It's An Elementary Murder, Holmes

The police had been to question her, or perhaps she should call them precisely what they are; Homicide Detectives. Although she was very sure that they would come, and that it was certainly a routine part of any murder investigation; to question everyone that could even be remotely involved or would have any information relative to the investigation. But, she had to admit that they certainly did not waste any time coming round to see her. Alexis had maintained her calm and answered their questions with an honest clarity. She simply told them what she herself had been told by Abigail Vanderberry during that life-changing phone call yesterday. Really? Was it only yesterday that all of this had happened?

Yes, it was only yesterday as far as her part in this was concerned, but the murder of Bryce Meyers had taken place two days ago. Forty eight hours from meeting his bride-soon-to-become-his-wife at the altar, forty year old Bryce Alexander Meyers had been been the victim of a fatal close-up gunshot to the heart, dealt him by that same bride-soon-to-become-his-wife.

Alexis had met Bryce on several occasions when he and Abigail had come to her office to discuss and finalize the wedding/honeymoon plans that required them to make decisions as a couple. He made a good impression on Alexis; not because of his deep pockets, but because he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. He wasn't an in-your-face type of guy. He was sort of quiet with impeccable manners and a soothing persona. Physically, he was tall and just average looking. He wasn't a very handsome guy, but he definitely possessed a confidence that was attractive in itself, and he had a strong magnetism about him that was almost palpable. He had never given Alexis any hint of a dishonest streak. This is exactly what she had told the two officers who had come to question her.

Detectives Mercer Holding and Artie Callahan had looked at her and then at each other with a smugness that bordered on arrogance. They were already to wrap this case up and charge Abigail with first degree murder. Detective Holding had snapped her laptop closed with a finality that she expressed in words as she stood to leave. She had said that it was probably an open-and-shut case, and as she looked to her partner for confirmation, she made the remark, " It's an elementary murder, my Mr. Holmes!" Detective Callahan nodded in agreement. He then added that "We have got your client, Abigail Vanderberry dead to rights. We've even got the smoking gun." I swear they both laughed as they prepared to leave.

Their enthusiasm seemed to be out of place and their eager-beaver attitude to see Abby behind bars  was almost obscene. No matter the circumstances, a man was dead. He had family who loved him, ...and oh mercy...his poor mother! This was the first time Alexis had thought about his mother.  Megan Meyers must be beside herself with grief. There was no imagining the anguish she must be feeling; the helplessness and the pain of knowing her son had been murdered.

Alexis had wished for the thousandth time that Abigail had told her more during that phone call. After Claudette had come over, and she had poured enough brandy down her throat to revive her into a semblance of reality, Alexis had tried to call Abigail back on both her cell and her land line phone. Of  course there had been no answer on either, and surprisingly, the voice mail greetings had been erased.  She had had no other chance to contact Abby, having seen news of her arrest on the morning news earlier today.

It appeared that the noise from the gunshot had been called in to 911 by an "anonymous" person who didn't wish to be identified, and when the police arrived they found Abby at the scene, sitting on the floor beside the body of the love of her life...her soul mate who was dead from the .9mm bullet that went straight through his heart.

She was still holding the gun in her hand. Sherlock and Holmes must have wet themselves with glee.

New Web Store is Open!!

 

Announcing the launch of my brand new personal website that is up and running! And one of the most exciting things about it is that it has an online store called "Cafe Press". This web store provides you with a secure shopping experience where you can purchase products that promote the Real Grandmothers of Charlotte logo on Tee shirts, Coffee Mugs, and Tote Bags.

The shirts are available for the entire family and are competitively priced shirts of excellent quality.
Cafe Press is a completely equipped web store and your satisfaction is guaranteed. Take a look at the new website and shop the store at this link. On the Move With Queencitydame.

Thank you for your patronage.

Coming Soon!

Hello Readers and Followers of The Real Grandmothers of Charlotte...Keep it Real! We are excited to announce to you (our loyal reading audience) that during the month of August, we will be heating up the stories with some "muy caliente" posts! Since August is the hottest month of the year, its only fitting that we up the temperature here too.

