Tuesday, July 30, 2013

This blogger program is fighting me. It takes my blog with all the paragraph divisions when I'm entering it, but when I save it and publish it or look at it as a preview it deletes all my paragraph spacing. I'm going to try indenting the paragraph first line and see if that helps. It didn't do that the first day I blogged, so I apparently am doing something differently now, but I can't see what that would be. Two minutes later, after reading the heading "Options" under the Post Settings division, I discovered what the problem was and have fixed it. Congratulations, Lucy!

Here I am on a Tuesday. I was planning to pay my bills and do my checkbook yesterday, but Richard B. called and wanted to go to Wal-Mart, and I needed to go, too, so I drove him out there. I often drive him out there because he doesn't like to go on the bus on that route. He has a problem with some of the riders – teenaged boys with their saggy pants and other rowdy and noisy people. It is hard for him to live in this building with low income people, because he has a problem with black skin. It isn't just ordinary group hatred with him. He is actually afraid of them even when he is not directly threatened. I can remember growing up in the segregated South in the 1950's, and Mother saying she was afraid of black men. I am glad to say, though, that she never expressed the disdain for black people that so many southerners did. She never called them by derogatory names or ranted against them.

My father was full of contradictions about black people, although I wouldn't go so far as to say he hated them. He espoused some of the group prejudices and myths. He was a lumber inspector at Thomasville Furniture Company and supervised black men as they unloaded the lumber trucks and did other manual jobs, and yes, Thomasville Furniture Company hired only black people to do those jobs. That was the 1950s and Thomasville was a segregated city with black schools, swimming pool, library, water fountains and bathrooms and black people were not allowed to sit down in a restaurant to eat. Still, there was a black man who used to stop by our house sometimes to get Daddy to lend him money. Daddy didn't have much money to lend, but he would give him some. Later in his last years as a lumber inspector when he was working at Georgia Pacific in Plymouth, NC, he had a fishing buddy who was a black man, and as a young child he played with a black child until his parents told him he wasn't allowed to see him anymore. So Daddy was able to relate to black people, at least on a limited basis, as individuals.

I grew up with few anti-black prejudices, because as a young child I never had any contact with black people. I can remember our next door neighbor had a black maid a day or two a week, and I was introduced to her as “Nigger Nancy,” as appalling as that sounds. I was about twelve or thirteen at the time, and I felt so sorry for the lady, that she had to hear that and say nothing in return. Our school system wasn't integrated until the year after I graduated and I went all the way through college without knowing any black people. I met my first black woman at the Durham Public Library, and talked to her when we were on break. She was well-groomed, didn't have a thick accent and carried on a very intelligent conversation. Other black people I met on jobs were similar in that I had no difficulty relating to them and they were open enough to me as a white person that I responded in kind and felt some friendship for them.

At this point in my life, I have no fear of black skin, nor any disdain, and I relate to each person I deal with as an individual rather than a member of a group. I think that is the key to getting rid of my group prejudices – open up to each individual and judge him for his own personal characteristics. If I fear a black man in the dark hanging around and watching me on the street corner, it is because the situation is genuinely threatening. When I lived in Washington, DC I had no car and used the buses and, being young, was out after dark on foot frequently. As a result I developed a fast, determined walk and a firm, blank stare that, I am convinced, set me apart from timid-looking people as likely prey. I had found “the predator stare,” which is simply to look people in the eye rather than lowering your gaze and don't move in a nervous manner. I can think of three specific instances when I encountered men who behaved threateningly toward me, and I am convinced that I did make them think twice about attacking me, because they gave ground and didn't try to assault me. Most predators don't want difficult prey – people who will probably attack back and raise a commotion to bring witnesses or help.

So, okay. What will I do today? I need to pay my bills. I also want to see about getting this blog on the Internet. I created a webpage through WebStarts which I like for the most part, but WebStarts won't put it on the Internet unless I pay about $15.00 a month and then as time passes, they will probably up the fee. I don't think the ability to look my name up on the Internet will bring enough attention to my books to make the fee worth the while, since most people who are looking for a book don't know my name, and there are no other search terms such as “mystery novels.” I found my full name Lucy Maness Warner on the Internet listing my books, courtesy of www.lulu.com, though again even fewer people know my whole name. I am somewhat resigned to selling very few books, since the main pleasure in writing the books is the act of writing them. It is absorbing and freeing – a good way to spend my time. I need to become a proficient enough author that my works are really good reading, and I can go to a publishing house and have my own personal agent. Then they will do reviews and publicize the titles to make them well-known to the reading public and you can really sell books.

10:53 AM – Paying bills. Gather up all the papers and get started.

4:00 PM – I did the bills. I always put it off because of all the papers I have to go through to do it, but I always feel that I've achieved something important once I'm done. So I finished the bills about two o'clock and Richard called and wanted to talk about some things and show me his new Tivo machine. I'm not into technology, but the Tivo does have some useful features, and I would agree that it is worth the money if you want to watch certain particular shows. The Tivo shows all that will be played on all your channels during the whole day, so you can plan your watching and switch easily from one show to another, or record one while watching another.

There is a little lightning zapping around outside, but no rain so far. The storm is somewhere nearby, though, so I'm expecting it any minute. I love to hear a good rain storm. I'm like a cat – it enlivens me. We used to have a cat when I was young that would take spells of galloping around the house when we had a thunder storm – she would just tear through the hallway apparently to express her mood. She was a pretty gray tabby, very slender and agile. I'm sorry I can't have a cat anymore. I would have to pay $200.00 deposit, and I'm on the ninth floor. I would be afraid a cat would jump off the balcony and get killed.

It's a little too early to eat, and I'm not really hungry, so I guess I'll read my current novel until time for the news to come on. I'm reading a Susan Wittig Albert novel called Wormwood. I've only just gotten started, but her main character is familiar to me, so I have read at least one other by that author. The background information for the story is the Shaker movement, so I should enjoy it. I'll go settle back with it now.