#but this was like... last sunday i told my sister like 'you know gerard way? theyre kinda cool maybe' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alegacyofmikalsons · 4 years

Text

The Act of Living Chp. 2: A Dangerous Threat

Author’s Note: It's taken me forever to finish this chapter but, here it is! I love how it turned out, especially Sera's interactions with all of them. I'll be revealing more details about how exactly they met and became friends over the course of the story, I didn't want to overwhelm with a bunch of background all at once. But, what do you think? Let me know! Hopefully, the next chapter won't take nearly as long as this one did, though I've only just started it so, it will be a little bit before it's ready.

Rating: Mature

Series Summary: Klaus and Elijah were supposed to die, but fate in the form of new friends Serafina Hewitt and her sister Stevie intervened. A year later Stevie is dead and Sera returns to New Orleans to see her friends and investigate her suspicions about what happened. When it's confirmed that a powerful hunter group is responsible, she realizes a much bigger threat is coming, one that threatens all of New Orleans. As they race to stop it, she gets more than she bargained for, finding the truth about who she is and a growing attachment towards a certain Mikalson. Most importantly, they all get answers to the biggest riddle of all: what the act of living really means.

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/791411114-the-act-of-living-chapter-2-a-dangerous-threat

"What?!"

Her shriek draws attention from people on the street and seeing their bewildered stares lock onto us, I groan. This the last thing we need. The longer they linger, the more I want to avoid them.

Pulling her behind another building, I shush her. "Keep it down."

She gives me a confused look but, lowers her voice. "Sera, why are you...?"

"I don't want anyone to overhear this." Glancing around, I make sure no one can see us before continuing. "Not until we know more about what they might be planning. If they follow the pattern they have before...they'll let us know."

I don't have a timeline for when Nemean might attack or a strong idea of what one here might even look like. The only thing I know for sure is the longer the public is worried, the worse the final outcome will be. That means keeping this from them until we have to warn them.

Her worried frown deepens. "This Nemean group, do you really think they want to attack everyone?"

I respond with another sigh. "I do. Targeting public places and events is what they're known for. Sunday farmer's markets, festivals, parties. Anywhere most of the community will be gathered with limited exits. And they're alarmingly successful. Just over a month ago they attacked a festival in Savannah where over a hundred died. The worst part is, if they don't kill as many as they want to, they come back until they're satisfied."

A look of frozen terror materializes as she struggles to comprehend what I've told her. "How do you know all this?" she asked. Then after a few minutes, her eyebrows lift suddenly. "The attacks you've talked about. Your parents. Were they...?"

Closing my eyes for a second, I swallow as images of death and destruction briefly fill my vision.

"There have been five over the course of eight years," I explain, my voice breaking. "With us, they've never been content...for that to happen they'd have to kill everyone. And we've proven to be resilient."

She and her siblings know a lot about our small, secretive town from everything Stevie and I have told them. It's earned me a lot of crow from those in charge, given their disdain for the Original Family but I don't care. Nemean already ruined Mirebrook's illusion of secrecy when we met. And despite being well aware of everything they've done, it wasn't usually without a reason, even indefensible ones.

Her eyes widen in alarm. "Well, why has it taken them so long to show up here? Shouldn't we have been a target by now?"

I shake my head. "Not necessarily. You've done a good job keeping everyone's nature a secret. That's why...I thought Stevie was safe here..." trailing off, I stare at the overcast sky before clearing my throat. "But, it doesn't matter. They can find out who we are on their own, no matter how secretive a community is. If they found Stevie, they're capable of knowing who everyone else is. I guarantee it. That's why I'm so worried. With a city and population this large, if they attack and I believe they will, it could be the biggest one they've done yet."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know a lot about them, " I respond. "After the last attack a year ago studying them has been my obsession. This is a target they'd be foolish to pass up."

Because of me.

Everything I care about they destroy and this is the only thing left they can. Unless they figure out how to grow white oak.

I don't say that out loud though, not wanting to scare off the only people I have left. "And they're willing to do anything to kill as many as possible. They'd burn this city to the ground if that's what they thought was necessary. It wouldn't be the first time."

The aftermath of their raid of a small Massachusetts town back when I was following them still appears in my nightmares occasionally. I'd managed to be there in time to save several people but, the town itself was already too engulfed in flames.

Her complexion turns ghostly white.

"We can't let that happen," she frets. "What do we do?"

Hesitating, I bite my lip. I'm used to being able to know everything but my intelligence isn't absolute and Nemean so far has been able to stay elusive. There are no real answers I can give her, especially if the attack is still months away. But, there is an obvious place to start.

"Well, the first thing we need to do is tell your siblings. They'll want to know about this and I'll need their help. You guys have the connections that I don't anymore. Where are they?"

"Nik and Elijah should still be at home," she replies. "If not then I'll have them meet us there."

The others have separate places outside the quarter but still visit frequently. While they'll most likely have to be a part of this too, the two she does live with will do fine for now. They have the most influence on the rest of the community. Plus, I want to see them anyway. Talking through a dirty computer screen isn't the same.

"Let's go then."

I follow Rebekah through the French Quarter, keeping up with her vampire speed. She looks at me in amazement like she has since we met, but doesn't say anything. I give her my usual shrug. There isn't much to tell her. It's one thing that doesn't come with having demon blood. The mystery element in the other half of my pedigree my parents refused to disclose before they died.

This pace allows us to reach the compound relatively quickly and I can't help the small smile that forms. It looks almost identical to how I left it a year ago, with a fresh coat of paint the only addition.

"They should be inside somewhere," she tells me as we enter the courtyard.

