Cabbage Soup Diet - Day 1

It is Monday, the first day of my Cabbage Soup Diet. The internet site, where I found the information and recipe, warns that one should only be on this diet for a week, not longer. Other caveats are that some people feel a little light headed on this diet and many people grow weary of eating cabbage soup every day. I am approaching this with a positive outlook. It is only five days and I should be able to do this...hopefully.

Last night I did not sleep well. I woke up in the middle of the night dreaming of deprivation. This is not a good sign. Finally, very early this morning, I fell asleep and slept very soundly until my husband came in asking why I was not yet up.

Normally, I start the day off with a cup of plain hot tea and a slice of sprouted grains toast with butter on it. But alas, there will be no toast today or any day that I am on this diet. Day one consists of at least one bowl of cabbage soup plus all the fruit I want, except for bananas. So this morning's breakfast was a bowl of cabbage soup. My husband was grossed out that I could even eat this stuff early in the morning. Heck, I was hungry and would eat almost anything. Surprisingly, it was not bad for breakfast and 8 ounces of the soup filled me up. I am thinking to myself that this diet may not be bad afterall.

For a mid morning snack, I had a half an apple. Originally, I had planned to eat a whole apple, but I was not that hungry. Lunch ended up being more cabbage soup and the other half of my apple. Wow, now I am cruising along and not feeling hungry. This is going to be a piece of cake, figuratively, not literally.

By mid afternoon, suddenly I was craving some bread and for the first time today, I was feeling hungry. I made some stewed prunes which helped fill the hole that was starting to form in my stomach. Since tomorrow will not allow fruit, I planned the rest of my fruit for today which emded up being a small amount of cantaloupe that I had in the refrigerator along with some strawberries and leftover stewed prunes.

As much as I first liked the cabbage soup, it is already starting to get old. But I will have another bowl tonight for dinner while I watch my husband eat the chicken parmesan that I will be making for him. Along with my soup and fruit, I will be drinking unsweetened herbal tea. Big comedown from the beef roast, potatoes au gratin, and red wine from last night.

Hopefully, I will not wake up dreaming of deprivation again tonight. Only four more days to go if I can stick with this. I hope it works to jump start my weight loss.

Deciding to Try the Cabbage Soup Diet

Two years ago, I reached my heaviest weight ever in my life. Most of my life I had been thin, both naturally and because I was a runner. But due to injuries, I could no longer run. That, together with age had allowed my weight to creep upwards gradually. I was miserable and the Christmas holidays were right around the corner. The prospect of adding additional weight over the holidays was very frightening so I decided to take charge of it before it got totally out of control

On the advice of a friend who had tried it, I joined a free website called www.sparkpeople.com. Spark People is a terrific site for those who are focused on long term changes for both weight loss and a healthy lifestyle. It also allows you to join various sub groups of people of similar ages and interests. They provide some excellent tools for meal planning, exercises, motivation, as well as tracking food and exercise minutes. Based upon your age, sex and amount of weight needed to lose, Spark People puts you on a recommended range of daily calories which includes not only a maximum number, but also a minimum number of calories per day.

In December 2008, I became a member of Spark People and religiously logged on every day and tracked everything I ate. Shortly after joining, I also became an active member of a sub group for those over 50 years of age who needed to lose ten pounds or less. The major focus of this group was exercise with the most popular challenge being the monthly pedometer challenge. What this challenge did was allow each participant to set a monthly goal of steps and then track them using a pedometer. Thus each person competed against themselves. I found this challenge a great way to force me to stay with my walking program which was my primary form of exercise.

I started off at 130 pounds and was only able to fit into two pairs of pants that I owned. My goal was to reach 118 pounds and fit into my favorite clothes. One of the first things I did was to eliminate sugar from my diet. This meant no sweets during the Christmas season. Some of my friends thought that was a bad idea, but it actually made staying with the program easier. From the first of December through the end of March, I stayed totally on my program. Every day, I logged in all my food, ate zero sugar, and walked at least three to five miles a minimum of five days a week. I lost sixteen pounds and became very fit. Spark People was a great way to give myself accountability and I really recommend it for anyone who wants to be on a long term weight loss and fitness program. Spark People is what you make of it, but it can be very time consuming tracking every bit of food and exercise.

Gradually, I got tired of logging everything in and fell back into some bad habits. In the last two years, I slowly had put back on a significant portion of that weight I had lost. Before it gets out of hand, I decided to try a different tact to jump start my diet. I am using the Cabbage Soup Diet www.cabbage-soup-diet.com for the first five to six days. If it works the way it is purported to do, it will be enough to get me back into eating better and healthier. Monday is my first day on the Cabbage Soup diet.

After making my decision to try the Cabbage Soup diet, on Sunday I went to the grocery store to purchase the ingredients for the soup. These included cabbage, onions, green bell pepper, two cans of diced tomatoes, carrots, and mushrooms. These ingredients were to be chopped up and mixed in large pan along with 48 ouces of water and two bullion cubes. I put all this into a crock pot and it was almost overflowing. Normally, the Cabbage Soup diet is followed for a maximum of seven days, but on the evening of Day 6, we will be attending a party, so I am planning on staying with it for five days. The soup will form the basis for my meals with certain specific foods allowed to accompany it each day.

Since I will be on a very restricted diet the next several days, I decided to enjoy a good dinner Sunday evening of roast beef, potatoes au gratin, asparagus with butter, and red wine. Monday begins my diet. Woo Hoo (sarcasm intended)!

These blog entries over the next several days are intended to document if and how the diet has worked for me on a daily basis and my impression of it.

Before You Judge, Part 6

I really had a hard time writing this post. I started it several times and abandoned it. This last installment is about our jury delivering the verdicts and the aftermath of the trial.

When I knew we were going to deliberations, I immediately packed all my things. I had no idea how long it would take to deliberate since we had four defendants and multiple charges. What I did know is that I wanted out of there as fast as possible. I was going crazy being incarcerated, I mean being sequestered.

We had two bailiffs, one male and one female. Both of our baliffs were in their late forties or early fifties. The male baliff was a low key guy who understood our frustrations. Our female baliff was a little redhead who wore her hair in a French twist. She was all business and had absolute zero sense of humor. She and I did not get along. I once told her how frustrated I was that I could not run and said that I often felt like just going out on my own. Her immediate response was that she would have me arrested for contempt of court.

Anyway, I was packed and ready to go home immediately, even if deliberations took weeks.....

Sitting in the trial and taking in all the evidence and testimony was easy. Deliberations were not that difficult because our jury was very methodical and fair. Coming to a vote on the verdicts was not that difficult. But going back into the courtroom to deliver the verdict was very difficult for me. I dreaded that.

I knew we had to face our defendants and regardless of what they had done, we were the people who held their ultimate fate in our decisions. I also dreaded facing Fay Gay, the wife of Austin Gay, the murder victim. She was a small, grey haired lady who had been there every day of the trial. It probably had been an excruciating experience for her to had to relive her husband's murder. I knew that we would not be delivering the verdicts that she probably wished. Plus I had no idea how our defendants would react to the verdicts either. Honestly, I did not care how Joseph Sallas or Dave Domberg reacted. But I did care somewhat about Ed McCabe and definitely did care about Billy Jim Cherry.

When we came back into the courtroom, I was on the verge of tears, partly because of the weight of having our defendant's futures on my mind and partly because I was so relieved that this ordeal was over.

