A bit of clarification is warranted regarding the title of today's entry. The title doesn't pertain to the late Joan Crawford, but to the suspect in the Sandra Cantú murder case, which had a bigger twist and WTF moments than an episode of the television series "24."
Over the past three weeks people throughout California have been enthralled by the case of 8-year-old Sandra Cantú of Tracy, who disappeared March 27 after a surveillance camera recorded her skipping away from her residence in a mobile home park. Locals volunteered to search for the bubbly little girl. More than a week ago law enforcement authorities found the girl's body crammed into a suitcase and dumped into a retaining pond.
Early Saturday (April 11) morning, a suspect had been arrested and booked on suspicion of kidnap and murder. But the "monster" wasn't a man.
It was a woman. The mother of one of Sandra's playmates. A Sunday school teacher.
Tracy police say Melissa Chantel Huckaby, 28, is the only suspect in the case. Shortly after she reported her suitcase missing, police grilled Huckaby for five hours before she reportedly indicated that she deliberately killed the little girl.
The case was the talk of the J.C. Penney Salon where I had my hair relaxed Saturday. I was stunned to hear that the suspect is a woman.
I fully expected someone like Richard Allen Davis, who was convicted of kidnapping, raping, and murdering 12-year-old Polly Klaas of Petaluma in November 1993. I thought it would be someone like Curtis Dean Anderson, who did the same to Xiana Fairchild of Vallejo in December 1999.
But a woman who taught Bible study at her grandfather's nearby church? The mother of Sandra's 5-year-old playmate?
What is the world coming to?
Youngsters, including my 8-year-old and 5-year-old great-nephews, are taught about "Stranger Danger," to never go with strangers, to scream for help, to fight off attackers. But what do you teach about mothers, fathers, neighbors you know?
I remember when I was in sixth grade, my father drove me to my friend's house so I could work on a social science report with her. He stayed at the house chatting with my friend's mom until I was done. He believed that his children should not spend a lot of time at other people's homes.
It's a sad day when parents have to be suspicious of other parents.
Writing Diva
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Still Makes Me Wanna Holla
April 1, 1984, was one of those dates when you know what you were doing when something momentous happened – the way dates like November 22, 1963, or April 4, 1968, make an indelible mark in our collective psyche.
April 1, 1984, was when the “Prince of Soul,” Marvin Gaye, died. An argument between his parents in which Marvin intervened ended when the Rev. Marvin Gay Sr. shot and killed his son a day before his 45th birthday.
I was listening to the radio when I heard the news. I called my older sister T1 at work and told her the news.
“April Fool, right?” T1 joked.
“Not this time,” I said somberly. When I referred to my older sister by her middle name instead of a nickname, I was being serious.
Marvin was special to T1 not just because of his music and his good looks. They share the same birthday, April 2. (My siblings and I would call T1 the “After Fool” because she missed being an April Fool by a day.)
My family grew up listening to Motown, Aretha, the Isley Brothers, Luther, and others. Mom and my sisters just loooved Marvin. In the early 1960s, he was clean-shaven wearing a sports jacket and turtleneck, looking fine. When he sang his duets with spunky-cute Tammi Terrell, they looked as if they could be the perfect couple. I still prefer their version of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” to Diana Ross’s bombastic rendition.
When Tammi Terrell died at 24 of a malignant brain tumor in 1970, Marvin went into seclusion. When he emerged, he was bearded and introspective, more concerned about the world around him. His 1971 concept album “What’s Going On” reflected one of many changes Gaye would undergo in his personal and professional life. The single became Rolling Stone’s fourth greatest single of all time.
Gaye’s version of “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” was recorded before Gladys Knight and the Pips did theirs. But the latter version was released first and reached number two on the U.S. pop charts. Although Motown founder Berry Gordy was adamant that Gaye’s “Grapevine” not be released, the radio disc jockeys heard the cut and started playing it until Gordy relented. The version, with its French horn opening that heralded a darker, more defiant attitude than Gladys’s version, shot to number one, where it stayed for seven weeks.