Almost as soon as we step inside, a group of vampires surrounds me, their faces twisted in threatening scowls. I recognize them as some of Marcel's nightwalkers, lower-ranking members of his circle. Sometimes they hang out here when he's with Klaus, so I assume he's inside somewhere. It's clear from their attitudes that they don't remember me. But, they do sense the darkness from my blood radiating from me, all vampires can. I'm not worried though. If they do try anything, I can take care of them, probably without causing too much damage. Or if they really annoy me I can let them find out the ugly fate that happens to those with my blood in their system. I doubt anyone will fault me too much if they initiate it.

But, before any of the scenarios in my head can take place a familiar male voice rings out.

"Relax guys, Serafina's a friend," Marcel Gerard says. His eyes narrow into a soft glare until they dutifully resume their prior activities. Seeing me, his expression brightens. "Sera. Long-time no see."

He soon wraps me in a hug and I quickly accept the friendly gesture.

"Sorry, it's been safer for me to be back there," I reply. "But, nothing is keeping me from family and friends right now."

It's the partial truth. Even without the threat, I'd likely still be here. And I figure he'll be filled in after Klaus and Elijah. But, right now is not the time. I definitely do not want the vampires with him to find out yet.

"No worries." His jovial expression falters slightly. "I'm sorry about Stevie. The whole Quarter is grieving. She was loved by everyone here."

I know she had a decent amount of friends here, but not the extent of her connections. The news is welcome information, my guilt for leaving her alone in the city receding a little.

"Thank you, I needed that."

We make more small talk which I only take part in because he's a friend and with Rebekah. Normally it's an activity that makes me bristle. Too soon, Nemean crowds my thoughts once more. I clear my throat. "I'd love to stay and chat but, we need to talk with Klaus and Elijah about something important."

Seeing our tense demeanor, he steps aside to give us better access. "Of course, I was just on my way out. I assume that I'll see you at the funeral later?"

"You will." As we head towards the door, I give him another sad smile.

Rebekah and I go inside and after a few minutes of searching, we find her brothers in the library on the second floor.

"Of course," she quips with a small scoff. "I should have known you'd be moping in here."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Klaus responds, his attention still on the weathered paperback in his hands.

If he's heard the extra noise from my footsteps, it doesn't register. However, Elijah looks up in mild surprise. "Serafina...hello."

"Hi, Elijah."

I find myself swallowing down a sudden bundle of nerves. What the hell? I haven't felt like this around him before. At least, I don't think so. I can't dwell on it too much as Klaus finally glances at me, setting his book aside.

"What nothing for me?"

I roll my eyes, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth. "Patience, Klaus. Even if I could forget about you, I wouldn't."

A faint snicker comes from Rebekah while a corner of Elijah's mouth tilts upwards. We all know how little he has. This lighthearted moment makes me realize how much I've missed seeing them in person and I feel a smile forming.

After a minute, Elijah clears his throat, a concerned frown suddenly there where it wasn't before. "How are you doing?"

My mood plummets as I'm forced to remember why I'm here. I almost utter my standard response before stopping myself. Back in Mirebrook, no one really asks me that question anymore or care enough to expect a genuine answer. Not since my dark blood and lovesick heart turned their lives into a paranoid hell. But, right now I can tell that he wants the truth. And as another wave of passing butterflies rolls through I find that I for once want to give it.

"Not too well," I admit with a breathy sigh. "It's hard. She is...was...the last family I had left."

He doesn't say anything but the look on his face is enough. It's more sympathy than pity but it still feels as intense.

"I'm sorry," he finally manages. "She's in our thoughts too."

I don't know what to say, so I simply give him a nod as I take a deep breath to quell the sudden swirl of emotions inside. After a few minutes, I feel Klaus's eyes on me, so I look over.

"I'm assuming you saw her? In the alley?"

Stevie's body.

I nod again. "Yeah, I did. Thanks for making sure no one touched anything. It's actually allowed us to obtain some information about what happened."

This is met with interest.

"What information exactly?" Elijah trades an uneasy look at Klaus.

Rebekah lets out a sigh, trading with me an uneasy glance. "Who killed her. She was targeted by a group of hunters known as the Nemean brotherhood." Her voice trembles slightly.

There's a beat of silence. Then, Klaus lets out a quiet chuckle, a devilish grin spreading.

"I see you're still looking for facts that don't exist. Brother, will you please get her to see some reason?"

Her expression falls before vibrant flush coats her cheeks. I knew this would be the likely response but it still irritates me nonetheless since I've made the same mistakes she has. A conflicted look appears on Elijah's face. For a second I hope that he might give her the benefit of the doubt. But, that's soon dashed as he lets out a resigned sigh. I know he'll make the same choice he usually does when caught between the two of them.

"I know you're upset about what happened to her, we all are. But this speculation isn't going to help," he tells her.

Her eyes harden on them, her lip quivering in centuries of pent-up anger. "Will you just take me seriously for once! This isn't speculation, Sera's confirmed this. And she believes everyone in the Quarter is in danger now too!"

This makes them recoil in surprise. She's yelled at them countless times, but never like this. Especially when it came to sticking up for herself.

Elijah finally looks over at me in silent question. "Is this true?"

Next, to me, she rolls her eyes and I give her a sympathetic look before answering. "Yes. They don't just hunt individually or in small groups. Nemean are more like supernatural terrorists attacking public events. These result in numerous casualties, sometimes hundreds of them."

He blinks in disbelief, straightening in his chair. "How do you know these people are responsible?"

"Because they want us to know. When Nemean kill someone, they leave their symbol somewhere on the body. Just like," I swallow, the words becoming tangled in my mouth. "Just like this one, which Rebekah noticed on Stevie's body. It's the reason I needed to see her, so I could confirm it."

She shows them the picture she's saved on her phone. As soon as he sees it, Elijah's eyes widen as his expression becomes grave. "Niklaus...isn't that...the same symbol that was on that boy Daniel's arm?"

The hybrid's jaw clenches several times. "I thought it was a random tattoo," he growls in confirmation. "Clearly it's not."

