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bee-kathony · 4 years

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Walking the Tightrope - Jamie and Claire AU

The year is 1919, and a 13 year old Claire Beauchamp has just lost both her parents to the Spanish Influenza. Alone in the world, and out of options, Claire runs away, stumbling across train tracks. When she wipes away her tears, she discovers a train, and is welcomed aboard.  

What happens when Claire finds out that the train is home to the Ringling Brothers & Barnum and Bailey Circus? Luckily, she meets a family – The Fraser’s, who help her learn the circus life. But, will she always want to stay? Or will she eventually grow up and realize it’s time to leave the circus and her best friend, Jamie… behind? 

This is the first 3(ish) and only chapters of this fic. I will also add the outline for what this story was going to be at the end. I hope you enjoy it and I was excited to get into the twists of this story. Moodboard by @beaauchamp xx

Chapter One

Boston, Massachusetts 1919

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was 13 years old when she ran away to the circus. Normally, young girls don’t run away to join circuses — especially not young British girls who had just moved to America.

Claire and her family were originally from England, the beautiful city of Oxford, and had relocated to the United States for Henry Beauchamp’s job. He was a veterinarian, and had been offered a position to teach the subject at Harvard University, an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Their family packed up their small home and moved across the Atlantic. Claire found it was rather easy to leave her home country, she hadn’t always been the best at making new friends. And besides, she had her parents to keep her company. Henry’s brother, Claire’s Uncle Lamb, was an archaeologist and had traveled with them to stay for a few months in between digs.

They had only been in Boston for eight months before the sickness came. It was 1919 and the Spanish Influenza was spreading rapidly throughout the country and throughout the world. Claire felt helpless as she watched people around her die.

“You must stay with Lamb, darling,” her mother said, voice barely above a whisper. “He’ll take good care of you.”

“But I want to stay with you, mum,” Claire gripped her mother’s hand, aware of how hot her skin felt against her own. “I want to stay with you and papa.”

Julia Beauchamp had woken up that morning with a chill that rapidly turned into a fever. It was a miracle that Claire wasn’t ill. Her father, Henry hadn’t been so lucky. He lay in the bed next to Julia, chest rising and falling slowly, skin moist with fever.

“We won’t be here much longer,” Julia said and did her best to squeeze Claire’s hand. “You must make a good life for yourself. I know you can.”

“Mother!” Claire weeped as her mother’s grip loosened. Bent over the bed, she threw herself on top of both her parents, desperate to give them all the life that was in her.

“Oh, Claire, dear,” her uncle Lamb raced in and pulled her off the bed, his own eyes filled with tears as he watched his brother and sister-in-law leave the earth. “You mustn’t look, child.”

“I want my parents!” Claire cried against her uncle’s chest, her body shaking and not able to contain the grief she felt. There was nothing that could have been done — nothing that anyone could have done.

She had just lost both of her parents, what could have been worse?

It was barely twenty-four hours later that her favorite Uncle Lamb had fallen ill and died of the Spanish influenza. Claire Beauchamp was now an orphan with no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

An orphanage was the only suitable place for a girl like her. The thought of being stuffed into a house with tens of other children without a family made her stomach twist into knots.

Claire stood by herself, hands clasped firmly in front of her, trying not to cry as she watched her parents and uncle’s caskets be lowered into the ground. It took everything in her not to throw herself down and demand to be buried along with them. What did she have to live for?

Alone in the world and with nowhere to go, she ran from the funeral with nothing but the black dress on her body and the Oxfords on her feet. She thought she could make it on her own — survive all by herself.

There was no particular destination in mind, but the air around her was suffocating and every look of sympathy shot her way made her want to scream. So Claire turned, tears streaming down her face and began to run even faster.

The wind whipped past her face, salty tears flying behind her as she pumped her arms and legs to carry her as far away as possible. No one stopped her. No one knew her.

It wasn’t long before her chest began to burn and the tears filled her eyes to the point where she had to stop. When she looked up, she saw iron train tracks and followed them, only hoping that soon something would come and take her away.

As the sky darkened and the night grew cold, Claire shivered and wished more than anything for her family to be alive. But wishing wouldn’t bring them back. So with every step, Claire pushed out the memories she had of Henry, Julia and Lambert Beauchamp — because thinking of them only brought pain.

Stumbling along the tracks, her feet aching and stomach rumbling, Claire knew she needed to find a place to sleep. Lifting her head up, she saw lights in the distance — lights of a train. A train would have food and people, surely someone would be kind enough to help her find her way, or perhaps they would let her ride along.

With careful steps in the dark, Claire made her way to the last car of the train and stepped off the tracks to peer at the side of the boxcar.

Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus

A circus.

Claire’s eyes went wide, wondering what kind of animals lived inside the small confines of the boxcars. She had never been to the circus, but had always wanted to go. Claire loved animals and was always quick to make friends with them in whatever country they were visiting.

Voices came from further down and Claire walked forward into the light.

“Psst,” came from behind her and she whipped her head around, back into the dark. Not seeing anything, Claire shrugged her shoulders and kept moving forward. “Psst,” she heard the sound again.

“You!” A voice said quietly from above her. Claire looked up and gasped, jumping back to see a head sticking out of the boxcar. “I’m talkin’ to ye lass!”

“Me?” Claire pointed at herself.

“Do you see any other little girls around here?” The man said in a thick Scottish accent.

She shook her head and before she could do anything else, the man stuck his hand out, offering her a way up. With no other option, Claire reached up, grabbed it and was pulled up into the boxcar.

“Yer a wee thing,” the man said and for the first time, Claire got a good look at him. He was tall, with wide shoulders and had jet black hair. “What are ye doin’ out here so late at night?”

“I—“ She stammered, suddenly wondering if she made a mistake running away.

“Where are yer parents, lass?” The man said and when Claire met his eye, it hit her, the fact that she would never wake up to the smell of her father’s chocolate chip pancakes again or hear her mother sing along to the radio every evening. Tears fell down her cheeks and her chest caved in. The man with the jet black hair caught her in his arms as she began to fall to her knees and he held her against his chest.

“Shhh, I didna mean to upset ye,” he spoke softly. “Tis only it’s no every day young lasses come walkin’ beside the tracks.” The man ran his hand gently over Claire’s head, smoothing down the unruly curls.

“I have a lad about yer age, maybe a couple years younger. My daughter is probably near yer age though,” he said, trying to soothe her with conversation. “Usually the brothers dinna take a family on the road wi’ them, but they’ve allowed it this time.”

“Y-you have children?” Claire stammered as she wiped her face on her sleeve and looked up at the man. He released her, making sure she could stand on her own two feet.

“Aye, two of them, the wee numpties,” he laughed. “And my wife, they’re all part of the act, ye ken.” Claire raised her brows, unsure of what “act” he was talking about. He saw the confusion on her face, “Och, have ye never been to see a show before?”

“No, never.”

“My wife Ellen and I are lion tamers,” he said proudly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall of the cart. “My son and daughter are what ye could say cub tamers in training,” he laughed.

“You tame lions?” Claire asked, eyes wide for the second time that night. “I’ve never even seen a lion!”

“Ah, I thought I detected an accent,” he smiled. “That makes this even more curious. What’s a Sassenach like ye doin’ here?”

“A Sassenach?” Claire asked as she took a seat on a cot nearby, her legs unable to hold her up after a day of running and walking along the tracks.

“An English person, just a wee nickname,” the man smirked.

“I moved here with my parents about a year ago, we’re from Oxford.”

“Ah, Oxford,” he smiled. “I went there once as a lad, beautiful place. Yer parents, ye say? Where are they? Do they ken their daughter is runnin’ away from home to join the circus?” He laughed and then the laughter died as he caught sight of her face.

“My parents are dead,” she nearly whispered and the man dropped to his knees in front of her. “My uncle is dead. I have no one.”

“Oh lass,” he took her small hand in his. “I’m sae sorry, I— I’m sorry for yer loss.”

“Their funeral was today, it’s why I’m dressed like this,” Claire pointed at her dress. “I did run away, but I didn’t know where to run to.”

“It’s every kids dream to join the circus is it no?” The man put his thumb under her chin, lifting it up. “Ye’ve a place here, if ye want it.”

“But I can’t join the circus!” Claire laughed, her emotions running on overdrive. “I’m just a girl and a circus is no place for me.”

“Try tellin’ that to my daughter Jenny, she’ll be sayin’ the opposite,” he smiled. “She loves the animals, helps take care of them when she’s not performin’. She’s wi’ her Mam and brother up in the car ahead eatin’ dinner.”

Claire didn’t know what to say at this offer. Join the circus? It all felt like a fantasy. No one really ran away to the circus and certainly not young girls like her. But she didn’t exactly have a lot of options — no family, no house, no money.

“I’m Claire Beauchamp,” she offered her hand to the man.

“Brian Fraser, lass. Pleased to make yer acquaintance,” he kissed the back of her hand. “So is that a yes? Are ye runnin’ away to join us?”

It could’ve been much worse and as Claire looked around the small train car, she thought she might as well give it a try — the least she could get out of it was a hot meal and a night’s sleep.

“Yes. I’m running away to join the circus,” she smiled for the first time in days.

“Tha!” Brian smiled. “Ye’ve just made the best decision of yer young life, lassie. Now,” he stood up, taking her hand. “We need to feed ye and then find ye some place to sleep. I expect ye’ll be needin’ a wee nap soon.”

Claire followed Brian through a small door and through another into another train car. They walked through several others, past people with curious eyes and hushed tones, wondering who she was no doubt. Claire had never seen so many people crammed into such a small space before. They finally came into the train car Brian was looking for and he let go of her hand to walk over to a red headed woman, kissing her on the mouth.

They seemed to be in a train car where people ate, the place was lined with small tables and chairs, plates of food in front of everyone. Brian motioned for her to join him and she stood shyly next to him while he introduced her.

“I found a young lass outside,” Brian smiled, placing his arm around her shoulder. “This is Claire Beauchamp, she’s from England and she’s run away to the circus.”

“Run away?” The girl who must be his daughter Jenny said from beside her mother. “I didna ken anyone like ye would want to come and live here.”

“Who wouldn’t want to live here, Janet?” A young boy said beside her, looking at her with the bluest eyes Claire had ever seen.

“Claire will be joinin’ us for dinner tonight,” Brian smiled and then pulled up a chair for her. “Jamie, Janet, say a proper hello to the lass.”

The young girl stuck her hand out over the table, “I’m Janet, but you can call me Jenny. I’m fourteen. This is my younger brother, James.”

“But ye can call me, Jamie,” the young boy offered her his hand from beside her. He had a mop of curly red hair and mischievous glint in his eye. “Did Da tell ye we tame lions?!”

“He did,” Claire nodded. “I’ve never seen a lion before though.”

Jamie gasped, frightening Claire and he grabbed her arm, “Ye’ve never seen a lion? Jenny, did ye hear the lass?”

“I heard her fine well, Jamie,” Jenny rolled her eyes, but then smiled at Claire. “We can show ye them tomorrow when we unload”

“Unload?”

“Aye, when we unload to set up for the circus, we’ll be in Boston for the next two nights and then it’s on to another city,” Jenny smiled.

A plate of food was set down in front of Claire and her stomach made a very loud noise at the sight of it. She hadn’t eaten all day — she hadn’t eaten much of anything since she found out the news about her parents. She grabbed the fork and began to eat quickly, not caring if the food was too hot.

“Slow down lass,” Ellen smiled from across the table. “Ye need no worry about it disappearin’.”

“Sorry,” Claire said shyly, her cheeks turning bright red.

“Dinna fash, lass. I just dinna want to see ye gettin’ a belly ache. My Jamie gets those when he eats too fast,” Ellen smirked.

“Mam!” Jamie shouted. “Dinna talk about my belly in front of her!”

Brian snorted over his food, which only made Claire blush harder. She took her next bites a bit slower, savoring the taste.

“I never asked before,” Claire said to Brian once her plate was clean. “You’re from Scotland. You all are,” she looked around. “What are you doing here then?”

Brian glanced around at his family, then finally his eyes focused on Claire. “I suppose ye can say that we ran away too.”

Ellen took her husband’s hand, squeezing it so tightly her knuckles went white.

“We still need to find ye a place to sleep, lass,” Brian said a moment later. “There’s probably room for ye to join in our car tonight.”

“I can show her, Da!” Jamie said beside her and he nearly jumped out of his chair.

Laughing, Brian smiled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Aye, son. Take her to the car, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Follow me, Claire,” Jamie smiled, offering his hand to her. She took it, following the boy back through the train cars she had come through. They found themselves in the same car Brian had pulled her into. As she looked around now, she saw that it was rather cozy — as cozy and nice as a train car could get she supposed.

“This is where I sleep,” Jamie said as he pointed up at the top bunk. “Then Jenny sleeps in the middle and there’s actually an empty bunk on the bottom. I guess that’s where ye can sleep.”

“You all sleep in here?” Claire said.

“Aye, Mam and Da take the cot in the corner, tis small, but it’s enough,” Jamie smiled. He couldn’t have been but a couple of years younger than her, but he was just as tall as her, if not taller. He seemed kind and not for the first time, Claire wondered what an entire family was doing joining the circus.

