I received a call today from Detective Vasquez of the IMPD, asking me some questions about my computer and some other stolen items from our recently burglary. After some verification, it was determined they’d recovered our stolen items!

Evidently, the thieves turned themselves in for protection after booting up my computer, realizing who they had stolen from, and deciding they didn’t want to die by skull crushing. Or, they were stopped and discovered with stolen goods. Okay.

The majority of our stolen items were recovered–even our coin jar still containing its 3-year collection of coins. Everything seems to be in working order.

To those who donated to SavetheNewg, I again want to thank you so much for your support and all-around awesomeness. After replacing the last few items and repairing the damage to our window, we’re anticipating an overage, which is incredible. If you’d want a part or all of your donation back, please feel free to email me at cenewgent (at) gmail (dot) com.

Whatever is left after repairs and redistributing to donors, our plan is to donate it to the various independent presses and journals who supported us by spreading the word about SavetheNewg.

Again, I can’t express enough how encouraging it was to see the small press community rally on my behalf, nor the gratitude to Andrew Scott for creating the website and putting out the call. We may communicate mostly through online methods, but there’s something real here I’ve experienced in few other places in life.

I noticed first the bedroom light was on, which troubled me more because our last electric bill was so high. I wondered how we could have left the light on all day. I went in to turn it off and noticed Britt’s sewing box strew haphazardly on the bed. Strange, I thought. I didn’t remember her having to sew a quick button on anything before work this morning. Then, I noticed the jewelry box, its drawers torn open. I looked at the bed, the jewelry box, back at the bed, that gut-suck realization starting as a sour almond taste at the back of the throat.

Into the living room, and cords, just cords, where there was once a TV. Into the office, an emptiness where my laptop was supposed to be, a hole in the shelf where my camera was kept.

I called Britt. I wanted her to hear about it from a voice that loves her rather than the shock of absence. We found other things gone: her point-and-shoot, our coin jar I’ve been saving up since before we were married, some DVDs. We found things they overlooked: my guitar, bikes, Britt’s Macbook. We found the window they pried open to get inside, the police found partial prints. Britt today found a hole in the fence to our backyard. My dad taught me how to track deer and game as a kid. I’m going to try to find tracks.

We went to get food, both of us starving, 2 hours past when we usually eat dinner. We went to our friends’ house, Liz and Sue, who are wonderful and hilarious and commiserative. We went home and couldn’t watch the new episode of Chuck. I talked to a couple friends on the Google Talk app on my iPhone, posted a status on facebook about the robbery, and went hard to bed.

When I woke, I found this: savethenewg.com, and almost cried. I found a dozen friends replying to my post, a dozen more to come, emails in my inbox from David, Peter, and Troy, a dozen more friends on Britt’s facebook, dear friends and even acquaintances saying they had donated or are scrounging up some cash to donate. Roxane at PANK. Kyle Minor at HTMLGiant. This from Matt Bell.

Since waking up this morning, I’ve been overwhelmed not by the awfulness of being robbed, but by the goodness of how incredible my friends are. When I posted my status on facebook, I didn’t expect much more than a few people commiserating, maybe some who’d been burgalled in the past, some people calling for torches and pitchforks.

I can’t even put to words what I’ve found instead; I’m not even going to try. All I know to say is thank you, everyone, all my friends, for being more than I could ever expect or imagine.