#they’re going to my uncle’s funeral out of state..i am sad to not be going tbh but

[sevenkittensinatrenchcoat]

Some Analysis of the Heaviside Layer and the Jellicle Choice

NOTE: This is mostly going off on the 1998 version, because the story is made more clear there.

Why Does Anybody Want to Go to the Heaviside Layer?

We know that those who are chosen to go to the Heaviside Layer “Can now be reborn and come back to a different Jellicle life”. So, they’re reincarnated. This is based on the idea that cats have nine lives. The Heaviside Layer moves them from one life to the next. I’m guessing that only after living all nine lives do cats actually die. What happens then? Do they remain in the Heaviside Layer? Is there some other sort of afterlife they move on to? Can cats tell which life they’re currently living? Old Deuteronomy has apparently “lived many lives in succession”, all as Deuteronomy, so he’s probably aware, but is that just him, or does every cat know? There are a lot of holes in the lore that can only be filled with “for the purposes of this story, it doesn’t really matter”.

The Heaviside Layer is “full of wonders” as well, so everyone wants to see what’s up there someday, but if it’s not their day, it’s not their day. If Heaven exists, it would be cool to see what it looks like, but that would mean dying and most people don’t want to do that.

The play never explicitly states that any of the cats gathering for the ball want to be chosen. The question they’re asking is “Who will it be?”. They want to know who the lucky cat is and see them off. This is probably the end of that cat’s life as the cat they know, so they all want a chance to say goodbye. The Jellicle Choice has their life celebrated before moving on to the next one, because that’s what most of the musical numbers do.

Who Actually Wants to Go to the Heaviside Layer?

Everyone, someday, but only a few are probably interested in being chosen at the specific ball that the play’s about. Cats who don’t have songs about them aren’t being put in the spotlight, so none of them are up for it. Out of the cats with songs, several of them are also out. Macavity is only sung about because he’s the antagonist and we need a song explaining who he is. Old Deuteronomy’s number is also just musical exposition for a main character.

Some of the musical numbers are spontaneous, while others seem to be presentations being put on for the ball. The cats with songs that are presentations are probably the ones making a case for the Heaviside Layer. So, now we have to determine which is which.

Gumbie Cat:

This one seems pretty planned. There are costumes and special effects. Munkustrap has a Gumbie Cat in mind, right after talking about the Jellicle Choice, meaning that he either thinks Jenny should be picked, or he thinks she will be picked. Jenny is the OLD Gumbie Cat, someone reaching the end of one life, possibly ready to move on to another.

Rum Tum Tugger:

Tugger crashes the party here and Munkustrap isn’t pleased with this. He appears to be the one organizing the night’s events, so if an event annoys him, it probably wasn’t meant to occur. Tugger’s number is spontaneous. Since Tugger is a fairly important character, the song serves as his introduction. It’s a typical musical I Am Song.

Bustopher Jones:

There aren’t any costumes or effects in this one and Bustopher doesn’t even stick around for the ball. But, some of the cats sing his praises when he shows up. He most likely had no intent to campaign to be the Jellicle Choice. He dropped in to say hi and Jenny just started cheering for him, because she’s his biggest fangirl. He probably could qualify for the Jellicle Choice, but he’s clearly not interested. He doesn’t even care who the choice is. Bustopher is not a normal Jellicle cat, not asking “who will it be?”.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer:

Jerrie and Teazer perform their number to no one after everyone scatters in fear of Macavity. Their number is just them messing around, telling the audience about what they’ve been up to, because it’s fun.

Since Old Deuteronomy probably doesn’t count for the choice, since he’s the judge, we end act one with only one established candidate. Tugger, Jerrie, and Teazer had other reasons for their musical numbers and Bustopher basically declined, “I’m still in my prime, I shall last out my time” meaning that he doesn’t intend to go anywhere, Jennyanydots is the only cat who’s been seriously considered by this point.

And Jenny doesn’t really qualify either! She performed her number before Old Deuteronomy showed up, and by starting up Bustopher’s number, she nominated someone else. If she nominates someone else, she most likely doesn’t want to win, or at least doesn’t care very much. So, Munkustrap nominated her, but Jenny herself isn’t really competing to be chosen. She appreciates that she was given her own number and that she’s admired that much by the tribe, but she’s still got a lot to do in this life.

So, on to Act Two. Old Deuteronomy has seen Grizabella sing Memory by herself and implies in The Moments of Happiness that he’s basically already made his choice. However, he implies it with references to Memory, which the other cats haven’t heard yet, so they don’t know that. Old D is still hearing people out though, so now we enter the “auditioning for the Heaviside Layer” portion of the show.

Gus: The Theatre Cat

Gus is an ideal candidate for the Jellicle Choice. He’s old and frail, he’s lived a long and meaningful life, it would be good for him to move on. Jellylorum nominates him. She’s interesting, because the other cats in her age range were all nominated themselves, but her moment in the spotlight is nominating someone else.

Jellylorum is Gus’ caretaker. She most likely brought him to the ball, intending to plead his case. Gus is far too weak to dance at the ball, so I imagine that he was off napping somewhere throughout Act One.

Gus is the only cat who can really compete with Grizabella and his number is the only one that can really compete with Memory. Jenny had a big show put on for her number, and the amount of energy she put into it shows that she’s got a lot of life left in her. Theatre Cat and Memory are both about cats who are definitely reaching the end of their current lives, not able to put on a show. They’re simple, but emotionally powerful.

Gus isn’t just physically weak, but mentally a bit out of it as well. He’s barely involved in the creation of his own number. He just plays off of what Jellylorum said. He’s not even really present enough to want to be chosen. Jelly is pleading his case for him, not because he wants it, but because she believes that he needs it. She knows that he’s not what he used to be and that it’s probably time to move on. She sings a song to celebrate his life and accomplishments, knowing that if she succeeds, this is the last time she’ll see Gus as Gus. But, she keeps the mood fairly upbeat, keeping any pauses in the song from lasting too long, not wanting anyone to get too sad. The Jellicle Ball is a celebration of life, not a funeral.

There’s a lot going on in this number.

Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat:

So, Theatre Cat has a bit of a downer ending, so Old Deuteronomy decides to change the subject, calling in Uncle Skimble to lighten the mood. The kittens all love his train stories and mentioning his name cheers Jemima up immediately.

This is another number that appears to be a presentation. The construction of the train feels like there were props ready and that this had been rehearsed, only going wrong at the last second. So, Skimble’s another candidate for the Jellicle Choice, but, like Jenny, the energy of his number is proof that he doesn’t really need it. Skimble’s goal at this point is just to entertain. He leads the number himself, so one nominated him, so I doubt he’s being taking very seriously as a candidate. At this moment in the show, everyone’s probably certain that Gus will be chosen.

One interesting detail of Skimble’s number is that he always sings in the past tense. Not every single lyric in the song is in the past tense, but the lines in the present tense are sung by the chorus, not by Skimble himself. The number starts with the chorus in present tense:

There’s a whisper down the line at eleven thirty-nine

But, when Skimble takes over, the tense shifts:

All the guards and all the porters and the station master’s daughters would be searching high and low

The chorus alternates between past and present tense throughout the number, but Skimble stays in the past. He’s mainly telling specific stories about his time on the train, but he also makes more general statements about his time as railway cat:

You could say that by and large it was me who was in charge

Skimble’s time as railway cat is purely in the past tense. He’s retired. The retirement is fairly recent, since the chorus of mostly kittens don’t seem to know about it. My theory is that the humans running the train decided that Skimble was getting too old to do his job and Skimble had to retire. He’d defined himself by his job as The Railway Cat. He was defined by his career, so without his career, who is he?

This is part of a reoccurring thing with several other characters. Many cats have titles of The X Cat, with X being a career or role in society. But, some of them are now too old to play their parts. Grizabella’s looks have faded with age, so she can no longer be The Glamour Cat. Gus is too weak to perform, so he can no longer be The Theatre Cat. Grizabella, Gus, and Skimble are defined by roles that they can no longer play, so who are they now? What do they have left to contribute to society?

The answer is Memory.

Gus and Skimble tell stories from their past careers to the future generation. They inspire the younger cats. The stories of their lives, their memories, are what they have to give. The show has the importance of memory as a reoccurring theme. Skimble clearly figured this theme out on his own, creating his own number to share his stories with the kittens. Gus isn’t quite as aware, but his theatrical career is clearly an inspiration to Jellylorum, who tells the stories when he can’t. The memory can outlast the person, because others hear the stories and tell them to even more people. In that way, Gus will always be The Theatre Cat, Skimble will always be The Railway Cat, and maybe, Grizabella will always be The Glamour Cat in the same way.

This concludes the Auditions For the Heaviside Layer. The remaining character number is another one that Old D isn’t present for and features a younger cat who’s just really getting into his role of The Magical Cat. But, there are still some things worth pointing out:

Mr. Mistoffelees:

The song, despite being as flashy as the rehearsed numbers, is played as spontaneous. Tugger has an idea and then he sings a song to sell the idea, the idea being “Misto can save the day with his magic”.

Up until this point in the show, the only real interaction between Misto and Tugger is Misto calling Tugger a “terrible bore”. If he had a planned number, Misto probably wouldn’t have picked Tugger to sing it. The opening of Gumbie Cat implies that he would’ve wanted Munkustrap to do it. He thought Munk was going to sing about him, but he sung about Jenny instead. So, Misto thought he’d have a number, for whatever reason, and that Munk would sing it.

It doesn’t make sense for Misto to want to go to the Heaviside Layer. He’s just become an adult and is still trying to prove his worth as one. He wouldn’t want to have to start over. Misto is very competitive, so he might think of being chosen as winning a competition, and he just has to win, wanting the victory, not the prize. He also might’ve wanted his own number, not as an audition for the Heaviside Layer, but purely for a moment in the spotlight and the validation of someone wanting to sing about him. He wants to put on a show for the party and show off his magic tricks. He assumed that Munkustrap was in on that plan and would give him his own special number, but he didn’t. Munkustrap arranged a number to nominate Jenny for the Jellicle Choice and didn’t really have anything for Misto to do.

Misto wouldn’t expect Tugger to give him a number. The number is exactly the sort of number Misto wanted, a chance to show off his magic with a long break to show off his dancing. He didn’t expect Old Deuteronomy to be kidnapped, and the trick to bring him back is one he’s never done before, so it isn’t all fun and games, but the fact that he gets a number gives him confidence. So, Misto shows off a lot and gets to be a hero and the adults take him seriously now and this is basically his dream come true. It’s not about the Jellicle Choice, but it’s still a big deal.

Sidenote:

In many productions I’ve seen, when Misto does his Conjuring Turns, the UFO that Grizabella rides to the Heaviside Layer starts to descend. He’s powerful enough to open the gates to the Heaviside Layer and might not even know. Munkustrap is Old D’s son and heir, but Misto will be the one who sends cats to the Heaviside Layer in the future, because he can. The importance of his magic might give him co-ruler status with Munkustrap!

So, the candidates for the Jellicle Choice are:

Jennyanydots (declines, nominating Bustopher instead)

Bustopher Jones (declines)

Gus (loses out at the last minute)

Skimbleshanks (didn’t expect to win and didn’t)

Grizabella (last minute nominee and winner)  

#cats 1998 #jennyanydots #rum tum tugger #grizabella #bustopher jones #mungojerrie #rumpleteazer #old deuteronomy #gus the theatre cat #jellylorum #munkustrap #skimbleshanks #mr mistoffelees

[hateswifi]

Rising from the Ashes: Of Icecream and Teleportaion

So this is Part Three here is to my Master List and Part Two. Enjoy!!

-------------------------------

Now it is Sunday, the week after the gala and her parents' death, she had been staying in different friend's houses to keep suspicion lower. Today was the funeral she was wearing the typical white mask to keep away germs and or hide part of a face, grey contacts to cover her beautiful blues, a wavy black wig that went to her shoulders, and a traditional long white cheongsam with black accents. White is the color of mourning in Chinese culture and she wanted to respect her heritage. 

She had learned Mandarin while training to become the guardian with Master Fu. She would speak Mandarin to change herself even more due to the fact nobody but her closest friends knew of her ability to speak it no one will hopefully suspect her. She got dressed quickly and heads to the church. 

She sat closer to the back and realized her class was decent enough to show up to pay their respects. The funeral was very moving and she just couldn't believe they were gone. Adrien, Gami, Luka, and Chlo couldn't sit with her due to the fact it would raise too much suspicion. She missed not having anyone to lean on, but when she was supposed to be dead then she had to play dead. 

After the burial, they were told to go to Chloe's hotel for refreshments. She saw everyone from afar but did not engage unless they engaged her first. Lila approached her at the hotel with a sneer and glare.

"You're not supposed to wear white at a funeral that's disrespectful," Lila stated, Adrien must have seen the queen of lies approaching Marinette, so he started heading her way.

"I'm sorry I don't speak French," Marinette answered in a sweet voice in perfect Mandarin. "And stop talking about stuff you don't know you lying snake. White is a traditional mourning color in Chinese culture, which you would know if you weren't uncultured swine."

By now Adrien reached them and translated for Mar, "She says she only speaks Mandarin and that white is a traditional mourning color."