When the sensual “Let’s Get It On” album came out in 1973, I was appalled. I thought he went from ecologist to just plain horndog. As I matured, I realized that it was just a side of Marvin that the public hadn’t seen. The album also features my favorite Marvin song “Distant Lover,” a theme for a long-ago, long-distance romance.
Despite the hits, Marvin hadn’t received a Grammy until 1983 – for “Sexual Healing.” I admit, when the song first came out, I thought he was a howling horndog just begging for some. “Bay-beee, I’m hot just like an oveeeen, I need your loveeeng, and bay-beeee, I can’t hold it much longer, it’s getting stronger and stronger…”
I remember when Marvin came onstage at the Grammy Awards to accept his gramophone for male R&B performance, the audience gave him a standing ovation, for which he looked humbled and grateful.
I often wonder what more he could have done had he lived to see his 45th birthday – and many more after that.
Rest in peace, Marvin.
Writing Diva
April 1, 1984, was when the “Prince of Soul,” Marvin Gaye, died. An argument between his parents in which Marvin intervened ended when the Rev. Marvin Gay Sr. shot and killed his son a day before his 45th birthday.
I was listening to the radio when I heard the news. I called my older sister T1 at work and told her the news.
“April Fool, right?” T1 joked.
“Not this time,” I said somberly. When I referred to my older sister by her middle name instead of a nickname, I was being serious.
Marvin was special to T1 not just because of his music and his good looks. They share the same birthday, April 2. (My siblings and I would call T1 the “After Fool” because she missed being an April Fool by a day.)
My family grew up listening to Motown, Aretha, the Isley Brothers, Luther, and others. Mom and my sisters just loooved Marvin. In the early 1960s, he was clean-shaven wearing a sports jacket and turtleneck, looking fine. When he sang his duets with spunky-cute Tammi Terrell, they looked as if they could be the perfect couple. I still prefer their version of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” to Diana Ross’s bombastic rendition.
When Tammi Terrell died at 24 of a malignant brain tumor in 1970, Marvin went into seclusion. When he emerged, he was bearded and introspective, more concerned about the world around him. His 1971 concept album “What’s Going On” reflected one of many changes Gaye would undergo in his personal and professional life. The single became Rolling Stone’s fourth greatest single of all time.
Gaye’s version of “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” was recorded before Gladys Knight and the Pips did theirs. But the latter version was released first and reached number two on the U.S. pop charts. Although Motown founder Berry Gordy was adamant that Gaye’s “Grapevine” not be released, the radio disc jockeys heard the cut and started playing it until Gordy relented. The version, with its French horn opening that heralded a darker, more defiant attitude than Gladys’s version, shot to number one, where it stayed for seven weeks.
When the sensual “Let’s Get It On” album came out in 1973, I was appalled. I thought he went from ecologist to just plain horndog. As I matured, I realized that it was just a side of Marvin that the public hadn’t seen. The album also features my favorite Marvin song “Distant Lover,” a theme for a long-ago, long-distance romance.
Despite the hits, Marvin hadn’t received a Grammy until 1983 – for “Sexual Healing.” I admit, when the song first came out, I thought he was a howling horndog just begging for some. “Bay-beee, I’m hot just like an oveeeen, I need your loveeeng, and bay-beeee, I can’t hold it much longer, it’s getting stronger and stronger…”
I remember when Marvin came onstage at the Grammy Awards to accept his gramophone for male R&B performance, the audience gave him a standing ovation, for which he looked humbled and grateful.
I often wonder what more he could have done had he lived to see his 45th birthday – and many more after that.
Rest in peace, Marvin.
Writing Diva
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Whither Newspapers?
Eight years after I left newspaper journalism to “join the dark side,” as my former journalist colleagues put it, and become an information officer for a California government agency, I still miss pounding the pavement and pressing phone buttons hunting for a story to fill a slowly shrinking news hole. These days, with newspaper layoffs, pay cuts, furloughs, and newspaper shutdowns or conversions to Web sites, I realize I can’t return to newspapers even if I wanted to.