“My Da said ye were runnin’ away…” Jamie said to her as he came to stand in front of her. “Why, Sassenach?”

“Oh you too?” Claire smirked. “Your father called me that earlier, I suppose I better get used to it.”

“Och, I didna mean any offense!” Jamie put up both his hands. “Yer English is all.”

“No, it’s alright,” Claire smiled and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“Ye didna answer my question…” Jamie said softly.

“I—“ Claire felt her chest tighten and her eyes water. “I’d rather not talk about it just yet.”

“Oh that’s fine, Claire.” Jamie reached for her hand, squeezing it tight. “Ye’ll see soon enough how great this place really is. It’s like a dream!”

“I’ve just woken up from a nightmare of my own,” Claire said, her shoulders drooping. Jamie lifted her chin with his fingers.

“Ye’ve nothin’ to be scarit of, Sassenach. Not so long as I’m wi’ ye,” he smiled, squeezing her hand again.

“You’re very kind, Jamie. Much kinder than I deserve,” Claire smiled. She had to admit that Jamie was rather cute and very charming. Perhaps this circus thing wouldn’t be so bad after all. “I’m feeling rather tired.”

“Och, of course,” Jamie smiled. “As I said, the bottom bunk can be yers.”

“Thank you, Jamie.” Claire let go of his hand and climbed into the bottom bunk, sighing as she slipped off her shoes. She winced as she felt the blisters, but tried to keep quiet as Jamie climbed up to the top bunk.

“I’m glad yer here, Sassenach,” he said a few minutes later as they both lay quietly. “I was wishin’ for a friend.”

Claire didn’t know what to say so she turned over on her side and let herself weep. Only hours before, she had buried her family and said goodbye to the life she knew and now she was lying in a bunk on a circus train.

Her eyes grew heavy and soon the tears stopped as she slipped into a deep dreamless slumber.

Chapter 2

Claire woke to the quiet whispers of Brian and Ellen Fraser. She didn’t want them to know she was awake just yet, so she kept her eyes shut tight and face buried in the pillow.

“What is she going to do here, Brian?” Ellen said softly and glanced over at Claire lying still asleep on the bottom bunk. “Ye ken fine well that this is no’ a proper life for a girl like her.”

“Jenny’s here is she no’?” Brian said.

“Aye,” Ellen clicked her tongue. “But she’s our daughter, and she didna have much say in the matter at the time if ye recall.”

Brian rubbed his hands over his face, sighing as he looked at the young girl.

“She’s got nowhere else to go, Ellen. Her parents and uncle died of the influenza,” he said softly and Claire realized that his own children must still be asleep above her.

“Christ,” Ellen muttered under her breath. “So she really did run away to the circus, the poor lass.”

“Ye ken just as well as I do what that grief feels like,” Brian said to his wife. “The poor lass is heartbroken, I’m sure we can find somethin’ here for her to do.”

Ellen leaned against her husband, silent for a moment before nodding. “We must help her.”

“Aye,” Brian kissed his wife’s forehead. “I’ll go and talk to the brothers. Let them know about our newest passenger. I’ll find ye and the bairns at breakfast after setup.”

A sliding door opened and closed and Brian Fraser left the small boxcar. Claire could hear sniffling from the corner and opened one eye to see Ellen wiping away tears that fell down her cheeks. Compassion stirred Claire to rise from her bed and she sat down beside Ellen on the small cot.

Without saying anything, she took Ellen’s hand in hers and squeezed it. The older woman smiled down at her, squeezing back.

“I’m glad that yer here, Claire,” Ellen smiled and ran her fingers softly over Claire’s cheek. “We’ll do the best we can to take care of ye, and make ye feel at home.”

Claire’s throat felt tight, and she knew that if she spoke she would burst into tears, so she wrapped her arms around Ellen and buried her head against the woman’s chest. There was nothing quite like a mother’s embrace — warm and soothing, like being wrapped in the arms of an angel.

The two of them sat there for a moment longer, quiet as they both grieved for their own loss. Claire looked up and finally released her arms from around Ellen when Jamie and Jenny both started to wake up.

“Morning my darlins,” Ellen said to her children.

“Morning mam,” Jenny said, wiping her eyes as she jumped out of bed, landing on her feet.

Jamie yawned and jumped down as well, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He blinked and looked at Claire, as if remembering that she was there. “Morning Mam, Claire,” he smiled softly.

“Are ye ready for yer first day at the circus, Sassenach?” Jamie asked, a grin spreading across his lips. It was infectious, and Claire found herself smiling too.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

++++++

“So, what exactly do you and Jenny do all day?” Claire asked as they walked over to where the large tents were being setup. It looked like quite a job to do. Men and women were lined up in a circle, each holding rope, and tall wooden beams were on their sides, ready to be lifted. Claire didn’t envy their job.

“We help wi’ anythin’ that needs to be done,” Jenny said. “I usually help wi’ the cookin’ and feedin’ everyone. Well, as much as our cook Mrs. Fitz will allow me to since I’m only fourteen. She’s Scottish as well!”

Jamie bumped against Claire, “And I help with the animals! No’ the big ones though. Mam willna let me near them.”

“That’s cause you’re a wee ten year old,” Jenny smirked and winked at Claire.

“I’m turning eleven next month!” Jamie scowled and kicked at a nearby rock. He hated to feel like the odd one out. “I usually just walk around and see who needs help. Since I am ten…” he sighed. “I can only do so much. The circus is a tough job, ye’ll see soon enough, Sassenach.”

“It sounds like it,” Claire agreed.

They found the food tent, which had already been set up the night before. The smell of fresh eggs and bacon made Claire’s stomach growl and they got into line. Claire looked around the tent and saw mostly women there, as the men were still setting up the larger tent that would house the main event.

“Are you the only other kids here?” Claire asked the Frasers. She hadn’t paid much attention to anything when she boarded the train last night.

“Aye,” Jamie nodded, scooping a large helping of eggs onto his plate. “We’re also the only family here too. The circus is no’ exactly a life most people choose to raise bairns in.”

“But, we havena been here our whole lives either,” Jenny added. “We were both born in Scotland. Ye see, we moved here five years ago.”

They found Ellen sitting at a table, a plate of food already in front of her.

“Good to see ye, Claire,” Ellen smiled gently. “I hope my bairns havena been tellin’ ye too many wild stories?”

“No,” Claire shook her head. “Jenny was just telling me about when you moved here.”

At that, Ellen froze, her complexion going pale and she looked over at her daughter who shook her head slightly.

“Ye’ll have to forgive me, Claire,” Ellen said. “I dinna like to talk about our life before the circus. Those times are better left in the past.”

“That’s all right,” Claire nodded. That was certainly how Claire felt now. She would much rather leave all of her pain and grief behind her, and try and start a new life. Granted, this wasn’t what she had in mind, but it was better than living in an orphanage.

A few minutes later, Brian Fraser came over with his own plate. He was sweaty from putting up the tent, but didn’t seem to mind. Most people here were covered in a thin layer of sweat and dirt. Living on train wasn’t exactly all that clean, Claire realized.

“After ye eat, Da, can ye come wi’ us to show Claire the lions?” Jamie asked his father.

“Aye,” Brian nodded, chowing down on piece of bacon. “But ye kids ken the drill. Dinna stand too close while we feed them.” He turned to look at Claire, “The lions will be hungry this mornin’ and it only takes almost gettin’ yer hand bit off once, to practice extreme caution around them.”

“I don’t want to get too close at all!” Claire squeaked. She had been around animals all her life, her father had been a veterinarian. But, he had never worked on a lion before — only house cats and dogs, with the occasional horse.

Once Brian was done with his breakfast, Ellen and Jenny stayed behind to help with the food and cleanup, while Brian, Jamie and Claire went to see the animals. They were still in their cages, but would be unloaded into their own tent before the show.

“We have the lions of course,” Jamie said excitedly, almost bouncing as they walked. “Then we have the horses, pigs, giraffes, one elephant, monkeys, zebras —“

“Zebras?!” Claire gasped.

“Oh yes,” Jamie grinned. “They’re my favorite after the lions. A bit like horses, really, which I also love, but the stripes are the best!”

Claire could immediately tell when the reached the animals cages, as the smell was quite strong. As was the loud roar that one of the lions gave as they approached. Another man was already there with a bucket full of meat, which the lion was eyeing and trying to get through the bars.

“Stay back here,” Brian instructed them before going to join the man.

“That’s auld Alec,” Jamie pointed. “He’s in charge of takin’ care of the animals.”

“All of them?” Claire said, awestruck.

“Aye, I help sometimes, but he does most of the work,” Jamie said. They watched from the trees as Alec and Brian began to feed the lions. Brian distracted the lions, moving them to one side of the cage, while Alec opened it up and set the bucket of meat inside. Then the lions pounced on their food and ate it ferociously.

“Wow,” Claire gasped, grabbing onto Jamie’s arm.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” Jamie grinned. “They’re no’ as scary after they’ve eaten. Later, I’ll show ye how to pet one. They can be quite friendly.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Claire laughed.

Brian returned to them, and auld Alec followed closely behind. “This is young Claire Beauchamp who has come to join us,” Brian introduced her.

“Tis nice to meet ye little lass,” Alec offered her his hand and she shook it.

“We need to find somethin’ for the lassie to do,” Brian quirked his brow.

“My father worked with animals,” Claire said shyly. “All kinds, but not any lions or elephants.”

“He was a veterinarian?” Alec asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, perhaps some of his skills rubbed off on ye lass,” Alex grinned. “How’d ye like to come wi’ me and see the rest of the animals? I could use all the help I could get!”

Claire looked over at Jamie who nodded encouragingly, as did Brian. Jamie stayed back with his father, leaving Claire to follow the animal carer. The thought of being around animals was a small comfort, at least she had vague knowledge of their needs.

She would never forget one warm afternoon when her father was seeing to a pregnant dog. Claire had stayed up with her father all night, comforting the dog as she gave birth, and making sure the puppies were seen after.

“Is she in pain, papa?” Claire asked, petting the head of the golden Labrador.

“A bit, my dear,” Henry Beauchamp replied. “Giving birth is no easy feat. But she’s a strong girl,” he stroked the dog’s bulging stomach. “It should be within the hour.”

Claire and her father had stayed up late into the night, watching over the dog. She belonged to a woman from town, but all Claire wanted to know was who would keep the puppies.

“How many puppies will she have?”

“I think perhaps four,” her father said as he moved his hand over the dog’s belly. “But we won’t know until she has them. Why are you asking my love?” He cocked a quizzical brow at his daughter.

“Oh, you know,” Claire grinned. “Maybe Mrs. Wilcox doesn’t want four new puppies. Maybe she only wants three!”

Her father laughed, “That’s something you can ask Mrs. Wilcox tomorrow. And of course, you’ll have to ask your mother.”

“I will, papa,” Claire smiled and went back to petting the dog’s head. “When I grow up, I want to do what you do. Being around animals all day must be fun.”

Henry rose to his feet to check that he had everything he needed — sutures for after the birth, plenty of towels. “It is rather fun, my dear. But, I will warn you, that it can be quite hard too.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s never easy telling someone that their pet is ill,” Henry frowned, coming back to join Claire on the ground. “Or feeling like you can’t do anything to help. Not everything can be solved with medicine, I’m afraid. But I try.”

At this, Claire felt sadness wash over her. As little girl, they had a pet cat, but he had passed away before they moved to Boston. She knew all too well what it was like to be told that your animal was sick.

“Well, you can still be there for someone and try and make them feel better,” Claire replied. “I think I still wanna do what you do.”

Henry reached out and smoothed back his daughter’s unruly curls. “Then you shall, my darling. You shall do whatever your heart desires.” He bent and kissed her forehead. “Your mother and I will always be here to support you.”

Auld Alec showed Claire all the animals. Claire was gobsmacked seeing so many creatures she had never seen before. She had heard about the circus coming into town, and thought about asking her parents to take her, but that was before…

“I bet yer Da never worked on zebras, aye?”

“No,” Claire shook her head as they approached one. “A few horses, but never a zebra.”

“They’re a lot like horses, of course,” Alec said and reached his hand through the bars. “Go ahead and reach yer hand in, she willna bite.”

Slowly, Claire approached the cage, trying to be careful as she reached her hand inside. The zebra nodded her head forward against Claire’s hand, letting her pet her. The zebra made a snorting sound, and Claire laughed.

“Does she have a name?”

“Zoe,” Alec smiled down at Claire. “Zoe the zebra.”

“Fitting,” Claire nuzzled Zoe’s nose.

As the morning rolled on, Claire stayed with Alec and watched as he interacted with every animal. Treating them with such care and gentleness, as if they weren’t really animals at all, but humans.

Finally, they got word that the animals were set to be moved into their proper tent. Men came to unhook their cages and wheeled them into the tent. The horses were let out to walk and stretch their legs, and Claire immediately gravitated to them.

She was barely half the height of the horse, so she came up to it carefully, not wanting to disturb it. Alec had tied them up to a nearby pole and they were munching on a trough full of hay.

“Here,” came a voice from behind her, making her jump. She turned to find Jamie, holding a bright red apple. “Donas loves these.”