Each of the grandmothers will be revealing a never before known story about themselves and things from the past. In a "ride or die" dare, the fabulous ladies will let you behind closed doors, and make you privy to some of their most daring truth or dare stories.

Appropriately, this series will be called "True Confessions" and we guarantee you will be hooked!

Join us next week for the first post in our mini series as we look into the secret closet of our four fabulous ladies!!

The Stage is Set in Kingston...Part Two

The first official day of vacation had gotten off to a great start. The ladies had all slept to a moderately late hour, and breakfasted together in the parlor room of their suite. They had dined sufficiently on a meal consisting of vegetable and egg quiche, crisp bacon, hot buttery croissants served with apricot preserves, freshly squeezed orange juice and some of the most delicious coffee they had ever drank. Feeling extremely full and satisfied, they lounged around for a while just mulling over the events of their trip so far.

Claudette had planned out a wonderful travel itinerary for them which she now distributed in hard copy to each of them. Of course they had discussed in general what they would be doing, but now that they were here, it was time to take a look at the schedule. Future outings were planned for The Bob Marley Museum, Hope Botanical Gardens and The National Gallery of Jamaica. First item for today was shopping in the marketplace, followed by afternoon tea, and then back to the house for massages and facials. That would definitely relax them and put them in the mood for what lay ahead later that night. They would be having dinner at a landmark restaurant, hosted by a friend of Alexis who lived in Kingston, and then on to dance the night away at a trendy club called “Santana's”.

Keenan DeJohn was a tall, distinguished and articulate gentleman who looked to be of indeterminate age ( but she guessed him to be in his middle to late sixties) whom Alexis had met several years before on her first trip to Kingston. At that time she had been traveling with another friend and a male companion. She had been introduced to Keenan, and they had kept up a friendly communication via email several times a year, but it was enough to maintain an acquaintance close enough that he had come to see her on his last visit to the states two years ago. His open invitation to be his guest at his elegant eatery when she and her friends came down had been sincere and so had his insistence that he comp their meals.

He was seating them as a private party in his secluded VIP room located off from the main dining room. He would join them for before dinner drinks and then leave them to their dinner. To finish off the evening he had arranged a personal escort to take them to Santana's club, and to see that they had every comfort they needed and that everything he did for them was top shelf. It was no secret; he had designs on Alexis. She was aware of it, and he wanted to do everything possible to make sure she and her friends had a fantastic vacation.

And so the day passed in luxurious splendor for the four friends. They laughed, sipped on exotic tasting drinks, and reveled in the beauty of their surroundings, and in the simplicity of being in the company of each other. It wouldn't be normal if they didn't take a few moments to reflect on their lives for just a few moments. And in doing so, they agreed that in the mainstream of life, they had it pretty darn good. They were blessed and blessed indeed.

The time came for them to dress for the evening. It was such a happy time to be getting all dressed up in gorgeous dresses, wearing beautiful summer heels, smelling divine and looking absolutely fabulous!Alexis had spoken to Keenan earlier and he had told her to give their driver Delray Major the night off because he was sending his own driver over to pick them up at seven to deliver them to his restaurant. Later on after closing, he would drive to meet them at the club.

It was exactly six fifty-seven when the doorbell rang. Bonnie went to answer and she met the man who was to be their escort for the night. He bowed low to her as he spoke with a perfect accent” Good evening madame! I am Dante, driver for Mr. DeJohn at your service for the evening. Are you and your friends ready?” Just then, Helena, Claudette and Alexis gathered at the door. More introductions were made, the destination confirmed and off they went into the warm and sultry evening. The air was thick and laden with the perfume of the variety of orchids and lilies that bloomed in the gardens.

They all experienced a heightened sense of well being and felt as if they did indeed have the world in the palm of their hands. There was absolutely no way they could know that this would be a night to remember, but not for the usual reasons. There was no way they could know that trouble waited for them around the corner.

All Aboard the Sooooul Train!