Over the past several weeks, the Rocky Mountain News folded after nearly 150 years. Last year, according to National Public Radio, it cost its parent company E.W. Scripps Co. $16 million in losses. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer went completely digital and shut down its print edition after 146 years. The Ann Arbor News will stop its presses in July after 174 years and be replaced by a Web-focused community news operation, according to the Associated Press.
The San Francisco Chronicle was perilously close to shutting its doors after losing $1 million or more a week for the past several years. On March 7, members of the Chronicle's unit of the California Media Workers Guild agreed to job and benefit cuts required by management, the San Francisco Business Times reported. The job concessions included cuts regardless of seniority.
There have been layoffs at newspapers nationwide, including The Sacramento Bee, the San Diego Union-Tribune (which Copley Newspapers, its parent company, sold last week), the Los Angeles Times, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, The Buffalo News, just to name a few. Gannett Newspapers and MediaNews Group have ordered furloughs for their employees.
The recession is a big factor in newspapers losing money, especially with steep drops in advertising revenue and stores like Circuit City and Mervyns closing their doors. I believe another factor is that newspapers didn't consider their information to be valuable enough to charge Internet users. The Wall Street Journal, for example, requires that its Web site users subscribe to its newspaper. San Francisco-based media analyst Alan D. Mutter wrote in the Los Angeles Times that the WSJ claims more than 1 million paid subscribers to its Web site "(b)y aggregating an audience of business people willing and able to pay to view its content."
The Daily Republic of Fairfield, California, also requires that its Web site visitors subscribe. About 21,000 Solano County residents are willing to pay to find out what's happening in their neighborhood. Online ads help, but information should not be free.
My stance may offend Internet users who have been accustomed to getting their news gratis. I don't know if newspaper companies charge Google for their news. If they don't, they should. If newspapers want to survive, newspaper owners have to get out of the mindset that the horse has left the barn and start charging for content. The horse is still in the barn, but is considering making a run for it.
Writing Diva
Over the past several weeks, the Rocky Mountain News folded after nearly 150 years. Last year, according to National Public Radio, it cost its parent company E.W. Scripps Co. $16 million in losses. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer went completely digital and shut down its print edition after 146 years. The Ann Arbor News will stop its presses in July after 174 years and be replaced by a Web-focused community news operation, according to the Associated Press.
The San Francisco Chronicle was perilously close to shutting its doors after losing $1 million or more a week for the past several years. On March 7, members of the Chronicle's unit of the California Media Workers Guild agreed to job and benefit cuts required by management, the San Francisco Business Times reported. The job concessions included cuts regardless of seniority.
There have been layoffs at newspapers nationwide, including The Sacramento Bee, the San Diego Union-Tribune (which Copley Newspapers, its parent company, sold last week), the Los Angeles Times, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, The Buffalo News, just to name a few. Gannett Newspapers and MediaNews Group have ordered furloughs for their employees.
The recession is a big factor in newspapers losing money, especially with steep drops in advertising revenue and stores like Circuit City and Mervyns closing their doors. I believe another factor is that newspapers didn't consider their information to be valuable enough to charge Internet users. The Wall Street Journal, for example, requires that its Web site users subscribe to its newspaper. San Francisco-based media analyst Alan D. Mutter wrote in the Los Angeles Times that the WSJ claims more than 1 million paid subscribers to its Web site "(b)y aggregating an audience of business people willing and able to pay to view its content."
The Daily Republic of Fairfield, California, also requires that its Web site visitors subscribe. About 21,000 Solano County residents are willing to pay to find out what's happening in their neighborhood. Online ads help, but information should not be free.
My stance may offend Internet users who have been accustomed to getting their news gratis. I don't know if newspaper companies charge Google for their news. If they don't, they should. If newspapers want to survive, newspaper owners have to get out of the mindset that the horse has left the barn and start charging for content. The horse is still in the barn, but is considering making a run for it.
Writing Diva
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Throwing in the Towel
This is an open letter to my friends and family and readers of this blog about a middle-aged single woman living in Vacaville, California.
I'm throwing in the towel. I have decided not to marry.
