February 23, 2002~~1:33 p.m.
Clippings
My mother is the type of person/mom who likes to do the "clippings thing." You know. They just collect clippings from newspapers and magazines that they think will be helpful to you in your life. In college, I got a lot of weight gain/weight loss clippings and ones about dealing with eating disorders or disordered eating. Now, I've apparently graduated to needing the ENTIRE "Work" section of the San Francisco Chronicle. In addition, I sometimes get little human interest articles or things that have to do with Sacramento, since I live there. Oh, and the three month long daily devotional she gets for free at church, "Our Daily Bread." I think it's an attempt to bring Christianity back into my life, but so far, I've managed to withstand the pressures. So this pile of "self help" was growing next to my bed, and finally I decided to go through it all quickly this morning and toss anything not of real interest or pertinence and anything that would make me cry. And there it was: an article about this old Victorian house in midtown Sacramento that had been the location for the slayings of 7 elderly people by their boardinghouse owner, Dorthea Puentes. I was COMPLETELY unaware of the occurrence of these deaths in the late 1980's and I read the article with great interest. Apparently, the realtors are having a hard time selling the old house because the interior needs some work AND because some people are turned off by the fact that it was a former crime scene. For anyone who doesn't know the story (for Maria, it is a vivid memory of a 10 year old who watched the news with a fervor and thought they would never stop finding bodies in the side yard), Dorthea Puentes was this 60 year old woman who poisoned her boarding house tenants so she could collect their social security checks. She would then drag their bodies down the back stairs and would put them in graves in her side yard. The neighbors just thought she was an avid gardener with an uncanny greenthumb which produced "to die for" (no pun intended) tomatoes and beautiful roses. In truth, her tenants were providing some wonderful fertilizer for the garden. The neighbors did, however, sometimes complain of an "acrid smell" eminating from Puentes' yard. As a crazy epilogue, Dorthea Puentes spends her time behind bars knitting, creating knickknacks and writing down recipes. I had NO idea that such an incident had occurred in Sacramento. And when I discovered that the house in question was a mere block away from my boyfriend's former apartment and only 3 blocks from my own, I demanded that we take a trip over to 15th and F. Maria was completely freaked out to even stand outside the wrought iron gate, but I was intrigued. There, before us, lay the lumpy side yard with soil containing an incredible amount of iron and maybe, if you were lucky, a spare tooth or two. I should really start paying more attention to those articles my mom sends. I really should.
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