“Thank you,” Claire took the apple from Jamie and walked around to the horse’s head, and held out the apple. He snorted, looking her up and down before placing his wet mouth on her hand and snatching the apple up. “He did like it!”

“Aye, told ye,” Jamie grinned. “I love the horses.” He came to stand beside her, reaching out a hand to rub over Donas’ nose. “Tha thu nad bheathach math,” Jamie said in a foreign tongue.

“What did you say?” Claire asked.

“Oh,” Jamie’s cheeks blushed. “I didna even realize I was speakin’. Twas Gaelic. Just callin’ him a fine creature. I find that speakin’ to the animals in Gaelic helps to calm them.”

“Would you teach me some then?” Claire asked. “It looks like I’ll be helping auld Alec with the animals!”

“That’s great!” Jamie smiled. “What I say to the horses is really just gibberish. No’ meant to even mean anythin’, but try sayin’ what I did — tha thu nad bheathach math.”

It was a language Claire had certainly never heard before. Her mother spoke a bit of French and had taught Claire a few words and phrases, but Gaelic was very different.

“Tha thu nad,” she said slowly. “Be-heath-ach math?”

“Let it roll off yer tongue,” Jamie said the phrase again.

“Tha thu nad bheathnach math,” Claire said again, this time getting it as closely as she could to how Jamie had said it. “Well, with practice, I think I’ll get there.”

“Aye, ye’ll do great,” Jamie smiled. “I’m glad ye found yer place, Sassenach. It’ll be nice to have ye here.”

“Yes,” Claire rubbed her hand along the side of Donas’ neck. “I think it will be rather nice here after all.”

She hadn’t even been at the circus for a full twenty-four hours, but already it was beginning to feel like home. The animals would be her new companions, as well as the Fraser’s who had welcomed her in as one of their own. Running away to the circus was the best idea Claire ever had.

Chapter 3

7 years later… New York City 1926

Claire thought often of her first night on the train — how alone she had felt and like she would never belong anywhere. It had been nearly seven years since then and the circus was now her home.

She wasn’t properly educated, but her love for animals kept her with a full time position with the Ringling Brothers. Jenny Fraser was her best friend, along with her younger brother Jamie, of course.

They traveled from city to city, amazing people with the greatest show on earth. Wonders and mystery surrounded them and Claire felt she was part of something truly spectacular.

There were times she thought she should find proper work, especially on her eighteenth birthday two years ago. Jamie had set up a picnic by the horses, Claire’s favorite of the wild menagerie.

“I think I need to leave, Jamie,” Claire said as she took a bite of a strawberry. They were sitting under the tent where all the animals were kept and it was rather smelly, but Claire had grown used to it over the years.

“Leave? Why would ye do that?” Jamie said as he reached for a cracker.

“I don’t know,” Claire sighed. “I’m an twenty year old girl, traveling around with a circus, surely I can find a real job out there.”

Jamie grew quiet, his brows knitting together and he crossed his arms over his knees. “If you want to then you should.”

“I didn’t think you would want me to go,” Claire said.

“I don’t,” Jamie looked up at her. “But if ye want to go…”

Sighing, Claire laid back on the blanket, followed by Jamie. They had grown close over the years, able to tell each other anything and everything. He had always been there for her as he said he would be. On the anniversary of her parents death, he always made sure she was alright and was there to distract her if she needed — or to be a shoulder to cry on when she needed that.

“It’s not like I want too… I just feel I should. Make a proper life.”

“Ye have a family here, Claire,” Jamie turned onto his side, lifting his head up on his elbow. “Ye ken that.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “It was just a silly thought, Jamie. Nothing more.”

“I hope so,” Jamie said as he brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. Something in Claire’s stomach fluttered whenever he touched her and she wanted him to do it again. Jamie was much taller than her now, and had grown into handsome young man.

“Sassenach,” Jamie said. “I dinna want ye to leave.”

“I won’t,” she whispered and then his lips pressed against hers. A small sound left her lips in surprise, but then she relaxed, wrapping her arms around his neck. Before she could really taste his lips, Jamie pulled back, rising quickly to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Claire, I dinna ken what came over me,” his face was bright red and he was turned away from her.

“It’s alright, Jamie,” Claire sat up, her heart hammering. She had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him, but he apparently regretted it.

“I shouldna have done that,” Jamie cursed in Gaelic and before Claire could say that she liked it, Jamie had stormed out of the tent, leaving Claire alone, sitting on the picnic blanket.

++++++

Neither of them had spoken of the kiss since then and that was two years ago. Claire wondered if Jamie even remembered it had happened or maybe it had been so bad, he had forgotten it.

Claire thought he liked her, but clearly he didn’t and things had gone back to how they were before. Claire knew she fell in love easily — she always had a crush and for a long time her crush had been Jamie.

She would watch him nearly every night in the show, holding up hoops for the lions to jump through, admiring the hard muscles of his body. He was just two years younger than her, but already he looked like a man.

It came to no surprise, however, just how fast she fell for a man one night when Claire was introduced to a young investor by the name of Philip Wylie. He was in New York to see the show and was interested in becoming a partner with the Brothers.

“You’ve been with the circus for seven years?” He asked her over a drink one night. The show had just closed and people were still loitering around. She knew he was an important man by the fine material of his suit. Claire wanted to impress him, and help the circus bring in more money.

“Yes,” she smiled, “Joined when I was just a young girl.”

“That’s quite impressive,” Philip smiled, his hand resting lightly on her knee. “What is it that you do?”

“I help with the animals. Taking care of them, checking that they’re alright to perform for the night,” she placed her hand over his. Philip was at nine years older than her, and already she was smitten.

They talked for the rest of the evening and he escorted her back to her train car, kissing her on the cheek and promising to see her soon.

Blushing, Claire placed her hand over where Philip’s lips had just been, sighing as she leaned against the wall. Just then, Jamie came through the door, still wearing his costume from the performance.

He glanced over at her, his fingers deftly unbuttoning his coat. “Ye look happy.”

“I am,” she smiled. “I’ve just had drinks with a man who wants to invest with the circus.”

Jamie stopped undressing and stared over at her, noticing the glossy look in her eye and the red tint to her cheeks. “Ye mean that stuffy old man I saw ye wi’?”

“He is not stuffy! And he is not old!” Claire picked up a shoe nearby and tossed it at him, narrowly missing his head. “He was kind and charming, much nicer than you,” she rolled her eyes.

“Och,” Jamie grunted and finished taking off his coat. “Just be careful wi’ him. Next thing ye know, he’ll be wantin’ to take ye away.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Claire crossed her arms, becoming annoyed with him.

“Well ye said ye wouldna leave,” Jamie turned to her. “Not for a proper job as ye say so I wouldna like to think ye’d leave for a man either.”

Claire’s mouth dropped open in shock and she crossed the small space to stand in front of Jamie, having to look up at him. “I’ve had a couple of drinks with the man, Jamie! Not accepted a proposal!”

“Forget I said anythin’,” Jamie ran his hands back through his hair, turning to leave to another car.

“Fine,” Claire huffed. “I’ll do just that, Jamie Fraser.”

He glanced at her, his eyes full of something Claire didn’t quite recognize before sliding the door closed and leaving her there on her own.

She knew it was important for Philip Wylie to want to invest in the circus, so perhaps she had flirted a bit too much and let him place his hands a little too high on her leg. But nothing would come of it, and besides… Claire would never leave the circus. Not for a real job, and certainly not for a man.

Outline for this fic:

Chapter 1: 1919. Claire’s background. She runs away to the circus, meets the Fraser’s

Chapter 2: 1919. Claire’s first day at the circus, she helps the Fraser’s and then Brian asks her what she’s good at. She tells him that her father was a vet and she was always around to help. He tells her they have a vet but she can be his young apprentice.

Chapter 3: 1926. Claire meets Philip Wylie. Two days later one of the animals gets sick and she stays overnight to keep it company. Jamie finds her and stays with her, on the other side of the train car. They talk more about what Claire would do if she left. Jamie tells Claire about Willie and how he died of the Spanish influenza when they came here. Claire asks him why they came to America, but he won’t talk about it.

Chapter 4: Jump forward two weeks later, and Claire has drinks again with Wylie. She kisses him and he puts his hands on her. Jamie sees them kissing and thinks that Wylie is trying to hurt Claire so he goes over and punches the guy. The next morning, Wylie shows up with a black eye and forgives Jamie, and says he’ll invest in the show on one condition - that Claire marries him.

Chapter 5: Claire feels like she has to marry Wylie to save the show and also she tells herself she loves him. Jamie is jealous, because he’s been in love with Claire since he first met her. That night he gets distracted at the show when he sees Wylie whispering into Claire’s ear and the lion scratches him. Jamie is rushed into the medical tent and the show continues. Claire helps tend to him and cries over him. Hours later as he is recovering, Claire tells Jamie that she’s going away with Wylie.

Chapter 6: Two weeks later, it’s Claire’s last day of the circus. Jamie tells her why they came to America. His father owed his uncles money, and after a time when Brian couldn’t pay, Colum wanted to show him a lesson. So he told one of his men to set fire to the small chicken coop, but a wind caught and it ended up burning down their house. They all escaped. Finally, she won’t have to be a girl on the run anymore. She will live with Wylie in New York City, and still be able to come to some of the shows on the east coast.

Chapter 7: Two months later. It’s two days before Claire’s wedding to Wylie, and she hears from him that the train crashed. He’s angry about losing money that he just invested and Claire keeps asking him if anyone is hurt. He finally tells her that six people died in a fire. Wylie tells Claire that she can’t go back to the circus, she left that behind and she belongs to him now. “I belong to nobody.” Claire leaves in search to find out if Jamie has died.

Chapter 8: Claire makes it to where the train car is. There’s still smoke from two days before and Claire finds Jenny who is crying. Claire thinks immediately that Jamie is dead, but Jenny is crying because one of the animals died. Claire cries with her and then asks about Jamie. Jenny tells her that all wounded men and women are at the hospital and so she takes her there. Claire finds Jamie and he’s badly wounded. Burns on his arms and legs. She sits with him and while he is asleep she tells him that she loves him and that she isn’t with Wylie anymore.

Chapter 9: Jamie starts to recover. He admits his feelings for Claire. He says they don’t have to get married just yet since they’re both young. He knows now that with a few of the train cars damaged, it’ll be weeks maybe months before they get back on the road. Jamie says that he wants to go to school and become a vet. Women aren’t allowed at school yet. They make plans to one day open up their own vet clinic.

Chapter 10: Once Jamie is out of the hospital, they walk back to the site of the crash. He tells Claire just how horrible it was. They both feel sad that this part of their lives is coming to an end. Jamie’s parents tell him that they will stay with the circus as long as they need. Jamie takes Claire back to the small hotel room and they make love for the first time with each other.

Epilogue: nine years later, Jamie has graduated from vet school and they have their first clinic open. They already have two children and live in the country, where Jamie travels to work. They have a whole farm of animals.

#walking the tightrope #alternatively titled rewrite the stars but can't use that name now can i #unfinished fics #outlander fanfic #outlander #outlander fanfiction #what could never be

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mobius-prime · 4 years

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199. Sonic the Hedgehog #131

Deep breaths, guys. I know what the cover page says. I know. We'll get to that. Just hang in there. I think you might like what I have in store.

Home (Part 2 of 4): The Gathering

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Jason Jensen

So not much actually happens in this installment of Home other than the various characters talking to each other about and preparing for the upcoming battle. Since Sonic has been gone, a new Freedom Fighter Special has been constructed that can cut travel time dramatically around the globe. A journey that in the Tornado or on foot (in Sonic's case) would have taken up to two hours can be completed in a mere half hour now, thanks to Rotor's engineering prowess. And thus, Sonic and Tails head out to Old Megaopolis to stop Eggman's twin nukes from launching, along with an… interesting backup team, to say the least.

Man, remember Fiona? It's been ages since we've seen her! It appears that while Sonic was in space, she joined up with the crew in Knothole and has been helping them fight Eggman. That's definitely a better life for her than to be running with the likes of Nic the Weasel, eh? Meanwhile, Knuckles, Julie-Su, Amy Rose, and the other two (active) members of the Chaotix head to Fort Acorn, where General D'Coolette is giving a speech to the soldiers under his command. We've never even heard of this fort before, but according to the general it's been here for ten years, keeping a forward watch on Robotropolis, and this watch has been maintained even after Robotropolis' destruction in case of just such a situation as the current one. With their reinforcements from Knothole, the crew at the fort prepare to defend the city against a massive swatbot assault to lower the forcefield keeping the radiation in check. Back in Knothole, extra measures are being taken to make absolutely sure that even if the worst happens, the citizenry will be safe.

Station Square, for their part, has sent a squad of GUN commandos to help in the battle at Old Megaopolis. The commander of the military is baffled by this decision, wanting to send in their full fighting force, but the president instead opts to trust his allies from Knothole - though just for insurance, he's sent one of his own operatives along for the ride…

Now that's what I like to see! It's about time Rouge got herself some proper screentime. As all this is going on, Eggman waits aboard a docked battleship in the harbor of Old Megaopolis with his assistant M, and orders A.D.A.M. to begin the missile countdown. However, almost immediately, the sound of a biplane puts them on high alert, and Eggman is shocked to see Sonic and Tails bearing down on his location, not having expected them to be able to get here nearly so fast. See, Eggman, this is why you resist the siren call of your ego and keep your damn plans to yourself. All you did was give your enemies ample warning to prepare to foil your evil plot, you idiot!