Any lingering doubt is erased. This means something to them.

It takes only a second to put the pieces together. "Are you saying...there was a victim before Stevie?"

Dread pools in my stomach. This means they've had to be here for at least that long, perhaps even a month if they took time to survey things before targeting anyone.

"It appears so," Elijah replies, his brows pinching together. "He was a newly turned vampire who we found dead a little over two weeks ago. Are you certain the emblem belongs to them?"

"Positive. Circle with a lion and their name in Greek. All in black or white ink."

The image is vibrant in my mind. Even if I could forget, I've seen way too many victims and buildings with it.

He turns to his sister, an apologetic expression appearing. "I'm sorry Rebekah, it seems you were right to be concerned."

"Thank you," she replied, folding her arms across her chest. "I do know what I'm talking about from time to time."

Meanwhile, Klaus is still sulking, arms crossed. I know why. He's mad that he didn't know about Nemean until now. It's not his fault, I doubt it's an accident. For some reason, Nemean hasn't wanted them to. Now that there's the young man, though, I can tell that's changed.

"Bloody hell. Alright, Sera, tell us more about these people," he demands, his stare boring into me. "I take it you know a lot."

"I do. Nemean travels around the country attacking communities with large supernatural populations. The bigger the place in general and the greater portion of our kind, the bigger the target. They were founded in the nineties and were a fringe group until their current leader joined and took over. He turned them...into an army...a nightmare."

An icy chill spreads in my veins as the man comes to mind and I feel myself beginning to tremble. He's the only person I've truly feared. The reason why when it comes to Klaus's antics, I barely bat an eye.

"What do you know about him?" Elijah inquires.

He's putting on a neutral expression but I can sense the intense worry hidden underneath.

I feel the air become charged with electricity as the energy inside me stirs once more. I have to be careful. Hesitating, I bite into the inside of my cheek until a bitter metallic tang hits my mouth. My body's only reaction to what is poison for everyone else.

After a minute, I finally answer the question. "His name is Richard Crane and... I've never met anyone like him. He's clever, sadistic, power-hungry. Loves using psychological warfare. He can't be human since he can keep up with the best of us. The oldest Vampires, the strongest wolves. Even the witches struggle to fight against him. If I had a guess I'd say he's part demon, even more concentrated than I am. His blood...it's almost pure black and just like mine it kills everything it touches. He could even be the child of a Sin, the highest, most powerful one there is. They're the equivalent of Lucifer."

Klaus leans back in his chair, his anger climbing higher by the minute while Rebekah's turned ghostly white, visibly shaken.

"Where did you obtain all of this?" Elijah asks in curious amazement.

"I've done a lot of research. Also...I've experienced it myself. They've been coming to Mirebrook regularly for years now. We constantly get new people from other places and always manage to rebuild. So, they're never able to quite finish the job."

My voice breaks as I feel tears starting to form and anxiety blooms in my stomach. This is more than I usually show in front of other people due to the risk. Yet, I feel a stubborn urge to press my luck.

So, I divulge the one detail not even Rebekah knew. "And that will never happen as long as I'm there...since Richard Crane has made my death his personal vendetta."

Her mouth falls open as a horrified expression materializes. Klaus and Elijah share similar looks as well.

"What, why?" she exclaims.

I shrug, playing with the sleeve of my sweater in an effort to calm my increasingly erratic emotions. "Not quite sure, he hasn't felt the need to tell me. Could be the demon part of my blood, or the other half I haven't been able to identify. I've also done some...particularly nasty things to his soldiers' families in the past so, I assume that's a factor as well."

The power inside builds once more and the chilled wind returns sending my heartbeat racing twice as fast. My parents' lecture is loud in my head screaming at me to stop. Yet, for some reason, I can't.

"Whatever it is, it's why they've gone after everyone close to me. First, they killed my father in the first raid several years ago...then, my friends one by one," I exclaim tears pricking my eyes like tiny knives. "Last year, the attack on the school where my mother died was their doing as well. Now...poor Stevie. The only reason I'm still here is that I've... somehow...recovered from everything they've done to me. Things that...that should've been fatal. I survive everything, so they've taken everyone from me. Because being alive and alone is...is worse than the most p...painful death."

Through the tears, I see them react with various states of horror and sympathy. The pressure of them on me is too much and I close my eyes to find some relief. Instead, the vivid image of damaged walls and the metallic scent of blood overwhelm me. I snap them back open before it can pull me in completely, my heart pounding in my chest as the power inside me radiates outward causing the floor beneath me to vibrate ever so slightly and the wind to pick up.

No.

I try to do my breathing regimen and begin to hyperventilate, realizing with a sickening dread that it's too late. Collapsing into a fit of heavy sobs as everything intensifies around me, I desperately will myself to move. Somewhere, anywhere but this room. Yet, I can't, my legs rooted in place. The floor is now shaking violent and high-speed gusts rattle everything in sight.

"What in the world?" Klaus shouts.

Elijah and Rebekah bolt upright in states of bewilderment.

"Sera?!" she wonders, her voice filled with fright.

"I can't...I can't stop it...I'm sorry!"

Finally, I'm able to force myself to leave, hurrying out of the room and down the stairs as the tremors increased and hurricane-force winds fill the house. I manage to stumble my way to the living room where the shaking ground and blurring vision cause me to lose my balance. Falling onto my hands and knees, I continue to cry, my chest heaving from the force of the emotions coming out. It feels like it will never end, the sobs, the ringing in my ears and blurry vision.

Yet, at some point, I'm able to latch onto my breath and use it to slowly start regaining control. The quaking slowly turns into a rolling motion and the gusts taper. Then, eventually, everything stops, becoming calm like before. After a minute, I blink as everything comes back into focus. That's when I look around, surveying the damage this outburst had caused. Thrown objects cover the floor including a few framed pictures and a few small cracks are noticeable in the ground. The worst of the destruction is one of the windows which has a small hole and cracks raiding out around it from where something punctured through the glass.

