So Infuriating...

Today at work I have absolutely nothing to do, which is pretty typical, so I start looking at the city data for my town here in Virginia. I go along and look at the median incomes, real estate values, ages, etc. I get to the bottom of the page and it says there are 27 registered sex offenders in my town. I click on it, and there it was. A name and a crime of a person that lives three houses away from me. I was completely disgusted by this, even though I was relatively sure that I was going to find someone in that list of names that lived on my street. Can't explain it, just one of those feelings.

I would recommend that everyone look up this information on www.city-data.com. I checked my family's areas in Georgia, but I don't know all of the nearby streets in their respective towns. There is a link to the person's rap sheet off of the list, which gives all of their information, including work address, other names, and their record.

This particular offender was charged for two counts of aggravated sexual battery. In the state of Virginia, this means sexual abuse (fondling) of the victim by force and against the will of the victim, AND/OR serious bodily or mental injury to the victim results AND/OR the assailant uses or threatens use of a weapon.

I am truly disgusted and angry that he disrupts my feeling of peace in Virginia. Now, I am going to be extra careful about being alone in my house, going outside at night, and bringing attention to myself. These are things that I haven't had to do in months, since I moved out of Savannah.

This might sound like a PSA, but I can't make it any more clear about how upset I am that my baby has to come into a world where such violent criminals are so close.

A Shared History

For my birthday, I received a card from my grandmother. Inside was not the traditional five dollar check that most grandmothers send, but an article that she cut out from a magazine. I don't remember the author of the article or the publication, but the sentiment behind the article has been with me ever since I read it. The author was making an observation on one of the many roles of a mother, one that might be overlooked or unrealized by most people. He said that mothers are the historians of their children's lives. We give them a sense of where they came from so that they can know where to go in life.

I started thinking about the importance of knowing my own family history, knowing "where I came from," even though there are parts that I might not necessarily want to acknowledge all of the time. I am grateful for all of the stories of scandal and southern color that have enriched my life, and I have a deep pride for my family heritage. I realize that I want to give my children the same amount of pride and a strong foundation of knowing who they are before they can discover who they will be in the future.

That being said, I would like to start documenting my family's history as I know it. I will require a lot of help, since my memory is not as good as it should be. I know that there are some things that only I can tell, personal experiences that are unique to what I went through. There are other stories that are not mine to tell, and I will leave those out of the project. I want my children to know who Jernigan was, and Aunt Lula Mae, and Sonny with his greasy hair and ukulele. These stories are like precious gems in my memory and I would like to give that gift to my children.