Mobius 25 Years Later: Prologue

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Jensen

Okay, guys. This is it. We've reached the most Penders thing of all time. This is something that has been hinted at here and there from all the way back in the Sonic In Your Face special to now, and we're finally seeing the culmination of all of that buildup. All the intricate worldbuilding, all the complex character arcs, all the intrigue and political spider webs and back to back wars and everything that the world of Mobius has been through up until now - there's so much to explore, so many directions it could have gone. We're about to see what this world might look like twenty-five years into the future, and with so much rich history to draw from, what might you imagine this story might look like? What genre might it fall into? Well wonder no longer!

It's a drama. It's a teen drama.

There's a reason that Mobius 25 Years Later is widely considered to be one of the worst parts of the comic. The tone of it is just so far off anything else we've experienced so far that it clashes horribly with what we've come to expect. It's not some masterful subversion of expectations or something - in a lot of ways I consider it to be a genuine insult to the rest of the preboot's material up to this point. It's painfully and immediately clear that this is a story Penders has wanted to tell for a while, but, not being able to fit his "middle-aged adults adulting everywhere and being so adult-like while ignoring the feelings and difficulties that ordinary teenagers face" plot anywhere into the rest of the comic, he's opted to just fire the world a couple decades into the future, pair all the major characters off into weird and oftentimes arbitrary heterosexual marriages, give everyone 2.5 children and a titanium picket fence, and then throw in some allusions to the old "war against Doc 'Botnik" here and there lest we forget, entirely understandably at this point, that we're reading a Sonic the Hedgehog comic here. This thing goes on for nineteen whole issues, taking up each subsequent issue's backup story, and ultimately has no real impact on the actual story involving the characters we already know and love. However, this is technically canon, or at least a version of canon (as when you play with alternate realities and multiple timelines, futures are bound to get mixed up here and there), so we're gonna be covering it - all of it. I wouldn't be tempted to skip it anyway, as by delving into each chapter in this trainwreck, we can actually explore why this whole thing fails so hard, and why it's therefore so loathed in the fandom. Plus, I do recognize that some people actually do enjoy this arc for various reasons (one of my close friends does, and has a whole AU of her own relating to it in fact), so I do plan to at least try to be fair in my review - but I really can't hide that I find this whole affair boring as hell, often downright offensive, and ultimately completely out of place. With all that in mind, let's dive in!

We begin with a full page of exposition delivered to us via high school lecture, because everyone knows the best way to establish your worldbuilding is by infodumping it directly into your audience's eyeballs. Apparently, over the last twenty years, Angel Island has been heavily developed into its own independent republic, with a new city, Portal, acting as the center of trade between the island and the mainland below. We're once again introduced to Lara-Su, who, instead of being the badass time-traveling young adult whom we followed before, is now an ordinary teenager taking ordinary high school classes among a bunch of ordinary high school echidnas.

One of the biggest failings of this story is that Penders writes every teenage character how he thinks teenagers act, from his point of view as a middle-aged adult. This becomes abundantly clear the longer you read, as every teenager is a hormone-fueled, authority-defying, entitled, whiny, fickle child who just doesn't understand how the real world works, while every adult is a wise, experienced, and highly logical individual who always knows more than their younger fellows and refuses to pay attention to the whims of mere children. Like, I'm not even exaggerating here - I'm going to be pointing out every instance of this kind of behavior over the entire rest of this arc, and you can't stop me, so nyah nyah. Penders shows so little respect for the mere concept of teenagers, which is a terrible attitude to have not just in general, but especially if you're one of the head writers for an entire series about teenagers saving the goddamn world! Anyway, case in point: the teacher, instead of admonishing Rutan for being a bully, merely snaps at Lara-Su for not acting enough like a "young lady" and tells her to stay after class. Ugh.

Later that day, Rotor arrives on Angel Island as a liaison for the royal ruling couple, Queen Sally and King Sonic, because yes, Sonic literally becomes king in this timeline. He catches a ride from Harry - hey, good to see our favorite dingo still doing well for himself at least - and meets with Espio, who is now apparently Knuckles' secretary or something. At least, that's all I can assume from this weird-ass conversation.

As a matter of fact, yes, Sonic and Sally are bringing their two children, Sonia and Manik, to the family dinner! How very mid-70s domestic family unit of them! Espio informs Knuckles of this over a television screen as the latter broods around in some kind of high-tech facility. Unlike what we've seen of Espio, the years have dramatically changed Knuckles' appearance - his right eye is missing, replaced with a mechanical one, and he sports the cowboy hat that Hawking gave him in the past (you know, the one we never saw again after he received it). While I actually quite like the idea of a main character in the comic losing something as important as an eye, I feel like there's a huge missed opportunity here - instead of just thrusting us into an alternate future where everything is fine but one character is inexplicably missing an eye, how about actually showing us the story of how that eye was lost? Show us a Knuckles who's learning to cope with the loss of an important body part, and having to adjust to his mechanical prosthetic! Go into his feelings about the subject, as someone who has so long been opposed to a faction that thrives on mechanical prosthetics, instead of just skipping over what has the potential to be the most interesting part of this story! Ugh, sorry, there's just nothing that gets to me more than a missed opportunity like this. Knuckles and Espio exchange some tortured small-talk about their kids for a little while, with the only interesting part of the conversation being their discussion of Rotor's arrival and how he's likely here to see someone named Cobar, with whom he apparently has a history. More on that later. Knuckles excuses himself from the conversation, as he has to be home in time for his daughter's "Unveiling" tonight, and as the call ends we zoom out to see that apparently nowadays, the Master Emerald is hooked up to all sorts of technology in this facility, presumably maintaining everything automatically. However, this story isn't done throwing weird curveballs at us yet - it's time to see what our former villains are up to in this future!

There is so much to unpack here. Dimitri, feared overlord of the Dark Legion, is now an amiable cyborg-head-in-a-bubble. Lien-Da, the treacherous second-in-command who regularly spoke of betraying Dimitri and taking the Legion in her own darker direction, is now apparently a single mom who's embraced the domestic life, taking care of her rowdy teenage son while, predictably, complaining about the behavior of kids these days. And weirdest of all, apparently everyone is just fine with these literal former terrorists living in their midst and doing ordinary mom and grandpa things, with Lien-Da even apparently amenable to the idea of trying to make up with Julie-Su because "they're family," despite her history of, you know, erasing Julie-Su's memory multiple times and killing her biological parents as revenge for her birth. I mean, is this what Penders thinks adulthood is? Is he even entirely sane? Does he know the definition of terrorism?

Any-goddamn-way, Knuckles arrives home to his eerily sterile-looking steel-plated mansion that looks more like the lobby of a pharmaceutical laboratory than a place where people live, and greets his loving housewife Julie-Su, who's gained a cute giant ponytail but lost absolutely everything else that made her unique, including her own cybernetic parts and just her personality in general. She informs Knuckles that Lara-Su has locked herself in the bathroom and is having herself a mighty tantrum, refusing to come out to get ready for her Unveiling ceremony, which is apparently the equivalent of a Quinceañera for echidna girls. Knuckles, instead of doing something reasonable like asking her why she's upset, starts aggressively demanding that she come out of her room this instant, while Lara-Su repeatedly yells about how she doesn't wanna. Ugh, teenagers, amiright?

Seriously, I just can't get over how little respect Penders has for teenagers in his writing. Like, yes, I acknowledge that teenagers aren't always the most logical of beings, but they're also not goddamn three-year-olds either. They're old enough to articulate their desires and express their unique opinions, and often do so in very mature ways, especially if they're raised well and treated with the same respect you'd afford any adult. I should know, I was one myself. I would have assumed Penders was one as well at some point, but perhaps he just popped into the world one day as a fully-formed 43-year-old, full of disdain for those younger than himself. It would certainly explain everything we're seeing here.

Anyway, it turns out that the reason Lara-Su is upset is because Knuckles refuses to train her to be a Guardian, and so she whines and yells about it from behind the door like a petulant child as Knuckles continually refuses to actually give her a solid reason why he won't let her be one. When Julie-Su basically forces him to calm the hell down and explain himself, he reluctantly explains that since all the duties of a Guardian have by now been taken over by other functions of their society, he feels there's no longer any need for one, himself included. This is apparently enough to make Lara-Su immediately happy enough to burst out of the bathroom and grab her father's arm, suddenly totally excited to go to her Unveiling as long as Knuckles promises her the first dance. Ah, the fickle mind of a silly, silly teenager!

Kill me.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 131 #writer: karl bollers #writer: ken penders #pencils: ron lim #pencils: steven butler #colors: jason jensen

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the-adaa · 5 years

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“Collaboration is Critical to Our Gallery’s Character” - Maggie Kayne and Bill Griffin on the Origins and Evolution of Kayne Griffin Corcoran

By Sarah Evers • September, 2019

Maggie Kayne, Bill Griffin, James Corcoran. Photo by Stefanie Keenan.

Kayne Griffin Corcoran, a serene refuge off of a busy Los Angeles street, was originally conceived through a meeting of Maggie Kayne, Bill Griffin, and Jim Corcoran to discuss an artist commission and has since emerged as a destination in Los Angeles’s gallery network. Each offering a distinct perspective, the partners of Kayne Griffin Corcoran benefit from each other’s varied experiences, using their differences to foster innovation and constant evolution. A shared commitment to Los Angeles culture and history unites the three partners and acts as the framework from which they have built their roster of internationally-lauded artists and rigorous exhibition programming.

Bill Griffin had previously represented the likes of Southern California icons James Turrell and David Lynch and provides crucial insight on the strategic direction of the business. Jim Corcoran’s long career and extensive art historical knowledge helps to connect the thematic dots between established and contemporary artists. Maggie Kayne approached the art world first as a patron, turning her sights on galleries as a result of the potential of a partnership with Jim and Bill.

We spoke to Maggie and Bill about the partnership’s origins, the character of Los Angeles, and the importance of developing a unique creative vision.

Installation view of “Noboru Takayama,” 2018. Photo by Flying Studio.

When did you become interested in the art world?

Griffin: For me, I was always interested in a visual display of ideas and in learning about ideas through looking at objects. The visual arts was something I gravitated toward as early as elementary school and continued through college. The first exhibition I attended was the King Tut show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, circa 1978. My mother was a public-school teacher and she somehow got tickets to see the exhibition. I remember waiting in line with her and stepping into the first gallery, crossing that threshold into the Met, and, for me, the world was changed that day.

Kayne: When I moved to New York for college I became friendly with a number of collectors who really opened my eyes up to new ways of seeing and engaging with the art world. I remember discovering this amazing ecosystem of artists, dealers, and collectors, and seeing opportunities to participate in and contribute to this network, not just be a passive observer. From that point on, I realized this was the world I wanted to be in. But it took me some time to find my home in it. I interned at museums, worked at a couple of galleries, spent time with various dealers, and learned all the hard lessons pretty quickly.

How did your careers as art dealers begin, and how does your history compare to where you stand now?

Griffin: In 1994, I borrowed a friend’s pick-up truck, drove to Home Depot, bought some drywall, and rented an old boat warehouse down in Costa Mesa. Twenty-five years later, here I am. I didn’t work for anybody and learned on my own. Working with Jim now for almost two decades has been a huge privilege and has been an incredible way to evolve my eye. Same with a younger partner like Maggie, who is to me incredibly inspiring and authentic in her relationship to art and the art object. I love to be exposed to new things, so every day since that Home Depot visit everything has continued to evolve with breakneck speed and has shaped my involvement in the art world.

Mika Tajima, Art d'Ameublement (Nukutoa), 2019, spray enamel, thermoformed acrylic. Photo by Flying Studio.

Kayne: As mentioned earlier, I actually started off as a collector which was a really interesting departure point. The idea of opening a gallery didn’t occur to me until much later. In the beginning I just wanted to be around artists and absorb as much as I could. In addition to collecting, I would pick up odd projects here and there. The last thing I was doing before I met Bill was working with Hans Ulrich Obrist producing and filming interviews he conducted at the Venice Architecture Biennale in 2010. I also became very involved with several museums in a philanthropic capacity. I was a founding co-chair of the Hammer Museum’s Hammer Circle Group and a member of LACMA’s Director Circle. This dual identity as a patron/collector on the one hand, and as a dealer on the other, has been complex to navigate at times but has also provided me with a really unique vantage point to understand the diverse needs of artists, collectors, institutions, and many of the other players in the larger ecosystem.

What initiated the partnership amongst the two of you and Jim Corcoran?