"I know what she said Adrihoney," Lila cooed, grabbing his arm. "I speak fluent Mandarin after I lived there for part of my childhood."

"You hear the Buginette? She speaks fluent Mandarin! I would love to see her reaction if she really knew what you said," Adrien laughed after he finished speaking in Mandarin.

"Stop, Adrien. I don't want to break character. Right now I'm a stranger named, Bridgette mourning the death of her aunt, uncle, and cousin," Marinette replied still in Mandarin.

"Are you going to join in the conversation Lila?" Adrien asked, smugly looking at the lost Italian girl.

"Umm.. I. I just can't believe she's gone!" Lila cried louder, getting more people's attention. "I know she was my bully, but I did not want her to die."

"Seriously, at my funeral? I haven't even been dead two weeks and she's already making my 'death' about her," Marinette whispered to Adrien in Mandarin. 

"Liars, am I right," Adrien answered.

"I suggest you two stop before one of the relatives hears it," Kagami said joining in on the whisper fest while they all spoke Mandarin. 

"She was not a bully; she just didn't put up with your bull!" Chlo said, joining the circle of people surrounding "poor sad Lila".

"Guys, not the place to do this," Luka said, hushing everyone down. "Keep your lies at school. I have a feeling if these people hear you talking trash, especially over people they just lost, it will be more ugly than your sausage looking hair."

After that everything was calmer except for glares thrown by Alya and Lila. No one bothered her much after that and she could mourn in peace, it would be the last time she would be in Paris for a while so she left to go on a stroll.

The morning after Chloe went to school and left Marinette to herself. By lunchtime, she had everything her friends had gotten from her will and finished packing. She would be leaving when all her friends got to the hotel via the horse miraculous and Kaalki. She would let the miraculous take her wherever fate brought her. 

She got dressed up as Bridgette again with the black hair, mask, and grey contacts. For clothes, she wore a blue sweater that looked braided with a black skater skirt and white converse her hair was just down. She had borrowed some of Chloe’s clothes this past week after she insisted Marinette didn’t waste money on clothes. Chloe and Gami were kind and gave Marinette some clothes to be worn after she left. 

She strolls around, sees her old home burnt to ashes after it collapsed. She sees her old school still in session and decides to head to André’s ice-cream. 

“Hello young lady,” André said looking at her. 

Mar nodded in response not wanting to speak French just in case someone heard but didn’t want to speak Mandarin. 

“I see almond for his lips and skin, mint for his piercing green eyes, and dark chocolate for his dark past and black hair,” André foretold looking at the almost familiar girl. “Are you Ladybug?”

“Thank you, but I guess it doesn’t matter, I'm leaving soon anyway,” Marinette answered, sticking out her hand, which he shook, then she looked through her purse. “I’m Ladybug hero of Paris. How much for the ice-cream?” 

“Free of charge for all of Paris’ heroes. May I ask why you’re leaving?” André asked, wiping his hands. 

“My house burned down,” she started but he interrupted. 

“They couldn’t find the daughter’s body, well your body, because you were at the gala as Ladybug,” he realized. 

“I lost my parents. There’s no family here for me. I already graduated and Paris is saved. How was I going to explain that I’m alive?” Marinette asked, taking a scoop of ice-cream. “And I feel like I need a new start, ya know? Everyone here thinks I’m a bully because of a liar. I have trauma from the akumas. One of the reasons I stayed was for my parents, but they’re gone now so why not?”

“Well I wish you the best of luck, Ladybug,” André said with a sad smile. 

“Thank you, Monsieur André,” Marinette said before looking at her ice-cream and thought about her mysterious future love. 

She walks to the park by the school and starts sketching under one of the trees. She sat quietly sketching till she heard the bell from her friend’s school. She decides to go back to Chloe’s hotel to meet her friends, but as she’s leaving the park Lila and her posse saw her. 

“Bridgette? What are you still doing here?” Lila asked, approaching Bridgette as an animal approaches its prey. 

“The funeral was only yesterday you sausage-hair freak. I’m catching a flight home tonight,” Marinette answered, in Mandarin. 

“Awww she said she wanted to apologize for what Luka said,” Lila cooed and got others to do the same. 

“That’s not what she said,” Adrien said, stepping in again. “She said the funeral was only yesterday; she’s flying out tonight, but wanted to see some of Paris before she left.”

“I can confirm that what Adrien translated is true,” Kagami confirmed, kissing Adrien on her cheek. 

“Ummm... why’d you put your crusty lips on my boyfriend’s cheek?” Lila asked, in disbelief.

“Why are you questioning my actions towards my boyfriend?” Kagami asked, looking at Lila’s shocked face, while she wrapped her hand around his arm. “He told you he had a girlfriend and that she wasn’t you.” 

“But… Adrihoney you’ve been with me for six months!! Why would you cheat on me?” Lila cried into the closest person’s shoulder.

“I’ve been dating since Marinette set us up years ago because we were best friends,” Adrien agreed with Kagami kissing the top of her head.

Lila got angry and stormed off followed by her posse; they were trying to calm her down. One of her lies had been exposed and Marinette couldn’t be happier that she witnessed it. They continue to speak in Mandarin as they were leaving because some of her former classmates were in the park.

“So I have everything packed, well the little number of items I have and some of the clothes Chloe and you, Kagamigave to me along with the Miracle Box," Marinette explained as they walked towards the hotel.

"That's it? I can't believe you're leaving," Kagami said. Adrien and Kagami were just holding hands now after leaving the park. The couple wasn’t big on public displays of affection with paparazzi always around. She just wanted to help him by trying to get rid of Lila's clingy nature.

"I guess everyone thinks I'm dead and I don't want to go around as Bridgette all the time," she sighed, looking at the almost ominous-looking hotel as if she was walking to her doom instead of a new beginning.

"It's okay Buginette I understand and we'll support you any way possible. We'll be here when you want our help if you need it of course. We'll still be best friends because we are family and nothing can break that," Adrien said.

"Of course, no one could replace you guys because you're the only family I have left,” Marinette said as they hugged now standing in the lobby. Marinette then leaves out the entrance because she can't go upstairs as Bridgette. She transforms into Ladybug and jumps onto Chloe's balcony, where she can see her friends already waiting inside. She signs sadly and drops her transformation as she enters the room she had grown accustomed to.

"Hey, guys I'm ready to go," she said, sadly looking at them.

"Why don't we eat dinner before you go? You never know what time it's going to be when you get there. Better safe than sorry, right?" Chloe said.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m not going to be gone that long though. Whatever country I end up in Master Fu promised to get me correct papers to live there. I’ll maybe be back at the end of the week,” Marinette said, taking off her wig and contacts and put them in her backpack. 

“Steak and Frites for our last meal together for a while?” Chloe asked as she looked to call her butler. 

“Yes that sounds great,” they agreed as the put on an anime. After they finished eating, Marinette now stands before them transformed as Mare with her suitcase and backpack ready to go through. 

“Goodbye, you guys. I’ll call you by the end of the week. I want you to know it was an honor working with you and no one will ever be able to replace you,” Marinette said, hugging her friends. “I’ll miss you.”

“Why can’t you stay till after Christmas?” Luka asked. 

“It’s only two weeks away,” Kagami finished. 

“Well I don’t want to be a burden and the sooner I get settled he better,” Marinette said, turning her back on her friends as tears start rolling down her cheeks. “Full Forth”

She turns to look at her friends one last time. They’re crying and hugging each other. She stares for a moment before backing in the portal.

--------------------------------------

Tag list (Open):

@northernbluetongue @melhuney @ladysblackcat @sturchling @otaku4312 @g-arya @smolplantmum @bluefyoto94 @echpr @moonlightstar64 @thesunanditsangel @cutechip @heaven428 @elmokingkong

#ml new life au #damianette #batfam #maribat #lila salt #marinette x damian #ml salt fic #ml x dc #wifiwrites

[mattwinthewoods]

A North Shore Story:

There are days during the winter in Minnesota when the sun doesn’t shine.  It’s still there, but a grey haze envelopes the sky and seemingly the world, leaving one to feel as though they’re in some sort of melancholy snow-globe.  It was one of those days and I decided to drive up to the North Shore past Duluth from where I lived in the Twin Cities, hike a state park and spend the night in Grand Marais, just to get away for a little while.

I was not working, as I have always had an aversion to work. I enjoyed the thrill of being chosen and hired, but lacked the fortitude that one must have to withstand the withering numbness of tedium I would feel after weeks or months; not feeling creatively or personally fulfilled by employment that was necessity rather than for pursuit of happiness.  Besides, for the time being I was not worried for money as my beloved Uncle had left an inheritance to me after passing away just months earlier.  Not wanting to stay in town, I headed up the freeway towards some escape and adventure on an otherwise unremarkable Winter’s day.

Driving up 35, coming over the hill and looking down over Duluth and seeing Lake Superior is a sight I fell in love with the first time I saw and still evokes a sense of wonder and opportunity for me.  Soon traveling up the two lane highway of lore Highway 61, I had decided to stop at Gooseberry Falls State Park, hiked awhile slipping around on the trails, admired the work of the CCC crews and took some photos.  Getting back to my car around lunchtime, I headed farther up Hwy. 61 to a small charming town set along the shore, Beaver Bay,  which has a restaurant that I was familiar with.  

I was the only patron that particular gloomy day besides one other person in the place who soon left and I was still considering what I felt like doing for the rest of the day.  Was I going to go to another park?  There were several world-class parks not far.   Would I go get a room in Grand Marais and see what kind of interesting things there would be to be found?  Should I keep driving and go all the way to Grand Portage on the Canadian border?  As I sat there eating I wondered what I might do and that’s when the song came on, “What a Wonderful World” by Louie Armstrong.  That song, now…?

When my Uncle had been diagnosed with lung cancer, I visited him in the hospital one day and talked.  “You know my Dad doesn’t want a tombstone or grave marker?” I told him, “He said that he wants people to gather, say a couple remembrances and play a song by his favorite group,” a certain soft rock group that has a hit about a hotel out west.  “Well, I would like ‘What a Wonderful World’ played at my funeral,” he told me and grinned.  He had been a very cheerful guy and it fit him and his outlook on life.  It was one of the song included in the video montage at his service.  

Eating my lunch on that gloomy day with no sunshine outside just the grey bleakness of winter, alone in a quiet restaurant that song began to play and I felt a shudder deep within myself.  It wasn’t a pain nor was it discomfort, but a feeling of extreme isolation as though I had never been farther away, in body or spirit, from all those I had ever loved or ever cared for, even though they were literally only hours away, I had the overwhelming sensation of being alone and adrift amongst the world, a million miles from them and had the sense of urgency to see them, speak with them and tell them I loved them.  My grief of losing my Uncle Gregg, who had been a surrogate Father to my elder sisters and I, who I had counted on and taken granted all my life, who had taken me fishing and shown interest in me that a biological Father is meant to and mine had not, who I had seen expire in a hospital room months earlier, it seemed to flood in, that horrific introspective despair.  That song….   singing of the celebration of life.

“What was I doing up here?  What was I doing with my life?  Why did I continue to perpetuate a lifestyle that gave me very little happiness outside of inebriation when I would feel less malcontent?”  I should be challenging myself and I wasn’t; I hadn’t.  “I’m afraid you’re floundering,” my Mother had told me, “You’re not pushing yourself…  I see you pulling back and becoming more isolated and it’s not healthy Matthew.”  What will be my fate, Universe?  I’ve given you permission in depths of self-loathing to take me away, into the dark.  To slowly see the face in the mirror grow older before me.  What disappointment I felt in myself.  What a wonderful world….  singing of hope springing eternally.

I had grown old enough now to have experienced loss in my life; family and friends.  There is the understanding you come to realize that when someone leaves your life, whether it be in loss of life or loss of love, a hole is left within you.  A hole that cannot be filled in, not fully, by anything but time.  Though you’ll yearn and feel the sadness and longing fill your being, there is no remedy but time.  There seems to be those certain ghosts that revisit often, wanted or not.  

Those lyrics, sung with Armstrong’s signature smoky voice, played slowly and dreamily through the speakers, seeming to fill the room and myself with a stinging sadness of those things that I had passed through with age, things I would never get back, those I would never see again, all the regrets that I would find myself thinking on in the early morning hours, the aimlessness accompanying me through my frustrations.  That song….

I paid my bill and headed south down the highway towards home.  I couldn’t imagine going to Grand Marais and sitting in a hotel room all alone looking at Superior, hearing the wind rush outside the window like some sort of lonesome wail; I couldn’t do that.  Back, back to the place I’ve known and called home. To what end?

After that day, I would like to say that I raced back and expressed my love to my family, turned my life around and found happiness to quell that which inside me was in unrest, and I wish that all of that was true.  The real truth of it all is that I still am trying to find meaning in this life and trying to see the sunshine behind the clouds, that I’m still affected and striving to be better, but this was just a North Shore story.

-Matthew Wennerstrom

#north shore minnesota #Minnesota north shore #highway 61 #short story #shortstory #story #loss #literature #longing #melancholy #inspiring #death

[onthesandsofdreams]

Fictober 30 - Steve x Diana

Prompt number: 30. “I’m with you, you know that.”Fandom: Wonder Woman (Post- Movie)Pairing: Steve x DianaRating: GWarnings/Tags: Mentions of War & Temporary Character Death

In Dreams. Read @ AO3

Diana feels a bit lost after defeating Ares. She’s done the job she had set herself out to do, but navigating the fallout is far more difficult than what she had imagined. Even with the help of Etta, Charlie, Sameer and Napi, she misses Steve keenly.