The way it happened in our case, was that the judge asked our foreman if we had reached our verdicts and our foreman answered in the affirmative. Then the judge asked our foreman to hand the verdict papers to the clerk and the clerk read them. I do not remember how all the defendants reacted and that was probably because I was afraid to look for their reactions. But I do remember Billy Jim Cherry almost in tears when he heard the verdict of not guilty. He buried his head in his hands like he was going to cry. After the verdicts were read, we were hustled out of the courtroom and back towards the jury room. No sooner had we gotten out of the courtroom, when Blair Payne, Billy Jim Cherry's court appointed attorney came out to thank us for our verdict in the case of Billy Jim Cherry. Blair Payne was visibly emotional over that verdict.

Shortly after, we were once again transported back to the Ramada Inn West in our two vans driven by the detectives with their mysterious gym bags. Once back there, we were told that we were free to leave.

I immediately went to the male baliff's room and asked to use his phone. At that time, my husband worked for an association of cities. I called his office and was told by the receptionist that he was in a meeting. I rarely ever called his office to begin with, but this time I told the receptionist that it was an emergency and to get him out of the meeting. When he came on the phone, I told him that I did not care what he was doing, but to drop it immediately and come pick me up. I was the first person to leave the hotel. Some of the others stayed around and even went to the bar to celebrate. I just wanted out of there. I did not say goodbye to anyone, not even JB. I was a free woman and I was going to be a part of the real world.

When my husband came to pick me up, I had already brought all my belongings down to the lobby, so we would not have to go back upstairs again. We put my stuff in the car and he said that we were going home. I said no. I told him that I wanted to go to the mall because I wanted to be around a lot of people, all of whom were free. He did not quite understand that, but each day as the van had taken us to the courtroom and back, I would look out the window and envy all the people who were able to come and go as they pleased. I would have made a horrible prisoner because I hated being locked up so much.

After we went to the mall and then home, my husband told me that he had done a ride along with a friend of his who was a sheriff's deputy. The deputy told him that they were regularly patrolling the neighborhoods where the jurors lived because they had word that relatives of one of our defendants were in town and were staking out the jurors' homes. Until that point, it had never occurred to me that they would know that much about each of us, but apparently they did. This unsettled my husband so much that he had started sleeping with a loaded gun next to the bed.

We delivered our verdicts right before Labor Day and the defendants were sentenced in late October. When the sentencing date came near, one of my fellow jurors called me to ask if I wanted to join some of them in the courtroom for the sentencing. I politely declined and thought why would I want our defendants to see my face again. The defendants' sentences ranged from 30 years for Joseph Sallas up to 90 years for Dave Domberg. I have no idea if all of them are still alive or not. I really did not want to know.

Being a sequestered juror had a great affect on me, both positive and negative. The positive part was that in the case of our jury, the system worked very well. We were able to reach our verdicts with a minimum of disagreement and only after thoroughly examining the evidence. It gave me a great amount of faith in our jury trial system. The negative affect was that I did not adapt very well to having my freedom removed. While most of the others handled it better, I resented it very much. Perhaps that is why it took me so many years to even write about it.


Postscript

After publishing this, I realized that I left some things hanging. Over the years, beginning right after I served on this jury, I have had several comments made to me about both this case and serving on a capital jury. These comments tend to fall into two categories, either that the jurors did not go far enough in our verdicts or those who criticized me for sitting in judgement another human being.

My answer to both types of criticism is actually the same answer. I never saw myself as judging the defendants as individuals. If I did, I would have probably fallen into the same trap that two of our jurors did in the case of the murder charge against Joseph Sallas in which they wanted to convict him despite the lack of evidence.

My view of jury service is that it is a civic duty, not to be taken lightly, in which the jurors listen and review the evidence presented. The burden of proof is on the prosecution, not the defense. If the prosecution presented evidence that proves beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendants are guilty of the charges, only then would I vote a guilty verdict. The issue for me was not how I felt towards the defendants but instead, were the charges proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Reasonable doubt is not beyond all doubt, but it cannot be based upon conjecture either. Therefore, even though I thought Sallas was the hit man and was responsible for the murder of Austin Gay, I had to vote not guilty because the prosecution had not proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Sallas was even in Florida on that date or that he did indeed kill Austin Gay.

I have since served on another criminal jury involving a convicted felon being charged with possession of a firearm. In my opinion, I would much rather sit as a juror in a criminal case where the parameters are well defined instead of a civil case involving the award of damages which can be much more open ended.

Thank you to everyone who read all six parts of this and commented to me about it. I appreciate the time you took to read it.

Before You Judge, Part 5

In Part 4 of this blog, I wrote about how Dave Domberg and his gang got into the drug dealing business with the objective of gaining complete control of illegal drug sales in the southside of Chicago. The prosecution characterized Domberg as a Mafia wannabe. A number of members of the Domberg gang were former Chicago police officers.

Part 4 also detailed the circumstances leading up to Domberg contracting with Joseph Sallas for $5,000 to put a hit on Florida Agricultural Inspector Leonard Pease who had caught two of Domberg's mules, Harry and Bill Brooks, while they were transporting a large load of marijuana. The contract on Pease was made, but another Agricultural Inspector, Austin Gay, was killed by mistake. The case was unsolved for four years until 1983 when some of the principals began talking to prison officials while incarcerated.

In Part 3, I described my first impression of the attorneys and the defendants. Today I will expand on some of those impressions, plus my impressions of some of the key witnesses. Also I will discuss jury deliberations in this blog too.

When the court was unable to seat a jury twice in its original venue for the Austin Gay murder trial, the trial was moved from Lake City to Tallahassee instead. Upon reading some old newspaper articles, I learned that the reason Tallahassee was chosen was two fold. The court felt a larger city such as Tallahassee would make it easier to seat a jury, so they contacted several larger cities in the Live Oak/Lake City area. One of the criteria for chosing the new venue was the ability of the clerk of the circuit court in the new venue to guarantee a clear courtroom for at least two months. Tallahassee had the earliest open date for a clear courtroom, so Tallahassee was chosen as the new venue.

At the time the decision was made to move the trial to Tallahassee, there were still six defendants. In addition to Dave Domberg (36), Ed McCabe (38), Billy Jim Cherry (48), and Joseph Sallas (50), there were two other defendants, both former Chicago police officers, Sam McBride (42) and James McEnroe (38).

The state's key witness was to be Domberg's closest lieutenant, Tom Brooks, the middle of the three Brooks brothers. However, ten days before the start of the trial, Tom Brooks suffered a heart attack and died. He was only 36. The state was suddenly without their key witness in a now five year old murder with little forensic evidence. The entire trial was based upon the testimonies of former co-conspirators, and Tom Brooks knew more than any of the others. Other than Tom Brooks and Ed McCabe, the highest and most knowledgeable of the former co-conspirators was Sam McBride who also had been a close friend of Tom Brooks. So the state offered reduced sentences to both Sam McBride and James McEnroe in return for their turning state's evidence. In retrospect, without Sam McBride's testimony, it would have been impossible for the state to present a case for conspiracy to commit murder and to label Joseph Sallas as the hit man hired by Dave Domberg. McBride confirmed that only one hit man was hired and the only name that was ever discussed was that of Joseph Sallas.

Among our witnesses, there were no good guys other than the usual technical and forensic witnesses. All the major witnesses had participated in the crimes to some extent, although none were ever accused of participating in the conspiracy to commit murder, other than Sam McBride. The state's two strongest witnesses, in my opinion, were Sam McBride for the murder conspiracy charges and Gary Lee Almond for the drug running charges. Both were not particularly likable but their testimonies held up well under cross examination. I do not remember much of James McEnroe's testimony which was mostly corrabative. Like McCabe, he did not look like he belonged in a drug ring. He was, at the time of his testimony, free on bail and working as a trader at the Chicago Board of Trade.