Kayne: At this point, I had segued into advising and was working with two clients who were considering a James Turrell Skyspace. This led me to Bill and Jim who represented James here in L.A. I met with them and ended up having a three-hour conversation with Bill. Bill was doing really innovative things with his gallery, both operationally and programmatically, and I was really inspired by the meeting. He then called me two hours later and said “I want to offer you a job and this is what I think you can bring to the table, and this is what I think I can bring to you.” I started working for Bill in January of 2011 and by June we began to explore a more formal partnership. While working with Bill, I also got to know Jim quite well and knew his experience and reputation would be incredibly additive to the partnership. Bill said there was no way that Jim would be on board, but we called him to propose the idea and he said “Sure.” It was totally unplanned and, like anything, was also a function of good timing. Sometimes I laugh because it’s a bit of an odd match but the truth is the three of us have a great rapport, really complementary skill sets, and it just works!

Installation view of “Anthony Hernandez: Screened Pictures,” 2019. Photo by Flying Studio.

Do each of you play specific roles at the gallery?

Griffin: The three of us just naturally respected each other and, like Maggie said, brought different things to the pot. As there is a generational difference of two decades that separate each of us, we have different perspectives on the culture that we live in and recognized this was strategically interesting. We believed in each other’s contributions and visions and just started working together. It has evolved into different things since then, Maggie is in a day-to-day capacity and is very interested in the creative studios and what’s happening out in the world. She’s very active in pursuing those ideas, working in collaborative developments with studios, curators, and other gallerists. I continue to work with a few specific studios, I handle some key client relationships and work on strategically evolving the vision. Jim, as Maggie said, brings his deep network of relationships, and pioneering knowledge of the Southern California art scene.

Kayne: I think if you were to divide it up, my role is definitely more creative. Bill is incredibly strategic and organized. He also appreciates the creative, but he is providing the structure that enables all of us to be successful and to implement our ideas in an effective way. Jim comes in with some crazy and brilliant ideas but also brings deep art historical and institutional knowledge to the table.

Griffin: It’s very unique and rare to find three people that genuinely, as Maggie said, are kind of odd and outliers in different ways, but still come together with a vision and have the ability to execute it.

Kayne: I think we’re also very aligned in our programmatic decisions in that we only work with artists we really believe in, even if the financial upside isn’t immediately apparent. We’re playing the long game and recognize that the market may take a little longer sometimes to verify an artist. We also really enjoy the cross-generational conversation that naturally occurs as a result of the twenty years between each of us.

James Turrell, La Brea Sky, 2013, ©James Turrell. Photo by Flying Studio.

Is there a current through Kayne Griffin Corcoran that unites your three different perspectives?

Griffin: Jim came to Kayne Griffin Corcoran having worked with the studios of legendary artists including Ken Price, John McCracken, and Ed Ruscha, and this focus on the Southern California School is something that is still central to the gallery’s DNA.

Kayne: James Turrell is in many ways the cornerstone of the gallery. The three of us met through a Turrell commission and one of the first shows we did when we opened the gallery was an exhibition about Turrell’s project at the Roden Crater, called Sooner Than Later, Roden Crater. Through our experience selling James’s work, we realized when we got in this space that it would be a lot easier for us to sell holes in ceilings if we had one in our own! To have this Skyspace as the physical and spiritual center of the gallery is incredibly special and was also a game-changer for the business.

Griffin: We had long discussions with him about how to put a Skyspace into a working gallery and it came down to the fact that Skyspaces are places for people to meet and communicate, and that is what a conference room does in a business. Creating this Skyspace inspired James to look at the entire gallery space and address all aspects and we gave him free range to do that. The gallery is located on La Brea Avenue, this cement and tar highway packed with tens of thousands of cars every day racing by and then there’s our gallery, this kind of green oasis. That’s all James.

Kayne: He designed every detail and even mapped out the flow of the space. We brought him in even before the architect, because we knew that he had the ability, more than anyone else, to create a really thoughtful and considered experience. In fact, it was his idea to put a Skyspace in the conference room. He was most excited about creating a gallery space for his peers that had what he refers to as perfect flexible light. He says that he has shown in hundreds of spaces throughout the world and very rarely, if ever, does he see an exhibition space with perfect light.

Installation view of “Beverly Pepper: New Particles From The Sun,” 2019. Photo by Flying Studio.

How do you see the gallery in the larger landscape of the Los Angeles art scene?

Kayne: The vibe of our gallery, both in terms of the programming and the physical space is very much tied to the DNA of Los Angeles. We love this city and are really invested in the cultural community here. This is reflected in the artists we work with, the institutional relationships we cultivate, but also the gallery itself, and even the way the architecture was designed to embrace the particular geographical and cultural differences that make Los Angeles so unique. We’ve got this incredible light, the weather is unbelievable, and being outside is a huge part of the culture here. We’ve really capitalized on this with our courtyard, which we use all the time for outdoor programming and entertaining. I think we’ve also managed to create a really special and refreshing work culture at the gallery which has allowed to us to attract and build an incredibly talented group of professionals.

Griffin: I think our philosophy has developed through our time in L.A. and collaboration is critical to our gallery’s character. We believe in finding good partners globally outside the gallery and fostering productive, long term relationships. I think it helps many galleries know that we are singularly focused and grounded in Los Angeles. Our future is like the past, very organic and open. We know who we are and we look out towards the world but we are very satisfied in the City of Angels. That’s our history. It’s been Maggie’s growing up all her life, mine for the last two decades, Jim’s for his life. That threads through everything that we do and through all of our actions.

James Turrell, Medium Rectangle Glass, 2019, L.E.D. light, etched glass and shallow space. Photo by Flying Studio.

As a newer member to the ADAA, what made you want to join the Association?

Griffin: I think that the ADAA is important as a historical network, but also in the fact that we can all contribute and help it evolve. It makes us better, too. The ADAA’s services affect many elements of our business. I find it to be a wonderful organization to be a part of, and I mean that genuinely.

What significant changes have you seen to the gallery business over the past decade or so?

Griffin: My thought right off the bat is the speed of communication and the speed of how things take place. When I started, we had FedEx and fax machines, and all those things were fast relative to the generation before that. Today, the quickness, the ability to connect and communicate with peers globally, instantaneously and with incredible resources, is remarkable.

Installation view of “Ken Price: Works on Paper 1967-1995,” 2019. Photo by Flying Studio.

Do you have any advice for an aspiring art dealer?

Griffin: Speaking from a dealer’s standpoint, my advice would be don’t follow the market. Create a unique vision, support your artists, work hard, and success will follow.

Do you have any advice for a budding collector?

Kayne: The eye is a muscle and needs to be exercised–and not just online! Show up at gallery openings, visit museums, attend art fairs, and make an effort to see things in person. And buy with your eyes and your gut, not with your ears.

*All images courtesy the artists and Kayne Griffin Corcoran, Los Angeles.

#Gallery Chat #ADAA Galleries #Kayne Griffin Corcoran

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vantemei · 6 years

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seokjin has known he wants to marry taehyung since their their second anniversary. taehyung had had to leave early to film for his ongoing drama of the time, hwarang, and he'd been gone before seokjin had even been awake but he had left a note. "i love you, i hope you dreamed of me - your taehyungie". the same note he always left when he had to leave early.

seokjin had had a slow day, one of his few days off to spend lazing around in their shared penthouse in gangnam. seokjin hadn't really planned to do much for their anniversary on the actual day knowing that taehyung would be exhausted when he got home from filming in the cold all day. taehyung took him by complete surprise when he showed up with a dozen roses and a beautifully wrapped customized gucci coat. seokjing had felt bad about not getting taehyung anything because they had agreed not to but taehyung had taken his hand and pulled him close and told him 'as long as i can keep waking up with you by my side for the rest of my life, you don't ever have to give me anything else.'

seokjin had cried and realized right then and there he was going to marry kim taehyung.

it's been two years since then and seokjin is finally ready to propose. they're both finishing their last few press events for separate dramas and movies since their both actors and they'll have enough time off to plan their wedding and take a nice long, relaxing honeymoon.

the only problem is, he keeps getting interrupted. the night he made reservations at their favorite restaurant he was about to pull out the ring when a camera flash had gone off and they both froze, heads whipping around to see a caught looking woman with her phone out. they had smiled politely at her and left, taking their orders to go and they spent the night re-watching descendants of the sun.

the next time was during taehyung's birthday. they had planned a nice small party with their close friends and seokjin had pulled taehyung aside to give him his first gift, an expensive shirt he had been eyeing during paris fashion week that seokjin had pulled a few strings to get before it was officially released. he was about to go down on his knee and propose when a drunk park jimin had burst their little bubble to give taehyung a celebratory birthday lap dance. seokjin didn't even have time to be annoyed between giggles and full blown laughter as his boyfriend tucked shiso leaves into the band of jimin's boxers.

if only he knew, taehyung was having the same problem.

kim taehyung had known he would marry seokjin since their fifth date. taehyung had been at a complete loss for what to do when the restaurant he had been planning to take seokjin to had been closed and seokjin had easily smiled and directed him somewhere else. they ended up at a small roadside food tent where seokjin proceeded to order to 'monster bowls'. a challenge meal with two two liter bowls of budaejiggae that would be free if eaten in under twenty minutes. seokjin finished his in fifteen and taehyung had looked at him wide eyed and red cheeked and decided right then and there this was someone he could spend his life with.

he had worried whether the restaurant he had chosen would be good enough, if his hair looked alright, if his clothes weren't fancy enough. sure taehyung was a popular up and coming actor but at the time he had been nowhere near the status of the famous worldwide handsome kim seokjin and after nervously being set up on a date with him by their mutual friend ken, and seeing seokjin speak familiarly with the elderly woman running the tent and smiling so freely, puns being told rapid fire and laughter filling taehyung's heart, he knew he was halfway to fallen and ready to dive headfirst the rest of the way.

he had only just worked up the courage to buy a ring, a beautiful simple silver band with their names inscribed on the inside, but every time he had tried to propose he had been interrupted by something.

the first time was when they were in hawaii on a short vacation between schedules. he had planned to take seokjin on a beach picnic only to be thwarted halfway to the beach when a massive storm warning had been issued and they had to book it back to their hotel where they stayed for the last three days of their vacation, completely rained in.

the second time had been a much simpler plan. he would wake seokjin up with breakfast in bed and the ring would be right on top of the tray, unavoidable.

taehyung had just finished pouring seokjin's coffee when a horrible choking noise had made him drop everything and taehyung had run in to the living room to find yeontan choking on something small. he had woken seokjin up and they had hurried off to the vet, hastily dressed with taehyung crying and holding his whimpering dog in the passenger seat.

apparently yeontan had found one of odengie and eomukie's small toys and tried to eat it, only to get it lodged in his throat. luckily he was ok but taehyung had completely forgotten about his plan to propose and became hyper vigilant of yeontan for the next three weeks.

neither of them have had a chance since. in fact, their schedules both became very full of press conferences and interviews for seokjin's new drama and taehyung's new movie.

they don't have a day off for two months until winter is almost over and by the time they both get home from the gala they attended together, they're too tired to do anything.

"bath?" seokjin looks at taehyung as they both kick their shoes off inside the door and the younger groans out a tired yes, tugging his jacket off slowly to throw it over the couch.

seokjin doesn't have the energy to tell him off for throwing his clothes everywhere as taehyung's tie soon follows and he just tosses his jacket there too. they trudge into their bathroom and stand side by side in front of their mirror as they take off their makeup. seokjin finishes first and presses a kiss to taehyung's shoulder before he walks down to their bedroom to change into his bathrobe. as he's grabbing it from their massive walk in closet he glances down at his shoes, the only clothes he and taehyung don't share and eyes his rarely worn white dress shoes.

without really thinking about it seokjin reaches in past the strategically placed sock and grabs the small black velvet box and slips it into the pocket of his robe before heading off to the kitchen to grab the champagne and strawberries. taehyung had been the one to invent 'treat yo self' nights after he had seen seokjin overworking himself and had called in to cancel his schedule for the whole day and made him stay home, pampering and loving him all day. seokjin had never felt more well rested and content in his life. the champagne is something seokjin added because it's the only alcohol taehyung really likes and it makes them feel extra fancy and the strawberries are a comfort food.

while soekjin is in the kitchen taehyung is back in their bathroom, having changed into his bathrobe (a matching ocean blue to seokjin's forest green one) and is lighting candles around their bathtub and watching the lavender bath bomb fizz away in the slowly filling tub. he feels the weight of the small rose shaped velvet box in his pocket from where he hurriedly placed it after grabbing it from beneath his large collection of berets on impulse.

the sound of seokjin coming down the hall makes taehyung smile, already able to tell seokjin is in a noticeably better mood than earlier from the sound of his soft humming. it also reminds him to grab his phone from the counter and scroll through his music until he finds the playlist labelled 'rosey cheeks' because he's cute like that and soon gentle music is filling the room.

"bath ready?" seokjin sets two champagne flutes and the bottle down on the large rim of the tub, the strawberries right next to them. taehyung just hums in response, turning to face seokjin and reaching for his hand. no matter how many years pass seokjin's heart will always flutter from the way taehyung's looks at him as he pulls him close; like seokjin hung every star in the sky and breathed life into the world. he said as much once and taehyung's response had been 'no star in the sky could shine brighter than you do in my eyes and every breath you take is my world alive a little longer'. taehyung has a tendency to say things like that and seokjin would normally blush and slap the arm of someone making cheesy comments like that but the way taehyung says it, knowing he means every words of it, reduces seokjin to a love struck mess, heart beating wildly and hands shaking until they can pull his lover into his arms.

it's what he does now, taehyung's hand in his, the other landing on his waist. seokjin does the same, one hand on taehyung's waist and the other intertwined as the soft notes of chet baker ring out.