Diana remains in London after the war. It’s Etta who offers a room in her house, and it’s also Etta who comes up with a solution for Diana’s lack of papers. Etta produces both a birth certificate and a marriage licence.

“I’m not sure about this,” Diana says, clearly uncomfortable with the lies. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, but it feels wrong.”

“I know honey,” Etta pats Diana’s hand in a comforting manner. “But you will need identification now, and well, now you’ll have it and it will help with your life here now.”

“Thank you Etta.”

And that had been that. Etta had also helped Diana get a job alongside her, with Diana’s gift of languages, she had been welcomed with open arms. And life proceeded quite nicely along.

*****

Then it happened one night. Diana bid Etta good night and goes to bed, sleep comes easier than normal, and she dreams. She dreams of a forest, completely surrounded by mist. Diana can barely distinguish the trees and there’s not much visibility, then she hears some footsteps.

“Diana,” A voice she knows and has missed calls out to her.

“Steve?” Her own voice is shaky, tentatively hopeful. “Is that you?”

Then Diana watches as Steve Trevor emerges from the mist. As young and as handsome as she saw him last. There’s no wounds on him, no scarring that would hint at the manner of his death.

Steve gives her a wide grin, “Hey Diana. It’s me.”

“Oh Steve!” Diana rushes to him and wraps her arms around him. Steve’s presence is solid in her arms as she feels him wrap his arms around her. “I miss you so.”

“So do I,” Steve says and then kisses the top of Diana’s head. “But I am here now, even if it’s only in your dreams.”

“How? How is it possible?”

“Your uncle, apparently.” Steve says in an amused tone of voice. “You know, Hades. He’s letting me come and visit you in your dreams. But I had to wait a bit.”

Diana’s eyes widen in surprise and her jaw open falls a little. “Hades?!”

“Yup,” Steve is still smiling at her. “Apparently a thank you for Ares.”

“Praise Hades, then. I am grateful that I can have you here, even if it’s only in my dreams. I am glad that he didn’t take you away from me, at least not entirely!”

“No, and I’m going to be here for you. As much as I can.”

Diana kisses him with all the love she has for him and he kisses her back. They don’t let go of each other and spend the rest of the time they have together talking. They talk until Diana’s vision begins to blur.

“You must be waking up,” Steve informs her.

“I don’t want to go just yet.” Diana says.

“Love, I won’t be going anywhere. I’ll see you again, quite soon in fact. So go, live your life and then tell me about it.”

With that, Diana’s vision goes black and she wakes with tears on her face. But she still smiles, knowing she can talk to Steve and that he is not completely lost to her. She lives.

*****

“I was thinking of changing my line of work,” Diana says during one meeting with Steve. “A museum, I’d like to do that.”

“It would suit you,” Steve agrees. “And there’s no more wars to worry about.”

“Indeed. And spy work is not something I want to do.”

“Understandable.”

With Steve’s encouragement and Etta’s blessing, Diana gets a job in the Victoria & Albert Museum. She relishes the change, even if it’s only to file archives, she has to start somewhere and honest work is good work.

*****

“How’s Etta doing?”

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you about it. She’s dating this really lovely woman, quietly of course - I still don’t understand why they can’t love publically - and she’s very happy.”

Steve gives her a sad smile, “They should be able to, they’re not doing anyone any harm. But I’m glad to hear she’s happy.”

“Yes, I hope the day comes when people can love who they love without shame or repercussions. The suffragettes are still fighting for the vote, and I have marched with them on occasion.”

“Good on you Diana, keep fighting the good fight.”

“Thank you Steve.”

*****

“Napi has gone back to the States, said that he had work to do there.”

“Must miss it,” Steve smiled sadly. “I would’ve thought he’d remain in Europe. But home calls, I guess.”

“Charlie’s back in Scotland, he still doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but he also wanted out of the army.”

“Good for him,” Steve agreed. “He should take care of himself.”

“Sameer is traveling, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. So he’s traveling to see what to do.”

“Well, I hope he finds something. I know how it can be, to be a bit lost without direction.”

*****

And so time passed, Steve and Diana met each other in dreams. They spoke about life - or in Steve’s case - his previous life. And then.

“There’s another war brewing,” Diana spoke with a heavy heart. “Germany is being led by a horrid man, I’ve been hearing lots of talk of a war. People are trying to prevent it, but… I feel like it’s useless.”

Steve had been silent. “I am sorry Diana, I wish there was anything I could do to help you.”

“I killed Ares and now I feel like it was for nothing. But if war starts, I will fight again, I won’t abandon this world. I just wish I understood the need for it.”

“Because men make choices,” Steve said smiling sadly. “And some of those choices are terrible for many, good for few. Humanity is too complicated.”

“I know that now,” Diana responded. “I just wish war would not come at all.”

*****

“The things they were doing,” Diana sobs as Steve held her in his arms. “They were people! It was absolutely vile. The horrors they suffered, entire families gone and now… I have so much rage inside of me.”

“I know sweetheart,” Steve rocks her gently. “Your heart is far too kind and noble for you to turn away from helping others.”

“Thank you,” Diana gave him a watery smile. “For just holding me.”

“I love you. I don’t want you to feel alone. Because you never are.”

*****

“I’m moving to Paris.” Diana says after the war is over. “I’m thinking of trying for a job there.”

“Paris sounds nice,” Steve agrees, head on her lap. The sun shines in the meadow they found themselves in. “Great food.”

“Of course you’d mention the food,” Diana says with a laugh.

“Well, in my defense, I do miss it.”

Diana smiles down at Steve. “How come we always meet in places like these?”

Steve shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know. But as long as I can see you, I won’t complain.”

“Me either, I just found it curious.”

*****

The dreams keep coming and the years keep passing. Diana is happy to still have Steve in her life, in any way she can. So, she doesn’t question it, she enjoys the little grace Hades has given her.

And then she mourns. Charlie passes one day, she attends his funeral in Scotland, prays that Hades has mercy on him. She visits Etta and her friend is older and grey, and Diana’s heart clenches, because she now knows that sooner, rather than later, she will lose her and Sameer. Napi writes on occasion, but she doesn’t know about whether he’d live or pass on.

“Charlie’s gone,” Diana tells Steve.

“I’m sorry Diana.”

“And Etta and Sameer won’t be far behind.” There is sadness in her voice.

“That’s the life of a common man, Diana. We live, we grow old and pass on.”

“Time flew by and I barely noticed.”

Steve says nothing, just holds her close.

*****

In the blink of an eye, it’s 1958.

One night that Diana meets with Steve, he looks tired and sad. “What troubles you,” she asks him.

“Nothing much,” Steve says with care, voice calm and composed. “Only… something is happening Diana and I - I won’t be able to see you for a while.”

Diana’s head snaps up and looks at Steve with wide worried eyes. “What do you mean Steve?”

Steve fidgets and looks away. “Part of the deal with your uncle, is that I can’t tell you. But… I will be gone for a while. I’m sorry.” Steve holds her face in his hands. “I want you to know this: I’m with you, you know that.” Then he removes one of his hands and places it gently above her heart. “No matter what Diana, I am in your heart, be strong until we meet again.”

The next morning, Diana wakes up weeping.

*****

A month passes and then another and there’s no sign of Steve at all. Diana doesn’t dream about him, she weeps and begs to the Gods, but no answer ever comes. And Diana mourns Steve Trevor for a second time.

Time crawls slowly this time and Diana doesn’t know what to do. She has few friends from work, so she dedicates to work and to save people. Throws herself into both things with all her being.

Diana keeps living. She’s not sure how, but she does. When she least expects it, her laughs come easier, she rests better, she feels lighter. Life is better.

*****

It’s 1984 and there’s trouble in DC.

Diana sees the news of a woman calling herself Cheetah, she’s been wreaking havoc in DC and no one has been able to catch her.  

So Diana takes leave of her job and books a flight to Washington. Once there, Diana begins making patrols at night, always careful, always on the lookout. Stops a couple of robberies, helps the people she can while she’s there.

But so far, no success in spotting Cheetah.

One morning, the phone in her room rings. “Hello?” She answers.

“Miss Prince,” The receptionist voice comes clear. “There’s someone in the lobby for you. Says his name is Steve Trevor.”

Diana freezes, it can’t be. Steve is dead and gone. “I’m going down,” she says and hopes the receptionist doesn’t notice her voice shaking.

“As you wish miss Prince, have a good day.”

Diana puts down the receiver with shaking hands. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. In the end, she just shook her head and walks out of her room. Time to face whomever was calling themselves Steve Trevor.

The elevator ride seems to go much too slow for her tastes. The doors open in several floors and Diana resists the urge to simply jump down from the stairs. And then they reach the lobby. She exits the elevator with her head held high. And there, standing tall and chatting with the receptionist, is a figure she knows too well.

It’s Steve. Her Steve.

“Steve?” Her own voice sounds strange in her ears.

The man turns and yes, without a shadow of a doubt, Steve Trevor is smiling at her. Bright blue eyes sparkle, the same smile she has missed, same blond hair. “Diana!”

Diana rushes towards him and Steve meets her in the middle. She holds onto him and feels a sob wreck through her. “You’re back,” her voice is shaking and tears are now falling freely. “Gods have mercy, you are back.”

“Yeah,” Steve’s voice is shaky also. “I’m here now love. Sorry to make you wait.”

Diana takes a step back and grabs Steve’s face. He’s crying too. “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “You’re here now, oh I missed you so.”

“I love you,” Steve says through his tears. “I love you so much and now, here we are. And now we have time.”

Diana chokes a laugh. “I love you too. And I’m glad you’re back. You’re not going to go away are you.”

“No,” Steve says gently. “I’m alive. I was reincarnated, I won’t leave your side anymore. Until I die again - hopefully of old age.”

“That is good to hear,” Diana smiles. “That is very good indeed.”

“So,” Steve winks at her. “How about a date?”

Diana beams at him. “Of course.”

Steve bows and offers his arm and Diana takes it. “Then, let us go and have some fun. And then you can tell me of everything that I missed.”

“And you must tell me everything. Counting my uncle is letting you, that is.”

Steve grins, “Oh, I can tell you now. I just couldn’t tell you before I came back and I had some restrictions, but now, we can be together. C'mon on, I hear there’s a good French bistro nearby and quite frankly, I miss French food.”

Diana laughs and follows Steve to the door of the hotel. Outside, the sun is shining and Diana thinks it has never been brighter.

#fictober19 #wondertrev #diana x steve #steve trevor #diana prince #wonder woman fic #post canon fic

[mrsrcbinscn]

Franny Robinson HC Infodump #4: Country and Bluegrass Music

hi, I’ll finally do a writeup on her work in jazz next but I’m in a country mood and was INSPIRED so oops country first

Word count: 2486

Dara & Danny

  In 1991, Daniel Maitland (fc: Martin Sensmeier), an Indigenous Alaskan kid, moved from Alaska to Payne Lake, Georgia, with his parents and older and younger sisters after his father got a job opportunity in Atlanta, a reasonable commute away. Daniel spent two years being musical rivals with Franny Framagucci before he proposed they just combine their talents and perform together at talent shows and the county fair. The two were inseparable, musically, until Franny went to college at NYU and Daniel went to East Tennessee State.

  They remained friends throughout college and reunited during winter and summer breaks to play together locally. Daniel was in Franny’s wedding party. He’s Wilbur’s godfather and is ‘Uncle Dan’, they’ve always remained close. They would write songs together usually through an internet connection except for when they could travel to write in person.

  In 2009, Daniel once again was the one who suggested they officially collaborate. That’s when the bluegrass-country-traditional southern/Appalachian folk duo was born. They have released 9 albums together since they started releasing music under Dara & Danny.

  One album, titled Molly’s Church, is almost entirely songs from the hymnal of the Church of the Nazarene in their hometown in Georgia, which was the church their friend Molly attended before her death. It was a “fuck you” response to them having received backlash from certain gatekeepers for a video of them singing Hank Williams’ I Saw The Light going viral. They were pissed two non-Christians were getting praise for performing the song. (Franny is a Buddhist and Daniel is an Indigenous Alaskan with traditional spiritual beliefs).

  To the backlash, Franny said, and announced the dropping of this album on an Instagram Live Q & A, “It’s funny. Like. Christmas is such a part of mainstream American culture. I celebrate Christmas, my non-religious Maori husband celebrates Christmas, are y’all mad about that too? Christianity is so deeply woven into American culture and the history of American music, like I just -- its wild y’all are so mad. And because I like to poke an angry bear, our new album, Molly’s Church [...] and what really gets me is like - just because I ain’t Christian, don’t mean I’m ignorant about it either. I’m from the Bible Belt, y’all. I did go to church with my little friends some Sunday mornin’s as a child if I had a sleepover at their house. [...] One of my best friends, the lovely, talented, beautiful, late Molly Vaughn, who we named the album after, was a devout Christian. When I would cry, she’d always sing It Is Well With My Soul to me and play with my hair. You can’t tell me that because I’m not a Christian, that song ain’t special to me. I think of that song whenever I’m going through a hard time and my heart is at peace because at its core it's a song about looking at your situation and making peace with it, and finding the strength to move on to hopefully better days. At her husband’s request, I sang Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing at her funeral, okay? Like- [pause for annoyed exhaling] to suggest we have nothing but respect for these beautiful hymns is insulting. [...] Insulting not just to us, but to the hymns. They’re so beautiful that they have made an emotional impact on two non-Christian musicians. I think that’s wonderful and speaks to how lucky we are to live in a time where all sorts of sorts are able to learn from and share with each other. But that’s just us, I guess.