"Oh God," I mumble to myself tearfully as I shakily stand up

My temples begin to throb like my head always does after an episode. Soon, my whole body will be sore from overexertion. After a minute I hear the wood on the stairs creak as I become aware of a presence behind me. Turning around, I notice Elijah standing near the bottom and let out a squeak.

His gaze meets mine and the concern I find in it deepens. "Serafina."

"Elijah." My cheeks are suddenly boiling hot and my forehead starts to sweat as the butterflies from earlier return in earnest. "How long have you been standing there?"

"I came down as soon as it stopped," he replies, looking over my appearance before turning his attention to the surrounding damage. "What exactly happened?"

I sigh and shift my eyes downward. "Sometimes when my emotions are strong they set off abilities. I don't even really know what they are, only that they involve this and that I can't control them. Like my visions."

He knows of the ones about the future, the thing that allowed me to save his life. They all do. But the memories, I haven't worked up the courage to tell them about. Most people I have didn't react well, not understanding that I had no control over what I saw. Even those who accepted my emotional outbursts.

I brace myself for a harsh reaction of fear. I'm a freak. A danger. Most people usually respond with one of the two labels. It's what I've learned to expect ever since the first time back in the orphanage. I barely understood why the woman in charge was so cross with me, her untrimmed nails digging into my arm or why all the other kids were crouched in the corners in fright. But, to my surprise, this isn't the case.

Instead, when I make eye contact once more, I see nothing other than compassion. "I wish we would've known. Maybe we could've helped. Are you alright?"

Twice now all he's cared about is my well-being.

"I..." I stammer before shaking my head as I fall apart once more, with no reason to hide what I'm feeling.

In a matter of seconds, I find myself in his arms being pulled into his embrace. After a second I melt into it. He doesn't say a word, simply giving me the silent comfort needed until I'm ready to talk.

After several minutes I finally choke out, "I'm so tired of people dying because of me."

"Don't say that." He backs away slightly forcing me to meet his gaze. "What happened to Stephanie wasn't your fault."

I shake my head vigorously. "But, it is. It's all because of me. Crane has told me himself. If he can't kill me than he's determined to make my life so painful that I stop living it. That means taking everything and everyone he can from me."

Pushing away, I start to pace across the floor as he watches silently, knowing that nothing he can say will dissuade me.

"That's why I'm so sure this attack will happen," I continue, raking my fingers through my hair. "I don't have people they can take anymore...but I have this, Elijah. My home, the place I care about more than anywhere else. He knows that. So this is what he'll make them destroy next! And I'm scared that...again...I won't be able to stop it. That the only way this will end is with me dead."

"Serafina, we both know that's not true," he replies.

Pausing, I let out an embarrassingly loud sniff. "You're just saying that."

He approaches me cautiously, leaving just enough space to not be startling.

"No, I'm not." He gently places his hands on my shoulders urging me to look at him once more. When I do, my heart leaps into my throat as I notice a soft but strong determination. "You were able to save us and destroy the Hollow while staying alive. That alone should tell you that you're capable enough. And we won't let you do this by yourself. We will help you every step of the way until they're gone."

I gape at him. No one back home would do that for me. Maybe when we first arrived and Nemean hadn't shown up yet, but not now. Now they look at me like they want me dead too.

"I can't ask you to do that. What if it puts you in danger?"

His resolve doesn't waver. "Well, thanks to you, that's not much of an issue. Even on the off chance it becomes one, it won't change a thing. This city is our home, we won't let it be destroyed. And you, Serafina are our friend. A close one. We certainly won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

At this, I gasp. He doesn't throw that word around unless he means it. And I can tell from the look I receive that he does.

"Okay."

This and a nod is the only response that comes out as that feeling floods my veins once more, a mix of nerves and giddiness I can't quite place. The only thing I can compare it to is...no. I've seen enough memories to know that would be a bad idea. Even if it wouldn't be, I can't afford to be distracted now. After a minute, I finally avert my gaze which takes the pressure off of a bit. Then, I realize I should say something. As much as I hate small talk, uncomfortable silence is worse.

"Thank you. Out of all the reactions I thought you'd have to me destroying your house...this was definitely not one of them." I glance around at the surrounding mess, the guilt creeping in again.

He shrugs in response. "It wasn't on purpose. And we're not unfamiliar with this type of situation."

Instantly, I know what he's referring to and I crack a smile. "Davina when she had to go through the Harvest, right."

I realize my mistake as his eyes widen slightly in surprise. "You know of that?" he asks me curiously.

Blood rushes to my cheeks in a wave of panic. At some point I know I'll have to tell them. Or it'll slip out on its own. But the thought of that conversation occurring now is terrifying. Quickly, I think of an acceptable answer.

"Uh, yeah. Rebekah mentioned it a few months ago."

It was the partial truth. She did tell me this in a small café in Portland. But, I had already seen the memory months before then.

Luckily, he nods and doesn't question it further. "Then you know this is nothing to be worried about. Nothing a spell or two from Freya can't repair."

This time, the grin on my face is completely real. "If you're sure. I'm perfectly capable of cleaning up my own messes."

He scoffs lightly. "Oh, I'm sure you are. But, right now you should get some rest before tonight."

On cue, the fatigue I've been expecting begins to creep in. As much as I want to protest, I can't. These often left me sedentary on the couch or in severe cases, in bed for a few hours. I actually got a decent nights' sleep the last time this occurred. This one while intense was relatively short. I've stayed in it for nearly half an hour before. Meaning I should be able to get by with just sitting down somewhere.

"Fine." I purse my lips not looking forward to the next few hours. I tend to get bored with nothing to keep my mind occupied. Then, an idea comes to me on how to pass the time. "Still have those Greek mythology books?"