The Brooks brothers were erratic in their testimonies. As I wrote before, I think Harry Brooks was the dimmest bulb in the family. He seemed a rather pathetic person who lacked any self confidence. His younger brother Bill seemed much smarter, but there were times that I thought his testimony was skirting around the truth. I suspect the middle brother, the deceased Tom Brooks, may have been the most intelligent of the three and that is not saying much. Their father, Harry Brooks Senior, was truly a broken man. He had worked hard all his life and never been in any trouble until he got into the drug business. The result ruined his marriage, his home and his family. I actually felt sorry for him.

In addition to the testimony of the former co-conspirators, Joseph Sallas and Billy Jim Cherry also produced alibi witnesses. Sallas' wife was his first alibi witness. Her testimony was not at all credible to me. I thought she was totally lying. Then attorney Tom Stone called a couple that Sallas met at the air show as his other alibi witnesses. They had never met Sallas prior to that day, but they were good for an alibi for the day before the murder, but not the day of the murder. Billy Jim Cherry's three alibi witnesses were his mother, his former wife, and his parole officer. I discounted his mother's testimony. She was an elderly country woman who would have done anything to save her son. The former wife's testimony was very good, but still being family, I did not give it a great deal of weight. The parole officer's testimony held some weight with me because he produced his log books where he had met with Billy Jim Cherry that afternoon.

After the alibi witnesses took the stand, three of the four defendants also took the stand. Joseph Sallas did not take the stand.

Dave Domberg was unimpressive on the stand just as he was the entire time in court. Victor Africano is a very good defense attorney, but even he could not make Dave Domberg likable. Ed McCabe was much more likable on the stand. Like James McEnroe, McCabe cleaned up very well and made a good impression on the stand. His testimony focused on his unblemished career with the police force and how proud his father was when he made detective. His attorney, Bob Adams, was trying to make the jury see Ed McCabe as just another guy like the rest of us. McCabe looked it, but testimony from other witnesses painted a different picture.

Then Billy Jim Cherry got on the stand. This man was so intimidating when I first saw him in the courtroom. And he was that on the stand too. He was missing a ring finger on one hand, and with his bushy black hair and equally bushy eyebrows, he was someone I would never forget if I saw him on the street. To this day, I can picture him in my mind's eye. He spoke in a very loud voice with a forceful manner, almost like someone in the military. His attorney, Blair Payne, asked him if he was in any way involved in the Austin Gay murder and his response was a strong "No Sir." My thought was that if someone met this man and hired him to do a killing, they would have remembered him and yet not one witness picked him out of a photo book or a police lineup.

Then suddenly, we were into closing arguments. State Attorney Jerry Blair was flawless in his presentation. Blair was an excellent speaker, being just emotional enough to hold your attention without going overboard. Then the defense attorneys made their closing arguments. Bob Adams emphasized that the evidence against his client Ed McCabe was very thin and there was no evidence of him being involved in the conspiracy to commit murder. Admas also reminded us of McCabe's excellent police career. Victor Africano had a more difficult role in that he was defending the supposed king pin, Dave Domberg. And Domberg was not the least sympathetic defendant like McCabe was. Africano said that Domberg admitted to racketeering but that he was not involved in any plot to kill Leonard Pease. He also reminded us that the only testimony we heard was from convicted criminals and that we should be wary of such testimony. Then Blair Payne made an extremely passionate plea for his client, Billy Jim Cherry. Pointing to the mountain of evidence including phone records and credit cards, he said that the state did not have one single shred of evidence to connect his client to this crime. Tom Stone attacked the basis of the state's case relying on known criminals to build a case against his client. And then it was over.

Immediately, I am thinking to myself, is this it? Where was the evidence against Billy Jim Cherry? Why was he even charged? I had already made up my mind that I would be voting not guilty on the charges against him based upon the complete lack of evidence.

All along during the trial we were allowed to take notes. Each day when we finished, the note pads were collected and kept by the court. The following day when we came to court, our note pads would be in our respective chairs. About a third of the jurors took notes voraciously. Others took no notes. At first, I tried to take notes but found that it interferred with my ability to pay attention to the testimony, so I rarely took notes except near the end when the judge gave instructions and the charges were summarized.

After the testimony was over, we recessed for the weekend and were to return to begin deliberations on Monday. On Sunday afternoon, we were allowed to individually review our own notes for three hours. Since I did not take a lot of notes, I reviewed the charges and went through my own mind as to whether or not the state had proved beyond a reasonable doubt that each defendant was guilty of the charges against him. I only had a question in my mind on one charge and that was the conspiracy to commit murder charge against Ed McCabe. I hoped that jury deliberations would help me come to a decision that I was comfortable with in that regard.

On Monday morning, we reported to the courtroom to begin deliberations. The jury instructions do not tell you HOW to deliberate. They do tell you that you must select a foreman and that when you come to a decision on each charge, the foreman will fill out and sign the form for that charge.

There was no quibble about who we wanted as a foreman. He was the man who had originally been the first alternate and was seated when one juror became ill. He was in his early 50's, a middle manager with the state, and a very low key person. He was one of the readers who did not socialize much with the other jurors.

We also decided to take the defendants in alphabetical order: Billy Jim Cherry, Dave Domberg, Ed McCabe, and Joseph Sallas. We decided that any votes on guilt would be done by written ballot and then if we were not of one accord, we would further discuss our reasons. Our deliberations took three days, but not necessarily because we had a problem with our votes. We spent a lot of those three days meticulously going over the evidence, in particular credit card charges and phone bills in order estalish time lines. We also talked a lot about how the various witnesses corrobated each other's testimony or how credible they were.

I believe that a lot of attorneys over rate the value of notetaking. Part of a long and complex trial such as the Austin Gay murder trial involves judging the credibility of witnesses, especially those who were once charged. Making note of body language, facial expressions, and the behavior of witnesses on the stand is part of judging credibility. If you are constantly taking notes, you miss the visual signs. The heavy notetakers in our jury actually seemed to know less than those who took few or no notes.

Since Billy Jim Cherry was first, I thought this would be a test of any bias that we might have among us because I felt the state failed miserably to prove the murder charge against him. There were no other charges against Cherry. Our foreman asked if there was any evidence or testimony that we wished to review in regard to Billy Jim Cherry. All of us said, no, let's just vote on him right now. When the votes were counted, there were 12 Not Guilty votes. Billy Jim Cherry did not know it then, but he became a free man after less than 1/2 hour of our deliberations.

The next deliberations involved Dave Domberg. As we discussed the evidence and testimony against Domberg, I realized that the votes would probably be the same for Domberg and McCabe, even on the conspiracy charge because McCabe continued to work as the number three man for Dave Domberg long after Austin Gay was murdered. This is where we took most of our time and we all began to realize that we could not discuss Dave Domberg without also discussing Ed McCabe. In the end we concluded that there was no proof of their guilt in the murder of Austin Gay, but that conspiracy to commit the murder of Leonard Pease had been proved and that RICO was also proved in the case of both Dave Domberg and Ed MaCabe. Additionally Domberg was charged with kidnapping and found guilty of that charge also.

When we got to Joseph Sallas, we the jury had a huge problem. Even though Domberg was not a particularly likable defendant, Sallas was intensely disliked by all the jurors. He was a sullen defendant and many of us resented that he had his wife lie under oath as a alibi witness. There were two charges against Joseph Sallas, conspiracy to commit murder and murder. Sam McBride's testimony that Joseph Sallas was the only person hired was proof of conspiracy to commit murder of Leonard Pease. There was a big problem with the murder charge in that there was no forensic evidence to connect Sallas to the murder of Austin Gay and the state had even failed to prove that Sallas was in the state of Florida on the date that Austin Gay was kidnapped and murdered. We discussed the evidence and took our vote on the conspiracy charge. It was 12 votes of Guilty of conspiracy to commit murder.