  Every song on Molly’s Church has a special memory attached to it for either myself or Daniel, or in the case of Be Thou My Vision, it was Molly’s favorite hymn ever. We couldn’t name an album of hymns after her and not put that on it.”

  The track list is as follows: [Spotify playlist]

  I couldn’t find a folksy or bluegrassy version of Be Thou My Vision, which. I’m ANGRY about. Because when I was a practicing Nazarene Christian it was my favorite hymn, and I still find it beautiful but.

  Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing

How Great Thou Art

Dwelling In Beulah Land

Be Thou My Vision

It Is Well With My Soul

I Saw The Light

Victory In Jesus

Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel 

Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory

Holy, Holy, Holy

  Another album, titled Something’s Rotten in The Sticks is purposely very dark. It’s largely covers of murder ballads and sad traditional folk songs from the American South and Appalachian Mountains, featuring original songs and covers of songs that explore the darker sides of more modern rural life like the opioid crisis, unemployment, poor education, poverty with no social safety nets, and more. 

  Franny openly admits that she wrote the original songs from a place of immense privilege. In an Instagram Live Q&A about the album she said, “These aren’t my exact lived experiences. But I feel like I have some right to talk about these stories because these are the things happening to my people, the good people of the town that took my mother in when she was a twenty-something year old refugee, and then helped raise me. I buried my first friend thanks to the Sacklers (the family whose pharma company produces oxycontin, who purposely spread misinformation about how its a safe drug and who pret-ty much engineered the opioid epidemic) in 1998. I just last month buried one of my best friends since elementary school after three narcan shots couldn’t save them. 

  Rural Southern folks and the problems they face are dear to my heart. [...] I know how lucky I am to have grown up in the rural south and ended up where I am today, in the privileged position I am in. [...] And I see the way people in the cities talk to and about these people and it’s fucking gross. You know nothing about these people and what their lives are like, and what they care about and worry about. I have always been proud to be Southern, just as I’m proud to be Cambodian. [...] Rural poor folks are the kindest, most loving, most resilient people, and I am not ashamed that I came from that. 

  This album… so our last album, Prodigal Children of Clayton County, Georgia, was a love letter to and about our hometown and the people of the rural south. This album is more of a ‘we see you.’ And it's also, I hope, an accessible way to start explaining the problems our people face to city elites that look down their noses at them. Like, I hope people can say in response to “I just don’t understand these people”, “hey, go listen to I Grabbed A Banjo (And You, The Pills), then talk to me.”

  Daniel said in that same Q & A, “I was born in Alaska, I met Franny when I moved to her hometown in Georgia, in middle school, and we began playing music together in high school. I live in the Appalachian Mountains now, I studied Bluegrass and Old Time music at East Tennessee State University, in Johnson City. Now, I’m -- I’ve been lucky enough to make a living out of the music I love, but you know- like I said. I live in the Appalachian mountains, in Kentucky, in a rural area. I never left the rural south, since I came here, this has been my home. We’re privileged now, but had a few stars aligned differently, our high school friends’ lives would have been ours. We love the people of this region. Like Franny said, we both have two groups of people we are passionate about amplifying and equipped to amplify. Mine are our struggling rural folks, and Indigenous voices, and Franny don’t ever shut up about Cambodian or the rural south.”

  “I really fucking don’t.” Franny quipped.

The track list is as follows: [Spotify link, the first 8 tracks are the songs they covered on the album and the rest are songs that fit the vibe of the original songs to give y’all a picture]

  Knoxville Girl

I Grabbed A Banjo (And You, The Pills), an original song about the opioid epidemic that’s killed many of Franny and Daniel’s high school friends 

Troubles, traditional folk song as popularized by Kilby Snow and Anna & Elizabeth

Red Dirt Girl (Emmylou Harris cover)

But I Ain't A Milton Boy/Girl , an original song about how in Milton (a bougie rich people part of Georgia) kids go to college and become doctors and lawyers while people from the song narrators’ town don’t bother learning to solve for X because all that waits for them is army recruiters, the power company, or the unemployment line [the male narrator, Daniel], and the female narrator [Franny] sings about how she was a smart girl who held her first baby when she was a baby herself, married two bad men she thought were good, and now she sells her ADHD pills to college kids to buy groceries, and how their high school aspirations crumbled easily, and the chorus is literally just narrators fantasizing about a decent standard of living and having decent opportunities and then going, “But I ain’t a Milton boy/girl, and that’s why I’m cryin’ today”

Deportee (Woody Guthrie song as covered by Dolly Parton)

Savannah, a song Franny wrote about the time her brother drove her down to Savannah when she got pregnant in high school so she could have an abortion three hours from home, where nobody local to them would be out front shouting at people needing abortions

Poor Folks Town (Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton cover, instrumentation is modified to be a little melancholy to fit the rest of the album, but it is still a markedly happier song than the rest of the album except for Rich Kid Clothes)

Don’t Put Whiskey In My Water, an original song about a man nine years sober almost falling off the wagon when he’s laid off ahead of his teenage daughter’s high school graduation, including the line ‘don’t worry about Ole Miss, we’ll figure it out, somehow we always do, smart little girl like you can’t die in this town’

Don’t Take Your Guns To Town (Johnny Cash cover)

Pretty Polly

Down In The Willow Garden

Rich Kid Clothes, original song about a brother and sister super jazzed about their “new” clothes, hand-me-downs from the rich kids of the house their mama cleans, happiest song on the album

Health Insurance, an original song from the perspective of three different people, on in each verse, either dying or seriously suffering from solvable medical issues but because healthcare in America is trash they either can’t get help, or are going bankrupt trying to, that’s incredibly sarcastic including lyrics like ‘and I know I deserve to die for not having had a rich great-grandaddy, and who wants to see their daughter graduate college anyway’ , one of those sad songs with joyful instrumentation

  Another album! Is titled The Rise And Fall of Jenny and Jamie, and is a concept album meant to be listened from start to finish that tells the story of a couple that falls in love, gets married, has a very dysfunctional marriage, and ultimately divorces. Think the energy of Alpha Desperation March by The Mountain Goats, and the entire Tallahasee album but especially No Children. The Dara & Danny album is a little less dark because the last few songs, about divorce, are like...happy. 

  Daniel, who had been divorced twice by the time they wrote the songs for that album, said “There is nothing sad about ending a marriage you’re miserable in or don’t want anymore. The two songs about the divorce, they’re happy because our characters are happy to be done with each other. It isn’t Tammy Wynette spelling D-I-V-O-R-C-E and lamenting the end of her marriage, instead, Jenny and Jamie realize their marriage is toxic not just for the other person, but for themself, and they’re relieved to not be married anymore.

  Notable Dara & Danny performances and accomplishments:

They cover Whiskey Lullaby at many shows they do. A video from a 2016 show went semi-viral, and fans of the duo will show it as an example of “Peak Dara & Danny”

Nominated for the 2019 Grammy Award for Best American Roots Song, as the duo Dara & Danny, but ultimately Brandi Carlile won for ‘The Joke’

Franny was absolutely thrilled for her. She STANS Brandi Carlile and has written songs with her before. 

In the post-Grammys interview, the interview asked Franny if she was disappointed and she was like “I would pay Brandi Carlile to punch me in the face, so no.”

The clip of Franny saying that went viral and embarrassed poor Wilbur

“To be honest, when I saw The Joke was nominated, I didn’t even bother writing a speech. Daniel and I were both just thrilled to be considered to be like, at her level.”

Nominated for the 2019 Grammy Award for Best American Roots Performance, as Dara & Danny, and again lost to “The Joke”, but again, did not care at all

Won the 2019 Grammy Award for Best Bluegrass Album as Dara & Danny, their fifth nomination in the category and second win

Nominated as Dara & Danny in the category Vocal Duo of The Year at the 2019 CMA awards.

Nominated for IBMA Album of the Year in 2014, 2015, 2017, and 2018

Won the 2019 IBMA for Album of the Year 

Won the 2019 IBMA for Song of the Year 

Franny is the first person of Cambodian descent to win a Grammy, an ASCAP award, an IBMA, or be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame

Daniel is the first Alaskan Native to be inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame

Solo work

  Franny’s used bluegrass-folk style music to write songs about the experiences of her mother and other relatives under the Khmer Rouge and in the civil conflict that preceded it. It leans a little away from #pure bluegrass but it includes mandolin, banjo, and even some traditional Cambodian instruments. It’s this blend of bluegrass instrumentation and traditional Cambodian instruments that on paper sounds like “Franny you’re crazy” but in practice its fuckin’ lit, y’all.

  It’s as genius as The Hu, that Mongolian band that was like “what is we play metal music with guitars and a drum set and TRADITIONAL MONGOLIAN INSTRUMENTS?” Lit.

  She did an entire album, Franny Sor Robinson Covers Kitty Wells [playlist] and that album gained Franny a ton of street cred in the country/bluegrass industry. She got a lot of respect for her Kitty Wells covers.

  She’s released three solo albums of folksy-bluegrass-country style music that is original music she wrote the lyrics and music for.

  Three solo albums, the Kitty Wells cover album, and nine Dara & Danny albums makes twelve country-bluegrass albums total Franny’s released, not counting featured artist appearances on other albums.

  Notable Franny Sor Robinson awards, performances, and accomplishments in the country music sphere:

  Franny sang ‘Born To Fly’ with Sara Evans once

Franny loves that song, it came out in 2000, when she was in college at NYU, and it was a staple song of hers to perform at any gigs she did in college

The day the United States legalized same-sex marriage, Franny was a supporting solo act for a friend of hers and she was like “I don’t know a better way to celebrate than by taking one of my favorite country love songs and making it better. And by that I mean gay.” By this point she’d been out as bisexual for years. So she sang Brad Paisley’s She’s Everything 

Franny’s always kept the pronouns the same in songs she covers, so if it was a man’s song about a woman she’s always kept it about a “she.” Her cover of She Thinks I Still Care by George Jones was an instant hit when it was released on one of her solo albums

At an event honoring Randy Travis, Franny performed his hit Deeper Than The Holler for him

She also got to sing I Told You So with him once at another occasion and she damn near died

At the final show of George Strait’s final tour, Franny sang Carried Away with him and almost cried he is one of her!!! Idols!!! and during his encore, she joined him and all of the other special guests of the final concert to sing All My Exes Live In Texas

She’s been awarded and recognized by various organizations for the furthering of Asian-Americans in the arts in general, in music, and empowerment for both her work in jazz and country umbrella music

She’s performed at and been nominated for CMA awrds, ACM awards, and Americana Music Honors & Awards

She’s won Americana Music Awards

When challenged to prove she could yodel she fuckin got right up and sang Hank Williams’ Long Gone Lonesome Blues and nailed all the very technical yodeling, and its a thing she’s like, Known for doing, so she will perform it live pretty often

#&&...hc

[vegetacide]

Whump●tober - Tear-stained

Veg-notables: so this happened on my lunch break yesterday while I was hiding in my car listening to music   Passed out last night before I could finish it.. So.. hmm.. Well here we are.  I am lacking caffeine today and doing a great impression of a sleep deprived V so please excuse my ramblings

Additionally, as I now seem to be doing these out of order.. I am taking the numbering out of the headers..  

@gumnut-logic - ::duck tapes to chair, mummifies in toilet paper...inspects works:::  “Perfect! Zom-nut”

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: A continuation of breaking and tearing apart the TaG family.  Angst-be-gone chocolate might be needed after this one…  

Characters: Scott, Kayo and Gordon

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous part can be found HERE

14 .Tear-stained

Enjoy…

oOo

Stepping out of the waiting room, Kayo made her way down the hall on hurried, unsteady feet.  Darting around shocked nurses and stumbling into hospital orderlies.  

She had no sense of where she was going. All she knew was that she just needed out.   

Out of the stark white, sterile, overly sanitized maze of cinder block walls and large, faux wood paneled swinging doors with their little, mesh inlaid windows.  

Out of the softly spoken, overly compassionate voice filled spaces with their faint, rhythmic beep, beep, beep and the whooosh of the ventilators.  

Away from the sad, knowing eyes of her friends and family. 

And away from the knowledge that she just might not make it out the other side of this ordeal. If the heart of the man she cared for more than life itself couldn't make it one more hour, one more day, one more year, she was going to be reduced to a shell of herself and the aftermath of which she didn't even want to fathom. 

A lifetime of knowing he wouldn't be there.  

Her chest tightened, her vision blurred and lungs starved for breathe. She nearly cried out at the first glimpse of the harsh red light at the end of the corridor that declared her escape with blaring four inch letters.  