He blinks at me, not expecting this request before nodding. "We do."

"I'll rest by doing that then."

They're lovely editions, reprinted but untranslated from the Greek they were written in. While recovering from the Hollow, they were the only thing that kept me occupied once I was awake.

He sighs. "I suppose that's better than nothing. Won't that strain your eyes?"

"Nope. It's pretty relaxing actually," I tell him, my smile widening.

He shakes his head in amusement. "Alright, I'll get them for you then."

The normalcy amongst everything else is comforting. I just hope whatever it is I'm feeling isn't permanent because that will upset things one way or another. I don't know if I'll be able to handle the consequences of that.

#the originals #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikalson x oc #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #marcel gerard #elijah x oc #originials au

8 notes · View notes

hottytoddynews · 7 years

Link

Enjoy our “Reflections” post — one of many vignettes and stories featuring memories of days gone by. This installment is from Oxford’s Tom Brown.

If you would like to contribute your own Reflections story, send it, along with photos, to [email protected].

The Lyceum on the Ole Miss Campus. Photo by Steven Gagliano

Everyone who attends Ole Miss likely believes those years were golden for them and the University. It’s very difficult to argue with that logic since all experiences as a student are personal and carry hopes and expectations as well as outcomes. We factor how well we did individually as well as the school and its components. So, are my four years at Ole Miss more golden than yours? Let’s see……

My father graduated from Mississippi State, my mother and sister attended the University of Southern Mississippi. My dad enjoyed Bulldog sports but never had much opportunity to see them play. In 1951, he was able to obtain two tickets to the State-Ole Miss game in Starkville, and he wanted our whole family to go, me, my sister who was only four at the time and my mother. He was very proud of us and wanted us to meet Professor Herzer who was not only his mentor but a special person to him. We enjoyed that visit as the Professor heaped praise upon my dad and we were so proud of and for him. Dad managed to find two more tickets to the game, but they were on the Ole Miss side of the stadium. So, we divided up, my mother and I went to the Ole Miss side and my sister and dad to the State side. My recollection is that it was a clear but blustery day and at eleven years of age it was my first association with anything Ole Miss.

My father, T J Brown, at Seale-Lily Ice Cream Company in Jackson

Mother and I had a terrific time and stayed for the whole game despite the fact that neither of us completely understood the game or the rivalry. Unfortunately, when we got back to the car to drive back to Jackson, my dad and sister had been waiting for almost the entire second half. I remember vividly that Dad wasn’t happy with us, but it was likely the final score, 49-7. Not only was it a big win for Ole Miss but Arnold

(Showboat) Boykin scored seven touchdowns that day which is a one game record for Ole Miss that still holds today. I didn’t appreciate my dad’s feelings until later when I really understood the Egg Bowl tradition nor did I really appreciate the game I had just witnessed.

My first visit to Oxford/Ole Miss was with my high school band on band day at a football game; I think we came two years in a row likely 1955 and 56 and many high school bands came from across the state to perform either prior to the game or at halftime. For some reason, one thing stuck in my mind, and I remember it today as if it were yesterday. Our bus came in on highway 7, and there was a large billboard for Neilson’s Department Store. I saw very little of Oxford since we went straight to campus, had a rehearsal, ate lunch, performed at the game and went home immediately after the game. I liked what little I saw of the campus, and it occurred to me that if we were invited to perform why weren’t we given a chance to see more of the campus but didn’t think about it for very long since I was a long way from being a college student.

After finishing high school I had planned to go to Mississippi State, primarily I think because my dad went there. I had worked in a couple of local pharmacies part time while in school and had an interest in Pharmacy as a career as well. I stayed in Jackson my first year and went to Millsaps but didn’t do well nor did I enjoy staying at home, so I decided to come to Pharmacy School at Ole Miss. In September 1959, I arrived on campus as a student and went to my assigned dormitory, Gerard Hall. After helping me get settled, my Mother and Father left, and my Mother later told me that as they left they passed a large garbage can full of beer and whiskey bottles. They looked at each other and said: “we taught him well now he’s on his own.” I have never forgotten that.

I was a bit uneasy, frightened let’s say, about being away from home and knowing no one at Ole Miss. I had two roommates that first semester but only one made it to the second semester and he was gone after that. Pharmacy was not an easy major, and I had to study and pledging a fraternity helped to be sure. Gene Peery made a huge difference in my life at Ole Miss. He was an accounting professor and faculty advisor for Sigma Nu, and he did everything he could to help me. At one time I had three jobs dormitory manager, served meals in the Delta Gamma house and worked in the Dean of Men’s office mostly with Gene’s help. He didn’t have to help me because I wasn’t an accounting major but he was helpful to everyone who sought his assistance, and he was an outstanding teacher. I have never forgotten what he did for me and many others while at Ole Miss.

Renowned UM Accountancy Professor Gene Peery (left) lectures Eddie DeMiller (right) and Howard Davidson at the 1988 celebration of the funding of the Peery Chair in Accountancy.

One of the nicest things about Ole Miss in the late 1950s and into the 60s was that enrollment was only about 3000 students. It made a difference to me because I was able to get to know a number of people and make many friends over my four years. In fact, if you worked at getting to know people it wasn’t difficult to know most of them in one way or another.

I had several roommates over the next couple of years including a high school classmate of mine in 1960; we roomed in Vardaman Hall. We were good friends, but we also managed to develop friendships with several guys who like to play Boure’ and play we did. Almost every Friday night a game would start and generally last through the weekend. We ordered food from Kiamie’s for delivery and never left our room. By Sunday night the room was virtually unlivable, but everyone had a great time win or lose and the friendships we had still exist today. Everyone in the group became a success story after college. Looking back it is amazing that we did well after graduating, but we would all do it again given the chance. Right, Ed Meek?