"my funny valentine, sweet comic valentine, you make me smile with my heart," taehyung's voice is deep and soothing, seokjin has always thought he would make a wonderful idol or singer. it's just as soft as his hand in seokjin's as he sways the elder along to the slow beat, eyes brighter than they've been all day and smile soft and loving.

it's moments like these that make seokjin really, truly understand how people would die for love. seokjin can't imagine a moment of his life without taehyung in it anymore. when he thinks of the future, five, ten, even twenty years from now, all he can see is taehyung by his side. seokjin used to be afraid of growing old. afraid of being forgotten or dying alone but now all he can imagine is taehyung with him.

taehyung with little crows feet in the corners of his eyes from so many years of smiling. taehyung with salt and pepper hair that will still be so soft to run his hands through. taehyung with years of love and laughter etched into his face and his hands, just as strong and just as big, still fitting just perfectly with seokjin's. taehyung who will still love seokjin with all of his being no matter how many years pass and seokjin who will love him just the same.

taehyung's hand pulls away from seokjin's waist and instead cups his cheek, thumb running over his cheek in such a fond way. seokjin's lips are soft and taste of peppermint tea and taehyung can't resist another slow peck before he moves to turn off the water.

they take their robes off and drape them next to the tub, climbing in on either side and stretching out across from each other, legs brushing together.

they talk about their days, taehyung massages seokjin's calves because he knows he's been on his feet most of the day. they trade silly stories from set and taehyung ends between seokjin's legs, back to his chest as he leans against his broad-shouldered lover and presses a soft kiss to his jaw. their hands are tangled and seokjin feed taehyung a strawberry with a smile and kiss to his cheek, closing his eyes as he leans down to press a few soft kisses to taehyung's neck. it's nothing passionate, just a soft brush of lips on skin that makes taehyung melt into his chest.

minutes pass like that. ten? fifteen? their bathwater is still warm. not the steaming hot it was at first but still nice enough to stay. they've made it through a good third of the strawberries and a glass of champagne between the two of them. taehyung reaches to refill the glass and seokjin suddenly remembers the ring in his bathrobe and he knows now is perfect. he grabs it quickly, back in his place before taehyung moves back to rest against him and he wraps his free arm around the younger's waist. taehyung shoots a smile over his shoulder and turns slightly so his legs are over one of seokjin's, nosing along his collarbones and presses soft kisses to his smooth skin.

"tae, i love you."

taehyung seems a bit caught off guard at how serious seokjin sounds but he stays relaxed, sitting up slightly to look at seokjin before he gives a soft smile. "i love you too."

"i love you so much tae, you make me so happy and i want to make you happy too. i just want to make you the happiest person in the world, you deserve that- god, you deserve so much more. but i want to make you as happy as i can for the rest of our lives."

taehyung seems to know seokjin has more to say because he stays quiet, his hand still linked with seokjin's giving a little squeeze.

"taehyung," seokjin slowly unclenches his fist where he's been hiding the ring, a beautiful golden band with the day they met carved into the inside, and holds it up to the wide-eyed boy. "will you marry me?"

taehyung is completely silent for a few moments, his mouth dropping open as he stares between the ring and seokjin. seokjin doesn't move. he isn't nervous really, just worried that maybe taehyung expected a better proposal.

taehyung is suddenly scrambling to reach over the side of the tub and he's reaching into his robe pocket and pulling out a box and it's seokjin's turn to gape as he opens it to reveal a beautiful silver ring.

"is that- were you-?"

"yes!" taehyung's voice is amused and disbelieving as he pulls the ring out and holds it up beside seokjin's. "i was going to ask you the same question."

seokjin laughs and then so does taehyung, bath water splashing up a bit as they cling to each other and laugh through tears.

"i love you so much jin, i would love to marry you." taehyung is the first to pull himself together and he holds his left hand up, ring finger extended. seokjin is still giggling giddily as he slips the ring over taehyung's finger and presses a kiss to it.

"and i love you taehyung. i would love to marry you too." taehyung is the one sliding the ring on this time and he copies seokjin, pressing a kiss to the silver band before reaching up to cup seokjin's face with his right hand, left intertwined with seokjin's and rings clinking together, and he pulls him in for a kiss.

the next day they make the official announcement to their friends and tell them the story, laughing at the disbelieving faces of their friends as they tell them they proposed at the same time after both being interrupted multiple times.

the tell the story at their wedding, and again when they renew their vows. they tell it to their children and to their children's children and the story gets passed down through their family for years. taehyung does get those crows feet wrinkles by his eyes and seokjin kisses them every night before bed. seokjin's hair line does recede a bit but taehyung tells him that it's easier to kiss his forehead that way. and they live their lives they way they always wanted to. together.

#this took so long but im so proud of it #taejin #for anon #answered request #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #rosy cheeks au #bts #bts drabble #bts fanfic #taejin fanfic #proposal au #marriage proposal #fluff #bts fanfction #writing #listen to hyung

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

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Happy ‘A. Malcolm’ Day!

What better way to celebrate the printshop than by exploring Jamie and Claire’s reunion from the POV of some of our favorite side characters?

NOTE: We wrote all of these drabbles before the episode aired, so consider them all to be bookverse content.

Bottom line is, assuming you’ve read Voyager, there are no show spoilers here, so they’re safe to read, even if you haven’t seen the episode yet!

-Da Modz

Geordie - Mod Liv

In a tavern not far from Carfax Close, one word could be heard above the rest. A vehement whisper, repeated over and over again, that said:

“Ankles.”

The speaker was none other than Geordie Smith, who sat encircled by slack-jawed faces, each listener egging him on with a silent plea of his eyes. Feet shuffled forwards, necks craned closer. A loud squabble, taking place just outside, was received with seething glares.

Always one for a performance, Geordie hissed again, “I tell it true, by the eyes my Lord Jesus gave me.”

Geordie was not, of course, the most virtuous man—not when one considered the illegal dealings of his trade. But it was the fact of his sudden unemployment, combined with his own prolonged (and unwilling) celibacy, that had reawakened his sense of angry, moral righteousness.

“I meant to return to the printshop, ken, to tell my employer I’d found us a new partner. And what do I find upon walking through the door?”

“Ankles,” an onlooker said.

“Aye. Displayed for all king and country—and in the middle of the workplace and it not yet noon! It was no’ a wee keek either, lads, but an ankle wi’ shin. My employer didna even bat an eye at the indecency. Had his arms all wrapped about her.”

“Tell us,” said a young boy. “What’d they look like? I’ve no’ seen a woman’s ankles, save my Mam’s, and hers are—”

“Ye could serve a family o’ ten on them things!” cried the gangly companion to his left. The audience laughed, bemoaning their own unrewarding glimpses of their mothers’ legs.

“I’ll no’ tarnish yer virgin ears wi’ a detailed description, laddie,” Geordie replied. “But I will say: these ankles were verra shapely. Too shapely—and fine-boned as well. She could lure a man into Satan’s embrace wi’ the mere sight of them.”

At this, the crowd began to chatter, though it was obvious theirs was one of lurid curiosity rather than Geordie’s distaste. Eventually, the suggestion was made that a group return to the printshop, peek through the windows, and ascertain just how ungodly these ankles were. The notion was quickly dismissed, however, by the reminder that the couple had likely finished their business. It was, after all, nearly nightfall.

Fortified by the attention and loath to let it wane, Geordie cried, “Finished, my arse! Those heathens will go at it ‘til the second coming of Christ shames them into their clothes!”

“Either way,” one man said, “Christ will no’ be the only one to come, aye?” The men tittered, and ale splattered onto Geordie’s breeches, having been disturbed by the swift rise of a mug.

“To the lass’ ankles!” someone shouted.

“To the lass’ ankles before noon!” another rejoined, and a second round of drink was ordered. Ankles, it seemed, could only be honored with an entire keg.

Though Geordie could feel the weightlessness of his empty pockets, his gut was leaden with the cool-stone weight of envy. He nearly lifted his own cup in a toast to the damnation of Alex Malcolm’s soul, but let his shoulders slump, elbows resting on the now-damp legs of his trousers.

Even he had to admit that Hell would be no punishment—not if those shapely ankles accompanied Malcom there.

Madam Jeanne - Mod Lenny

I know Monsieur Fraser has a wife but from everything young Fergus has said about her… hinted about her…

She does not look as sour or disagreeable as that. She looks… nervous. Perhaps a bit confused—as well she should if her husband would bring her to a brothel, apparently without warning.

I watch Monsieur Fraser guide his wife up the stairs with a flush in his cheeks. It is more than just lust in his eyes. I’ve seen enough in the eyes of men to know the look of true love and adoration when it presents itself and neither are words I have heard associated with the woman who is his wife… Though they are certainly ones Monsieur Fraser deserves.

I cannot fight the impulse and move away from the stairs so that I can follow their progress along the landing and to the door of Monsieur Fraser’s room. He cannot see her face as he opens the door but I can. There is a love and adoration there to match his own.

I smile.

I will need to corner that Fergus and have him explain to me who this wife is that is nothing like what he described.

“Bonnie” the printing press- Mod Bonnie

In the words of one of the great poets of the ages: who do you think you are, Jamie Fraser, going ‘round leaving scars? Well, mine isn’t a scar that can vanish over time. You carved your name into my wood, marking me indelibly. What else was I to think, except that it was forever for you, too?

Did they mean nothing to you, all those months together? Those precious years of gentle handling? The way you took your time when smoothing the ink all over me, so strong and sure over each contour? And, THE PRESSING. Oh, Dear Holy God, the pressing! The feel of your fingers on my Bold Goudy V...the way you teased my tiniest c, those big hands tracing and caressing and....

And then some STRUMPET parades in with no warning (bold as you please, not having even the decency to wear a cap!!) and YOU! You’re immediately swooning and mooning and weeping in her arms and what about me, Jamie? What about your Bonnie lass?

I may not have arms to hold you, but I have a HEART, and you’ve broken it: that < and 3 forever parted..... just like you and me. So, go right to hell, Jamie Faker.

Besides: she’s not your Type.

Young Ian - Mod MBD

Young Ian cocked his head to the side as he sat on his horse half way back home to Lallybroch to face an ear bashing from his mother.

He watched, his wide eyes focused solely on the lilt of his uncles jaw. Even from behind him, here deep in the woods, he could see the ease at which Jamie now rode.

A strange tingling sensation took root at the base of Ian’s spine.

He was smiling, his Uncle Jamie was freely *smiling*. Even from the back, at this terrible angle, he could see the twitch of Jamie’s ear as they silently rode further from Edinburgh.

It struck him all of a sudden, like a smack to the back of the head (of which he’d received plenty) that he’d never seen his uncle smile with such idle contentment. In all of the years that young Ian had been physically aware of Jamie Fraser, the man had always been kind but stoic; his whole being plainly hiding from the sullen emotions he’d clearly buried deep.

A deep red pulsed across Ian’s cheeks as he stared at the newly reunited couple ahead.

Whoever Claire *Fraser* was, he thought, she was a bloody miracle!

Mr. Willoughby - Mod Gotham

My language uses simple words to describe hardship.

We say, “he has eaten much bitterness.” Or, “she had to eat bitterness.”

Bitterness is not poison. It is unpleasant, but does not debilitate. It cannot be avoided in the natural course of life.

In my culture, the only acceptable response is to persevere. To swallow the bitterness whole. And move forward, still choking on the acid at the back of your tongue. For to do otherwise would be to admit weakness. To give in to defeat.

The Red Man has eaten much bitterness. It is in the way he looks at people. In the lines around his mouth. In his choice of profession. In his kindness toward people like me who do not deserve such grace.

But today it is different. His White Lady has returned. I see them in the street, clasping their hands together in the rain. Smiling.

For the slightest taste of sweetness always overpowers the deepest bitterness.

Fergus - Mod WTT

“Milord, how?”

“I canna explain it now mon fils, we must be on our way.”

“But, Milady she survives! How are you no—”

Milord’s cheeks turned a shade that rivaled his hair and a knowing smile I had not seen in many years stretched across his face.

“Aye.”

My own smile widened. “Then how wa—”

“Dinna start that sentence Fergus if ye dinna wish to have yer ears ringing.”

I nodded, smiled and arched an eyebrow in a knowing way. Milord did not notice as he ran ahead focused on saving the casks. His smile was back and his face appeared younger somehow. He was no longer the sullen man of few words and even fewer smiles from the last vingt ans. Milord has come back to us—to me—just as Milady was returned in body and soul. Notre famille est maintenant entière.

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the-record-columns · 5 years

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March 6, 2019: Columns

‘Confessions’ of an old man…

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

At Monday’s meeting of the Rotary Club, I had the pleasure of presenting the program. By program, I mean, I got to tell some stories — some old, some new, but all stories I love to tell.

However, there was one story that I just didn’t get around to because I was only given 45 minutes. What follows are, as the title states, are ‘confessions.’