When I began watching Soul Train I thought it was the coolest and the hippest show on television. Don Cornelius was one of the smoothest cats around with his rich velvety baritone voice. Of course the afro hairstyle he wore when the show debuted was just fly, and I was partial to this hairstyle anyway because for years I myself had worn one. I fashioned myself after one of my 70's era heroes...or should I say "sheroes"...Ms. Angela Davis. I was a fist pumping, afro wearing, "Power to the People" kind of a girl, whose everyday language was peppered with such colorful phrases as "solid", "cool cat", "hippest dude", and of course the most popular one that is still used today..."Right On!"

While I watched the different singing groups do their thing on Soul Train, and the Soul Train Dancers get their groove on, I got into the spirit of things by mimicing the dances and lip-syncing along with the singers with my trusty hairbrush for a makeshift microphone. I sang along with Gladys Knight & The Pips, Peaches & Herb, The Four Tops, Aretha Franklin and The Delfonics, and got all dreamy-eyed, hot and bothered by the rich soulfulness of Barry White just to name a few. 

I don't think there was a Black American group out there that did not perform on Soul Train at least once in their careers. It was a fabulous showcase for new artists and a marvelous venue for those that were established in the world of music and entertainment. It was not the easiest thing to do for a Black man to make his way in the entertainment world during the 1970's. But Don Cornelius did, and he made a success out of his show and left his mark after years of providing us with quality and fun and what will forever be one of the best musical variety shows on television.

This was not meant to be an ode to Don Cornelius, but just a simple remembrance of something that brought me joy and happiness for an hour on Saturdays amid my otherwise dull, lackluster and boring existence. Dancing can unlease a myriad of emotions in us, not the least of which is a freeing sort of sensuality. Dancing is a great tension reliever, and a creative means of communication. Whether it was the Hustle or  something made up from a mixture of older dances like The Jerk, The Swim, The Horse, or The Running Man (progressive eras in dance) just being able to cut loose to the beat and work up a sweat freed the mind and relaxed the body.

The Soul Train line lives on afterdecades of popularity at wedding receptions, cabarets, and other parties. The Soul Train line will get everybody out on the dance floor and no partner is required. I believe it will be immortal and will never lose its appeal or its effectiveness at bringing out the part animal in all of us. Nothing can compare to the rush of heading down the line showing off your moves and keeping perfect timing to the rhythm and the beat. I feel like I can get up and bust a move right now!

So the next time you're dreading that same old routine of vacuuming and dusting, just put on some Frankie Beverly & Maze, or some O'Jays and get your groove on! Put down that broom and fancy yourself strutting down the soul train line and then clap your hands, snap your fingers and stomp your feet. Let's get it o with Love...Peace...and Sooooul!

F.O.C.U.S. Finding Our Center Under Stress

Women have juggled their time and themselves for years trying to find an acceptable work/life balance. Most of us have been quite successful at doing so. And included under the umbrella of “family” is being a wife in addition to Mother and homemaker. Actually, if we were illustrating an organizational chart, those neat little squares might read something like this:

Put the FOCUS  on YOU!

 Business Woman and/or Homemaker

Chauffeur/ Sports Mom/Volunteer

Daughter/Sister/Friend Confidante

Woman/Wife

And so many women; especially the wives and mothers in the 30-45 year old category find themselves in a pattern just like this one. A vast majority work outside of the home either independently, or as an employee in some area, but as an aside being a full time homeworker is a 24 hr. a day job. These wives and moms are so occupied with their children and keeping the home fires burning, and wearing the daughter and sibling hat. Then there are the numerous extra-curricular activities with the children, and being the secret keeper for our friends. Sadly, being a woman and a wife comes last on the never-ending list of “things to do”. Now, if there is a wife and mother out there that can dispute this theory, then I would think that is fantastic!

What I would like to effectively point out is that society has placed a great deal of this burden on women. There is social peer pressure (the need to conform to some standards that have been dictated by socio-economic variables) and there is the self-imposed standard (the individual family dynamic) that is existential to the social aspect. There are two separate and demanding sets of requirements that are essential to the family. Although they are sometimes conflicting and seemingly impossible to meet the personal drive to give it the ole college overrides any deterrent.