My roommate and I enjoyed sports, so it was nice to go to practically every sporting event on campus that year. When we weren’t taking in sports, it was easy to walk to the square and see a movie at either the Lyric or the Ritz and eat dinner at Seay’s Mansion, Mistilis or Grundy’s. Food was inexpensive then compared to today. Once in a while, we made it to the Beacon when we could find someone with a car. If we had a ride, we might also stop by the Kream Kup for ice cream and the pinball machines. This was the year that I had the most fun without a doubt but certainly had typical college crazies as well. I slept through a final exam taught by Dean Hammond and had to retake the course the following semester. My close friends laughed when I walked into the exam when it was nearly over, bleary eyed, sweaty and apologetic. I got what I deserved.

In 1961, I moved to Baxter Hall and roomed with a fraternity brother; I was also the dormitory manager. This year became a bit more serious as far as studies were concerned, so I attempted to stay on course academically. My roommate wasn’t much help since he enjoyed keeping the ladies up all hours of the night on the phone. At that time there were faculty members living in some of the dormitories. There was an apartment on the west end of Baxter that housed George Street who served the University in many posts. George and I became very good friends and maintained that friendship for many years; he was an enjoyable gentleman.

In the spring of 1962, I had another roommate with whom I served on the Pharmacy faculty years later. It was a quiet year for the most part but being big sports fans, we didn’t miss many athletic events. I was scheduled to return as the dormitory manager in the fall of 1962 but as things happened George was moved from his apartment, and the entire floor was cleared in order to allow James Meredith to occupy his apartment and to obtain a buffer by not using that floor for students.

The events of the fall of 1962, although awful in many ways, actually brought students closer, in my opinion, because we not only had common difficulties and experiences but enjoyed many fine things that occurred on our campus. We all learned that if you fully invest yourself in Ole Miss, you would reap large rewards beyond your college experience. To fully appreciate the changes that were borne out of that fateful fall day in 1962, the University had to wait until a graduate from those years became Chancellor in 1995. Robert Khayat understood and appreciated what the University could be made a difference in the lives of all who love Ole Miss.

Many great things happened in 1962 and who can forget a national champion football team who turned adversity on the campus into a renewal of spirit and proved that during the worst of times shared enthusiasm for success defines Ole Miss. ESPN responded to this team by airing a documentary titled ‘Ghosts of Ole Miss.” The 1962 team is the only undefeated team in Ole Miss football history. To say that I was a student at Ole Miss during the best football years is an understatement. The teams from 1959-1962 won 39, lost 3, and tied one.

I also remember seeing Bob Hope perform on campus. I don’t remember the year, but he performed in the gymnasium (now Martindale) and was having trouble with blood clots in his legs so he performed in a chair that rotated so everyone could see him. For me, personally, I remember meeting William Falkner at the home of Dr. James Silver who lived on campus. I felt very fortunate but didn’t truly appreciate it until later.

I came back to Ole Miss in August, 1969, after serving as a Medical Service Corps Captain in the Army. I returned at the insistence of a former lab instructor then professor in Pharmacy, Dr. Mickey Smith. He talked me into graduate school and helped me get a position on the faculty in 1970, and I will always be indebted to him for convincing me to return. I retired in 1999 after 30 full years and then taught part time until 2014.

When I returned to Ole Miss in 1969, the University was still in recovery mode to some degree from 1962 but recover it has, and from 3000 students it has grown to over 20,000. It has grown not only in size but in reputation.

Everyone who has attended Ole Miss has many stories both during school and after graduation. The amazing thing is the relationships formed while a student continue today. When we travel, I come across friends from Ole Miss or people who never attended who recognize Ole Miss from a cap or shirt I may be wearing. I remember being in Norway and a man walked by, saw my cap and said in broken English “Hotty Toddy’, it makes you proud and happy to be a Rebel from Ole Miss.

The post Reflections: Ole Miss – My Golden Years 1959-1963 appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

#hottytoddy #olemiss #oxfordms #oxford ms #mississippi #university of mississippi #the grove

0 notes

longislandweekly-blog · 7 years

Text

Diocese of Rockville Center Bishop John Barres blesses Pfeifer’s coffin. (Photo by Frank Rizzo)

In one of his last phone calls from the Port Washington hospice where he lived out his final days, Ray Pfeifer of Hicksville dialed Jon Stewart’s cell phone. The retired NYC firefighter had one final request for the comedian: deliver the eulogy at his funeral.

And so it was that on the first Friday in June, at the Holy Family Church in Hicksville, Stewart stood at the lectern and moved and entertained those mourning Pfeifer, 59, who died from 9/11-related cancers on Sunday, May 28. Pfeifer had spent many months at Ground Zero, which we now know was toxic, and has claimed more victims with each passing year.

Pfeifer and the comic had partnered to successfully get an extension of the James Zadroga 9/11 Health and Compensation Act past a recalcitrant U.S. Senate in 2015. The act funds medical treatment for responders and survivors who have and will experience 9/11 health complications. It had passed in 2010 and signed into law by President Obama in 2011, but it had sunset provisions. Stewart, through his Daily Show, was given credit for helping to pass the original law when it stalled in Congress.

Stewart detailed how Pfeifer, in failing health and getting around in a motorized wheelchair, persuaded reluctant politicians to extend the legislation.

“Because it wasn’t about him,” Stewart pointed out. “It was about service to others. Always do the right thing.”

“I remember how at the end of our lobbying efforts I felt beaten and disgusted by what I had witnessed,” Stewart related. “All I was getting [from senators or aides] was business cards. And I said to Ray, ‘If I get another business card, I’m going to scream.’ And Ray said, ‘I’m OK.’ And I said, ‘How, Ray? How do you maintain your cool in all of this?’ He patted his chest. And he reached in and pulled out prayer cards (from 9/11 firefighters’ funerals). Hundreds of them. He said, ‘I got all the cards I need.’ ”

Here, Stewart’s voice broke as he concluded, “And now, Raymond, I got one (pulling out Pfeifer’s Mass card). And it’s going to teach me how to do right. Thank you.”