Of sorts…

Okay, up front let me explain the quote marks around the word confessions in the title of this column.

There used to be a television show I watched in which a statement was made each week to the effect of “…the names have been changed to protect the innocent.” Well, in this case a couple of names have been left out to protect the guilty.

That being said, growing up on Hinshaw Street, there were limited opportunities to make money. Mrs. Minnie Jarvis next door was a wonderful soul who paid me way too much to mow and rake her little yard, but that was just every two weeks or so. Mrs. Spurgeon Minton on up the street would work you all day for a dime and a glass of lemonade. You could almost always make enough money to go to the Liberty or the Allen Theater by picking up pop bottles (it wasn’t called “soda” back then) and returning them to the grocery store for the deposit. I suppose I should point out to the younger among you that the “deposit” I am talking about is from the days that bottling companies re-used the bottles, and, this was a way of making sure they were returned, instead of being thrown away, When I was a young puppy it was a penny each; later two cents; and, I think, eventually it went up to a nickel.

This was actually a fairly popular way of making some pocket change.

However, there was one family of infamous boys in the neighborhood who were constantly getting into trouble. I mean real trouble, with the police and everything. At night, these boys would sneak out of their house and climb over the chicken wire fence behind the Lowe’s Supermarket on Second Street Hill and haul off cartons and cartons of pop bottles – and return them to the store the next day and collect the deposit. This worked well for a while, but they got greedy and hauled off so many it was noticed by the workers at the store. On the advice of the police department, the folks at the grocery store marked a bunch of the cartons, and, when they brought them in for a deposit refund, caught the offenders red-handed so to speak. The news spread like wildfire around the neighborhood that those boys were probably going to be sent to “reform school,” surely a fate worse than death.

Enough about them; what did I do worth confessing, you might be asking yourself.

Well, during my misspent youth, vending machines of many types became more and more popular. As you might imagine, it wasn’t long till the old Coke and Pepsi machines that held only one kind and size of drink became obsolete and had to be replaced with ones that could dispense several different flavors. To that end, a version of machines used by all the major bottling companies began to appear around town which featured a long narrow door on the left side which had eight or 10 slots for various bottled drinks to be dispensed horizontally. An aside to this is the fact that if you tried to pull one out without putting the money in the machine, the bottle would come out about two inches and stop abruptly — often pulling the skin off your hand as the bottle cap was somewhat unforgiving.

It was this small fact, however, that allowed the great unwashed from Hinshaw Street and Second Street Hill to realize that, if the bottle will come out two inches or so even without putting any money in the machine, all you need is a bottle opener and a cup to get most of a drink for free. In no time, the more enterprising of these delinquents figured out that, with a straw, the rest of the bottle of pop was readily available as well. It wasn’t long until word spread and these machines were basically cannibalized by Monday morning of each week. Soon, these machines had been re-tooled to accommodate cans instead of bottles.

I actually have one of this style machine in my vast collection of things that most everyone else can live without. For what it is worth, every time I walk by it, I am reminded of my past youthful transgressions.

Penance, I suppose, is in the heart of the offender.

March forth, child

By HEATHER DEAN

Record Reporter

“Do not let the actions of others define you”

“Be the change”

“Speak your truth”

Inspirational quotes inundate us at every turn. My momma said, “Pick your battles. You had better never start anything, but if you see (insert injustice here) you had better finish it.”

This was not an avocation of violence, this was instilling in us the courage, even as kids, to always stand up for what was right, to not be afraid of the backlash and taunting of our peers.

Monday, March fourth, marked 21 years since we lost my mom. She was 48. A bleeding ulcer was misdiagnosed, and she ended up having an aneurism in her stomach. The loss of blood was too great, and she was transferred to Baptist CCU in Winston. She never recovered, and we had to make the decision to unplug her.

At the time of her death we were close, like Thelma and Louise. For a decade and a half I blamed myself for not checking in on her the day she was admitted to the hospital, thinking I had failed at not fighting hard enough to protect her when we had to make the decision to unplug her. Anyone who has grieved knows “Time heals all wounds” is a lie.

I have been on social media since 2009, and my feeds this past week have been full of “memories” of posts made about her by friends, my siblings and myself over the last ten years.

One of my Facebook memories was from four years ago, marking a cold and cathartic day at Widow’s Creek at Stone Mountain State Park. There were still several inches of snow on the ground, it was barely above freezing, but I had a conversation to hold with my mom, and some reckoning to do with my guilt, so I made the trek down the path to one of my favorite childhood places.

The post in part reads: “Nothing like putting your bare feet in the coldest water you've ever known, in winter for grounding, for healing…from the past 17 years of guilt.”

This year the date snuck up on me- not that I forgot, but there wasn’t a week of horrid lament wreaking havoc inside my soul, stealing sleep and sanity. I realized that I no longer carry burdening guilt. Not for my mother. Not for my siblings. Not for anything in my past, and especially, not for my future.

Our healing is ours alone, and we cannot, we must not, allow another person to help carry those weighty dark parts of our innermost workings, no matter how much we want to trust them, or how much they promise to protect our heartstrings. And we sure as hell should not be tricked into carrying someone else’s guilt.

This is MY path. Everything else is a swarm of butterflies coming in and out along the way. And I think these are the lessons my Mom wanted me to learn from her. Yes, help others, but do not sacrifice your self worth in the process; you can’t ‘do unto others’ if you don’t take care of yourself first. She even left a message for us on her death day. March fouth- March FORTH, do not look back.

RIP

Lynn Rae

Final wake-up call

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

Israel is constantly facing major international military and political challenges yet, for all of her internal and external problems, Israel is more militarily secure now than ever before. In April there will be major elections in Israel. Whether or not Prime Minister Netanyahu is able to hold fast to the reins of his government remains to be seen however it is certain that the current policies which serve to strengthen Israel’s defense forces will not be changed or weakened. Soon there will be another peace plan on the table but until Israel has a true partner for peace, the efforts to work out any agreement are futile.

Israel understands that her position within the international community is becoming increasingly fragile. The Europeans are intensifying their biased policies against her and other governments, to include Britain and even the United States, have anti-Semitic officials serving in public office.

We’ve all heard that President Trump has a peace plan which he calls the deal of the century. However, the contents of that deal have yet to be revealed but an educated guess leads me to believe that it may contain some unpleasant surprises for Israel. While President Trump has proven himself to be a friend of Israel, the liberal left (a.k.a. the Democrat Party) is growing increasingly radical and anti-Israel.

Israel is well aware that her largest support base in the United States is within the Evangelical Christian community which is often more Zionistic than American Jews and their leaders. It seems that during the presidency of Barak Obama, Jewish leaders became increasingly silent when it became apparent that Barak Obama was hostile toward Israel. Perhaps they feared that speaking out in favor of policies which under-girded Israel and the Jewish people might cause his hostility toward the Jewish state to intensify.

Yet surprisingly, despite President Trump’s pro-Israel actions to include moving the U.S. Embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem and passing legislation which stopped all U.S. funding going to the Palestinians’ “pay for slay” program, some progressive rabbis and Jewish lay leaders regard him as their enemy. One example of this Jewish anti-Trumpism is the Anti-Defamation League’s (ADL) refusal to endorse anti-BDS legislation or actively support pro-Israel activities on college and university campuses. Furthermore, despite the fact that the Black Lives Matter movement has, in part, an anti-Israel agenda, they still enjoy the support of many American Jews and the ADL.

Another example of toxic anti-Semitism comes from the highly publicized Women’s March movement which agitates against Israel at every opportunity. Co-chair Tamika Mallory refuses to recognize Israel or dissociate herself from Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan, America’s most notorious anti-Semite, who refers to Jews as “satanic” and “termites.”

Even more disturbing is the unprecedented election of openly anti-Israel agitators to Congress. Among these is Rashida Tlaib (D-Mich.), who was photographed at an event with Abbas Hamideh, who openly promotes Hamas and Hezbollah and likens Zionists to Nazis. Freshman Democratic legislator Ilhan Omar, a Muslim Somali-American, is another who is bitterly anti-Israel and enthusiastically promotes BDS. She has described Israel as “evil” and an apartheid state and claimed that it had “hypnotized the world.” One of her initial acts after her election was to meet with anti-Semitic women’s activist Linda Sarsour. But, topping the shock list, was House Speaker Nancy Pelosi's appointment of this anti-Semitic newly elected congresswoman to the prestigious and powerful House Foreign Affairs Committee, which oversees foreign aid and national security issues such as terrorism and the proliferation of non-conventional weapons. For this action alone, Pelosi should be tried for treason.

Being passive is no longer an option. America has reached a turning point. The appointment of Democratic legislator Ilhan Omar to the Foreign Affairs Committee is a final wake-up call for all who embrace freedom, democracy, our free enterprise system, and Israel’s right to exist as a Jewish state. We must stand up and speak out before it’s too late. God says He will bless those who bless Israel and curse those who do otherwise. I, personally, prefer a blessing but fear my country is heading in the opposite direction.

An Irish Tale

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

Katie, who works at the post office asked what I was working on this week. I replied, “a few things are on the schedule but the first is a story about the Irish heritage in the Carolinas.” to which she quickly replied. “I’m part Irish.”

Katie went on to tell me about her family that settled in Pennsylvania. Her great grandmother did not want her sons working in the coal mines. Her husband was no longer in the picture, so she planned a move to Detroit, Michigan, where safer employment was available. This would prove to be a good move for the family. As time passed, she sponsored and helped other families make the same move. The positive impact of lives saved is countless.

The Scots-Irish influence in the Carolinas is profound. It is reported that in the 18th century as many as 250,000 Europeans sailed to America. Some would become indentured servants as they did not have the funds to pay for the voyage. Unfortunately, for many the life of an indentured servant was little more than slavery.

Settling in the eastern part of the Carolinas was not an option for large numbers and for this reason many settled in the back country of the Carolinas. The feel of the land was not unlike that of their homeland.

Many were craftsman such as spinners and weavers. They worked hard and cared for the land. The making of whiskey was skilled and would not be uncommon.

Mecklenburg County would also become home to many Scots-Irish. So many in fact that in 1775 when the Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence was signed almost all the signers were Scots-Irish.

It was the fighting tenacity of the Scottish and Irish immigrants that fueled the victory at the Battle of Kings Mountain, which was a turning point in what would become American Independence.

United States President Andrew Jackson was born in the Carolinas with Scots-Irish parents and so was U.S. Vice President John C. Calhoun from Abbeville, S.C.

The folk traditions and culture of the Irish and Scottish will forever influence who we are in the Carolinas. Many of us are aware of our connection and many are discovering via DNA tests that tell us where we come from.

I always feel a closeness to the people when I attend the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games. The gathering of the clans is a gathering of families with common interests and pride in their heritage. It happens every year with no regard to weather or anything else. The people make a way to come together. Maybe that’s a good lesson for all of us.

What would happen if we all started to come together more often and celebrate just being together?

Maybe that small or large piece of Irish or Scottish DNA will give us the will to fight against the obstacles that keep us apart. And just maybe we can defeat the problems of life, or at least sleep a little better knowing that another kinsman has our back.

Carl White is the Executive Producer and Host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In The Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its 10th year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturday’s at noon and My 12. The show also streams on Amazon Prime. For more information visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com. You can email Carl at [email protected].

