Feb 7, 2009

Another frozen corpse

We must constantly inundate the public with these stories. Remind people that there are people freezing to death daily in our country. The pen (keyboard) is a mighty weapon. Spread awareness! Donate blankets, old clothes whatever you can to your local homeless shelters to help those less fortunate stay warm. I know I have an old coat in my closet that someone could use. Please, if you are able, do what you can. People should not be freezing to death in the United States of America in 2009.

Posted in Uncategorized by gangbox on the January 30, 2009
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from the DETROIT NEWS:

Friday, January 30, 2009
To family, frozen man was JohnnyCharlie LeDuff / The Detroit News

Detroit EMS, fire department and police crews attempt to extract the body from the elevator shaft Wednesday. (Ankur Dholakia / The Detroit News)

DETROIT — The man frozen at the bottom of an abandoned elevator shaft was indeed somebody’s child.

For the record, her name was Orlene.

For the record, his name was Johnny. Johnny Redding.

Redding met his Maker about a month ago, authorities surmise, when he was either pushed or fell down the shaft and came to rest in five feet of water. The weather turned blue, and Redding would become encased in a vault of ice, his shoes and shins protruding out.

The world became shocked to learn that people knew that Redding lay below and yet carried on with their own games and grievances, not bothering to inform the authorities. Eventually, someone with a heart called this reporter. Once located, two dozen police officers and firefighters working with chainsaws and guide rope extricated the body.

A wallet was found on the corpse. The identification told investigators the barest of facts. John Redding. 56-years-old. City of residence: River Rouge.

They know little else. Whether his was death by misadventure or by the hand of another man remains a mystery.

“He is still too frozen to even take fingerprints,” said Vanessa Denha-Garmo, spokeswoman for the Wayne County medical examiner.

The address in the wallet leads back to the small Cape Cod in River Rouge, once owned by his mother and now owned by his brother Homer, who along with his sister, Lillian Warren, identified the body this evening.

Homer Redding, 59, was saddened but not surprised by his little brother’s death. According to him, Johnny was a soft-hearted man who fell into a hard world and could never extricate himself from it, no matter how hard he tried. Johnny was infected with the need for drugs and alcohol. Rundown buildings were his clubhouse.

“He chose the life for whatever reason,” Redding said. “But he wasn’t homeless. Please don’t call him homeless. He always had a place to go. He was loved.”

Johnny Redding, according to his brother and sister, was one of those men who bounced from odd-job to couch to the homeless mission and back. He lived with his mother in River Rouge, the same house he was raised in until she died two years ago.

It wasn’t always this way for Johnny. He worked until he was 40 at a local steel mill along side of his father. Then Johnny’s brother Marion died of an overdose.

“That’s when I seen the change,” Homer said. “He was very close to Marion.”

Johnny began to ping-pong in life. He would do odd jobs: gardening, plumbing, anything to get him through. When he couldn’t get through, he would insinuate himself on his sister’s couch and then insinuated himself on his brother’s couch and then feeling better, he would get lost again.

“Last time I saw him was in September for his birthday,” Homer said. “It was alright. I haven’t seen him since.”

If the outpouring of phone calls and letters are any indication, then the life and sad end of Johnny Redding reminds us that even the dirtiest life has value. There are many Johnnys out there: Victor, Kenneth, Terrence your loved ones are asking about you.

And if you should judge Johnny Redding harshly, his brother Homer said, remember that no man deserves to go ignored at the bottom of an elevator shaft.

“We’ve got to live in the world together,” Homer said. “And we got to care about each other.”

You can reach Charlie LeDuff at (313) 222-2071 or charlie@detnews.com.
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Thank you and have a nice fucking day!

Just finished cup of joe number one, starting on cup number two. I have been contemplating the way people speak, more so now than ever, since we have moved to the deep south. I have never been one to use lots of flowery adjectives when speaking to another person. I prefer concise speech, straight to the point. Which made me wonder why everyone considers "fuck" such a dirty word. I have learned in my 42 years that in certain situations that is the only word that is suited for certain situations. When the World Trade Center got bombed I think FUCK was a pretty appropriate word. When Wall Street got their free pass, again, FUCK, a very suitable word. Since moving down here I have been spoken to so politely, and properly, knowing that the person who is speaking is actually saying "Fuck You", just in their own way. I personally would rather have someone tell me to fuck off, than utilize a bunch of wasted words when they could get straight to the point with two. I have always agreed with the late George Carlin. I think missle is a much more dangerous word than shit, piss, fuck etc. I was told at work to slow my speech down to improve my tips. In this area, speaking quickly is considered abrupt. Sorry, but when I am waiting on a four top and the dude in suspenders can't decide between an 8oz Rib Eye or a 120z Rib Eye, I do try to expedite the situation as politely as possible. Because while Billy Bob is trying to decide which steak he wants, I am watching my station getting loaded with more tables that are needing my immediate attention. I am smiling on the outside, saying "Take your time sweetie", but on the inside I am saying "Fuck fuck fuck". "Pick a damn steak already asshole". For me personally that is how I relieve stress. I curse, like a sailor, a drunken sailor who's only vocabulary consists of profanity. I have just learned through maturity and age, to keep the majority of my cursing on the inside. The English Language is amazing. There is a word for every occasion. Numerous words. The best part is that because I am an American I can use any word I want, when I want. At least it is supposed to work that way. I have to be at work this morning at 10am..Ah shit...need more coffee. Have a great weekend everyone.

Feb 6, 2009

Finally, some good news, Denny's does right!

I was reading on the plane about the promotion Denny's did, I believe on a Tuesday giving away free grandslams from 6am-2pm. I worked for Denny's for about 5 years and it was one of the best corporations I have ever worked for restaurant wise. Those free meals were appreciated by many. The lines were wrapped around the blocks. Sure, Denny's got alot of positive publicity, but they also made sure that for one day, everyone had a hot meal. Sure a grand slam isn't a full course meal, but when you are hungry, it beats a blank. I wonder if any other major chains will follow suit. I do believe it was especially appreciated in their South Carolina stores, where people have been not receiving their unemployemnt checks. Always nice to post a postive story for a change. Americans helping fellow Americans..especially corporate America. We live in a country where hunger should be non-existent. Change always starts with one, one person, one belief, and one motivated person to make it happen.

Feb 4, 2009

Visiting friends in Baltimore

BRRRR, it's cold here. Had to make a trip up today to take care of somethings regarding our old home. I saw a few old friends, two to be exact. It's not the quality, but the quanity when it comes to friendship in my book. These folks and I have been tight for the last few years and I value a true friend. They are precious these days. Gotta go, cause I have to fly back...more later.

Feb 2, 2009

Night horrors

The night calls me
something is lurking and watching
I don't know what
but I feel it
the hairs on my neck agree with my instinct
Stephen King, Dean Koontz and other stories I have read feed my fear
I am a brave soul
I will confront this entity.
I tiptoe down the stairs,
wishing I owned a gun
I do own a set of balls and and I have heart,
so these are the weapons I bring
I reach my destination
The bottom of the steps has a huge window
The lake is invisible in the moonless night
The only frightful image I see is my own reflection in the stairwell window
Henceforth, I will no longer read horror novels before bedtime.