No woman sets out to intentionally put herself last on the totem pole. Life happens and that’s usually the way it ends up. After the honeymoon and she settles into a comfortable routine, she becomes a mother. She takes a leave of absence from the job she dreamed of having; the one she worked hard to land so that she can be a full time Mom and get the children off to a great start in life. This is the most common reason why a successfully educated working woman takes a break from the working world.

Of course there are several other reasons. Economic situations and job related issues are just two others. Whatever the reason, once Mom comes home for an extended period of time, the harder it is for her to return. Once her uniform of the day becomes jeans and tee shirts, it’s hard for her to resume wearing tailored business suits and high heels as her daily mode of dress. What a significant number of these women wish for is unknown to their husbands and probably most of their friends and family. They don’t share this because some don’t want to seem ungrateful or they worry that they might appear to be selfish. What am I saying? Just that a significant number of women ages 30-45 who are currently out of the public worksphere are actually are ready to go back to their outside jobs.

And it’s not only for the paycheck (although that could be reason enough), but for several other reasons; all of them valid and totally realistic. Let me list a couple. She may want the daily interaction of adult conversation about some things other than what new curtains she can purchase for the living room, and she may want to use the college degree she worked so hard to earn. At the top of the list is maybe she wants to spend money that she earned.

A generous husband and a wonderful family provider is a true blessing. And on the flip side of the coin, there are lots of wives who do prefer to remain off the public work market. They have a deep sense of fulfillment as a full time Mom and place the welfare of their family as their top priority. No one can say which woman is right or wrong. Does the woman who dreams about going back to her Engineering job, or her Paralegal position, or her Marketing Consultant Firm seem selfish? Does the stay at home Mom seem non-assertive or passive?

There is no black or white here. This is filled with varying shades of gray and all of them are plausible and personal and conform to each individual family dynamic. No one looking in from the outside has the right to judge. Living in the role of acrobatic juggler just to keep a family going is hard enough without others offering up criticism about something that is none of our business anyway. Family members outside of the household and friends who “mean well” need to step aside and mind your own business. If you are going to toss in your two cents worth anyway, then make it something positive or uplifting. If you are in the role of friend or family member and you just can’t seem to keep your mouth shut, then stay at home!

My hat is off to the 21^st century ultra-modern day working Mother/Woman/Wife. I salute you and all that you do! But just one little parting bit of encouragement and simply an “FYI”…be sure to make time for yourself and please…make time to be with your hubby. Don’t always put “woman/wife” at the bottom of your organizational chart. Invest in a reliable nanny or part time sitter so you can enjoy some “you” time alone and the occasional date night with the man you share your life with. It’s a solid investment and one that can only bring you huge dividends and fabulous return!

Sisters Interrupted...A Confessional (Part Two)

We remained in full rapturous attention mode while Bonnie began her story...or as she opened with; "her confessional". The telling involved her, her older sister Evelyn Yvette ("Evie" for short) and Evie's husband Waverly Knight. When Evie and Waverly began their wedded life together, it was on a shoe string budget, so the new couple lived with the bride's parents. Of course this arrangement was supposed to be temporary just until they could save up enough money for a down payment on a place of their own.

Bonnie is the youngest of three girls, making her seven years Evie's junior, because Evie is the oldest daughter. So, she was at this time a young, beautiful and impressionable nineteen, and a sophomore at college. One particular weekend she came home unexpectedly because she was bored beiong on campus and was a little homesick for her parents. She had called her Mom but when she didn't get an answer she decided to just come on home because she knew her Mom would be thrilled.

Bonnie didn't really care about visiting with Mr. and Mrs. Knight at all. Actually, she didn't really like her sister all that much anyway. Evie had always thought herself entitled as the oldest daughter in a female dominated household. She was practically a bully to poor Dyane (the middle daughter called 'Delicious' for short), but Bonnie didn't take no wooden nickels from her. And as for Waverly; well he was so conceited and vain until it was totally beyond thought how any woman could stand him.

