Why I like Mysteries

Albert Frantz

When we moved to the old Funderburg farmhouse in January of 1966 it seemed just a normal two-story house. If only houses could talk, oh what a tale this one could tell. The barn burnt down years ago and a large brick barn had been built in its place.

The elderly neighbors told us there was a murder in our springhouse in 1896, seventy years before we moved here.

“But if Albert Frantz were tried today,” some say, “he never would have been found guilty. “ After Albert’s execution the laws of Ohio were tightened so that no one in the state would ever again receive the death sentence based entirely on circumstantial evidence.

“There’s no doubt he shot Bessie Little,” Albert’s cousin, Alvin, said, “but I think that Albert blocked the murder out of his mind. You know, the human spirit desires to confess wrongdoing. Albert was brought up in a German Baptist Brethren home, and he would have admitted his guilt if extreme fright had not caused him to obliterate the happening on the bridge from his mind. He came actually to believe he was not guilty.”

Emma Frantz Lynch, a relative of Albert, came to visit us after we moved to farm. She told us that Albert Frantz’s parents had lived on this farm and that he had burned down the barn to burn the carriage after he had carried Bessie’s body to the river.

Roz Young wrote the story in the Dayton Daily News. The story she wrote was a little different. (Probably more accurate, who knows?)

Living in the Funderburg’s house for thirty-two years I have always been interested in the falsely accused. I am also a member of the Old German Baptist Brethren faith. Is it any wonder that my mystery writing tends to follow this trend?

A New Beginning

A couple of years have past since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I’d heard all the horror stories. I felt blessed as I was able to endure the double mastectomy, the reconstruction process. And when I next visited my oncologists I went with a very optimistic attitude. The surgeon had reported that the cancer was caught early. The bad cells had not traveled to my primary lymph nodes. I expected a good report.

Sadly, he said the type of cancer was considered triple negative which is very aggressive. There is a chance, he said, that some rogue cells have traveled to another spot. Just to be safe he recommended some heavy dose chemo. But, he said, I only had to have 4 doses at three week intervals. It was up to me…but I said okay, let’s do all we can.

I’d heard the horror stories about chemo also. The nurse giving me the infusions was very careful to make sure I did not have a bad reaction. The doctor had warned me my hair would fall out, and he told me to the day, when it would begin. A few people who had the type of chemo I was getting never did get their hair back.

Sure enough, just before it was time for my second infusion my hair started falling out in chunks. I decided if it was a temporary loss, I would just wear the hats and wraps. But it it turned out to be permanent then I would invest in a wig.

The second week after the first two infusions was very uncomfortable with three days of terrible bone pain. But it receded and the third week was great. I was impress with the sewing projects I got done that third week.

However, after the third infusion my energy was zapped and did not return. I learned more than I want to know about chemo brain fog.

Finally after almost two years, I am once again able to work on bookcovers, and even think about the manuscript I had to abandon for awhile.

I eagerly checked out my blogger site only to find it had been hacked. When I click on the link it gets forwarded to some widget site that my browser warns me is a malicious site.

So today we are starting over with a wordpress blog.

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