Her exit out. Her egress.  Her chance at being away from it even if just for a few short, desperate minutes. 

Legs numb, heart pounding, tears threatening she punched through the heavy steel door and flew down the stairs.  Racing from the hurt, the agony of having to sit stationary in that room surrounded by the ones that would live. Could live and move on when she could not. 

Stuck in the fading rhythm of that beep, beep, beep….

Pushing through the last barricade she burst out into the gloriously bright sunlight.  The breeze hot, dry, blistering, the air thick with the song of cicadas and the dappled sun slanting through the lush, green foliage. 

Such a contrast to the inside.  Such an insult to her senses after too long of being deprived. 

God, she needed him.  

If he didn't make it, if the IDB* wasn't successful with their synthesizing process, she would fade away right along with him.  

Panic gripped her as the lonely years stretched out ahead of her into the unknown distance and she took off. 

She needed more distance, more air to clear her head of the churning chaos of her mourning.  

God, he wasn't gone yet.  Why was she thinking like this?  

She'd lost more than her fair share in life.. in the short span of it she had lived.  Her mother, her home, her father to a quest that possibly had no end.  An uncle that was lost to a darkness that no one understood.  

Why couldn't she just have this one thing for herself.  Why did everything have to be such a struggle?  Why did he have to converse with death and threaten to leave her? 

She snorted derisively at herself, self deprecation humming through her veins as she threw herself around  a bricked corner and right into the churning angry maw of a viper’s nest.  

Her face stained with tears, flinched and drew back at the harsh flashes of light and the buzzing of holo-drones.  

Her name was being shouted, mics and people clawing to get close, to get the first comment out of one of the fabled Tracy clan.  

"Miss Kyrano, are the rumours true..?" From one direction. 

"Can you confirm the identity of the victim in this heinous attack on your family?" Came from another.  

"What is his status?  Will there be a state funeral?" 

"Our audience has a right to know, is this it for International Rescue?"

Too much, too soon.  She couldn’t cope with this right now.  

Her eyes darted about, not seeing a clear path out of the horde of swarming reporters.  All yelling for her, demanding that they had a right to the private, intimate details of a family in the maelstrom of suffering. 

Eyes clenched shut, teeth grinding, ears ringing with the continual barrage of question after question. Staggering at the cusp of completely losing it, of making a mockery of the family she was tied to, the crowd suddenly stilled. The passivity so surreal, so sudden that she nearly jumped out of her skin when a pair of strong hands wrapped around her shoulders.  

The tall, commanding force of nature, stood strong and imposing beside her.  His roguish good looks, only slightly hampered by the drawn lines of fatigue that lines his mouth and around his eyes with increasing clarity.  

Dressed casually in slacks and an oxford top he still managed to exuded the air of assertive confidence that he was well known for and she tried to draw her own strength from that.  Just like he knew she would. 

Looking down at her before addressing the mass of hounding newsagents,  his blue gaze conveyed more words than one would think possible in such a short instance.   They were a united front and no one would have to face this alone. 

Giving her a quick squeeze, he addressed the media.  “We thank you all for your continued patience and understanding but our family respectfully declines to comment at this time. Should you have any questions, please direct them to our media liaison at Tracy Industries.” 

Some of the wiser newsies knew when an official ‘piss off’ had been issued and backed off. The more tenacious of the vulturous bunch kept up the volley of inquiries but Scott; ever familiar with the process, handled it like a pro. 

Kayo was turned and guided through the throng as a TI security detail closed in around them, ushering them in the front doors of the facility and into the relative quiet of the busy hospital lobby.  

It was then that her legs gave out and she faltered.   

Scott’s arms held her up,  his strength was her support and she latched on to it as she was steered to a discreet corner. Away from the prying eyes of the general public and out of camera distance from the gathering out front, she finally let go.  

His voice was soft in her ear,  comforting and reassuring as her silent tears marked the fine cotton of his shirt.  “It will be okay.” He kept repeating like a mantra. The shaky edge to his voice making it seem like he was also trying to convince himself. And perhaps he was.  

“Where were you?”  Her voice caught, her thin frame quacking with raw emotion.  “We needed you.” 

“I’m sorry… I.. I’m so so sorry..”  His hand rubbed circles over her back,  body swayed in an attempt to sooth. 

For several minutes no more words were spoken,  just the gentle rocking and the quietude of shared grief for their company. 

Eventually Kayo's silent tears stalled out, her laboured breathing calmed and everything seemed to still.  A pause button on the universe.  

The voices and sounds faded off to nothing, and she was just herself once again.  

"You alright now?" A quiet question as he pulled back to look at her. 

She gave a slow nod, wiped a hand across her cheeks, hiding her face away from him as she rallied her control. 

One long, steady inhalation, and she stepped back. Composed as much as she could be with a tear reddened face, and swollen eyes.  

"I will be". She announced and straightened her shoulders.  Returned was the security specialist, stony, resilient and deadly.

"Good." 

“Did you find what you were after?”  There was an edge of anger in her tone that she couldn’t quite contain.  Why had Virgil’s closest brother had taken off? Why he had been gone so long? She could dig for the answer but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.  

“I’m not sure yet.” Was his answer and the look in Scott’s eyes sent a chill down her spine.   

Somethings she knew, were better left where they were.  

Hurried feet drew their attention and they moved as one to see Gordon jogging towards them.  

"Thank fuck, I finally found you." The aquanaut wheezed, his whiskey eyes settling on her blotchy face.  He knew better than to comment.  

His gaze flicked over to Scott and there was a moment where something passed between them. Some unvoiced question that had Scott giving a brief nod.   Gordon seemed satisfied with that and a brotherly greeting was exchanged,  a quick hug,  slap of open palms on each others backs. 

They were all but dragged towards the bank of elevators that would lead them back up to the intensive care unit.  

“Gordon,  what’s going on?  Did something happen?”  Panic crept into Kayo’s voice.

“Not in the way you’re thinking.” Gordon grinned and pushed them all into the open doors of the elevator car. 

The suspense was enough to drive her up the wall.  “Well, spill Squid.” 

“Doctors and those Infectious Disease guys say they have some cautiously optimistic news.”  He supplied, “Said they managed to synthesize enough modified antibodies that they can start treating Virgil.” 

There was a stunned silence in the car. 

Gordon turned to them, his smile growing in width along with his hope. “As long as Virg can hold out,  they’re hopeful they can help him fight the meningitis infection. They think they can cure him.”

oOo  

IDB - Infectious Disease Board

Next post can be found HERE

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

#whumptober2019 #whumptober #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfic #no.14 #tear-stained #Kayo Kyrano #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #virgil/kayo #the prompt made me do it

[yvezhyung]

Metamorphosis of Yvez Luigor

"Change is inevitable". "Change is constant". "Change is the only permanent thing in the world.", a well-known phrases that express an idea on how life of a person, his environment, and his views transform from time to time.

21 years of existence and still I am on my way of fulfilling my ambition and continuous in proving myself on what I can do more to grow as a person.

My name is Yvez Luigor, my name seems to be unique, but there's a story behind it. My first name "YVEZ" came from the name of the son of my father's colleague ay back when he still working on Manila. Then , my second name "LUIGOR" came from the real name of my grandfather which was "Ligorio", but he used the Gregorio instead of his real name because it is easy to pronounce and it is also the name that his employer used when he apply to work because back in time, there no such requirements that needs to fulfill when apllying to work. Funny thing about that was, my aunties only knew his real name, Ligorio when was passed away. So they decided to gave his name to me. However, people pronounced my name in inappropriate way and I don't know what I feel when that incident happens, sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's not.

I was born on November **, ****and raised at Brgy. **********, *** Batangas. I am the 3rd child and the only son of Mr. Eusebio and Mrs. Prescilla. I have two sisters named Evangeline and Engel . My family always supports me on what I want to pursue. Luckily, even though I'm not a straight guy, they accepted me for what I am and they did not questioned me because they saw that I am disciplined enough and they knew that I have my own decisions that I can stand with. Having this family was a great blessing from God, though sometimes we face some challenges in life, we are open to each other and in that way we solved the problem as a family and not as ourselves only. And as time changes my perspective, dreams, and life views and goals, I am proud that my family is still my strong wall to lean on and they are my intact foundation to be a better person wherever my feet brings me in the near future.

My hobbies are singing, reading wattpadd stories, watching tv, movies, and series. I also like to sleep and relax if I have free time. And at this time, I am into playing Kalimba. This hobbies boost my confidence and it inspire me to be a better person. In contrast with this, I'm not fond of noisy and dirty environment because I feel that it's not conducive to learn and study, also it irritates and annoys me everytime I am in that type of surroundings.

I'm firmly believe in the golden rule, "Do not do unto others what you do not want others do unto you". Because I also believe in karma, there is good and bad karma. If you did something kind to others it will reciprocates to you and same thing if you did something bad to others. Life in earth would be great or worst base on how you entertain problems and how you transform yourself into someone whose acceptable in the standards of society.

CHAPTER 2: Transform

As I grew up, I started to discover the real world, I learned to explore some things since I was child. My childhood was very colorful and it was a great factor on what I am today. My attitude, how I interact with other people, the way I talk and speak and the whole me was influenced by my childhood.

Looking back, I was a jolly kid. Playing outdoor games and making friends from our neighborhood. When I was 6 years old, my auntie established a group of childrens who were called as "Violet Angels", we always have a Saturday bonding which includes the arts and crafts activities, eating together and bonding like a family. We also practiced to lead the rosary in our chapel and later on we became the Violet Angels Choir who sang at our chapel when there's a mass, specially during the Simbang Gabi. Being a member of this mini organizations makes my childhood more productive. But as the time goes by, and when its members facing their adolescence, it's sad that the old strong foundation suddenly collapsed and all of its member became inactive. But for me, one thing remains and that was the praying. I became the known assistant of my auntie who leads the prayers when there's a funeral, in lenten season, rosary, and even passion chanting. I learned it from my childhood and up to this day, I brought that with me, the elderly leaders here seeks me when they need a responder to prayers and they also said that I will be the future leader and it is a great priviledge. This memories transfom and mold me from being a simple child into a more God-fearing individual.

Aside from childhood moments, the schools that I've been also transform me and boost what I can do that I've never thought of. My educational background was also colorful. It's started at Gregorio Paradero Elementary School. When I was in grade 1, I am the type of student who always cry and want to go home. I'm so lazy to go to school. Also I want my mother to be always with me. There's an incident that I attempt to jump from a tricycle because I don't want to go to school and as punishment, my father locked me in our house and didn't gave something to eat. This habit changed when I stepped up to second grade, I became more active in school, I always want to go to school almost everyday. Then I learned how to make friends and there I met some of my bestfriends way back in elementary, Until the sixth grade we were like siblings that always play and just having fun, but today we are more of casual friends. There's the greetings but the bond suddenly lost. Maybe because of the different paths we took after graduation, we met other people that turns out to be our new friends.

As I graduated elementary, I enrolled my secondary education at **** ***** ******* National High School, wherein I became more shy to show what really I am. I still have some of my friends when I was in elementary, we became classmates from first year to fourth year and as the years passed, there were people who added to my friends list, making my high school days more memorable than the elementary. We sometimes cut class but we only did that once. When we were in third year, I ran as vice president for Supreme Student Government but unfortunately, I lost but after that I became a part of prayer committee wherein it is also under the SSG, we actively joined novenas at the church and pray rosary everyday. I became also a member of *** Choir and fortunately elected as President of the organization. My High School memories were nurture my abilities to develop and transform me to what's life want to be.

After the high school graduation, I realized that college was not for me during those time, because there were struggles that my family encountered. And that was the time when my older sister were on college. I know that my parents can't enroll me to college the same time as my sister, that was the time when I made my biggest decision in life - I told them that I'm giving way for my sister to finish her college education and after she graduated that was my time to enter college. After that decision, my uncle who lives in Bulacan, ask me to work for his printing business and I accept that offer.

3 years of waiting and finally, last 2017, I inquired to Batangas State University, but unfortunately, they told me that they can't accept students who graduated from the Basic Education Curriculum because they were waiting for the memorandum to arrive due to the changes in Education system in the country. I decided to enroll in Senior High School in ***, I entered another world wherein I didn't notice that this environment can open windows of opportunities for me and boost my abilities. Senior High School life, is a ladder that leads me to somewhere I didn't expect. Grade 11 was a blast for me, I became the president of our class, and some of the students and teachers saw the leadership skills that I possess and encourage to ran as the SSG president, but just like what happened in high school, I lose the election. I thought that was the end, but I am wrong, opportunities knocked and I accepts it. More responsiblities came in to my life and it molds and redicted me on what path I have to take in college.