NYC Mayor Bill DiBlasio and Fire Commissioner Daniel Nigro were among those who joined Pfeifer’s widow Caryn, son Terence and daughter Taylor, sisters Maryellen, Noreen, Patricia and Kathleen, and brothers Joseph and Daniel.

Words of Remembrance were given by Pfeifer’s sister, Maryellen McKee, who noted, “Those who knew Ray well knew he was a pain in the neck—been that way all his life. And yet look around. Look at all of us here. We’re here to celebrate a man who would have done anything to help anyone.”

Former NYC Fire Commissioner Sal Cassano said that Pfeifer spent countless hours at the site, and “when he wasn’t at the site, he was helping take care of the families of the members of the firehouse, Engine 40-Ladder 15. He made sure their holiday season was a little better than it could be,” Cassano said.

#gallery-0-5 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-5 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-5 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-5 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Ray Pfeifer shows off his “Keys” to New York City after a ceremony in January 2016. (Photo courtesy of NYC Mayor’s Office)

Pfeifer standing in his dress uniform. Born in Queens, he grew up in Levittown—graduating from Division High School—and lived in Hicksville. (Photo courtesy of NYC Mayor’s Office)

After the presentation of the Key to the City, Pfeifer poses with, from left, comedian Jon Stewart, son Terrence, wife Caryn, and daughter Taylor. (Photo courtesy of NYC Mayor’s Office)

Pfeifer got to fulfill a bucket list item when he and Caryn laid a wreath at Arlington National Cemetery earlier this year. (Photo via Facebook)

The 27-year firefighter was thrilled when he got to sponsor a van for the FDNY Family Transport. It was put to use at his funeral on June 3, transporting family members to the church and the cemetery. (Photo via Facebook)

Pfifer also found time to be a volunteer with the East Meadow Fire Department, where he once served as a captain. His helmet and jacket are placed on the FDNY antique carrying his coffin to his final resting place, Holy Rood Cemetery. (Photo by Frank Rizzo)

NYC Mayor Bill DiBlasio greets Caryn Pfeifer, center. (Photo by Frank Rizzo)

“When we found out that Ray was stricken with cancer, we were all devastated,” said Cassano. “He was larger than life. The go-to guy. How could this happen with him? Well, Ray handled illness with courage I’d never seen before, much better than we could have. He was always upbeat, and after you talked to him, you were in a better place.”

Cassano noted, “He liked to call himself the ‘Poster Boy’ [for the 9/11 illness movement]. I liked to call him the ‘Ambassador.’ He did what was needed to be done, whether being a bulldog and chase after some elected official—which was a funny site to see—or be a big teddy bear, with that infectious smile to win over some [official].”

“Today, the FDNY family is hurting, the East Meadow Fire Department family is hurting, the entire firefighting community is hurting at Ray’s loss,” Cassano concluded. “Rest in peace, Ray. Your legacy lives on forever.”

For his efforts in aiding fellow 9/11 survivors, Pfeifer was awarded the “Keys” to NYC in 2016.

“I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more than Ray Pfeifer,” Mayor DiBlasio said at the Jan. 9 ceremony. “The key to the city was made for people like Ray Pfeifer.”

DiBlasio went on to note, “People asked him why he stayed [at Ground Zero]. His answer was painful but simple—to find his friends. And that determination, that single-mindedness, that was inspiring. It was inspiring to everyone around him and it was a reminder of what commitment looks like and you can see it in the months and years after, as he fought cancer, and you could see it in the halls of Washington. There is a famous saying about Ray, that he walked 140 miles through the halls of Congress—that’s how relentless he was. It didn’t matter if he was in pain, it didn’t matter if it was a difficult task, it was something he felt he had to do for an entire generation of first responders and survivors.”

Pfeifer got good news before he died: His son Terrence, who joined the FDNY as an EMT in 2015, had scored high on the latest FDNY exam and was slated to join the FDNY Academy’s next class of recruits.

His daughter Taylor is slated to join the Suffolk County Police Department.

Day of Infamy

Pfeifer’s helmet and jacket from the FDNY Company 40-Ladder 35. (Photo by Frank Rizzo)

On Sept. 11, 2001, Pfeifer, who joined the FDNY in 1987, was playing a round of golf with fellow firefighters on his day off. When word came that a plane had slammed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center, Pfeifer and the others rushed to the WTC. He was a member of Engine 40-Ladder 35, near Lincoln Center. According to sources, the firehouse lost 12 members at the WTC that day. Pfeifer himself reportedly barely escaping the collapse that afternoon of World Trade Center 7.

Pfeifer spent eight months at Ground Zero, searching for remains. He often slept in a firetruck or at the firehouse. This devotion ultimately cost him his life.

He first developed what was called “9/11 cough,” and in 2009, doctors discovered that a “baseball-sized” tumor had broken his hip and he was diagnosed with Stage IV renal cancer. He had surgery to remove his hip and part of the femur and soon after had one kidney removed. In subsequent years, the cancer spread, and in May 2014, chemotherapy treatments had so weakened his heart that he suffered a heart attack.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reported that the most common certified cancers suffered by people in the World Trade Center Health Program were non-melanoma skin cancer, non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, melanoma and thyroid cancers. Before cancers were added to the list of certified ailments in September 2012, Pfeifer had to go into debt because of the enormous uncovered medical expenses. For him and thousands of others, extending the Zadroga Act was a crucial event. According to one report, 127 NYC firefighters have died of 9/11-related respiratory illnesses and cancers.