Now at this point in the story, we all paused for additional refreshment and to fill up our snack plates. after we had settled back down, having had potty breaks and all, Bonnie continued. Okay...on this weekend Bonnie arrived home around 3pm on Friday afternoon. She was tired and hungry after her four hour drive from school and she made a beeline for the kitchen and the fridge. She was standing there checking out the leftovers in the fridge when she felt the prescence of someone else in the room. Turning her head towrds the door, she saw her brother-in-law leaning against the door jamb looking her over like she was a piece of meat.

She said hello to him and asked if he shouldn't be out looking for work. To this he replied that he had finished combing the streets for today. When he said this, Bonnie's first thought was "combing the streets for what?' she wondered and let out a chuckle. He made no pretense that he was coming on to her; he came over and backed her up against the sink. He placed his arms on either side of her and said how fortunate he was that she came home because otherwise he would have had to spend the next two days and nights alone.

"Where's everyone at? Where's Mom and Dad?' she asked as she pushed him away and walked over to the table to sit down. He got out a couple of cold beers from the fridge and passed her one and said that they had gone down to see Aunt Maddie for the weekend. Aunt Maddie's son had called and told Bonnie's Mom that she was very very ill and needed to see all of her family. Naturally Evie went with them since she was family, and naturally he didn't since he wasn't.

Now, like she had said earlier, she didn't care for her sister and her high fallutin ways, and it was a stretch to be around Waverly, but something in her (probably her alter-ego) found this situation interesting. She met Waverly's direct gaze and returned his smile as they clink their beer bottles together in a mock salute. What is going on here? Well she would be finding out soon enough...


Do you like what you read?  Leave us a comment!

Rites of Passage

M

en are wonderful, magnificent and lovable creatures. They are our heroes, our hunter-gatherers, and our beasts of burden. They come in all shapes, sizes and personalities with individual physical traits and varying degrees of abilities and savvier fare.  We as women love our men. I love men. We love their sexiness, sensuality and all things provocative. And although they are much the same in these traits, they have a couple of others that may not be as endearing to us and it is an undeniable fact that they can do quite a bit of “jive talking” and “messin around”.

I was no stranger to the flirtatious overtures from other men. They would approach me anywhere; at work, while out shopping or pumping gas. They would act like they didn’t see my wedding band and diamond on my left hand, or they just chose to ignore it. Some would even comment on how they knew my husband was a happy man being married to all that, or that they knew I was sweet just because I smelt good, and occasionally someone would get really bold and say something like “baby I wanna treat you like a lollipop and lick you all over.” And then they would try to touch me…just trying to hold my hand or stroke my long hair…nothing to make me feel physically threatened.

The hopefully amorous dude would approach me walking with a “pimp” in his stride, while caressing and stroking his own beard or mustache, lean up against a wall or something and penetrating through an invisible wall of Canoe cologne, he would give me his best come-on spiel. One of my favorite jive talking lines was “Hey Brown Sugah…if you let me take you out not only will I rock yo world, but I will make you feel likes we was the only ones in it.” After having supposedly wooed me with this compliment, he would adjust his aviator sunglasses, hunch up his shoulders and give a hearty “sniff sniff’ while awaiting my inevitable swoon from being overcome with anticipation. If things got really exciting, one of his other women would come on the scene, and it was hilarious to watch him do some serious back pedaling!

 Now, please know that I misspelled some words for emphasis because I want you to picture how it went and how he sounded…you know …put you on the scene. Remember this was at a time when the men wore fancy jewelry (gold chains, bracelets, and rings) and very large hats. The 1970’s action movie “Superfly” starring Ron O’Neal inspired many a man to start wearing long colorful coats and sporting a walking cane just to add that little special touch to the image of a sharply dressed, jive talking, man of the world. I met a man just like this at a very vulnerable age and lost my tender heart to him.

My fascination with this man of the world nearly cost me my graduation during my senior year in high school. He was of course older, and not exactly an upstanding citizen, and I was your typical “goody two shoes” who was drawn to a “bad boy” like a magnet. Needless to say, I had a serious Love Jones for him and because I did everything I could do to get his attention, I subsequently got myself into a boatload of trouble on more than one occasion. But in my seventeen year old mind it was like totally worth it; sort of like going through days of torture for about four hours a week with him. Doesn’t that sound absolutely pathetic? Thankfully I can laugh about my escapades now, but at the time my heart was on my sleeve and I was wearing it for him.