CHAPTER 3: CHANGE is INFLUENTIAL

"People come and go, but true friends stays", as I walked into the path of life, many people serves as my motivators, influencer, and inspiration. I'm not what I am today if not because of them. My high school friends who supported me way back in high school and up to today, Hannah, Leevic, and Arlene. Even though they were professionals right now, they still supports me. They're always cheers me up and reminds me our goal and that's for the four of us to became teachers. And there were times that they explains to me, what kind of profession I am going to take on in the future. When I was in eleventh grade, there is one person who encourages me to join into different organizations, even I am not inclined or I don't know how to act or move into that organizations, she taught me of what should I do. She is Maribel. She is my greates influencer. She puts me in Journalism as News Writer, she encourage me to audition as a choir member of the St. Vincent Ferrer Parish, and she joined me also as a member of Tourism Ambassadors. These organizations totally boost my confidence and showed me that I have something to discover within myself. In addition to that, I also have these second family and we called it as Mga Kapitbahay. we were composed of 12 members who were seatmates. This awesome people starting to built a strong foundation, even we only have a few more months to bond and make memories together, we cherish every moment that we have. My kapitbahays were truly amazing and they always push each other into the right path, our goal is for each other to graduate as honor students. This people totally changed my perspective in life, from a non-dreamer and happy go lucky type of person, into someone who can also inspires and influence others.

In the month of August 2017, I met this guy in social media. He is John Kenneth who is someone unique, charming, and cute. He is quiet different from the other people I encountered. As the time goes by, I didn't notice that I am falling inlove with him. He makes me happy everyday. Until one day we met each other in person. I can say that he has this impact of making me feel nervous whenever I looked at him. I also have this habit of staring at his face whenever his is asleep. Until we became official on December **, 2017. We're 2 years and still counting and going strong. Last July 2018, another blessing came into our relationship and that's the time when our poddle, Sachi, became part of our family. I'm always falling inlove with him everyday and I always express my feelings to him even we are distant from each other. He is someone that I am proud of. He is my support system and motivation whenever I am down and going through something stressful. He also helps me making assignments when I needs help. His influence and achievements when he was still studying serves as my inspiration in whatever I am doing today.

In two decades of my existence in this world, it took two years for me to realized almost all of my abilities and skills. Through the influence of the people, I achieve something that I didn't expect . Being a member of Tourism Ambassadors, is a great stepping stone for me because it is my first organization in SHS in Tuy. Giving assistance to the visitors is a priviledged for the recognition of the organization and the school. Next to that, I became the Secretary of the Barkada Kontra Droga and later became the President of the organization. My leadership was tested because at first, this should be discreet to the students for the confidentiality of its officers due to its purpose of strenghtening the campaign for the anti-drug but later on, it is introduce because of the survey result showing that there's no student who were involve in illegal drug activities. The door also opens opportunity as I became the President of Humanities and Social Sciences Group. As well as being the Grade 12 Representative of Komisyon sa Wika at Pananaliksik. Officership is not over for me, after losing th presidency for SSG, I appointed as the Executive Affairs Committee Chairperson wherein I also became active to serve the students and the school. Aside from that, I also enter the field of Journalism wherein during Grade 11, I am one of the News Writer and when I became Grade 12, I transfer as a Filipino Broadcaster as an Anchor, wherein we compete in Area Level of Broadcasting. Outside the school, I also achieve something that once became my dream, and was to become a choir member of St. Vincent Ferrer. During the times after I became an official member, I experienced to sung when the heart relic of St. Padre Pio arrived at its National Shrine. Also, we sung at the Metropolitan Cathedral of San Sebastian when the Blood relic and National Youth Cross of St. John Paul II arrived in the country. We also experience singing in some churches around Batangas. But the biggest achievement we achieved was when we join th Harana sa Panginoon 2018, where we won the Bene Meritus Silver B Award. That's our first time of joining a contest and it is great experience for everyone.

Spending our life on earth is like going through a life cycle of a butterfly, wherein we started as an egg, having not enough knowledge on what is going on into the environment and surroundings. But as time goes by, we step up into the second stage where we will become larvae. We start to discover and have interaction into our environment, we slowly move and find where our feet will brought us. Until we experienced being pupa, cover with darkness but continue to live and wait for the time when it is ready to face the real world. Preparing itself as it nearly flies in the wild and encounter the reality of life. And when the time comes, the darkness that covers yourself start to break and light will shattered you, giving hope and another chances. And you didn't notice after the stages that you've been through, you become a beautiful butterfly that flies freely and do whatever you want. Changes that came into our life is normal, it can Transform you and can Influence others based on how you handle the changes that happens in your own life.

[keeyo7]

You guys are cool and I feel like I can kinda vent on here because you guys are cool and I’m pretty sure my family won’t see this. So May is a tough month for me. It’s my birthday month, but it’s also the month when my grandpa died. My grandpa and I were really close. I’m named after him, I lived with him pretty much all of my life from when I was three until he passed, he’s the one that got me into comic books, and I would spend a lot of time with him especially after high school when I had the free time to hang out while my brothers were at school and my parents were at work. He’s the reason keeyo is my username on like everything! After my grandma died when I was 3 my family moved in to take care of him and when we moved before my 4th brother was born he ended up moving into the house next door so I got to live with him right next door to my family from 6th grade to senior year in high school when we finally moved into a bigger house where we could all fit but that period of time was great cause during our down time it was just me and my grandpa. When we went on family trips more often than not I would stay with my grandpa when my family would go out if town for the most part I would stay with my grandpa. We were really close.

Now I’m fortunate enough that I hadn’t really experienced a “big” family death at that point but as my grandpa got older we were kind of starting to talk about it more as a possibility as a family. Then in 2015 things took a turn for the worst. I’m glad I had this moment but in April of that year my family had gone to a party and I had stayed to hang out with my grandpa. He called me into his room and we had this big talk about his time coming and how he was ready. I came out of it worried but still in a place where I thought it was still a time away. May comes and my birthday passes and then my grandpa goes in for a routine checkup where he almost died because he was bleeding internally. He was lucky to have been at the hospital and while we were celebrating the fact that he made it through that the doctors had run some more tests. Now as I’ve stated I thought everything was pretty fine and it was Memorial Day weekend so my girlfriend and I watch movies and we drive to Krispy Kreme to get donuts at like 3 in the morning. We sleep in cause we were up all night and I get a call from my mom at noon that we have to get to the hospital immediately. I’m kind of freaking out because of how she sounded but again I’m a state of everything’s probably going to be fine. We drive to the hospital and we get up to my grandpas room where my brothers and parents already are. They’re talking to my grandpa when we walk in and my parents take me out into the hallways. They close the door and that’s when they tell me my grandpa is full of cancer and he has decided to stop his dialysis so he could go out on his own terms. I immediately start crying but I walk down the hall away from his room because I don’t want my brothers to see me because I got the news first. I’m crying by the vending machine and I tell my girlfriend about it. I calm down enough to go back to the room where everyone is sad and crying except for my grandpa who’s happy he’s going to get to go home and eat wherever he wants and that he doesn’t have to do dialysis anymore. I volunteer my girlfriend and myself to take my youngest brother home with us while my family checks my grandpa out of the hospital. Idk what to do at this point, I woke up at noon after staying up all night just to find out my grandpa is going to die. What am I supposed to do? I decided we need things, I tell my girlfriend we need to go to the grocery store. Also at this point I didn’t have a job and I kind of don’t have any money. Since it had been my birthday recently I had some birthday money but that’s it. So what I do is I spend all of that birthday money on food and drinks and snacks that I feel like my family will want because I don’t know what to do. We buy a much of groceries I’m crying my girlfriends trying to be there for me but she doesn’t know what to do either my little brother doesn’t know what’s going on cause he’s three and the cashier is just like “ alright that’ll be a bunch of money” we get home and my family isn’t there yet. I bring in all the groceries and once I’m done I just sit in my grandpas lazy boy and don’t move until my family gets home. My girlfriend makes food cause I’m useless and my little brother probably watched tv.

My family gets home and that’s when the real prep starts. My grandpa has a lot of family and friends we assume will come see him because you know. One of my bothers has a broken leg and couldn’t walk up the stairs so we had moved his bed downstairs so he could sleep in the living room but we couldn’t have that because people were coming over and for some reason my family did not have a couch at the time so my brothers and I had to get my brothers bed or of the living room and my parents had to find a couch in the quick. Also my grandpa wasn’t out of the hospital yet for reasons and my aunt was going to be bringing him over so we had to get things presentable for them. My mom has two full siblings and Idk how many half siblings (those are stories for another day) and them and their families are going to stay with us while my grandpa is going through his last however long he has. This brings us into stuff idk know enough about and also shouldn’t talk about but it was a rough week. My girlfriend had the weekend off cause it was Memorial Day but had to get back to where she lived and go back to work so that Tuesday she left knowing she’d probably never see my grandpa alive again. What I regret about that period of time was I didn’t spend enough time with my grandpa. I know it’s never enough but that week in particular I took a step back and let my cousins and sibling spend more time with him because I felt like they didn’t have as much time with him as I had so they need it more. There were some tensions having my aunts uncles and cousin there and everyone was highly emotional because of the situation. Wednesday my dad and I walked to the corner store to buy mr. good bars for everyone cause they’re my grandpas favorite and sometime in the evening he went to sleep for the last time. That Thursday we knew the time was near so we all had our private moments with him and spent all day standing in and outside his room just waiting. It didn’t happen until around 5:30. We all let our emotions out, I had to escort one of my brothers from the room and get some fresh air. I texted my girlfriend and she came down as fast as she could and my family waited for the funeral home to come collect him.

Theres a lot before, during, and after that time I have a lot of feelings about. I was kind of abandoned emotionally by someone close to me that I’ve forgiven but still hurts, family stuff that still stands to this day, and just I don’t really like my birthday month anymore. When my birthday comes around it’s three weeks to the day before the anniversary of my grandpas death. I’m feeling it cause it’s coming up and overall it’s kind of fucked me up these past four years and I’m trying to make myself deal with it better but it’s hard you know? I’m barley starting to move forward and I let myself wallow and stagnant too much because of this. Today was kind of hard I’m not sure why, maybe it was the weather, maybe it was my brother writing a song dedicated to my grandpa, maybe it’s just because it’s the end of May and the day is coming up but today was really hard. If you read all of this thank you and I’m sorry it’s so long, I needed to write this out cause I haven’t talked about it much since it happened and I haven’t really dealt with it in a healthy way so I thought this would help me.

#stuff #im sorry #this is very long

[electricbluetempest]

Widowerner AU Part 2

We’ve written more, you angst-hungry fiends!!!

Everyone had gathered together for dinner. Werner barely even ate tonight, he’s was standing next to his husband’s casket, looking at it.

“Werner.... are you ok?” Sally stood up from the table. 

 “Nein....” 

 The woman stood up to her best friend and stood next to him. “I know he was a good husband. I’m very sorry about your loss.” 

 Werner didn’t respond. 

 “I know this is hard to move one but-“ 

 A song was playing in the background. It was a song Werner and Dr. Kahl sang horribly together, laughing at the end.

“I...I’m sorry I need to go outside for a bit.”

Werner left the table, running towards the nearest exit. He had too many memories flooding back at once when he heard the song that had been playing.

“...That song reminds him of dad.” Nic explained. “God, I’ve never seen him like this before.” 

 “Neither have I.” Sally replied. “Are you two doing okay?” 

 “...Not really.”

Werner slammed the exit door behind him, he began to weep. Could a small song really make him this emotional, even though the song is meant to be for fun? 

 “Is he ok?” Wilbert asked. 

 “I’m afraid he’s not....” Sally answered. The cries are getting louder and louder, it can be heard all over the place. 

 “I’ll go to him, I got this.” Bon Bon added in. She went to the exit door Werner exited from and found him sitting on the corner, hiding his face with his arms. 

The lady sat next to him and patted his back. “Werner?”

Werner looked up just for a second to see who had sat next to him, then went back to crying into his own arms. 

 “I’m just...I still can’t believe it.” He choked out. “How am I supposed to adjust to zhis?” 

 “Well, the truth is, you probably won’t for a while. Trust me, everyone is shocked by this.” 

 “I don’t know vhat to do. I’m terrified for myself and ze kids...” 

 “Werner, no matter what happens, you have a whole island full of people who are willing to help you. If you need support from any of us, just reach out.”

“...Danke.”

“Dad?” One of the boys said as they open the exit door. 

 “Nic?.... Wilbert?” Bon Bon turned around. 

 “Are you ok?” Nic sat next to his distressed father. “I’m alright, son. It’s just I miss your dad very much.” 

 “I understand, it’s hard for us to move on too.” The two boys hugged their dad as Werner hugged both of them back. 

“Zhank you....”

****

It was a few days after the funeral, and the family was having a hard time adjusting. Sure, they knew this was normal, but it was still difficult. Nic had the idea to find as many things around the house as he could to remind himself of his dad. He was doing this for both himself and Wilbert. Wilbert was still very little, Nic was worried that his brother would forget their dad when they got older. He gathered together photo albums, home videos, tape recordings, anything and everything he could. But he found one thing in his dad’s belongings that he had never seen before. 

It was a hard-cover notebook that looked kind of old. Nic flipped through the pages and his heart stopped when he saw it was full of his dad’s handwriting. This was a journal that his dad had kept for a long time, the first entry was dated years before Alfred had ever met Werner. 

Nic rushed to the family room where Werner and Wilbert were, handing the book to his dad. “Did you know about this?”

Werner was handed the book from his son. He blew the dust out of the cover and rubbed his hand over it. 

 “Vhere did you get zis?” 

 “I found it on his drawer. It’s a journal.” 

Werner opened the book to the first page, the first entry was dated back 32 years ago. 