As some of you may know, I have not had a "significant other" in a decade. I've had friends try to fix me up with single men. I've attended so many singles function I've lost count. I recently had an account with eHarmony, only to have six of my matches get the boot from the on-line dating service for unknown reasons (probably because they're on-line dating scammers) and countless other matches reject me for "other" reasons.
Before writing this entry, I read an obituary in the Los Angeles Times about Marie Barbare Edwards, a psychologist who helped pioneer a "singles pride" movement in the 1970s through her book The Challenge of Being Single. She died December 31 two days shy of her 90th birthday. Edwards declared that not everyone is destined to march through life as half of a "Noah's Ark twosome." Maybe I'm not, either.
So, to any of you who asks, "Why aren't you married?" kindly back off. If I meet someone, fine. If not, that's fine, too. My life is carrot cake. Frosting (or a mate) is optional.
Writing Diva
I'm throwing in the towel. I have decided not to marry.
As some of you may know, I have not had a "significant other" in a decade. I've had friends try to fix me up with single men. I've attended so many singles function I've lost count. I recently had an account with eHarmony, only to have six of my matches get the boot from the on-line dating service for unknown reasons (probably because they're on-line dating scammers) and countless other matches reject me for "other" reasons.
It doesn't mean that I won't attend events to meet other single people or that I would close to door to dating. But frankly I don't think I will meet Mr. Right and I don't want to be with a Mr. Right Now. I've made foolish mistakes in seeking a life partner, and I'm getting tired of doing that.
I'm tired of spending money on on-line dating services. Also, although I've been advised to have my friends introduce me to someone, most of my friends don't know the type of man I want.Before writing this entry, I read an obituary in the Los Angeles Times about Marie Barbare Edwards, a psychologist who helped pioneer a "singles pride" movement in the 1970s through her book The Challenge of Being Single. She died December 31 two days shy of her 90th birthday. Edwards declared that not everyone is destined to march through life as half of a "Noah's Ark twosome." Maybe I'm not, either.
So, to any of you who asks, "Why aren't you married?" kindly back off. If I meet someone, fine. If not, that's fine, too. My life is carrot cake. Frosting (or a mate) is optional.
Writing Diva
Friday, December 26, 2008
A Quiet, No-Drama Christmas
Yesterday, I celebrated a "low-key Christmas" with my older sisters T1 and D and my brother S. The only traces of Christmas were the large wreath hanging from the door at my sisters' home and the 12-inch fake tree next to the television set.
D knitted a hat and scarf for me, but she insisted it wasn't a Christmas gift. Too bad. I consider them Christmas gifts anyway. Both were knitted from marled purple yarn and very warm. I kept my cap on for most of the day, except for dinner.
This Christmas was one of the few where there was no "drama" -- arguments, recriminations, bad memories. Just relaxing on the sectional sofa watching ice skating on TV or listening to Toni Braxton or After 7. No gifts exchanged. Just hanging out.
In my middle age, I realize the best Christmases have little to do with presents and decorations. They usually involve just hanging out with family.
Since I didn't get to see my younger sister T2 and her husband J, I offer thanks for a prized memory from 20 years ago. I was working for a newspaper in Bellingham, Wash. I had spent Thanksgiving with a married couple of copy editors and expected to spend my first Christmas away from my family because I didn't have the money to pay for a round-trip airplane ticket home. T2, who sometimes masquerades as Glinda the Good Witch, gave this Dorothy the ruby slippers -- a round-trip ticket to Oakland, where she and J later picked me up and drove to the Sacramento homestead.
When we arrived on Christmas Eve, Mom was cooking dinner. Because it was so hot in there, she had the front door open but the screen door closed. T2 announced that she and J were here and brought a guest.
I said, "Hi, Mom."
Mom gave me the biggest hug I ever had. "Herb, come in here!" she yelled.
"What?! What?!" Dad yelled as he left his den.
He saw me and also gave me a huge hug.
To this day, that is the best Christmas memory I've ever had. And for that, I am most grateful to T2 and J for giving me and my parents that memory.
Christmas. It's all about love.