Then we took a vote on the murder charge and it was 10 votes Not Guilty and 2 votes Guilty. The two people who voted guilty were our two youngest jurors, both male, one white and one black. We asked them why they voted that way and they each said that they just knew Sallas was guilty of killing Austin Gay. Actually, I think the majority of us felt that way too. But we asked each of them where was the proof and after some discussion over the lack of proof, they were ready to take another vote on the murder verdict. The second vote was 12 votes Not Guilty.

After two months of testimony and nearly three days of deliberations, we were ready to deliver our verdicts.

In the Final part to this diary, I will cover delivering the verdict in the courtroom, the sentences, and the aftermath of this experience for me.

Before You Judge, Part 4

Much of the story of the Austin Gay murder trial is how I remember it, although I was able to find some old newspaper articles to help verify some of my recollection of the facts. But mostly, what I have written here is simply from memory. In this entry, I will give some background of how this murder came about and how it came to trial. It is a story of a lot of ineptitude and tragedy in that the wrong man was murdered and many of the newspapers called it the Wrong Man Murder.

The murder of Austin Gay occurred in 1979, but it was not until four years later that authorities got a break in the case and were able file charges. The first break came when some of the persons involved who were already imprisioned in separate Florida facilities for running drugs began telling remarkably similar stories to prison authorities. After comparing stories and offering reduced sentences in return for testimony, authorities were able to piece together enough evidence to charge over one dozen people. By the time arrests were made in the case, six former police officers were among the dozen or more people involved. Some of them were already serving time for other crimes and others plea bargained for reduced sentences in return for becoming a state witness, including the three Brooks brothers with Tom Brooks being the state's star witness since he was high up in the inside operation of the Domberg gang.

That left six defendants who were to be tried. However, by the time this case went to trial, only four defendants remained. Those defendants were Dave Domberg, Ed McCabe, along with the two alleged hit men, Billy Jim Cherry and Joseph Sallas. More about what happened to the other two defendants in Part 5.

The principal defendent in the case was Robert David Domberg, a moderately successful businessman who owned six NAPA auto parts stores in the Chicago area. Dave Domberg had inherited the stores from his late father. Domberg decided to make more money by getting in the illegal drug business, mainly marijuana at first. Domberg's objective was to control drug dealing in the southside of Chicago. He enlisted Tom Brooks, the middle of three brothers, to help run the drug operation. Tom Brooks had formerly been an officer with the Chicago Police Department, as was another top associate and one of our defendants, Ed McCabe, who had been a detective with the Chicago Police Department.

When Dave Domberg began buying marijuana from his supplier in Florida, Gary Lee Almond, Almond told Domberg's contact man that the marijuana could not be transported out of Florida by truck or van because of the problems of getting by the Florida Agricultural Inspection stations which require all trucks and vans to stop for inspection. Instead, Almond recommended that Domberg's mules (drivers) use a modified Ford Torino for transporting the pot. According to Almond's testimony, the Ford Torino was the favorite "mule car" because it had a huge trunk and that with modifications, the cargo area could be easily enlarged without any sign from the exterior. Almond arranged for Domberg's contact to purchase a Torino that was specifically modified for transporting large quantities of pot. Later Gary Lee Almond would be working for the state in a cocaine buying sting that eventually captured Dave Domberg.

Tom Brooks then arranged for his older brother, Harry, and his younger brother, Bill, to be the mules. Harry Books was a former Chicago police officer and Bill Brooks a former paramedic. Ironically Harry Brooks claimed he left the police department because of the corruption there. Later the three Brooks brothers even got their father involved in the operation. At the time of the trial, Harry Brooks, Bill Brooks, and their father Harry Brooks Senior were all serving time in Florida prisons. Harry Brooks Senior testified how he had never had anything more than a traffic ticket until becoming involved in the drug business with his sons.

For a while everything went fairly well. Harry and Bill Brooks would take the Torino down to south Florida, pick up and pay for a load of pot, and drive it back to Chicago where it was bagged and sold. But Harry Brooks hated driving the Torino. So on one trip, Harry (not the brightest bulb in Brooks clan) insisted on taking his pickup truck with a camper top instead. As per usual, the Brooks brothers picked up the pot and proceeded to drive back toward Chicago. The normal route near the Florida/Georgia border was on US Highway 441 near Live Oak in Columbia County which was more remote and lightly travelled than most other highways in the area.

The two Brooks brothers drove past the Agricultural Inspection station without stopping. The inspector who was working there that night was Leonard Pease, a short balding man in his fifties. Pease immediately got into his patrol car and chased the Brooks brothers down forcing them to stop. It is then that the Brooks brothers kidnapped Pease at gunpoint and drove him to Georgia where Harry wanted to kill him. But Bill Brooks wanted no part of murder and insisted that they tie Pease up and leave him in the woods. Somehow Pease was able to convince the Brooks brothers that he would be attacked and killed by bears if left in the woods tied to a tree. So the Brooks brothers drove to a small nearby rural church and left Pease tied up in one of the pews. In return, Pease gave them directions to use the back roads out of the area. Pease was later found unharmed and freed.

When Harry and Bill Brooks got to Chicago and told Dave Domberg what had happened, Domberg was furious that they had not killed Pease because Pease could identify them. It was then that Domberg along with his two closest associates, Tom Brooks and Ed McCabe, came up with the idea to hire a hit man to kill Pease. They found the hit man through a plain clothes officer that Domberg claimed was on his payroll. That hit man was a city of Chicago building inspector, Joseph Sallas, who had very close ties to powerful Chicago alderman, Ed Vrdolyak.

In 1984, the going rate in Chicago for a contract killing was $5,000 for an ordinary person up to $10,000 for a police officer or high level government official. The contract for killing Leonard Pease was set at $5,000. Later Bill Brooks testified that Ed McCabe told him that he wanted nothing to do with murder.

About one month after Pease was kidnapped, Sallas and his wife went to Florida for an air show. Sallas was a former paratrooper and often attended air shows and jumped in them. It was during this same time that Austin Gay was kidnapped, taken to a remote location, and murdered gangland style with a single bullet to the head behind the ear. Six days later, his body was found.

Austin Gay was not the man that the Domberg gang wanted murdered. He bore no resemblance to Leonard Pease who was the man contracted to be murdered. Leonard Pease was a short, milk toasty, bald man in his fifties. Austin Gay was a tall, thin man with thick white hair in his early 60's. There was no confusing the two men, if an adequate description was given. The Brooks brothers had plenty of time to identify Leonard Pease both by name and by description. The tragic killing of Austin Gay was just another indication of how inept the Domberg gang was.

While the trial centered around the murder of Austin Gay, there were multiple charges filed against the defendants including murder, conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping and multiple drug charges that resulted in a charge of RICO. Initially, the state asked for the death penalty in the murder charges against Joseph Sallas and Billy Jim Cherry. Later the state dropped its request for the death penalty.

Before You Judge, Part 3

Before you read this post, please read Parts 1 and 2 first.

First impressions can be very powerful. First impressions can be very right. Or first impressions can be very wrong.

My first impression of the cast of characters in the Austin Gay murder trial was both right and wrong. When I walked into the courtroom for my juror interview, it was difficult to see all the attorneys and their clients.

Once I was called up to the jury box and before being interviewed by the attorneys, I was immediately able to form a quick first impression.

As I looked out from my seat in the jury box, there was one large table closest to the jurors at which three members of the prosecution sat. State Attorney Jerry Blair was the lead prosecutor, and his two assistants with Len Register and Bob Dekle. All three handled portions of the trial, but Jerry Blair was a charismatic speaker who really held our attention.

