I get asked this question a lot. Why would anyone gravitate towards these baffling and depressing tales? Who is reading this stuff, and why? Some of these mysteries are older than all of us combined; Why are we still paying them any attention? Are we death-obsessed? I recently took the advice of a therapist friend, and listed all of my personal experiences with crime/death that I could remember, in an attempt to examine why anyone is drawn to these "mysteries". (This actually began as a list of deaths I had "seen with my own eyes or experienced intimately", to nail down specific residual trauma(s), but a few unresolved mysteries emerged in the process, and I thought of you guys. I will include the original Death List, too, if anyone would like. Warning: Even longer than this. However, I really don't want to turn the conversation towards "Gross Gore Stories"; I think there's probably several other Reddits for that sort of thing. What's the plural of Reddits? Retti? Retticuli? Rettabega? Anyway...) My friend was right; Deeper examination was illuminating! Still can't give anyone a very specific answer, though. Maybe because there are too many stories, and therefore too many reasons? "Because I've lived it" has become a substitute for a longer explanation. "Maybe, just maybe, one day, I can help somebody" is another, one I feel that the majority of you can relate to. With yo' good hearts...;) I will list my handful of personal mysteries here sporadically as I write/remember them, for your perusal (and, hopefully,edification.) I will start with this strange occurrence from my pre-teen years, and add more as we go along, so I don't create The Longest Post Everrrr. I would love to hear your stories, if you don't mind... I'll be grateful for your input, and you may just find it therapeutic, too!
In 1982, I turned 12, the Golden Age of Babysitters, and I began to work for my "swinger" neighbors. My mother tried to forbid me to work for them, because of their unusual lifestyle, but I convinced her that "Jesus wanted me to help them and their babies." (This argument literally always worked on my minister Mom.) There were dirty diapers everywhere, and the only food items ever in the refrigerator were beer and butter... However, their children, a three year old boy and a year old girl, were absolutely delightful. The family also had a pool, a cool dog, and cable tv, a boat, and a huge park directly behind their house. Their poorly-hidden porn and hook-up magazines (complete with "dates" of horny interest circled in red pen) were absolutely hilarious, too, and I would flip through them with my twin sister while the kids napped, and we'd laugh so hard we hurt. The couple was also funny and very laid-back, and always bought pizza or brought take-out food when they returned home. So, it was a great gig for a "first job". I felt real pride knowing my time with the kids was special and appreciated, too. The Jessica Rabbit wife hugged me every time I walked in the door, and always yelled, "Here comes Mommy's Besssst Friend!", and that was funny and gratifying. I was devastated to see it all end, especially the way it did. The husband came roaring home one morning, during his normal working hours, rushed inside past me and the children, fumbled through his dresser angrily, cursing profusely, then screeched off much faster and even more aggressively than usual in a red Camaro streak, ever-conspicuous in our low-income neighborhood. He was found stone dead a few minutes later by police patrolling our nearby park, engine still running, his hands still gripping the wheel. The police came to the door as my "shift" was ending to inform his stunned wife that her husband had just been shot numerous times by an unknown assailant in a nearby park, in an area his fellow "cruisers" frequented. He had fired his own gun twice at something, but there was no damage to anything nearby, leading police to believe that somewhere, perhaps in one of our local underground chop shops, a car decorated with bullet holes cooled its engine. It was quickly written of as some sort of road rage incident; However, he was also apparently "having problems with someone at work", snorting cocaine pretty much continuously, was engaging in a risky sexual lifestyle ("getting crazy" with both men and women he met from God-knows-where). So, the mystery only grew as the weeks went on, and no perpetrator or solid explanation materialized. The broken-hearted widow, then almost 8 months pregnant with kid number three, moved away suddenly in the night, and never returned. Snapped my heart clean in half. The crime was never solved, and I never saw them again. I still think of their family every single day. It's been almost 35 years.
Submitted August 09, 2016 at 08:35AM by Judibooty1 http://ift.tt/2aHZkfi UnresolvedMysteries
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