I Followed The Yellow Brick Road

The Yellow Brick Road is more than just a path to the Emerald City; it symbolizes self-discovery, growth, and transformation. For all of us, each yellow brick represents the building blocks of our lives, the experiences, and lessons that shape who we are.

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  • Day Four of a Murderous Week

    This is the third story that involves murder and Kmart. At first I thought…..what is it with Kmart but I guess because so much of our lives was centered around the workplace I guess that is where most of our life stories come from. It probably would not be any different if we worked at Sears.

    Every family has some sort of drama but chances are it is not going to start with an arson-murder attempt that ends in a dramatic and violent suicide. The macabre site of the drama being something we frequently see left untouched in the years to come.

    One of Sweeties employees was a man in his mid 20’s. It was known that he had lived with his mother and stepfather. The relationship between the two men was not very good. The marriage had ended. From accounts it was not without drama. On this tragic April day day in 1997 Steve’s mother had been called by her newly ex husband to come to the house. It is here that he attacked her in her truck and tried to drag her inside the house where on the garage wall he had spray painted in large letters, “I built this house with love I burn it down with hate” He then proceeded to lock himself inside the home where he started a fire and shot himself to death.

    How sad that hurt and anger ends one life and leaves tragic scars on others forever.

  • Day Three of a Murderous Week

    Did you ever have a song that every time it comes on you have a flashback of a memory? Even decades later? That is what happens to me when David Bowie’s 1975 hit “Fame” come on the radio. And of course I quickly remind sweetie about that memory each time.

    In the late 70’s when we worked at K Mart there was an employee that worked in our department. He was a tire changer and from what I remember usually worked the night shift. He was a Vietnam Vet, a little quirky, missing some teeth, and not the best personal hygiene habits, but appeared to be a gentle soul. When ever the song “Fame” came on his radio blaring in the shop he would sing along when the chorus part came on. I felt really bad for him. He seemed to have a tough life. I don’t remember if he had a car or if his wife picked him up each night. One particular night he was going to be walking home and he lived at least 10 miles from the shop. I don’t remember if he asked me or if I offered, but I gave him a ride up to his crossroad on the highway. Something I would never think was a bad idea until years later.

    I miss getting newspapers. Nowadays you have to count on hearing what is happening by catching it’s short run on social media posts. But this was 1984. Staring at me on the front page were the gruesome details of the death of William Crutcher, owner of a small used car lot. Arrested was Robert Hall, 38 years old and now accused of robbery and murder.

    I guess you never really know how desperate a person is or who they are……….

  • Day Two of a Murderous Week

    In the 70’s so many families left their cold home states and moved to beautiful sunny Florida. Some were chasing dreams of fishing and living near the beach others simply wanted to escape the soaring cost of living and the overwhelming crime back home. Although we never knew each other both Sweetie and I were young teenagers that left New York with our families for these very reasons. And from what I remember, our small community in the outskirts of Tampa/Clearwater was quiet and free of the large city crime dramas we had left behind. The perfect place to eventually get married and raise our two boys. Perhaps we were naïve, or perhaps we carried a bit of those negative vibes with us to this new place we called home.

    It was July 16th, 1991 when in our small community made up of several hundred modest homes life would tragically change for one family and leave the rest of us reeling. Around the corner from us one of those 900 sq ft homes housed; four adults, four children and four dogs. Two of the adults who were sisters got into an argument. One sister shooting and killing the other and then opening fire on her own 14 year old son and 5 year old niece. The wounded son running across the narrow street and banging on a neighbors door for help, telling them that his mother had just shot his aunt, cousin and even himself. When the police arrived one of the officers was making his way to a back bedroom where the mother of the two sisters lay bedridden. Before he had a chance to reach her she used a second handgun and took her own life.

    I wonder what happened to those children. They would be 49 and 39 now. Not much different than our own children. What were their lives like after that day? How are they doing now? We often drive though our old neighborhood. I can still pick out the house, and always glance at the corner house the young boy ran to for help. I take an extra glance at the door trim almost expecting to see the streaks of blood we saw on that tragic summer day back in 1991.

  • Day One of a Murderous Week

    Well let me clarify. It is not a murderous week but rather this is the week I am going to write about the close encounters we have had with murder. Ok, Ok, Ok, so let me further clarify we were never in harms way or connected to these murders.