“Alfred......” Werner turned to a few more pages to find an entry about how he and his husband first met. The rat started to read it, skimming on every word his late-husband wrote. The rat started to tear up, seeing this one sentence Alfred wrote. 

 ‘Perhaps I found someone to talk to. Who knows what role he might play in my life? I think he might be my lover one day.’ 

Werner flipped a few more pages and found the entries of the robot, their wedding, the times they had fun together, the separation, the reunion, he even stapled all the letter he received from Werner, the time Nic and Wilbert was born, and the last entry before going to the hospital.

“I had no idea he saved all of zhis.” Werner stated. “It’s a journal he must have had for years!”

“Does it have anything about us in it?” Wilbert asked. 

“It has everyzhing! Every major moment of his life! Ve have to look through zhis some more!” 

Wilbert corralled his dad into a big armchair while Nic opened a window and motioned for Uncle Robot to listen in. The kids sat on the floor in front of their father while Werner found a place to start reading.

Werner had read along many entries so far, now he gets to the last entry written.

'I am terribly ill right now, my fever is getting worse, I keep coughing frequently, and my blood pressure is very low. I need to get medical help right away. I don't know what will happen but I hope I'll survive this. I wish myself many hopes and love from my family. I told the robot that'll go to the hospital for a while, I just wish that I hope to not leave this world. Life is a gift and use it wisely. Who knows if I'll survive or not.'

Werner flipped more pages to find them all empty, perhaps if his husband was still alive he'd be writing more. 

"Is that it?" asked WIlbert. 

"I'm afraid yes." Werner answered 

"THIS CAN'T BE?" The robot exclaimed as he grabbed the journal to find more empty pages. 

"I'm sorry.... zats ze end of the book."  

Nic stood up and went over to his room. 

 "Nic, where are you going?" Wilbert asked. 

 Nic came back with his journal in his hand.

"Here, I wrote some stuff about dad too." He handed his journal to his father and turned to the page that was written during the funeral.

'I gave a eulogy for dad today. In it, I said how I wanted to tell him I was sorry. I’ve gotten angry at pointless things plenty of times before, but now I’m just angry at life. Why was he taken away from us so early? This isn’t fair! I never even got to say goodbye as he was dying. I know I’ll eventually have to accept that he’s gone, but I don’t want to accept anything. I just want to be angry and sad and hate the world for being so cruel. I miss him so much, but I have to keep a brave face for my family.'

“Nic...I feel ze same way.” Werner began. “You did a great job putting it into words.”

“Thanks. I figured I’d write down my feelings while they’re still fresh in our minds.”  

“I know people say zhis a lot, but he’s in a better place now. Vherever He is, he’s vatching over us.”

The family took a bit of comfort in this, but Wilbert was a little confused.

“What do you mean, ‘a better place’? I thought they buried him. He can’t watch us underground.”

“Not like zhat, ve mean...his soul. Ze part of you zhat doesn’t die and lives on even after you’re dead.”

“So like a ghost?”

“...Ja, sort of.”

This gave Nic an idea.

#long post #widowerner au

[the--blackdahlia]

Wake Me Up (When September Ends)  (Sam x Reader)

Title: Wake Me Up (When September Ends)

Summary: (Y/n) hates September.

Warnings: Character deaths, suicide, cancer, war themes

AN: Somewhat based on the music video and the story behind the Green Day song “Wake Me Up When September Ends”

(Y/n) was eleven when she stood in front of her mother’s casket, staring at her closed eyes and ashy skin. For the past few years, she had helped her dad take care of her mom, dying of something awful. Cancer. The doctors hadn’t caught it in time, but even if they had, it wouldn’t have mattered. She remembered her dad ushering her out of rooms while her mom was sick. She remembered when the ushering stopped. Her mom wasn’t there anymore.

 It didn’t start raining that September day until she went home and curled up in her bed. The storm hit with a force as she cried into her pillow. A knock on the window over the storm made her look. Sam set there. Her best friend. He had been at the funeral, making his brother walk with him to it. She let him. He was only a few months older than her, but he held her and helped her through it. His own mother had died when he was six months old. Even though he couldn’t remember, it didn’t hurt any less.

 “It’ll be over soon.” He whispered. “I promise. The pain won’t be this bad forever.”

 ****

 Seven years later, (Y/n) set beside Sam, eyes glued to the TV as the fire raged at the World Trade Center. She held his hand tightly. Classes had been cancelled for the day, the professors wanting to watch the news unfolding. A lot of kids didn’t feel safe either. Stanford was quiet, shock evident on the campus.

 “My god.” (Y/n) whimpered, watching the TV. “Are your dad and brother safe?”

 “Yeah. They were visiting my uncle in South Dakota. They’re fine. What about your dad?” Sam asked. When they first got the news, (Y/n) and Sam had called their dads to make sure everything was okay with them.

 “Him and Leeann are in Jamaica thankfully.” (Y/n) explained. Her dad and step-mom lived in upstate New York, but were on a vacation and thankfully were not home. They would probably be stuck there for a while, but they were safe. Sam held (Y/n)’s hand in his.

 “Everything’s going to be okay.” He reassured her. She just nodded, not sure if she really believed him.

 Why did everything bad that happened to her happen in September?

 ****

 “Sammy…” (Y/n) gasped. “Why?”

 “I have to keep you safe.” He said. His long hair was gone, replaced with the mandatory haircut that the United States Army required.

 “This is by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” Dean said. Sam glared at his brother. John set in a chair, silent.

 “I have to do this.” Sam said. “I just have to. I don’t expect you guys to understand.” (Y/n) walked forward and cupped her boyfriend’s face.

 “I do understand.” She whispered. “Just please come home to me.” Sam nodded and held her close.

 “I’m going to keep you safe. I promise.” He told her. “And do I ever break my promises?” She shook her head and held on to Sam as his brother and dad watched. They couldn’t change his mind, they knew that. But they could try.

 ****

 Sam had been gone for a couple months. He was off in the Middle East somewhere. Dean had stuck around California to help (Y/n) out while she worked on school. They kept in contact with Sam as often as they could. And that day, as she was waiting on the mail for a letter from him, she climbed into the shower. It was there she felt that something was off.

 ****

 “Come on, there has to be something they can do. A pill or something.” Dean said, pacing in front of (Y/n). She looked up at him.

 “It’s not that easy.” She said. “I should’ve been going for checkups. But I didn’t think it would get me. I’m so much younger than my mom was when she got it.” Dean shook his head.

 “Did they give you options? Anything?” He set on the edge of the coffee table in front of her.

 “There’s chemo. And surgery.” (Y/n) explained. Her hands were shaking. She didn’t want to tell Sam. He was already going through enough. “Dean, what am I going to do?” She cried. He set by her and pulled her in for a hug.

 “It’s going to be okay.” Dean said. “I promise it will be.”

 It rained that night. It always seemed to rain on the days that hurt her the most. It didn’t stop raining as she wrote the letter to Sam, telling him what was happening. Advanced stage breast cancer. They could operate and get her started on the right treatments, but there was no guarantee that it would save her. Dean promised her it was going to be alright, that she would be healthy and would go on to start a family with his brother.

 ****

 It was two years later. She had been in remission, but a new tumor had shown up. Sam had stayed in the army, going for another tour. Things were getting worse out there and (Y/n) could barely stand to look at the news. Sam had asked her to marry him on his last leave. Instead of waiting for the next one, they drove to Reno and got married. Ironically enough, in the same one that John and Mary Winchester married at. Mrs. Winchester was scared, but her husband was brave out there in the Middle East, so she could be brave back in the United States.

 Dean had just brought her back home from her doctor’s appointment. John had come by to stay for a little bit and was taking advantage of the nice September afternoon by cooking on the grill in the back. Dean went out to help him while (Y/n) worked around the house. The doorbell rang then. (Y/n) wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and made her way to the door. There stood a man in formal military dress.

 Dean and John came in with a pile of food as (Y/n) fell to her knees. The ugliest sob fell from her lips. She pulled the bandana from her head and used it to wipe at her face. John knew what was going on as he gazed at the face of the man in the doorway, trying to keep his eyes from tearing up. The worst part of the job and John had to do it a couple times. Dean left the food on the counter and ran to his sister-in-law.

 “(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Dean asked, feeling her shaking in his arms.

 “S-Sammy…” Was all she had to say for Dean to put the other pieces together. He pulled her close to him and let her bury her face in his chest, muffling the cries. The man in the door left and John remained silent. That was all he could do in situations like this.

 That night, the rumble of thunder was in the distance. (Y/n) laid in the middle of her and Sam’s bed. Dean knocked softly before coming in. He didn’t say much, just set by her. He had lost his brother, she had lost her husband. He wasn’t coming back and it was breaking their hearts. But Dean knew how to hide his emotions, especially when (Y/n) had so much going on in her life.

 “Do you need me to do anything?” Dean asked.

 “Just wake me up when September ends.” She whispered. “I hate this month so much.” Dean offered a sad smile before kissing her forehead.

 “I’ll see you in the morning.” He said, leaving her room to head to his. She set up and stared at the door, tears falling down her face. She made her way to the bathroom, coming back with a small bottle. She took the picture from her bedside, of her and Sam. Both so young and full of life. But not anymore.

 When Dean and John knocked on her door in the morning, there was no answer. Dean carefully opened the door to find (Y/n) on her bed, an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside her and the picture clutched tightly in her hand.

Tag List: @petrovadixon @theas-bedtime-stories @aiaranradnay @uzayliedison @policeofficerdean @af112992 @dekahg @cutie1365

#sam #Sam Winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #supernatural #Jared Padalecki

[dcnativegal]

Who is family? Who is my family?

Every year for something like two decades, I’ve received a Christmas card from Shizuko Saito. The card is always of high quality, sometimes opening into a 3D image like a Christmas tree. Who is she? The grandmother to my sister’s children. She lives on the island of Hokkaido in Japan. She has studied English, and although the translation is not perfect in her cards, the message gets across.

I send her something every year, too. I used to email her son, Akira, the words I wanted to say, and he’d translate them into Japanese and mail along with his own stuff. Lately, I’ve used google translator, and laboriously copied the kanji, knowing they probably look like barely legible chicken scratch to her. It’s appreciated, though, as I appreciate her effort, and her inclusion of me in her seasonal missives.

Her son and my sister have been divorced something like 12 years now, and have remarried other people. I haven’t seen Mrs. Saito in a very long time: the last time may have been at her first grandson’s funeral. He died of SIDS at 3 months in March of 1992. The Saitos hadn’t met Kazuki yet, alive. It was a very sad day.

I’d first met the Saitos when they visited Washington DC. They sat on our front porch on Sigsbee Place, a quiet one way street. It was before any of our children were born. As we chatted, suddenly Mr. Saito sprang up from the chair and ran downstairs to the side yard. It was twilight, and the lightning bugs were glowing in the grass. He fell to his knees, and exclaimed with joy. I believe he wept. His wife explained that he hadn’t seen fireflies since he was a child in prewar Japan. It was achingly dear to watch his delight. He passed away some years ago.

I have two nieces who are twins, born two days after my daughter in 1995. After their uncle and I divorced, I continued to acknowledge their birthdays with a card or a present. Mostly I sent them knit hats.  It’s been years since I’ve seen them in the flesh. My kids, their cousins, see them about once a year when they visit their paternal grandparents in California. One year, I gently demanded a letter of news in return for my gifts, and got two short but sweet notes in reply. Now there is Facebook, so I have a sense of what they’re doing.  Juniors in college, they just spent mind-blowing semesters overseas. It is a wonderful thing to watch them turn into interesting, progressive young women. (BTW, they are half-Chinese. It’s totally awesome that my kids’ cousins are all Asian.)

My kids’ father does not consider my sister’s children to be family anymore. I think that’s pretty common in divorced families. It’s usually the women who keep track of birthdays and probably do most of the gift shopping, isn’t it? I think of him as family, still. We co-parent beautifully, and couples counseling on how to divorce well really helped.  Sadly for me, i think he’d be fine with never seeing me again.  Sometimes one person in a two-person relationship considers the other to be family, and the other person does not.

Sometimes the designation of ‘family’ through marriage continues past the legal severing.

******

In August, I moved cat and possessions to what an old friend of mine calls Valville. There was nothing of mine in this county before I got here, although I do firmly claim 3 friends in Eugene (one of whom is Valerie’s first husband), a first cousin and a college friend in Portland. There is no one here in Lake County who is my legal or blood kin. In Valville, I am living within a few blocks of Val’s daughter, son in law, and grandchildren, when everyone is home from college or graduate school. There’s also a son of hers in the next county north, and another over the Cascades into ‘the Valley.’ There’s a kind and fascinating sister who lives in Klamath County, a few miles from a Valerie brother whom I met for the 2nd time in my entire life on the Feast of Stephen (12/26) just last Monday. Val has referred to him as ‘the holy brother.’ The youngest of her siblings, he evolved into the most conservative. His response to her coming out as a lesbian six years ago was one word: ‘stupid.’  I’ve been wary. But we were apparently invited to his traditional day after Christmas brunch. As she predicted, he was a gracious host, as was his wife, and his adult children, and his two adopted children who are being homeschooled. Valerie figures that his youngest son, who was born in Ethiopia, may have caused him to loosen up a little. Who knows. He exchanged about 10 sentences with just me alone. It was awesome fun to listen to Valerie and her sister tell stories about generations long gone.

