This world is not my reality. I come from another time, another place, different from this one.

First, let me say that I use the words “man,” “his,” and “he,” because from where I originate, those are proper pronouns for the male of my species. Please feel free to substitute the ‘pronoun’ of your liking while reading this.

Also, where I am from, a man carries a wallet, his keys, sometimes a pocket knife, sometimes a handkerchief, a pocket watch, or wears a wristwatch. In this reality, however, he is almost always forced to have a cellphone on his person.

The cellphone throws everything off balance. It throws me off balance.

Perhaps if I got rid of it, I could return to where I belong.

so invisible am I
that I cannot behold my own
broken reflection

My Cousin Elmo says, “If kingdoms are ruled by kings and empires are ruled by emperors, then countries…”

It doesn’t take very much to leave me feeling accomplished.

It was early still when I began working on the front yard sprinklers, which still need more adjusting before they stop watering the sidewalk and driveway. By the time the sun fully crested the mountains to my east, it was time to head inside and get another cup of coffee.

No longer wet or chilled, I started rewriting and editing all four news stories I had put together from the night before. It’s a great feeling to have my weekly assignments finished and ready for publishing.

Once I finished that task, I grabbed the four weeks’ worth of past newspapers and started cutting them up. Before long, I had all my stories clipped and the ten pages they filled glue into my scrapbook.

At lunchtime, I got caught up in my journal. I had worked on my news stories for so long last night that I went to bed without writing anything about yesterday’s events.

Finally, Buddy (our dog) and I took a walk through the neighborhood. He was so excited, he forgot his leash training.

The walk was good for me too, as I can always use the exercise.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Silly me, I thought changing the picture on a pancake mix’s box was going to bring about World peace.”

My Cousin Elmo says, “My wife asked me to take her someplace expensive. I took her to the lumber yard.”

Though hundreds of miles and four-and-a-half decades from where I am now, this tale of murder and the hunt for justice within one family hits close to my childhood.

Mummified remains, covered in a quicklime mixture, were found along the North Canadian River, near Jones, Oklahoma, on April 18, 1980. Investigators learned that the victim, a female, had been shot three times elsewhere, then discarded by the riverbank.

The medical examiner estimated that she was between 18 and 25, five feet six inches tall, and weighed between 115 and 120 pounds. She had a heart and ribbon tattoo above her left breast and an appendectomy scar and was dead about ten days.

One of the wounds contained clothing fiber and a dime, driven into her chest by a .45 caliber bullet. Because quicklime was spread over her in a possible attempt to accelerate decomposition, she became known as the Lime Lady.

Investigators used traditional techniques to attempt to identify her, but all efforts failed. Finally, in 2014, viable DNA was extracted and the Doe Project began testing in 2019, generating a usable profile by year’s end.

On January 30, 2020, Tamara Lee Tigard finally got her name back.

Tamara was born in Alameda, California, on April 18, 1959. Incidentally, that is the date on which she was first found dead in 1980.

She joined the U.S. Army following high school, attaining the rank of Specialist E-4. It remains unclear if she had already been mustered from the Army or was still in.

She married Chadwick Ryan Carr, who was last known to be living in Tennessee, on February 24, 1979, in Las Vegas. Accounts vary as to whether they were divorced or not.

She was seen last on March 21, 1980, in Las Vegas, on a walk.

Her immediate family, Patsy and James Tigard, and sister, Cynthia Butts are deceased. Meanwhile, Tamara is interred in an Oklahoma Cemetery under a brass marker that, aside from her name, year of birth and death, and branch of service, “Beloved Daughter and Sister.”

Tamara is a cousin of Patricia Ann Tigard, a woman I grew up with and who was found murdered in October 1976 and left like so much trash near the Smith River along Hwy 199, between Crescent City and Hiouchi, California. Her murder remains unsolved because her killer is widely believed to be already dead.

Today is Tamara’s birthday. She would be 62-years-old.

The investigation into Tamara’s murder is ongoing. If you have any information, call the Oklahoma County Sheriff’s Office at (405) 713-1017.

My Cousin Elmo says, “The only reason God created the monkey is that He was disappointed in the man.”

My Cousin Elmo says, “I don’t slur my words — I speak in cursive.”

My wife sleeps in the master bedroom, I sleep in the second guest room across the hallway. Before you ask, let me explain – I have night terrors that are often violent, and I have come close to physically injuring her while in this state.

We get up at about the same time each morning and join one another at the kitchen table for breakfast, her cereal, and juice, me a cup of coffee. This is also when we catch up, reminding each other of things needing to be done and where we share our nightly dreams or terrors if either of us can recall them.

Imagine my surprise when my wife starts telling me about a dream that grew into a nightmare, where we were trying to pass an 18-wheeler, and the truck sped up jus’ as we came even with the cab. She said we were on the wrong side of the road, forcing other vehicles into the ditch.

Then I tell her about mine. We were being chased by an 18-wheeler we had passed, and no matter how hard I pushed the car or how well I drove, we could not shake the truck as it tried and tried to run us off the road.

It is the only time we have ever had duel nightmares.