The CDC website lists among the top 10 certified conditions reported by WTC first responders as respiratory illnesses (6,627) and cancers (5,618).

After being assigned to desk duty, Pfeifer finally retired from the FDNY in September 2014.

“I’m being poisoned, and I’m dying, every single day, because of terrorism,” Pfeifer told an interviewer in 2014. But he added, “I’m a very lucky man. My friends were murdered on 9/11, From that day on, I’m still here. I’m very lucky. I got to watch my kids grow up.”

He had, he once said, spent “27 years, 220 days and nine hours” as a member of “The Bravest.”

“Ray Pfeifer was a true fighter who bravely battled fires as a New York City firefighter and fought tirelessly for all first responders who—like him—suffered from World Trade Center-related illness,” FDNY Commissioner Nigro tweeted. “The entire FDNY family deeply mourns his loss.”

New York Senator Chuck Schumer tweeted: “Just learned that Ray Pfeifer has died. You meet very few truly great men in your life. Ray was one of them.”

“With the death of Ray Pfeifer, New York City has lost a hero and an inspiration. My prayers are with his family and all of the FDNY,” tweeted Mayor DiBlasio.

The East Meadow Fire Department hosted a wake for Pfeifer, an ex-captain. His father Joe Sr., who passed away in 2014, was a 52-year member of the department. Born in Queens to Joe and the former Helen McAdam, Pfeifer grew up in Levittown and graduated from Division High School.

Thomas F. Dalton Funeral Homes handled the arrangements. The Mass was led by Reverend Gerard Gentleman, pastor of Holy Family Church. The Prayer of Commendation was given by Diocese of Rockville Center Bishop John Barres. Pfeifer’s goddaughters, Maggie Manusama and Katherine Aspenleiter, did the readings. The Prayer of the Faithful was read by Pfeifer’s father-in-law, Richard Baldassano.

“Make no mistake, Ray Pfeifer died in the line of duty,” Stewart said in his eulogy. “But more importantly, Ray Pfeifer lived in the line of duty. Now and forever. That’s what I remember most about him.”

Feal Remembers

The firetruck carrying Pfeifer’s coffin was part of a long procession on South Broadway in Hicksville. (Photo by Frank Rizzo)

After the funeral Mass, Long Island Weekly spoke with John Feal of the Feal Food Foundation, whose aim is to help responders affected by 9/11 illnesses.

It was Feal who partnered Pfeifer with Stewart during the effort to extend the Zadroga legislation.

“I met Ray nine years ago, and felt an instant bond. Ray had an aura about him,” said Feal. “He made people gravitate towards him because of the way he lived his life, with dignity and class. You couldn’t help falling in love with Ray.”

Feal spent several hours with Pfeifer in his hospice room eight days before he died. Pfeifer was asleep at first, but when he woke up, Feal ordered dinner for his friend.

“He had beef stew,” Feal related. “He ate the whole thing. He ate it quick and he ate it all. And then he had two peanut butter cookies.”

They talked until Pfeifer’s sister Noreen came into the room and then said their goodbyes.

There was one final thing that Feal would do for Pfeifer.

“I gave him Jon Stewart’s phone number,” Feal. “He wanted me to ask Jon to give the eulogy, and I said, ‘No, Ray, here’s Jon’s number. You call him. I want you to do it.’ The most important thing he said to me that day was, ‘Don’t wait to do the bucket list. Don’t wait until the end.’ ”

In addition to getting an extension of the Zadroga Act, other items on Pfeifer’s bucket list included laying a wreath at Arlington Cemetery (which he and wife Caryn did this past spring) and sponsoring a FDNY Family Transport van (used to carry family members at funerals and other events). Feal’s Foundation and the Pfeifer family sponsored a fundraiser at Mulcahy’s in Wantagh. Stewart made a special appearance at this event.

The flier stated: “The FDNY Family Transport has been a lifesaver for Ray and his family. It has been Ray’s vision to provide a handicapped accessible van to the organization that would benefit other families in need.”

But Feal, wanting to make sure that Pfeifer saw something tangible as his illness worsened, went ahead and bought the van before the fundraising effort had been completed.

“To see his face when he saw the van…it was like a kid opening a present on Christmas morning,” related Feal.

The 9/11 survivors advocate saw his friend go from walking with a limp, to walking with a cane, to finally needing a motorized wheelchair, donated to the Feal Good Foundation by a widow of a firefighter who had died from 9/11-related brain cancer.

The foundation was part of the lobbying efforts, and Feal said he, Stewart, Pfeifer and their cohorts walked countless miles as they pounded the halls of Congress.

“And there was Ray asking, ‘What do you want me to do, John? Where do you want me to go?’ ” Feal said.

Pfeifer told his friend he was ready to face death, though he had put up a brave fight against the disease Feal labeled as “the devil.”

“He never complained. He never said, ‘Why me?’ He was always asking about someone else,” said Feal.

Feal got Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand to fly a flag over the capital the day after Pfeifer’s death. Then he had her office deliver it overnight so he could present it to the family.

“Ray didn’t invent patriotism, he perfected it,” Feal pronounced. “But I think it belittles Ray, because there’s not a word yet invented that best describes that man. He’s everything that’s great about this country, and everything that’s best about humanity.”

Asked what he thought Pfeifer’s legacy would be, Feal responded, “That he touched so many lives. Those who knew him? They were spoiled. And those who didn’t? They should be jealous, because they did not get to know him.”

Retired East Meadow Fire Department firefighter Ray Pfeifer, who passed away on May 28 from 9/11-related cancer, left an enduring legacy behind. The Hicksville man spent his last days at a Port Washington hospice. Jon Stewart gave his eulogy at Holy Family Church on June 2. In one of his last phone calls from the Port Washington hospice where he lived out his final days, Ray Pfeifer of Hicksville dialed Jon Stewart’s cell phone.

0 notes