Kelly Azevedo

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Gone Girl

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Today I watched the 2014 Gone Girl film, one which I have owned for years and never got around to watching. Much of the plot was in the back of my mind thanks to “real life gone girl” Sherri Papini who disappeared from Redding in 2016 and 3 weeks later was dumped on the side of the road in my small town on Thanksgiving morning.

Except Sherri had not really been kidnapped, she staged her own disappearance, torture and abuse while living with an ex boyfriend in Southern California. 

So I went into this film not expecting to like the main character Amy, played by Rosamund Pike. Now, Rosamund is a fantastic actress who played shy and flirty, stuck up, snobby, evil, conniving, manipulative and deceptive all in the span of 2 hours.

Similarly, Ben Affleck does a great job playing Nick, bouncing between a distance husband, cheating bastard, confused SOB, caring brother, frustrated husband and reluctant acceptance of his life.

Kim Dickens plays the lead detective and it threw me for a long time because in certain light I would swear it was Amy Adams doing a great southern accent.

Most of all I hated Rosamund’s Amy for being a self-centered, whiny, entitled bitch. Clearly smart, she turned herself into a victim long before she went on the run. Content to stay at home and plot her revenge on a distant and cheating husband, she took every single choice she’d made in 5 years of marriage and blamed it on her spouse. 

Granted, most of this is told through journal entries designed to deceive the police, but it goes to the mental instability of this woman. 

It’s a theme we see early on in the unfolding of their relationship, she is clearly hung up on her mother’s writing career and how her life provided the fodder for the book series named in her honor. I can’t imagine having a normal life with such odd parents. For example, I thought it beyond weird that after hearing of Amy’s disappearance they would fly to Missouri and already have a website, billboards and an entire command structure set up within 24 hours. It seemed more like marketing than a search operation.

Tyler Perry was a great addition to the cast, his scenes on panel shows and manipulating the media for his client gave a sense of reality to the Nancy-Grace-esque world we live in. 

Other than hating the main characters, which I assume we were meant to, it was a strong film. I wish they’d gone into more detail with Neil Patrick Harris and how his relationship with Amy evolved over 20 years because I was left with a vague sense of the “poor little rich boy” who was obsessed with his ex.

Overall an interesting film and only slightly more absurd than Sherri Papini’s real life “kidnapping.”

Juneteenth

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Today is June 19th or, as it is nationally known, Juneteenth. When I was growing up I had a passing knowledge of the date and what it meant but, like much of my public school education, the details had faded from memory.

This year I decided to do some research into my own family history because it feels important in a time when many states are blocking education and books about the history of slavery in America (including 1619 which taught me that slavery predates American independence).

While Juneteenth is a national holiday and a celebration for the black community, we cannot ignore that such a commemoration would not be necessary were it not for the enslaving people.

Note: over the years of educating myself about racist systems and thought, I’ve changed much of my language. Instead of talking about “slaves” I now mention “enslaved people.” Instead of “slaver owner” I use “enslaver” as both of these shifts put the burden of responsibility on the individuals who thought slavery was an appropriate action and dehumanized others.

When I think about my mom’s side of the family, the earliest ancestor I can recall is my great-great-great-grandpa Andrew, because while he died nearly 100 years ago, he is one of the first family members who had his photo taken.


Andrew Jeter 1841-1924

But thanks to the Jeter Family Mosaic assembled in 1987 by Grata Jeter, I can go back further than Andrew. If we go back just one generation, we find my 4x great grandpa, James Jeter, who was born in South Carolina in 1795. In 1815, when James was 20 years old, he served in the War of 1812 in the Battle of New Orleans under General Andrew Jackson (who went on to serve as the 7th President of the US in 1829).

James and his wife Nancy lived in Alabama, Arkansas and Texas and their 10th child, born in Alabama in May 1841 was Andrew Jackson Jeter.

In the first 9 years of Andrew’s life his family moved into a 440-acre plantation and purchased 9 people they enslaved, based on the 1850 Census. Reading these details in a massive family history book reminded me so clearly that those who were enslaved had their own families ripped away. They could not trace their lineage, a family name or the stories of their ancestors.

Forcefully removing someone’s family history is another layer of dehumanization.