I call these events in life rites of passage. There are some things we just have to experience first hand, and we have to have some things in our past to look back on and have a great big laugh over, and to share with our friends as we stroll mentally back in time. And actually, these events are terrific learning tools, for if we didn’t live through them and go through the pain and heartache, fall in and out of love a zillion times; what would we talk about in our golden years?

My Mother was a great parent in that she kept our clothes immaculate, kept a spotless house, and cooked delicious meals. She was a wonderful woman and I loved her dearly (still do), but she didn’t teach me about life. She was a product of her generation and at this time in my life when I needed to know about personal things, and about boys and about “feelings” I could not openly talk to her. Most of the stuff I needed to know as a young girl coming into womanhood I learned from other people. But she had her tender moments with me, and I have never felt unloved because she didn’t talk to me about “the birds and the bees”.

We all grow up in different ways and in different stages of development. Parenting methods have always been a mix of doing what we think is best, driven by our gut instincts, a lot of prayer, trial and error guesswork. So there were other things I learned from her that were valuable and important and they shaped me and gave me values that could have come from no one else but her. I still live by these values and will treasure her memory always.

Rites of passage and family traditions can instill and nurture us through our lives and keep us on the right paths. Without them we would be lost and with them we are so much the better for it.

Over the Rainbow...

Rainbows are notoriously welcome crowd pleasers.Usually making an appearance right after a rain shower, they are always a welcome and cheerful sight. They are also rare because a rain shower does not guarantee a rainbow will follow, so each time one does appear, it strikes an awesome wonder in us as it stretches and bows its colorful splendor across the sky.

Irish mythology  has it that there is a pot of gold located at the end of a rainbow with a cute and lively Leprechaun guarding it, and only dispensing the gold coins to the most deserving beneficiaries. Many of us as children grew up believing in this tall tale, and two very famous composers wrote a song “Over the Rainbow” in 1939 for the movie “The Wizard of Oz” (Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg) that promised bluebirds could fly so high over the rainbow, and by believing it was possible one human could also.

The real motivation here behind this lovely and timeless song is that if we are willing to believe hard and long and faithfully in what seems impossible, then we can indeed walk across the bridged gap between reality and the stuff dreams are made of. The coming alive of the dream is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

How many of us have stretched our imaginations and dreamed our dreams and rode on the tailwinds of fantasies made entirely realistic by a rainbow? After all the biblical explanation of a rainbow was that God made it and put in the heavens after the flood that destroyed the earth as a sign and a covenant promise from him that the world would never again be destroyed by water (Genesis 9:13-17 KJV).

If we want to make a connection between this and our dreams, we can know that through faith and trust in God we can touch the intangible, see the invisible and believe the impossible. Doesn’t this put a rainbow perspective on things?

My friend and fellow grandmother Claudette Richardson had so many doubts and fears in her life before she looked to the rainbow. When she first started talking about rainbows and how they fit into her life, I must admit I was baffled. I didn’t understand where she was coming from with all of this talk. She obviously was way ahead of me in her belief and value system and what she considered spiritual. After she broke in down to me I was impressed with her steadfastness and her stalwart devotion to the manifestation of miracles and rainbows.

Even though she was physically present here with us, her spirit had already soared “over the rainbow” into a place where she could live in peace, joy and a comfort that can only be received by accepting something supernatural. By supernatural I mean “not able to be done or achieved by man” but only by the wonderfully free and marvelously liberating grace of God! For by living under grace we can truly let go of selfish motives and get off of the merry-go-round of trying to fix our lives and how we react to our circumstances.

Claudette has been an inspiration to her friends and a shining example of what a Christian woman should be. This sis something we all need; a person we can look to as a port in a storm. God gives us these special people in our lives…sometimes for just a season and at other times if we are so blessed…for a lifetime. We will always have our faults and we always fall short of the glory, but with an anchor cast upon a rainbow…we will never go too far adrift in this sea we call LIFE.