Writing Diva
D knitted a hat and scarf for me, but she insisted it wasn't a Christmas gift. Too bad. I consider them Christmas gifts anyway. Both were knitted from marled purple yarn and very warm. I kept my cap on for most of the day, except for dinner.
This Christmas was one of the few where there was no "drama" -- arguments, recriminations, bad memories. Just relaxing on the sectional sofa watching ice skating on TV or listening to Toni Braxton or After 7. No gifts exchanged. Just hanging out.
In my middle age, I realize the best Christmases have little to do with presents and decorations. They usually involve just hanging out with family.
Since I didn't get to see my younger sister T2 and her husband J, I offer thanks for a prized memory from 20 years ago. I was working for a newspaper in Bellingham, Wash. I had spent Thanksgiving with a married couple of copy editors and expected to spend my first Christmas away from my family because I didn't have the money to pay for a round-trip airplane ticket home. T2, who sometimes masquerades as Glinda the Good Witch, gave this Dorothy the ruby slippers -- a round-trip ticket to Oakland, where she and J later picked me up and drove to the Sacramento homestead.
When we arrived on Christmas Eve, Mom was cooking dinner. Because it was so hot in there, she had the front door open but the screen door closed. T2 announced that she and J were here and brought a guest.
I said, "Hi, Mom."
Mom gave me the biggest hug I ever had. "Herb, come in here!" she yelled.
"What?! What?!" Dad yelled as he left his den.
He saw me and also gave me a huge hug.
To this day, that is the best Christmas memory I've ever had. And for that, I am most grateful to T2 and J for giving me and my parents that memory.
Christmas. It's all about love.
Writing Diva
Friday, December 19, 2008
Recession? Depression? It's All Messin' With My Money!
The issue that induces the most stress for me is money -- that is, the lack of it. And the money mess in which California and this nation find themselves has become personal.
Last month, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger proposed a one-day-a-month furlough of state workers (Note: I work for a state agency.) and cutting two holidays as part of a list to cut spending. The state now faces a $40 billion (That's right -- billion with a "b.") deficit over the next 18 months. Democratic state lawmakers helped pass a budget bill that would at least make up $18 billion over the past two days, but Ah-nult threatened to veto it, saying the bill didn't have the economic reforms and stimulus package he requested. Damn.
In today's on-line edition of The Sacramento Bee, Ah-nult proposed not only a two-day-a-month furlough, but to cut 10 percent of the state government workforce. I wrote my older sister D if it's time for "Grasshopper" to worry. D, who is the most unflappable person I know, wrote back, "Yes, Grasshopper, it's time to panic." S#*%!
To add salt to my economic wound, the Fairfield-Suisun Transit Agency, which runs my commuter bus service, has proposed a substantial increase to the price of our monthly bus passes. The bus pass I purchase to travel between Vacaville and Sacramento costs $86. If the Fairfield City Council approves the increase, it will go up to $110. That's almost $300 a year! The transportation planner said the fare increase would make up for the state's proposed cut in transit funding that would take effect in January. Sonofab*&¢#!
So, this is my message (actually, rant) to state Republican lawmakers and their cronies who think that raising taxes would hurt the economy.
Look. We California taxpayers are going to pay for services whether it be through taxes or delayed deficit payments or the consequences of budget cuts. You can have well-educated public school students and families that have a financial safety net or you can have more crime, overcrowded prisons, and a less-productive workforce. Your no-new-taxes stance is short-sighted and dangerous to this state. And as far as your intense dislike of state workers, we are not the slackers you portray us to be. We work hard for the money we earn and provide valuable services to this state. Your proposed decimation of the state government workforce is something to be done at California's peril.
To the Legislature and Governor: Fix this! Now! Because y'all are f8¢@*^% with my money!
Writing Diva
Last month, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger proposed a one-day-a-month furlough of state workers (Note: I work for a state agency.) and cutting two holidays as part of a list to cut spending. The state now faces a $40 billion (That's right -- billion with a "b.") deficit over the next 18 months. Democratic state lawmakers helped pass a budget bill that would at least make up $18 billion over the past two days, but Ah-nult threatened to veto it, saying the bill didn't have the economic reforms and stimulus package he requested. Damn.