The defense consisted of four tables, one for each of the defendants and their attorneys. When I looked out at the four tables, I tried to guess who were the defendants and who were the attorneys. In the far back right corner was a table with a lawyer looking man and an older grey haired Hispanic looking man, whom I guessed was the defendant. I was right. The attorney was Tom Stone and his client was Joseph Sallas who was accused of being the hired hit man. Prior to his arrest, Sallas had worked as a building inspector for the city of Chicago.

In the back left corner, I recognized attorney Victor Africano who had defended Ted Bundy in the Kimberly Leach murder. There were two other men at that table, and I guessed that the balding blond man in the middle was probably the defendant. I was correct. The defendant was Robert David Domberg who was accused of being the head of the drug ring and the mastermind of the crimes. Domberg had been a relatively successful businessman outside his drug dealings. He owned three (I think?) NAPA auto parts stores in the Chicago area.

At the center table was a man who immediately intimidated me with his looks. He looked like he might be part native American with bushy dark hair and equally bushy eyebrows. His face was hard looking like he might have done time at one time and I guessed him to be the defendant. The other man at the table was a very young, thin man with glasses. Again, I was right. The defendant was Billy Jim Cherry who was accused of being a hired hit man also. His attorney was Blair Payne. Later we found out that Billy Jim Cherry had previously served time for 2nd degree murder and was a truck driver living in Georgia at the time of his arrest.

Finally, at the closest of the defendants tables, there was a clean cut, handsome man in his thirties who smiled slightly at the jurors and an older thin man with long hair. I guessed that the older man was the defendant and the young man was his attorney. I was wrong. The young man was Ed McCabe who was accused along with Domberg of plotting the murder and running the drug operation. The older man was his attorney, Bob Adams. Prior to turning to drug dealing, Ed McCabe had been a detective with the Chicago police force.

Finally on the bench was Judge Arthur Lawrence, a very kindly looking middle aged man. Because of the complexity of the trial with four defendants and multiple charges, Judge Lawrence allowed each of us to have a legal pad and pen to take notes.

These were the people to whom I would be watching and listening for nearly every week day for the next two months.

I should note that although I did not know it at the time, Adams, Stone, and Payne were all court appointed attorneys. Only Victor Africano was hired by his client, Robert David Domberg. Also I found out later that my father knew Tom Stone. Stone was a small town attorney who did title work for the title insurance company that my father worked for.

The next diary will try to briefly summarize the trial.

Before You Judge, Part 2

Before you read this post, please read Before You Judge, Part 1.

For this part of the diary, I want to explain what it is like to be a juror who was sequestered 24/7 and the hardships and dynamics involved with being sequestered. Being sequestered is like being in prison, only you are treated to good food and with respect. But you have no freedom and very little life of your own. Everything is regimented.

The day that I reported, I brought enough clothing and toiletries to last at least two months. At that time, I was an active runner and ran several miles each day, so I also brought my running shoes and shorts. When we jurors were interviewed, I was the only one who was athletically active. But not knowing how this all worked, I assumed that I would be allowed to continue to run and that a deputy would be assigned to run with me. Ha ha ha!!! Oh the dreams of the naive! No way, no special accommodations for anyone, including runners.

Since I was not sure what we would be doing at night or during our off time, I also brought my sewing machine and a box full of material, patterns, notions, along with an iron, so I could at least sew. In retrospect, that was a very good choice.

When we reported, we were taken to the local Ramada Inn West and housed in one of the second floor wings. Our rooms appeared to have been assigned in random order, not by juror number or alphabetically. I was fortunate in that my room was about midway down the hall and on the front side of the building, so I had a view of the world outside passing by on the highway. No guests were allowed in that area and our wing was above the restaurant and motel offices.

We lost one elderly juror the very first day when she became ill and had to be rushed to the hospital. She ended up recovering completely but had to be replaced with our first alternate who was a middle aged man. Ironically, she was the first juror seated. So there were fifteen of us jurors remaining, nearly evenly divided between male and female, along with two bailiffs, one male and one female. These people, along with the two detective driver/body guards, were my only regular human contacts during the entire time I was on the jury.

Our jury was remarkable in that not only were we evenly divided as to the sexes, but racially, we reflected the majority of our local population with 2/3 of us white and 1/3 of us black. We ranged in age from the youngest at 28 and the oldest at 72. Surprisingly later, age (not race or sex) would be a key factor in one of our deliberations.

Each of us had our own room, so at least we had some measure of privacy. We were also allowed to watch television as long as we did not watch the news. That was great for me because the Summer Olympics were on and they filled much of my down time along with my sewing.

Immediately, I found out that if you were going to do anything, you either did it with the group or you stayed in your room. When we were occasionally allowed to go to the pool, we went as a group. We went to breakfast, lunch, and dinner as a group also. There were no special accommodations for different interests. But there was also no ban on visiting other jurors in their rooms. And soon a group of jurors became chummy and regularly got together to play cards. Some of the other jurors brought books with them and spent most of their time in their rooms reading.

I kept my distance at first and eventually became friendly with JB, who was juror number 10 and sat next to me every day in the jury box. JB was a 68 year old black man whom I really liked because he liked sports and did not try to talk about the trial. Although we were not supposed to open our windows, JB kept his windows open because he hated air conditioning. And the bailiffs let him. Some evenings, I would go to JB's room to watch baseball with him and another juror, and got a chance to smell the night air. To me, that was the air of freedom.

Each day began the same. We met at 7 am in front of the bailiffs' rooms at the end of the hall at the top of the stairs. From there, we all went down to breakfast together with our two bailiffs and the two detectives who met us each morning. After breakfast, we went outside to board two vans that took us to the courthouse. There was one van for the men and one van for the women. Each van was driven by one of the two detectives each of whom always carried a mysterious gym bag. We were supposed to rotate our seating in the van each day, but my friend JB insisted on riding in the same seat in the men's van every day. Nobody minded and we simply called JB the "King."

At the courthouse, when we were not in the actual courtroom, we were supposed to stay in a small juror room. However, back then in 1984, smoking was still allowed in the juror room and it was very unpleasant for us non-smokers. After several of us non-smokers complained about the smoke in the juror room, we were allowed to stand or sit in the hallway immediately outside the juror room. Later we were allowed to move a small table into the hallway, where we had a large jigsaw puzzle set up that a couple of us diligently worked on during the breaks. It is amazing how small things like that jigsaw puzzle help break the tedium.

Lunch was the highlight of our day. We ate lunch at the Ramada Inn East and they had a woman there who made the best home made pies. We were allowed to order anything we wanted from the menu for all meals and the court paid for all of our food except alcohol. There were several people who ate enough pie to feed a small army. I am sure that the pie bill was enormous. As the trial went on, weight control became a problem. One of our male jurors had trouble getting into his pants by the end of the trial. Even I, who was a runner and a naturally thin person, gained eight pounds in the two months we were sequestered.

Each evening we would head back to our hotel in our two vans driven by the two detectives with their mysterious gym bags. Once back at the hotel we were allowed order whatever we wanted from the bar as long as we paid for own drinks. About half of us regularly ordered from the bar. At six pm sharp, we had dinner.

Being sequestered was not bad on the days we went to court and heard testimony because we were doing something, even if it was sitting in our chairs listening to sometimes seemingly boring testimony from witnesses that drone on and on, especially some of the background witnesses. As the trial moved on, the testimony became riveting because we could begin to see how the case was being built or trying to be built. But the weekends and days when we were not in the courtroom were excruciatingly long. We had nothing to do other than go to the pool, and then only when the other guests were cleared out, or we could sit in our rooms. Occasionally, the bailiffs would take us on a walk through the parking lot and that was a huge treat.