James Jeter and his family moved to Texas in 1863 to escape the Civil War and there they freed the men and women they had enslaved. The remainder of Texas’ enslaved people would be freed on June 19th, 1865. While it would be easy to see this ancestor of mine as ahead of the game, let’s not forget that the Emancipation Proclamation was issued by Lincoln on September 22, 1862.

The history of slavery in America is one that is easy to look away from, to pretend that we are divorced from its impacts due to time and generations long past. To do so is to ignore the implications of an economic system that stole the labor of black people for hundreds of years, that broke up families and created a legacy that became enshrined in our national systems of governance and still exist today.

It’s easy to think that we are so far removed from that reality. I know different.

Andrew became the father of James Lee in 1876. 

James Lee became the father of Mart in 1904. 

Mart became the father of Thelma in 1929.

Thelma became the mother of Joyce in 1953. 

Joyce became my mother in 1984. 

That’s just 7 generations, 160 years since my family gained economic advantages by using the labor of black people they’d enslaved. The family history, while written in the 1980s, is still woefully out of touch. Here are just a few examples:

“Freed slaves represented a property loss to the south which was estimated to be almost two billion dollars. At first too bewildered to appreciate the meaning of their new status, some slaves remained with their former masters until their role as freemen had been clarified.”

“Johnny Jeter’s untimely death [in 1893] resulted from pneumonia after he fell through an iced-over pond on a bitterly cold day. He was returning home from college classes at the time, and his death caused his grieving father to vow that no other of his children would leave home to attend college.”

These two stories demonstrate, to me, that on a micro and macro level we need to understand the past if we’re going to learn from it. The second story illustrates how superstitious and backward farmers could ban higher education in their family due to fear after the death of a child. These same people would have, thirty years earlier, lamented the personal loss of property in the form of human beings, all while separating children from mothers, selling people as if they were cattle and with no self-awareness of their depravity.

In closing, I want to share a tweet that reminded me that Juneteenth is not my holiday, but it is a chance to reflect upon the role my family played in the past as participants in the machinery of slavery and what role we (I) play now in perpetuating its stranglehold on our systems.

My Books: an Update

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After adding my new books to Goodreads yesterday, I went down the rabbit hole of looking at my categories and found them woefully incomplete. Cue 4 hours of listening to music while adding books that were on my Amazon wishlist, making sure all the kids books were labeled, adding a new category for teens and cross checking the rest of my adult fiction and non-fiction titles.

I’m not done yet but there has been a significant change in the numbers.

According to Goodreads I own 1204 books, a number which does not reflect the books I have multiple copies of (something I’m trying to resolve) and I’ve logged 1372 books.

Books to buy: 133

YA/Children’s books: 611 aka 50%

Teen: 140 or 11%

“Adult”: 453 and we so need a better descriptor for these titles

I mark all books, owned or not, as fiction or non-fiction. I’m thinking I should add a category for Poetry

Fiction: 1075 – 78% and probably a bit high with mis-tagged books

Non-Fiction: 216 – 15%

My Books

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Recently I’ve been focused on reading more than writing, all in an effort to do less watching of Netflix, TV and YouTube…

After trading in some duplicate books at a used bookstore, I came home with a stack of novels to complete a series that I want to start in the Fall. So far this year I’ve been reading light fiction, mostly the Young Adult books that I’ve been collecting for years. Now that I’m tired of the light plots and easily wrapped up storylines, it’s time to dive into some modern fiction.

No kidding, in one series I’m on book 20 and the main character has been kidnapped 7 times in 20 books. I wish I were kidding.

My routine, when I bring a book home, is to log it in my book spreadsheet and then into Goodreads, both of which are very helpful when I’m at the bookstore, trying to remember which books I still need. And I thought I’d share some stats, for fun.

Currently I have 1313 books logged in Goodreads and only 72 of those books are on my “to buy” list. Of all the books I’ve logged, 258 of them have been read in the past 5 years. That’s just 19% of the books I own and at this rate it’ll take me 20 years to finish my current “to read” list, as long as I never buy more books which we can all agree is impossible.

Of the books I have logged only 4 are audio books (borrowed from the library) and 37 are on Kindle. That means I have, in my home, close to 1200 books.