    Growing up my parents thought it was best not taking us to funerals. I guess I get it, but unfortunately it does not make for the healthiest adult when it comes to dealing with death. I didn’t go to a funeral until 1986, and that was for the wife of Sweeties coworker. It was a memorial service and one of the most disturbing deaths. But then most mysterious deaths are disturbing. I have always been a fan of reading true crime. I remember as a teenager I was excited to get the Sunday paper because the back few pages featured a true crime story. While I have always been a true crime buff, I think this murder is what started our joint interest in dissecting true crime mysteries even to this day.

    Helen “Wendy” LaRoche was just 21 years old, newly married, and beginning college classes when she was murdered while working the night shift at a convenience store in Port Richey. On the evening of June 29, 1986, Wendy was working alone at the Gas ‘N’ Save. The store has since been demolished, and a Home Depot and 7-Eleven now stand in its place.

    Earlier that night, Wendy’s husband, Dave LaRoche, stopped by the store to switch vehicles with her. He remained for approximately 10 to 15 minutes and said everything appeared normal when he left. Investigators believe Wendy was killed just minutes later. She was shot multiple times and later discovered deceased in a back room of the store by a customer.

    Wendy and Dave met while attending Hudson High School, worked together at K-Mart, shared many of the same friends, and married shortly after graduating. Those close to her described Wendy as fun-loving with a strong sense of humor and a full life ahead of her.

    The Pasco County Sheriff’s Office continues to classify Wendy LaRoche’s death as an unsolved homicide. Detectives have stated the case has never been closed, and they continue to seek information that could bring answers to her family.

    This was a Sunday night. we were on our way home from a family dinner in Clearwater. We actually passed the crime scene with our two little ones in the back seat. Not realizing that the crime scene we saw out our car windows was going to hit so close to home and we would play over and over in our minds for many years to come.

  • A Random Crazy Observation

    The neighbor had their roof replaced today. They are the last of us on the block to get that done. I guess 15 years is that magic age where the insurance companies get nervous and lay a little financial pressure on you to make that financial sacrifice. The crazy observation is what we paid for that roof is almost the same amount we did for our first home. Funny…..when we bought that home we thought we were the richest people in the world. Not quite the same jubilee as that first home.

  • Frugal or Hopelessly Sentimental

    About 8 years ago I began a 6 year mission to simplify and declutter our home. I have always been an organized person, and can put my hand on just about any requested item immediately, but wanted a better handle on the inner peace that comes with this process. One of the items I came across was a box of save greeting cards. I had saved wedding cards, new baby cards, many birthday and anniversary cards. Enough is enough, what am I doing with these? I had never looked at them again. So that night I discarded the box and wrote on social media that I had gained back that shoebox size space in my closet. By morning I was bombarded with comments. WHY after all these years of saving them would you get rid of them. Quickly I retrieved them from the trash. After several hours I came to my senses and decided social media was not going to hold me back from my goal to be somewhat decluttered before our retirement day in 2023.

    As I went through them one last time I came across the first Valentine Day cards we gave each other in 1977. The messages were typical of a newlywed couple of only 9 days. I placed them in a safe spot with the few items I use to decorate for February. We both agreed that we would no longer buy overpriced greeting cards each holiday only to be discarded days later. Those precious cards have come out February 1st every year and placed where we can see them all month. A reminder of our love that was, love that is, and love that always will be. Happy 49th Valentine’s Day my Sweetie!

  • I’ll take some sugar in that tea please.

    I know more memories will come up about our days before February 5th 1977 here are just a few.

    Sweetie had a 196? Plymouth. I think it was white but it took on an off white look to it, or maybe that was aged paint. Our first Official Date was McDonalds that was close to our work place. I am sure that we went somewhere else but I cannot recall at this time. What does stick in my mind is after dinner we had to fill up 5 empty gallons with water from the spicket outside of the restaurant. He kept in his trunk to use in the radiator. I remember on one particular date feeling hot water pour into the car above my feet. I believe it was the heater core. I think the car suffered so much because of the journey it had to take every work day. Sweeties home to the shop in Tarpon Springs was 27 miles. A large chunk of that was the treacherous ride down Countyline. It was a pot hole filled lime rock road that left the year round look of snow on the trees that lined it.