Her blood kinfolks do not know me that well, yet. I knit or crocheted every one of them something for Christmas, including the new husband of Valerie’s niece, whom I hadn’t met yet.  I was hoping that they would know, from my labor on their behalf, that I respect and care about each one in their own right. Every single one is good people. I was surprised and delighted by their gifts to me, how included I was in the present-opening ritual. Christmas in Valville was great.

Sometimes, being ‘family’ is something one can earn, over time, if you’re lucky.

*****

On my drive west in August, my sister and I stopped to visit our first cousin who has lived in the “Disciplinary Barracks” at Fort Leavenworth Kansas since he was 19. He’s pushing 30 now. He is part of the tragic branch of my mother’s family. His parents are dead and two years ago his twin brother jumped off the apartment building he’d lived in. (We share a grandfather who was alcoholic, and a great grandfather who was a bigamist, not to mention the granduncle who killed himself, leaving 4 kids and a pregnant wife. I could go on….)  My cousin has a loving and generous half sister, and two cousins on his father’s side, that would be me and my sister, and one aunt and 2 cousins on his mother’s side. That’s it. In 2015, when he was granted a mistrial, and negotiated a plea bargain, I decided to drive all the way to Ft Benning Georgia to attend the hearings that would help determine his new sentence (which had previously been ‘life without parole’.) No other family member could come. What message would it send the sentencing judge if zero blood kinfolk bothered to attend?  Sitting on one side of the tiny courtroom, with three of his friends from high school, a surrogate mother who is a lawyer, and the people testifying on his behalf (a chaplain, a psychiatrist), it was dramatic to think that virtually everyone on the other side were related to the man he’d killed. Eight or nine people. His sentence was changed so that he does have the possibility of parole, someday. Will he ever be released?  It’s an open question. I imagine I’ll have to go to Ft Benning again for a parole hearing. Meanwhile, I write to him, as I have since the horrible thing happened, and send him articles on things like yoga in prison, or stories of successful adjustment by long-incarcerated ex-offenders once they get released. He looks like his dad, and my mother. He sent me his latest photo, and it sits on my home altar, along with a picture of my sister.

Sometimes, family is family, no matter how badly they screwed up.

******

I am a social worker, and I’ve spend the past 30 years looking for the social network that supports each of the patients or clients I am tasked with helping. I look everywhere for support, and I find some, usually. Rare is the soul with absolutely no one.

One of my patients was a man from Iran, a Persian, who had lived in a small house in what is now a very wealthy suburb of DC. He’d been in the US for decades, had gotten married and divorced. No children. He’d retired, and grew stranger. His across-the-street neighbor, also an immigrant but in his case, from Ethiopia, befriended the Persian. Brought him food. Talked to him.

One day, the Persian opened a window, and a bird flew in. He was delighted. He opened all his windows, and many birds flew in. Pidgeons, probably. He fed them, and shared his house with them for weeks, perhaps months. Never mind the bird poop. He had company.

The Persian was not well; despite the Ethiopian’s efforts, he was getting very skinny. The Persian refused to go to the doctor. The Ethiopian finally called Adult Protective Services. The APS report I read stated there were 27 birds in the house. I wondered, how did they count them? They still couldn’t force him to see a doctor, or clear out the birds.

Eventually, the Persian collapsed, and was transported to the hospital. He was diagnosed with end stage cancer. Eventually his pain was addressed, he was cleaned from head to toe, and lay in great weakness in an inpatient hospice bed where I met him. A long-estranged brother was located in Baltimore. I found a funeral home that buries in the Islamic way. And he died. The Ethiopian was at his bedside.

Sometimes a neighbor becomes family.

*****

Did you know that ‘family’ is a code word for ‘gay’? As in, are you ‘family’? Given that so many families are struggling to parent, and stay intact in a stable way, it is also ironic that the people who are most familiar, and practiced, out of hard necessity, to be good at building chosen family, are gay people. The very people that fundamentalists think are destroying the family. Nah. Straight people are doing that all by themselves. Given the numbers of single parent families, and step families, and families with adopted children, who could lead the charge, show the way? Gay people. Who’ve made and maintained families without legal support until very recently. For millennia.

Ask John Gottman, who studies which couples are likely to stay together and which will divorce. He observes them in real time. And he has observed gay couples, too. He has written that gay couples fight in healthier ways. In an article provocatively called “Are gay marriages healthier than straight marriages?” Dr. Gottman says, “The gay and lesbian couples were much more open and much more direct.”  [www.politico.com/magazine/story/2015/06/gay-marriages-better-than-straight-marriages-119465]   In his study, “the gay and straight couples brought up the same sort of problems, but gay couples were, by a statistically significant margin, less defensive during fights and more likely to use shared humor to soften the tension of the conversation.” One reason is that the power differential, and the role rigidity in straight couples is missing.  Kids reared in stable same sex households do as well as stable opposite sex ones. [http://journals.lww.com/jrnldbp/Abstract/2016/04000/Same_Sex_and_Different_Sex_Parent_Households_and.1.aspx]     Gay folks are also much more likely to maintain good relationships with ex-lovers. Straight divorcing couples could really take notes on that one. [Check out https://www.psychologytoday.com/articles/201503/gay-love-straight-sense for tips.]

Sometimes, loves makes a family.

*****

Years ago, when my kids were 5 and 6, and my marriage was strong, we went to Disney World in Florida. At the time, my father’s cousin, who grew up with him as a sister would, lived in Daytona Beach in a retirement community called a ‘fly-in’ because you could taxi your small plane right to a hangar by your house. My uncle was a pilot. We stayed with them for a couple of nights on our way to Disney. This couple have always been gracious and generous to me, taking an interest in us and our children.

In the late afternoon of our last night with them, their son, his wife, and their three children arrived in their car, having driven from New England for spring break. My kids were watching a movie and I don’t remember where their dad was. I was in the guest room. And I listened. I heard the joyful noise made by the arriving family and the adoring parents. I was suddenly struck in the heart with pain. I realized that THIS is what family can be. And that I hadn’t ever had it. I wept with the realization. It was as if I had been blind, and aware in an abstract way, of the color purple, only to have a glimpse of purple’s beauty, and to fully know my deprivation.

I couldn’t stop crying. Now I was trapped in this bedroom with a blotchy face. My kids’ dad found me, was puzzled, brought me a cold wash cloth. Eventually I emerged, greeted my cousins, feigned a headache, and returned to the bedroom.  The next day we left for Disney World. I now knew what I had been missing.

Sometimes people do not have parents who cherish them unconditionally.

*****

The first time I went to see a therapist, I was 16. I’d been attending a youth group at the Episcopal Church that happened to be on the grounds of the Washington National Cathedral. This youth group was very cool. It was 1975.

One of the volunteer group leaders watched me for a while and eventually told me that he thought I was depressed. He suggested I go see someone, a mental health counselor. I remember looking up in the DC phone book a place called the “Area A Mental Health Clinic”. I made an appointment and met with someone, who asked me a lot of questions. Then I was assigned to a psychology intern named Pat. I went to see her faithfully. She and I corrected the misconceptions and distortions I’d been carrying around. She asserted that it was not normal to think about all the ways I could kill myself. That my mother was not normal and my family life was toxic. Eventually, I ran away from home. And unlike most runaways, I was encouraged to stay away. And so I did. I rented a windowless room in the basement of a friend’s house, and I paid with my wages from Roy Rogers Restaurant. With my grandmother’s inheritance, I was able to go to Oberlin College, the only place I’d applied to, sight unseen. I never again slept under the same roof as my parents.

I saw Pat off and on through college, and for another 5 years after I returned to DC . She told me that I’d been the first self-referred adolescent her clinic could recall. She asked me to bring in my mother for one session, and so I did. I don’t think I said more than 3 words, and my mom went on and on.  At the next session, Pat told me that she thought I’d been exaggerating.

The fact that Pat had met my mother, and now fully believed what I’d been telling her, was a revelation. First it was a revelation that she thought I’d been exaggerating. Next that, in fact, my mother was as crazy as I thought she was.

Eventually, Pat and I stopped being therapist and client. She hired me to do some secretarial work for her, which, on top of my waitress salary, was a big help. She had some health scares. And one day, as I was visiting her in a hospital, she informed me that she’d like to pay the tuition for graduate school for me. I would have to pick something to study, then she’d pay. She had married wealth, and had 3 daughters of her own, slightly older than me, and well established. My 25 year old mind was blown.

Boundaries, schmoundaries.

So I spend a few months researching what I wanted to study. I looked into education, psychology, and women’s studies. I eventually settled on social work, and I am glad I did. It is a hugely flexible degree. My field instructor once told me, don’t go into social work for Power, Pay or Prestige.  Got that. I went into social work for meaningful, necessary work helping other people. Got that, too.

Pat is retired, living in Florida, volunteering at her huge Catholic parish as a psychotherapist. Sometimes she calls me on holidays. We always exchange Christmas cards. I write a long letter every February which is her birth month, telling her what I’ve learned in the previous year. She drastically improved my life, twice.

Sometimes family reveals itself in the most shockingly wonderful ways.

*****

I have a pretty small family now, the kind that shares my DNA. My ancestors include Mayflower families, an ancestor of Abe Lincoln, and dammit, some slave holders. My family of origin is small. My parents are dead. I have one sibling, my beloved sister, who is very different from me, and almost 5 years younger. We made a pact years ago that we would not let bullshit get between us. She has a big cozy house in the Philadelphia suburbs, and for the longest time, it has been the place where me, my husband and then my partner, and my kids, have been thoroughly welcome. The closest I get to feeling the joy that my aunt and uncle felt when greeting their son. She drove me out here in August. I am one lucky sister.

I adore her children. I still grieve for her first one, who died of SIDS, who rested in my arms that New Year’s night when he was born, 24 years ago. The one who didn’t wake up one day. The one whom I witnessed being carried by a weeping Jesus in my vision, the night of his death.

I also have two astonishing children. The son and daughter who survived their parents’ divorce since their mother figured out belatedly just how gay she was. Who benefited from the pact their father and I made to be awesome coparents, despite a lot of pain. Who’s father was a stay at home dad and ever present when they were not in school.  Parents who instilled in them a love of justice, and who reared them in a multicultural city, church, and schools. I am so proud of them. I am in awe of them. I miss them a lot, and it’s an expensive pain in the tuchus to get them to Paisley. But I will do it whenever I can.  I plan to ship my sister and her family out here, too, somehow…

Sometimes family looks like you.

*****

Maybe because I am a social worker, and maybe because I’m a worry wort, I wonder what the future holds as health declines for me and for my lover/partner/sweetie. She has multiple sclerosis, although you’d never know it unless you watched her closely as she gets up from a chair and starts to walk. She has normal blood pressure and takes only one medication, for MS. She is the poster child for ‘physically active senior.’  I, on the other hand, although a dozen years her junior, am obese, and have that deadly combo, diabetes and high blood pressure. I do hope to get healthier in this next year. As do millions of other Americans as 2016 ends and 2017 begins. Because I do not want to have a stroke. A nice quick myocardial infarction would be fine, ala Princess Leia. But a stroke, and the debilitation both physical and mental that goes with it, no. No thanks. Cancer would be fine: I know it’s wily ways after close observation. A progressive neurological disease would be fine, too, as long as it isn’t ALS. I’ve worked with too many patients with ALS. One of the worst illnesses on the planet. Dementia? Sigh, I hope not. I’ll probably die of something else long before I get dementia. Like Maude in classic movie, Harold and Maude, I hope to be taken out by age 80. After that it’s mostly indignity and debilitation, despite the cheerful outliers.

See where my head goes? Straight to drooling and adult diapers, size extra large.  Medical social workers have seen a lot of different kinds of death, and ways of dying. It would be great if we could choose. Alas, we cannot.

What I worry about is what “family” will care for me.  I know I am in it for the long haul with Miss Valerie. I worry not about being her caregiver. And here in Oregon, I will have help from her family.  I believe this town would help us, too.

But what if I become disabled before she does?

I worry about this.

Perhaps I’d move back east to my sister’s, if Valerie couldn’t or wouldn’t. The thing is, from what I’ve seen in my job, you can be poor as a church mouse or richer than Rockefeller: what determines the quality of life in those ‘golden years’ is social support, especially family. Go ahead, put me in a nursing home. Just visit me frequently, okay? Bring ice cream? By then, healthy eating won’t matter.

Between now and drooling, I will build up my family, and hope maybe that I will get healthier, and that there will be loving people who consider me to be family, who will care for me if I become disabled. I will be a good social worker and prepare with advance directives. I’ll case manage my own case, and obviously I am truly a case. Best not worry too much.

So, finally, family is who takes care of you when you need your diaper changed. They don’t need to actually CHANGE it themselves, mind you, but would supervise whomever is the certified nursing assistant who changes the diaper and who needs to do it gently, thoroughly, and with plenty of lotion, thank you very much. Family cares directly or oversees, but is present, often. Otherwise you are a person surrounded by paid helpers who may or may not care one iota for you.

And that is a very lonely state of affairs. In which case, pray for a kind Ethiopian to take interest, and sit by your side as you die.

#family lovemakesafamily lgbtfamilies lgbtparenting