The real high point of the week was Friday night when each of us had a five minute phone call home. The bailiffs were always there to listen in and make sure we did not discuss the case. But the Friday night phone call allowed us to ask our family members to bring forgotten or necessary items to drop off for us. It was also a chance to hear a voice from outside.

One day about mid way during the trial, we returned to find a sign posted on the outside of the window in the room across from mine. This room was on the back side of the hotel and backed up to undeveloped property. How someone was able to reach a second story room to paste the sign on the window is somewhat a mystery to me. What the sign said was "We are Going to Kill You" and was written in red magic marker on a large piece of white paper.

Immediately the bailiffs were notified and the next day, the judge called us in one by one to ask if the sign would affect our being a juror. Much to my surprise, not one juror was worried about remaining on the jury. However, after that, I did tell my husband on our Friday night call not to ever let our dogs outside with out being with them and not to ask me why. The death threat against the jury was never reported in the newspaper as far as I know. But later I found out that the original judge had asked to be removed from the trial after death threats were made against him. Our presiding judge and his family had also been under a death threat since the beginning of the trial and were given 24 hour protection.


Part 3 of my diary will deal with first impression of the prosecutors, defense attorneys and the defendants.

Before You Judge, Part 1

For sometime I have thought about writing this entry. It is a very personal diary about how someone who is called to be a citizen must respond even when one has no desire to respond. Back in June, 1984, I was called to respond to do my civic duty. It did not require desire, courage, or political action, but it did require that I must remove myself from any personal biases and feelings in order to do it properly.

I was called to jury duty in a highly publicized and contentious criminal trial.

There are things that I write about in this diary that may be controversial. Hopefully, before you judge, you may be able to see things from the perspective of someone who was there.

It was the summer of 1984 and my husband and I had only been married slightly less than five years. We decided to take our first real vacation since being married. Our vacation was to last two weeks and would take us up the east coast of the United States to sightsee and visit older family members. It was a wonderful trip and it was also the last time I ever saw my grandparents alive.

Upon arriving back home, we were greeted with a jury summons for me. We got home on a Saturday and I was to appear in court the following Monday. As is in the case of most jury summons, I had no idea what I was being summoned for except that my summons stated that it was for a special trial. Little did I know what would lie ahead.

When I reported, I was told that this summons was for a capital murder trial that had been moved from another locale because they were unable to seat an impartial jury. I was also told that the trial might take up to four months. Since I had been away from work for two weeks already and we were way behind in our work there, I notified my employer and asked that he send a letter to the judge stating that my absence would be a hardship for my office. My employer did so, but the judge declined my request and so I remained in the pool.

While all of us prospective jurors sat in the courtroom waiting to be called by the judge, we were able to watch other jurors being interviewed. My pool was the second group of 100 prospective jurors called for this trial. A number of persons in my pool had already been excused prior to coming to court, and by the time my name was finally called, I was the last one left in my pool. And still only ten jurors had been seated.

The trial for which I was called was the Austin Gay murder trial in which a Florida Agricultural Inspector had been kidnapped and murdered by a group of people who were running drugs from Florida to Chicago. Because I had been out of town while all the pretrial publicity was in the newspapers, I was totally unaware of the nature of this trial. Still, I knew that last thing I wanted to do was to be on a jury for the next four months of my life. Unfortunately, that was not to be. I answered the questions from the judge truthfully, including the one in which I said I believed in the death penalty. More about that later.

In fact, my former next door neighbor was the FBI agent who had even worked on this case. But I was unaware of that, so it did not help get me excused. Among the many questions I was asked was had I or any member of my family been a victim of a crime. One of my family members was a key witness in one of Ted Bundy's murders. I thought that if nothing else, that fact should have gotten me excused from this trial since one of the defense attorneys in the case for which I was called was Victor Africano, who defended Ted Bundy in the Kimberly Leach murder.

Now you may ask why I believe in the death penalty. My family was deeply affected by the Ted Bundy's serial killing spree, even though we did not lose anyone to him. Ted Bundy had previously escaped prison out west, not once, but twice. It was after this second escape that Ted Bundy went to Florida where he killed two FSU coeds, injured several others, and killed young Kimberly Leach.

My family members were terrified for weeks before Bundy was finally captured. Prior to Ted Bundy, I was opposed to the death penalty. However, after Ted Bundy, I became convinced that in a few extreme cases, the death penalty is necessary to protect citizens from the likes of a serial killer, such as Ted Bundy. I do not see the death penalty as a deterrent, nor as revenge. But a serial killer who had previously escaped twice only to kill again is a danger to society. The day Ted Bundy died in the electric chair, I breathed a sign of relief that he would no longer be able to kill any more young women, or in the case of Kimberly Leach, an innocent child.

After all the questions from both the judge and the defense attorneys, I was sure that I would be excused or at least challenged. But nothing happened. There was no conference with the judge, no challenges, no additional questions, nothing. And I became the eleventh juror seated. The next day juror 12 and the four alternates were seated in rapid succession. One can only guess that there were no more juror challenges left. And so we were sworn in and prepared to spend the next four months reluctantly doing our civic duty.

But there was one last surprise. After our being sworn in, the judge announced that he had decided that we would be sequestered full time during the entire trial. That was on Wednesday and we were given the next four days to pack whatever personal belongings we needed and take care of personal business. We were also told not to talk to anyone about this trial since we were already sworn in.

Needing to Write Once Again

A lot has happened in the last year, much of it not particularly positive.

It is now time to once again hit the keyboard and write. Writing is a positive release for me even if no one reads it.

There's Now Less of Me - Part 1

In my last post back in December, I talked about having gained a lot of weight and wanting to embark on a self improvement and weight loss program. Although I was not "fat" by most standards, I could no longer fit into most of my pants and I felt sluggish. One year earlier I had tried to lost ten pounds and failed to do so. In fact I gained a couple extra pounds during the year. This time, I vowed to make it work.

I joined a free on line diet and fitness website called SparkPeople.com. This site was recommended to me by a friend. SparkPeople.com provides numerous resources to enable you to successfully build a program that will work for you. There are many health articles, fitness videos, and nutrition articles on SparkPeople. One of the features of the site is the ability of the members to create their own "teams" of people with similar needs or interests. There are literally hundreds of these teams to choose from if you wish to join a team, or you can go on your own. I tried several teams before I found the right one for me and once I did, it was very helpful.

When you join SparkPeople, you enter your current weight and your weight loss goal. Then SparkPeople sets a recommended daily calorie intake and a recommended number of weekly fitness minutes for you to achieve your goal. For me, the calorie range was 1200-1550 calories a day, which is easily doable without feeling deprived. They recommend that no one ever go below 1200 calories a day. While SparkPeople does not recommend losing more than two pounds per week, they do recommend that if you want to increase rate of weight loss, you should increase your exercise levels, not decrease calorie intake.

Although it is not required, for three months, I faithfully logged all my food and beverages every day to track my calories and my eating patterns. At times, this was very burdensome, but it was also enlightening. I started the day after Thanksgiving and within two weeks realized that a disproportionate amount of my calories was coming from sweets. I love cookies and pie. The calories from those items along with snack foods like chips, added up real fast.

I had already cut out the chips, but realized that if I were to be successful, I would need to give up sweets. My goal was not to eat refined sugar five days a week. However, after making it through three days of misery from withdrawal effects of sugar, I decided to forgo refined sugar altogether. That was my single biggest change and the one that ended up making the most difference.

In my next blog, I will talk more about my weight loss and fitness programs and where I am today.

Time to get back posting

It seems as if when I am not posting, it is because I am down about things. That has now passed and it is time to get back to posting again.