    I had collected my fair share of rattles from that road. As our dating career had progressed I became a frequent guest on Sunday afternoons for Family Dinner. Sweeties Mom was a great cook (almost as good as my Mom and both always better cooks than I could ever be) Sweeties Sister always helped in the kitchen and was already an excellent cook in her young teenage years.

    I remember dinner being delicious. Usually a piece of perfectly cooked beef or pork that you could break with your fork and a brown gravy to die for. Homemade unsweetened ice tea was the beverage served. I never had unsweetened tea and for the first few times I did request the use of the sugar bowl….a lot of sugar. Needless to say, I learned quickly to drink ice tea with no sugar and to this day can do just fine turning down the sweetened version.

    After dinner and homemade dessert Sweetie and I would go for a drive. I remember one time sitting in the car several streets away from their home overlooking a large empty reservoir. I think we had the windows rolled down because we suddenly heard an eerie chanting noise. Not sure if it was a Satanic Ritual or Klansman Meeting but what ever it was we knew it was not good and got ourselves out of there. Whenever we are riding up in that area of the county we search for that cul-de-sac that has since been filled in with cookie cutter homes….hopefully, minus the evil spirits

  • Marching to the beat of a different drum

    I remember being in chorus but I don’t remember being able to sing. In junior high school I was a member of the school radio station WMJH but I don’t think I was ever “on-air”. We even visited a local radio station and I thought to myself being a disc jockey was surely the career path I must take. I still have the little cassette tape where I played music and did mini interviews with my younger brothers.

    My sweetie is one of the most accommodating people I will ever know he knows I have a love for music and a real soft spot for drums. In our first half of marriage we bought (and sold) two beautiful drum sets. But the problem was, I wanted so bad to play the drums but I didn’t want to learn to play the drums. I felt it should all just come naturally.

    I love music, almost all music. Sweetie often tries so hard to ask me who sings this or do you know what those lyrics mean. I don’t think I will ever get any better at that game. But my love for music will never change. I will continue to buy surprise tickets and take my Sweetie to see some of the biggest names in Rock & Roll, but as for the drums…….not in this life.

  • Don’t You Step On My Florsheim Shoes”

    Ai says the song Blue Suede Shoes symbolizes 1950’s youth culture, fashion, and pride, where a pair of expensive or stylish shoes is treated as a treasured possession that should not be damaged or scuffed especially when dancing.

    In looking back and even now I think we can honestly say we were not “label” people. We certainly wanted nice things but did not have to buy something just because the brand name attached to it. And when we did have something nice we took extra care of it. Sweetie had a very expensive guitar that he saved hard and bought as a teenager and he still has this guitar hanging in our home. It is a constant reminder of good memories and what hard work and perseverance will get you. I remember once I was invited to a church service where Sweetie and a singer performed “Our Father Who Art in Heaven” Only problem was he had forgotten his pick or misplaced it. He played that entire song using a quarter that if I remember correctly I was able to provide for him.

    Back to the shoes. Neither of us had closets full of clothes or items to bring over to our first home. I don’t think we even needed a moving truck. One of the prized possessions that I saw through our dating years and first few years of marriage was Sweeties Florsheim Shoes. They were two tone ivory and either brown or dark burgundy and may or may not have had a weeeee bit of a platform heel. But he loved those shoes. When he put them on he had some sort of a superpower. Not sure but that may be what caught my eyes in the early days.

  • Things Your Mama Didn’t Tell You

    I have some very vivid memories of being in the kitchen of our first home. There was the very popular harvest gold appliances with matching wall paint. We had indoor/outdoor carpet in the kitchen but that did not last long. I I remember specifically standing in the kitchen making spaghetti and listening to Stevie Wonder singing “Isn’t She Lovely”

    This particular day Suzy-Gale Homemaker was going to defrost the now solid ice freezer. This was not something I had ever seen done because for as long as I could remember, or never took an interest in noticing, my family had a frost free freezer. I spent hours working on this project. I tried everything. I chipped and banged and even poured warm water on the stubborn chunks adhered to the aluminum sides of the compartment. By the time my Sweetie got home I was feeling quite defeated. Once the great problem solver arrived he was quick to solve the dilemma. Mamma never told me that you never pour water into a freezer to defrost when the appliance is still plugged in and on. This was the first of many things I learned as a newlywed and first time homeowner.