women and children.

This was no rural, secret lynching, like many of 4,708 that, according to Tuskegee University's archives, occurred in this country from 1882 to 1944. Mr. Johnson was the victim of a lynching which city and county authorities knew was imminent and allowed to occur anyway. It followed a specious conviction in which the nation's highest court had uniquely intervened.

But only now has Mr. Johnson's conviction been overturned and the gruesome details of the lynching widely revealed for current citizens. This dark chapter in the city's history, etched in a compelling book by Chattanooga attorney LeRoy Phillips and former Chattanooga Times reporter Mark Curriden, both white, is worth retelling for many reasons.

One is that it led to the action by Criminal Court Judge Doug Meyer on Friday to reverse Mr. Johnson's conviction based on the obvious unfairness of his trial. The judge said the case remained actionable because Mr. Johnson's appeal, and the retrial ordered by the Supreme Court, had never been acted upon.

The larger reason for the retelling of the event is to acknowledge the bitter legacy of racism that whites may conveniently forget, but which will forever shape African-Americans' cultural memory. Undercurrents of that communal history reverberate in contemporary America. Few blacks could deny the touchstone power, for example, of Clarence Thomas' depiction of the attack against his nomination to the Supreme Court as "a high-tech lynching." The white community must internalize the harrowing history of this nation's racist vigilantes -- and particularly those odious deeds in our own city.

Mr. Johnson's case is a painful example. He was convicted of the rape of a St. Elmo white woman who failed to identify him in trial. Witnesses to his whereabouts when the rape occurred were discounted. Speaking for the U.S. Supreme Court at the time, legendary Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes described Mr. Johnson's trial "as a shameful attempt at justice." He compared the judge and jury in the trial to the lynch mob, saying that in all likelihood, Mr. Johnson's case was one of "an innocent man improperly branded a guilty brute and condemned to die from the start."

Indeed, the Supreme Court was so outraged at the egregious conduct of the sheriff and the city in allowing the lynching that it conducted the only criminal trial in the high court's history. It found the sheriff guilty of contempt of court for failing to safeguard Mr. Johnson for a new trial and sentenced him, and four members of the mob, to jail for 60 to 90 days. Still, no one was ever charged with the murder of Mr. Johnson.

District Attorney General Bill Cox, representing the state in the case resurrected by Messrs. Phillips and Curriden, the Rev. Paul McDaniel and Judge Meyer, said he had "no doubt that the criminal justice system in place at the time failed Mr. Johnson, and failed us all."

That is the unvarnished truth, and truth-seekers like Messrs. Phillips and Curriden, in their book "Contempt of Court," serve it honorably. "We have a lot of racial problems left in this country," Mr. Phillips said following the court's action Friday. 'We have to look at those problems and look at our history not through rose-colored glasses, but in a truthful manner. The truth in this case is brutal, sickening. It is terrible how we treated black people, and we owe them an apology. But today we sent a message that we care, that we care about justice, that racism does not have a place in the judicial system."

Mr. Phillips' summation is compelling, but no more heart-rending than Mr. Johnson's brave, last statements to his killers. Hours earlier, he had been repeating the 23rd Psalm as the lynch mob battered the jail doors. On the bridge -- abused, bloodied, bruised, isolated and taunted for a confession -- he gathered the strength of that prayer.

"I am ready to die. But I never done it. I am going to tell the truth. I am not guilty. I have said all the time that I did not do it, and it is true. I was not there. I know I am going to die and I have no fear to die and I have no fear at all.' His words elicited curses, spit and more demands to confess. His final words were, "God bless you all. I am innocent." In the next moment, he was lynched.

Chattanoogans now commonly traverse the restored Walnut Street Bridge in search of renewal. This is restorative history. It occurred under the second girder.


Copyright © 2000, Chattanooga Publishing Co. All rights reserved.

This document cannot be reprinted without express written permission.

http://www.timesfreepress.com/2000/FEB/29FEB00/OPITI0129FEB.html

I believe I'm done for now. Just thought I'd let you know that not all long absences are because I'm sulking, in my own longwinded way. (I had to make up for four lost days, after all.)

Tar...