I have embarked upon a self improvement program. First, I cut my hair because it was way too long to manage, it was not particularly flattering given my age, and mostly because it was weighing me down. My hair has been symbolic of my life in the last couple of years. Freeing oneself of encumberances that keep you from enjoying life is probably one of the best things anyone can do for themselves. I am working on those encumberances and they are many.

There is an old saying that today is the first day of the rest of my life. Nothing is more true. I have been simply existing for some time. I need to start really living again.

To that end, cutting my hair, losing ten pounds, exercising on a regular basis again, getting involved with people and things that are positive, and starting each day with a positive outlook are paramount. It sounds so simple to write, but often it is so difficult to live when you have not been happy with yourself.

Salvation

Over the years, I have slowly come to realize that salvation is not something someone else can give you. Salvation has nothing to do with religion. Salvation is about finding yourself and becoming what you really want in your life. Salvation comes from a higher power who inspires each of us to find a way to save ourselves. Often our salvation comes as a result of bad times.

Recently, a close friend has been having some major trials. I have tried to reach out to him, but he saw it as meddling and he lashed out at me. Even though I cannot help him find salvation, I pray that he will find inspiration to change his life and find peace from the trials that he is going through. I really do, my friend.

Here, There, Underwear, and Everywhere

Chiggers...

Until you have had them, you have no idea how miserable their bites can be. Almost three weeks after first getting them, they still itch, though not as much as they once did. Most are in areas that do not show, but my arms are like a battleground.

Rooting out the underground came with a price to rid my yard of the evil vines and weeds. Evil won the battle for my skin. But hopefully we are winning the war for the yard.

On Being a (Dumb) Blonde

I have been blonde most of my life, natural as a child and chemical in my adult life. My mother had very pretty light reddish brown hair, but she always wanted to be blonde, so she colored it when I was growing up. My father was a natural blonde growing up and was still blonde when he went to fight in Okinawa during World War II. But when he returned from the War, his hair had darkened to a dark brown.

Growing up, both my sister and I were blondes. Hers was towhead and as she grew older, it became a medium blonde. Mine was what could best be described as dishwater dirty blonde. Dishwater blonde is one shade lighter than mouse brown, so I started coloring my hair when I was thirteen. Since my mother was frightened to death that I would do something drastic, she was the one who added some spark to my dishwater blonde hair by highlighting it for me.

Premature graying runs in my father's side of the family. My grandmother who was originally a natural blonde, began graying in her twenties and was nearly white headed by the time she was in her early thirties. My father began graying in his thirties and was nearly totally gray by his forties. And my sister began graying at nineteen and was gray by thirty. I was the lucky one who did not get that gene.

In my late twenties, the woman who cut my hair suggested I go back to my natural color which was then a reddish brown. She asked me why I frosted my hair when she had clients who paid a lot of money to get what was my natural color. So I cut my hair short and let it go to its natural red brown color. At that point, my co-workers thought that I was coloring my hair reddish brown because they only knew me as a blonde. Some said that I looked more natural as a blonde too. The color was a very pretty color, but I did not feel as attractive as a brunette and often felt like I was looking at a stranger in the mirror. So after several years of experimenting being a brunette, I went back to blonde. Yes, blondes DO have more fun.

Now that the predominate color of my hair is gray, I am blonder than ever, or for at least part of my hair. A friend once described me as two toned. The top and front is blonde while the back and underside is my natural red brown. I kind of like it that way, having the best of two colors. While my husband does not care for it, surprisingly I get a lot of compliments from strangers on it, including once from a woman who was a professional colorist.

So I think I will stay blonde. It makes me feel up beat. But the best thing about being blonde is that I can always plead being a dumb blonde when I feel like it.

Rooting Out the Underground

When I decided to write this entry, the original title was going to be "The Roots of Evil." But then I decided against that title because it sounded too ominous.

When we bought this house, we had no idea the treasure of a yard we were getting because we first saw it in late November and closed on it in January during the dead of winter. However, on the day of closing, the previous owner stood on the back deck with my husband and told him that in the spring, the color would begin on the right side of the back yard and gradually progress around the perifery until it finished on the left.

What we found was that she had planned the azaleas by choosing varieties that would bloom in a sequence to create a wave of color that progressed from one side all around the back of the yard. It is truly spectacular and we are so grateful for her careful planning. In addition to the regular azaleas, there are rhodedendrons, dogwoods, native azaleas and trees in the same beds. She also planted daffodils and other bulbs underneath them that provide early spring color before the azaleas start to bloom.

We noticed this year that vines and trash shrubs had invaded that area and were choking the azaleas. In early April, we began a progam of clearing out the unwanted shrubs and removing some of the dead trees and azaleas. As we started to pull out the vines, we noticed literally thousands of runners going everywhere under the carpet of leaves that covered the ground. As we would pull up on vine, it would pull up many runners in all directions. It was like a network of evil invaders coming in from underground to take over and choke our beautful azaleas.

This Friday, we spent nearly the entire day pulling up vines and trash shrubs. My hands were raw from pulling them up and then having to hand carry the debris up the hill to where the city picks it up. Despite my hands being torn to shreds, I kept coming back to pull more vines. I was bound and determined to rid the undergound of these roots of evil.

(S) He's so Unusual

When I started to write this entry, I instantly thought about Cyndi Lauper's megahit album of 1983, She's So Unusual. I cannot believe it was that long ago and that Cyndi Lauper (top) is now in her mid fifties, and still looking great, I might add. Heck, I was not even a big fan of hers, but I did admire how she took chances with her music and her persona. So with apologies to Cyndi Lauper, I am borrowing the title of that album to describe my dog, Willie Bear (right). It seems like he even has the same expression on his face as Cyndi Lauper.

Willie Bear is a pomeranian unlike any that you have ever seen. Weighing in at twenty three pounds of pure muscle, he is nearly four times the size of a show quality pom. We knew he was going to be a big verson of a pomeranian when we got him, and purposely chose him because of that. His pom mother was 10 pounds and his daddy was 15 pounds. We wanted a more substantial dog than the show type, but also wanted the pomeranian personality.

Willie Bear's human parents had advertised their puppies in the paper and I called to inquired about them. They had three females and one male puppy. I was interested in the male, but the man I talked to said the male was already promised to a co-worker of his. I then called back a second time to ask if we could see their puppies anyway and the man said sure. We drove to to their home which was located off a dirt road in the woods near Havana, Florida.

My husband kept saying that he had a bad feeling about it all as we drove deeper into the woods. I kept reassuring him that the man I had talked to twice was the nicest man and that everything would be fine. As we drove up, I saw four doggie faces in the front window of the house. All four were happy pomeranians. That was a good sign.

But just as we walked up to the door, a huge mountain of a man with long hair, a bushy beard, and an earring in one ear opened the door. He was barefoot and dressed in bib overalls. At that point I was sure that my husband was hearing banjo music and would be running straight for our truck. But the minute the man spoke, my husband relaxed. This very intimidating man had a very soft spoken, kind voice. He introduced himself as William and asked us to come inside.

As we walked in the door, I noticed a full size piano and several guitars in the living room. William introduced us to his wife Linda. I asked about the musical instruments and they told us that they were musicians in a country and western band, in additon to their regular jobs.

They had four adult dogs, all pomeranians. Two of the dogs were fixed and were just pets. The other two dogs were the parents of the puppies that they had for sale. Then we got to meet all the puppies. They had given names to each puppy and the male dog was called Bear.

William and Linda turned out to be just the nicest people and we probably spent at least an hour and a half in their living room talking with them. We liked their attitude toward their animals. But since we wanted a male and Bear was already sold, we asked them if they would contact us if they decided to breed another litter. Linda said it would be at least a year, but she would take our name and keep us at the top of her list.