In today's on-line edition of The Sacramento Bee, Ah-nult proposed not only a two-day-a-month furlough, but to cut 10 percent of the state government workforce. I wrote my older sister D if it's time for "Grasshopper" to worry. D, who is the most unflappable person I know, wrote back, "Yes, Grasshopper, it's time to panic." S#*%!
To add salt to my economic wound, the Fairfield-Suisun Transit Agency, which runs my commuter bus service, has proposed a substantial increase to the price of our monthly bus passes. The bus pass I purchase to travel between Vacaville and Sacramento costs $86. If the Fairfield City Council approves the increase, it will go up to $110. That's almost $300 a year! The transportation planner said the fare increase would make up for the state's proposed cut in transit funding that would take effect in January. Sonofab*&¢#!
So, this is my message (actually, rant) to state Republican lawmakers and their cronies who think that raising taxes would hurt the economy.
Look. We California taxpayers are going to pay for services whether it be through taxes or delayed deficit payments or the consequences of budget cuts. You can have well-educated public school students and families that have a financial safety net or you can have more crime, overcrowded prisons, and a less-productive workforce. Your no-new-taxes stance is short-sighted and dangerous to this state. And as far as your intense dislike of state workers, we are not the slackers you portray us to be. We work hard for the money we earn and provide valuable services to this state. Your proposed decimation of the state government workforce is something to be done at California's peril.
To the Legislature and Governor: Fix this! Now! Because y'all are f8¢@*^% with my money!
Writing Diva
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
The Writing Diva Moving Service
Open letter to outgoing President George W. Bush
From: Writing Diva
Dear Mr. President (but not for much longer),
As of this writing, you and the Bush family are expected to leave the White House in 54 days and 17 hours. (Oh, I'm sorry. Am I counting?) As a veteran of several moves over the past two years, I am very experienced in packing and transporting household goods and belongings safely from one place to another. (In your case, Crawford, Texas.) So, I would like to offer the services of the Writing Diva Moving Service.
Without having to pay, my company (actually, my siblings, cousins, and interested friends) can have your belongings all packed up and ready to go. We'll even pay for the truck or trucks to move your stuff. We can even offer sedatives for your Scottish terriers Barney and Miss Beazley for the long drive back to the Lone Star State.
All my moving service would request is that you and every vestige of your existence in the White House be completely gone by noon Eastern Standard Time on January 20, 2009. After all, a new tenant and his family are moving in at, say, 12:01 p.m.
Do you need bubble wrap? Foam plastic peanuts? Boxes? I can lend you my hand truck, if you need it.
May I recommend Home Depot for spare boxes?
Just contact me at my Web site, and my service will be more than happy to help.
Just make sure when you leave that the door doesn't hit ya where the Good Lord split ya!
Writing Diva
From: Writing Diva
Dear Mr. President (but not for much longer),
As of this writing, you and the Bush family are expected to leave the White House in 54 days and 17 hours. (Oh, I'm sorry. Am I counting?) As a veteran of several moves over the past two years, I am very experienced in packing and transporting household goods and belongings safely from one place to another. (In your case, Crawford, Texas.) So, I would like to offer the services of the Writing Diva Moving Service.
Without having to pay, my company (actually, my siblings, cousins, and interested friends) can have your belongings all packed up and ready to go. We'll even pay for the truck or trucks to move your stuff. We can even offer sedatives for your Scottish terriers Barney and Miss Beazley for the long drive back to the Lone Star State.
All my moving service would request is that you and every vestige of your existence in the White House be completely gone by noon Eastern Standard Time on January 20, 2009. After all, a new tenant and his family are moving in at, say, 12:01 p.m.
Do you need bubble wrap? Foam plastic peanuts? Boxes? I can lend you my hand truck, if you need it.
May I recommend Home Depot for spare boxes?
Just contact me at my Web site, and my service will be more than happy to help.
Just make sure when you leave that the door doesn't hit ya where the Good Lord split ya!
Writing Diva
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