J.C. received the phone call from Roosevelt McCarter
around ten o’clock local time, midnight where Roosevelt lived. Why Roosevelt called even Roosevelt probably couldn’t tell you with any certainty or clarity. It was not an important call; as a matter of fact, it was a call that served no real purpose. It wasn’t even from someone J.C. would call a friend. Yes, he shared nineteen(19) mutual friends on Facebook with Roosevelt, but they weren’t “friends” or “following each other” on the social website.
Perhaps it was merely the fact that J.C. had decided
to publicly share his phone number on the ‘About’ page of his Facebook account. He didn’t recognize the phone number that appeared on the screen of his cell phone so he let the call go to voice mail. Curious who would be calling him from an area code near where he came from in the Midwest, J.C. decided to listen to the message. He didn’t recognize the name and couldn’t figure out why the person was calling him. Curiosity again got the better of him, and he did the unthinkable, he called the number back. He spoke with Roosevelt for about ten minutes, listening to the stranger’s rambling, disorganized words without comprehending exactly what the stranger wanted and why. From time to time, he interrupted Roosevelt’s monologue(diatribe?) to ask questions.
He didn’t get any real answers,
but it felt good to him to ask questions as more of a mental self-defense strategy than in hopes of learning anything.
For J.C., it was all very confusing but a fitting way to end this particularly weird Wednesday in Sacramento. But that is another story for another day.