Bear was first sold to William's co-worker who was a woman who lived with her daughter and small grandchild. After having Bear for a little over two weeks, she called Linda asking is she could return him. She said that he was too much to handle with a small child in the same house. Immediately, Linda called us and asked if we still wanted Bear. Oh course we said yes, and we ended up with Bear when he was a little over three months of age.

We decided to change his name to Willie Bear to honor his human daddy William. The name fits. He is wild, weird, huge, and unconventianal. Like Cyndi Lauper and like his human daddy, William, Willie Bear is so unusual.

Friendships and the Internet

For a long time I have been asking myself if it is really possible to have an honest friendship on the internet. At one time, I even posed that question at an internet site that I went to and the answers I got back were varied. However, the consensus seemed to be that because the internet is one dimensional, in order have a true friendship, people would have to go beyond that dimension of typing words on a screen. That was my own opinion too.

I currently only post at two websites, both of which are devoted to auto racing. I am a NASCAR fan and I try to attend two races a year. One of the very first events I ever attended, I met someone from the racing site at the event and the experience was extremely positive. So now every race I attend, I try to meet at least one person from my racing websites if possible. Over the last several years, I have met 18-20 different people from my racing websites, some of them more than once.

Some of those people had become friends as far as I was concerned. We had exchanged Christmas cards and even phone calls over the years. But is this true friendship? I really do not know. What I do know is when you are able to put a face and a voice with a name and their posts on a website, you have a better understanding of that person and you tend to see them as a real person, not just a user name and an avatar.

So I go back to can you make friends on line? Two recent incidents have me questioning if you really can or what is a friendship. The first incident involves a person that I had known for over four years, whom I considered a friend. This person did something that was very hurtful and insulting without provocation on my part and for no apparent reason. Since then, I contacted that person, but have not heard back. So unless I get an apology, whatever friendship there may have been is probably now dead. Or the real question is was this just an acquaintship, and not a friendship? Afterall, is not friendship a two way street?

The second incident was something said to me in an email by friend whom I had known for a long time and greatly respect. This person's computer died about a year ago and he never bothered to get it replaced. This past weekend, he borrowed someone else's computer and left me the following note which really made me think about the value of friendships or acquaintanceships formed on the net.

"One thing I have discovered over the last year or so, is that there's a big old world out there, and life is fun again. I don't mean any disrespect to anyone, but I find that I'd rather be out in it, than be online."

Looking back over the years, I have traded the time I spent watching television for being on line. A lot of that time is spent reading, but also I do exchange a lot of instant messages and emails with my on line "friends." So perhaps what my second friend was saying IS very valid. It sure made me take a hard look at defining what is a friendship with others on line. Are these relationships really friendships or are they something else? Then I started thinking, if I wasn't on line, I might not have met some of these people whom I have come to care about. But I also might not be questioning if you can form real friendships on line, would I?

So the question still remains. How different are your relationships and friendships on the internet compared to real life? Or are they really that different?

Bluegrass and Salsa

This past Friday night, my husband and I went to our favorite Mexican restaurant, El Ranchero, for dinner. We love this restaurant because it is locally owned and the food is very good at a reasonable price. The two of us can eat a full dinner and each have a 33 ounce mug of Dos XX dark beer for a little over twenty dollars including the tip. As a bonus, when the weather is good, it is close enough that we can walk there from our home.

Nearly every Friday night, EL Ranchero hosts music night featuring mostly local talent. There is no cover charge but the customers generally tip the musicians. The quality of the acts on Friday varies greatly from pretty bad to excellent. This Friday night was a real treat because our favorite group was playing. They usually only come to El Ranchero twice a year and we make a point to be there to watch them play.

The name of the group is Blue Mountain Myst which is a trio of three women singers/ musicians/songwriters and their backup group is the Misti Mountain Boys. Two of the women are sisters and the third is a friend who has been singing and writing with them for about twenty years. The lead singer does not play an instrument, but her sister plays keyboards and the friend plays guitar and fiddle. The Misti Mountain Boys back them up with an acoustic bass guitar, regular guitar, banjo and manolin.

They sing country, bluegrass, and pop. About half of their music is original compositions of their own which falls into the country or bluegrass style and which is what I prefer.

My husband and I have become such a fixture whenever they come to town, that we are now on a first name basis with Bitsy, the lead singer. They were on break when we walked in and she immediately came over and gave us a hug saying how good it was to see us again. I laugh to think that we have become groupies of a blue grass group headed up by a woman with seven grandchildren.

So Friday night, we had a wonderful meal of enchiladas with pork, peppers and onions and a large mug of Dos XX dark while we enjoyed our favorite bluegrass band. Bluegrass and salsa. It doesn't get much better than that. Mmmmmm!

The Long Way Home, Part 2

This entry is a continuation of an earlier entry describing my trip from Tallahassee, Florida to Brevard, North Carolina in early April.

From Forsythe, I take 83 through Monticello and Madison. This is only about fifty miles total, but Monticello and Madison are two of the most beautiful historic small towns in this part of Georgia. Monticello (Courthouse Square pictured top) is the first town and is much smaller. It is the hometown of country singer, Trisha Yearwood. As I leave Monticello, I drive on the Trisha Yearwood Parkway towards Madison. Madison is a true historic treasure with a very lively downtown (historic Madison downtown pictured immediately above). Madison is located in the middle of dairy country. As I proceeded north on US 129 from Madison to Athens, sparkling dairy farms line my route.

Previously, I would pick up 441 in Athens and continue north to catch Interstate 85 all the way to Greenville, South Carolina. This time I continued northeast on US 29 to Roydston and then went north to Lavonia where I picked up Interstate 85. I was only in I-85 for about 25 miles or so before I hopped off and went north through Pickens and Pumpkintown, South Carolina. Just outside Pumpkintown, I was able to connect with US 276 which would be the road I would have normally taken out of Greenville. But I picked it up north and west of Greenville which allowed me to avoid the big city traffic and probably saved me 15 miles or more travel distance.

I love driving on US 276. It is probably one of the most scenic and curvy mountain roads around. Normally it takes at least one hour to travel forty miles , most of which is on Cedar Mountain, but the scenery is worth it and I never tire of it. The border between North and South Carolina is near the top of the mountain, but terrain is very different in the two states. In South Carolina, the mountain is mostly undeveloped, very steep and rocky with Table Rock, Caesar's Head, and Caesar's Table being major landmarks.

The road up the South Carolina side has much steeper grades with numerous switchbacks, many of which are 180* or more. My car is a five speed manual transmission and during most of the South Carolina section, I am traveling in no higher than third gear and for much of the mountain, I am in second gear.

Shortly after I enter North Carolina near the top of the mountain, the grades and turns become much less severe and there many places where the road runs along a flat ridge line. As I get within fifteen miles of so of Brevard, there are a few small commercial establishments and the community of Cedar Mountain. Then the road begins to descend into Brevard. It is still beautiful coming down the mountain, but the there are small homes and several pottery shops along the road. Just before I reach Brevard, I come to the French Broad River valley where there are farms and fields. I cross the river and it is only a couple of miles to home. Wow, what a beautiful way to end my journey on the long way home.

It's Snowing!!!

Spring is beautiful here in North Carolina. We have a large cherry tree in the back yard and it is just gorgeous in the spring when it is covered in white blossoms. As the blossoms begin to fade, they turn a pale pink before finally dropping to the ground. The rest of the year, the tree is not particularly noteworthy because the tent caterpillars get into it. But for spring, it is one of the showiest trees in the yard.

The cherry tree is nearing the end of its bloom period. Its blossoms have turned a pale pink and the petals are starting to drop. When the breezes pick up, the petals fall like showflakes. They are so light that they flutter to the ground like snow. It is so cool to be out in the yard and watch thousands of pale pink snowflakes falling all around me.