Fiction makes up the biggest category at 85% of my books, the rest are non-fiction.

I also try to tag the books which are Young Adult/Children’s books and those make up 438 of my 1196 owned books – a respectable 36%.

Finally, I log books by the year I last read them. 2017 was the best year so far and 2019 was abysmal and 2021 is looking to fall somewhere in the middle. Here’s my 5 year track record:

2017: 60 books

2018: 52 books

2019: 31 books

2020: 58 books

2021: 48 books (as of Sept 1st)

The only thing slowing down my reading this year, so far, is the time I spend sewing which keeps my hands busy in another way. Considering that I’ve hand quilted 4 quilt tops and am working on a 5th, that’s a lot of time not reading.

When I leave for vacation next month I am thinking about the books I’ll bring along. For some reason I love paperback books at the beach and it’s the only time I’ll sit out in the sun to tan.

For 2021, I am fairly sure I can match my best year and reach 60, if not 65, books before New Year’s Day.

One Year

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One year ago I drove into town with my truck and U-Haul, two dogs very tired of the road and a brand new (old) house ahead of me.

Though the signing was mid-morning my realtor allowed me to begin unloading and graciously let the dogs stay in her air conditioned office while we walked down the block to sign the paperwork.

The funds had already been transferred and without a mortgage, it was a quick process. I soon had the keys and the real work began.

I got a quote for insurance, got my utilities turned on, set up a PO Box, and went to Wal-Mart for the essentials: an air mattress and a fan.

See, most of my belongings were in a POD in Wichita so I was unloading the truck but had very little of my “stuff.” Nothing for the kitchen, which was fine because I also had no stove, fridge or microwave. No linens except the pile of pillows the dogs had slept on the whole drive from California. No real groceries, again fine because no way to keep them from spoiling.

As soon as the UHaul was empty I was off to return it, grateful to get the truck back so it could reverse and go through Drive-Thrus.

Just imagine, if you will, driving 2,000ish miles, during the worst of COVID-19, with restaurants closed, most drive-thrus inaccessible and two dogs. It was a pain.

Once I had my truck empty I quickly bought a mini fridge, a few more fans, a microwave and began looking for appliances — most of which were sold out, on backorder or just plain unavailable.

As I look around my house today I see all the work I’ve put in. Curtains so the passing cars don’t see me changing clothes, paint on the wall to cover up the ugly beige, furniture! I moved in with little more than a bed, desk and dresser, along with a few arm chairs and now I have storage, a china cabinet, media center, dining table… it’s great!

The yard has probably seen the most transformation in the year. I hired someone to install a fence, brought home a pool, installed raised garden beds, bought a hammock, grill, bench, table and chairs and have planted so many lovely green things.

I still have a list two miles long with all the changes I want to make and the improvements that are coming soon. But for today I’ll appreciate the anniversary of buying my house and creating my home.

Relief

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It’s been a few months since I wrote here as I shifted most of my “essays” to posts on Facebook and Instagram. But this feels like it needs a permanent home.

At 11:30 local time the last precincts submitted the vote tally that pushed Pennsylvania solidly into a win for Biden, edging him over the necessary 270 electoral votes needed to win the Presidency.

I felt immediate relief. While I’m acutely aware that our work is not done, not for racial justice, equality, climate change, political reform, any of it, I still let out a breath I’d been holding for 5 years.

I am relieved that the next President is a man who can speak in complete sentences, with empathy and eloquence.

I am relieved that a liar has had his bully pulpit taken away so he can no longer poison the minds of people from our national press.

I am relieved that the voice and will of the people was heard, votes were counted and Biden prevailed.

I am thankful to the organizers who worked so hard, to those who fought to get to the polls, stood in long lines and submitted provisional ballots. I am thankful to the hardworking members of the election boards, counters, poll workers and the USPS for all their efforts. I’m thankful to every single person who cast a ballot for decency.

And my resolve remains, there are certain folks who are not welcome in my home because of the racist and evil they support in the world. They are the Taliban, the KKK and those who voted for Trump – they have their support of Trump in common and I choose not to host them, break bread with them or listen to them spew hatred.