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pelatro-blog · 6 years

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14 fascinating digital marketing stats from the past week

See on Scoop.it - Marketing Solutions for Telecom Industry It’s Valentine’s Day on Sunday, and I’ve got the perfect gift idea for you… No, it’s not something trashy and predictable like a box of chocolates or a diamond necklace. It’s the Econsultancy digital marketing stats round-up. Seriously, I sent the link to my wife last year along with the message 'from Meconsultancy with love', and she didn’t even divorce me. In fact, I was out of the dog house within days without having spent a single penny. Totally worth it. Thank me later. This week we’re covering – yep, you guessed it – Valentine’s Day, along with lots of other exciting stats around marketing salaries, digital skills, ad viewability and much more. Buckle up, this is a good one... Mobile highest-paid digital specialism There’s a very simple way to gauge what the most in-demand skills are, and that’s to find out how much companies are willing to pay for them. That’s exactly what our 2016 career and salary survey aimed to do, and mobile emerged as the top-paid specialism, with mobile-savvy marketers receiving an average basic salary of £49,280. UX still remains strong. Marketers with this specialism can expect to be paid £48,111 on average. Gender pay gap still persists There is still a significant gender pay gap in marketing, according to our salary survey. Male digital specialists enjoy an average salary of £46,378, while their female counterparts only receive £38,176 on average. The gap is equally wide for general marketers, with males getting paid £45,750 on average vs. just £37,477 for females. 47% say young people can’t apply digital skills at work Almost half of senior decision makers in UK companies say that while young people are digitally savvy they don’t know how to apply those skills in a work situation, according to a recent YouGov poll. Other key findings include: 84% of respondents agree digital literacy is important in their place of business. 18% believe that not enough young people have the specific digital skills needed for their organisation, rising to 20% in media, marketing and PR and 37% in IT and telecoms. The ability to use the internet for work purposes (87%), staying safe online (87%) and creating basic digital content (84%) were identified as the most sought after when recruiting young people. 80% of shoppers want to collect loyalty points on their phone Eight in ten UK consumers would like to start collecting loyalty points on a retail app, according to new research from Apadmi. Other key findings include: 29% of shoppers would be happy to share their location with a retail app to gain incentives and loyalty points when they walk around the store. 51% of consumers claim they own more than one loyalty card. 46% say they regularly collect and spend points on a reward card. Only 20% of UK smart phone users currently interact with a retail loyalty scheme on their phone, however. Only 3% of European ad inventory is available at 80%+ campaign viewability goal Ad viewability levels are suffering across Europe, according to new research from Quantcast, which analysed 5bn impressions per month across more than 10,000 publishers for three years. Other key findings include: An average of 16% of UK inventory not measurable from a viewability perspective. At 75%-100% viewability, inventory is 92% more expensive than RTB average. Half of UK online retailers ignoring Chinese ecommerce While two-thirds of the UK’s largest online retailers are selling internationally, almost half are completely ignoring China’s growing ecommerce market, according to new research from Global-e. Other key findings include: Just 26% of retailers present prices in Chinese Yuan. Only 22% of retailers that ship to China offer shoppers the ability to pay using local payment methods. Only one in ten retailers offers a Mandarin-language shopping experience. 98% uplift in conversion rate for flowers in lead-up to Valentine’s Day Perhaps unsurprisingly (definitely unsurprisingly), online conversion rates for flowers increased by almost 100% in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day last year, according to new figures from Ve. But Mother’s Day saw an even bigger uplift in conversions for flowers (138%). Check out the table below for a breakdown of sectors and their respective conversion rates, split between Valentine’s Day (middle column) and Mother’s Day (right column): 54% of Q4 2015 retail app traffic came from London More than half of all Q4 2015 retail app traffic in the UK came from London, according to a new report by Poq. Other key findings include: App users in the North East of England generated the highest average order values of the UK, with average order values 126% higher than average. Revenue per user was highest for Scotland-based app users, who were 143% more profitable for retailers than the average app user. The average person shopping from an app generated 2.6x more revenue for a retailer than someone shopping from a mobile site, and 1.5x more than someone using a desktop device. Customers using apps also interacted with retailers 2.8x more often than customers using the mobile website. 57% plan on using Instagram for Valentine’s gift inspiration More than half of people say they will turn to Instagram to look for ideas on what to buy their significant other for Valentine’s Day, according to new research from Greenlight. Other key findings include: 41% of Instagram users admit to dropping hints on the social network about what they want to receive. Celebrities posting luxurious presents on their profiles doesn’t influence us as much as we think, with 76% of us valuing our friends and family’s posts the most when searching for what to buy. 35% of younger Instagram users will be influenced by celebrities, however. ‘Actionable emails’ best sent on Friday The best time to send emails that require a decision from the reader is the end of the week, according to a new infographic from My.com. Check out the infographic below for more stats: TV no longer the dominant screen in the living room When it comes to the coveted living room attention span, all screens are increasingly equal, according to new research from Sparkler. Only 50% of UK online adults now say the TV set is the focal point of their living room, while 70% report they ordinarily use a connected device while watching TV – this rises to 87% of 16-34s. Multi device activity peaks between 6pm-9pm, and during TV programmes more than one third (34%) check emails, 31% Instant Message or text and 25% shop online. Half will use digital device to research and buy Valentine’s gifts Almost half (49%) of people will do Valentine’s Day gift research on a digital device, with 27% using a smartphone or tablet, according to a new infographic from RadiumOne. Check out the infographic below for more stats: 7 in 10 Valentine’s Day retail searches to be made from a mobile device More than 70% of Valentine’s Day related searches will be made from a mobile in the lead-up to the day, according to new figures from Bing Ads. Other key findings include: More than half of Valentine’s Day searches are expected to be made on the move. Men leave it later to start searching for gifts. The most popular pre-Valentine’s day search times are 11am–2pm on mobile, with a last-minute rush between 7pm-10pm on PCs ‘City breaks’ are the most searched-for romantic getaway. Wedding bells could be ringing with ‘engagement rings’ the most searched-for jewellery category. Valentine’s gift searches grow 195% from 2013-2015 The number of people searching for ‘Valentine’s gifts’ in the run-up to the day increased by almost 200% between 2013 and 2015, according to new research from Connexity. The research also reveals the top sites cashing in over Valentine’s Day, with the results listed in the table below: Timely and vaguely relevant stat of the week… On this day in 2004, Mattel announced that Barbie and Ken were breaking up. The dolls had met on the set of their first television commercial together in 1961. For lots more up-to-date statistics… Download Econsultancy’s Internet Statistics Compendium, a collection of the most recent statistics and market data publicly available on online marketing, ecommerce, the internet and related digital media. It’s updated monthly and covers 11 different topics from advertising, content, customer experience, mobile, ecommerce and social.

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sudsybear · 7 years

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Mark

Eventually that fall, I hooked up with Mark. He and I attended art class together. As a senior, I wanted an easy course. The department had a great reputation so I signed up. I was one of a few upperclassmen in with a bunch of sophomores and juniors.

Mark has incredible drawing talent. He doesn’t use it much anymore, but he retains a wonderful artistic eye. It takes him forever to complete a project. As we were in the art classroom finishing up our projects to make our deadlines, we chatted. I flirted shamelessly, and got him hooked. He was mine.

Mark was still growing into himself when we dated. He may have grown an inch or two during our time together – he stopped growing when he reached 5’10”. He has a slender build, topped with dirty blonde hair and at age sixteen, was already showing signs of premature balding. He suffers that Northern European receding hairline that so many men have. Put that high forehead with a long straight aquiline nose, full lips, and a receding chin, and that’s Mark.

He is an only child. As a young woman, his mother married a man twice her age. And consequently Mark’s father died when he was quite young. When I knew Mark, he was very protective of his mother. She tried to date, but he was having none of it. “Putz” was his word. Reminded me of David a bit. (Will some psychologist please explain about teenage boys and their mothers? What is it that prevents them from letting their mothers have social and personal lives? Is it hormonal, Oedipal, what?) A loner, Mark does his own thing, and yet has a quiet fascination with the social interaction of his peers. Standing quietly in a hallway, he acutely observes and absorbs everything going on around him. He works hard to maintain his independent identity, and yet nurses a private insecurity, a longing to be part of the “in” crowd.

He didn’t have his driver’s license, or a car to drive even if he did, so I drove everywhere. Mark remembers riding in the Pinto. Stopped at the red light at the corner of my street and the main street through town (The one red light in the eight hundred yards between the high school parking lot and my house.) Wish you were here was in the tape player. He thought it was so cool that a girl knew (and liked!) Pink Floyd. That’s it. That’s the memory. A nice one don’t you think? And provides a great transition as well. No longer with David, I took up with Mark. No longer driving the Buick, I traded a ragtop for a tape player. I still liked to drive, even a Pinto. And I took something of my own away from David and Christopher. I actually enjoyed a little Floyd.

Mark was a year behind me in school, and best friends with Scott (Ross’ younger brother). So, through Mark, I got to know Scott a little better. Ross had mentioned Scott in one of his previous letters, but it took six months from the time Ross first mentioned him before I actually spent any time with Scott. But even then, it wasn’t Scott I spent time with, it was Mark.

We didn’t have any money to spend (babysitting money only went so far – filling up gas tanks, and buying fast food) so we made our own fun. Mark and I played board games together, Scrabble mostly. We sat on the floor of my parent’s living room with the board between us, and battled. We picked letters and created words. I don’t remember who won or even if we ever finished a game. We may have gotten tired of playing and just poured the tiles back in the box.

I was a Scrabble fiend that winter. I was in a mood for battles of letters and words. I lobbied hard to convince the Corral Board to put on a Saturday night game night: Scrabble, Monopoly, penny poker, but no one else rallied with me. I was bored with the live bands and DJ’s at Corral, I had been there, done that, and was tired of jumping around the dance floor. Even so, my friends were all dancing, so I packed up the Scrabble box and drove to the Civic Center to play. Mark and I got a game going, friends surrounded us, kibitzing and soon the room was split between the dancers and the band in the front of the hall near the stage, and the Scrabble game going on in the back of the hall. Exclaims of “Good Word” were shouted over the drum set. Mark and I reveled in the attention.

Mark and I talked. He didn’t own a computer and we practiced the fine but fading art of personal conversation. While he was a loner, that didn’t mean he lacked opinions, or interesting things to say. His observations provided a perspective I hadn’t considered in my young life. Of course we listened to music – Mark likes stuff with a harder edge. For whatever reasons he’s angrier than other people I have known. Dead Kennedy’s, Adam and the Ants, The Kinks, The Clash, Sex Pistols. Some I like, some I don’t. It’s fun to listen and learn. After school, while his mom was at work, we sat on the floor of his room and listened.

One evening Mark was over at our house for dinner – or stopped by shortly after – and while I sat at the dining room table, Mom cleared some dishes and got coffee for Dad. We asked about dessert, and somehow the conversation turned to chocolate chips. The next thing I know, we’re sitting around the table – all of us, Mom, Dad, Mark and myself – balancing chocolate chips on the end of our noses trying to then catch them in our mouth. We got the giggles – I think Dad was the only one who could master the task. My nose is too pug to be able to get the necessary angle.

Another afternoon we decided not to play Scrabble, but to try Trivial Pursuit instead. We started the game and were playing when Dad arrived home from work. After changing clothes, he walked into the living room to visit and watch what was going on. Dad started feeding me answers…I picked the most obscure category – Entertainment most likely (Despite the fact that I love movies, I cannot retain names. So knowing who starred in what movie, or which song made the top ten in 1958 was well beyond my ken.) I impressed the hell out of Mark. We kept playing, and he kept giving me these looks like, “How in hell did you know that?” Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and burst out laughing. Poor guy.

Mark was not David. While David and I were occasionally public with our displays of affection, Mark and I were quite private. Most never knew we dated. Quietly, discreetly with music playing in the background, some afternoons teen passion got the better of us and we explored each others’ bodies. Shy and nervous with each other, our unfamiliarity desperately wanted to become familiar. We reached for each other, kissing tenderly.

He was brave and trusting enough one afternoon to let me cut his hair. Sitting on a chair in his mother’s yellow kitchen, he wrapped a towel around his shoulders and let me dampen his head and run a comb through his hair. Then slowly and more than a little anxious, I snipped away at his locks, trimming them to the best of my untrained ability. We laughed and talked through our nervousness, and the experience turned sensual. I was his first girlfriend, his first kiss, and I didn’t realize until much later what a responsibility that is.

* * *

My brothers were home for Christmas that year – a now rare event to have all of us in one place for a holiday. Jack had been away for eight years. Tom and his wife lived in Oregon - he’d been gone for six years. My grandmother (we called her Mommer) was over for dinner with the whole family and the phone rang. Mother answered it, “Hello? Oh, just a moment. It’s for you Susan.”

“Hello?”

“Hi! I was wondering if you’d want to go see a movie tonight. Dune.”

“Well, I’ve got family here, visiting. Let me check with my Mom and Dad. Hold on.”

“Mom, Dad, is it all right if I go to a movie tonight? Dune.”

“Sure, if you want to.”

“Okay. What time? Who’s driving? You’ll pick me up? Great. See you then.” Click. Pause.

Uh oh. Panic. Now what do I do?

Confess.

To my parents: “I just did a silly thing. I have no idea who I’m going with. I have no idea who I was speaking to on the phone. I think it’s Victor, but I’m not sure. What do I do?”

We discussed the predicament (added an interesting twist to the conversation anyway) and decided that should he call back, Mother would ask, “Who is calling?” before turning the phone over. Second choice was to investigate who would be coming to the door before I was ready.

Turns out I was right. It was Victor, and his brothers Igor and Alex and their neighbor Matt. We all piled in the “Grenade” to see Dune. Fun movie. But why was I the only girl? Could it be those letters I wrote to Victor while he was at boot camp?

I was still firmly entrenched in “the group” despite the falling out with David and others. Victor’s overture of friendship brought me back into the fold. It helped that Mark and Scott had friendships with Igor.

Victor and Igor hosted a New Year’s Eve party. Upstairs in the living room, dining room and kitchen, the adults had their revelry with wine and cheese, and fancy hors d’ouevres. While the adults were tipsy upstairs, the teens were in the basement with our own loud music. Igor liked David Bowie, Victor played ELP, and of course the other 80s pop standards. Competing with the party upstairs, we had our own fun. Somebody mixed “reveler’s rot” a punch of Everclear mixed with whatever fruit juice was around – most often Welch’s with fruit slices thrown in for effect. A ghastly grape flavor that night, it was our illicit means of intoxication.

Julie and I decided to get drunk. In all of our seventeen years we’d never had the experience, and decided it was about time. Teen Counseling pledge be damned. She and I gingerly stepped into the storage room where the punch was hidden and filled our Dixie cups. We tasted the concoction, grimaced, and tossed it back our throats. We drank 2-3 cupsful – who remembers exactly?

I drank until the room started spinning and stopped. I got silly, and started dancing, then my bladder kicked in and I had to pee. (That’s how I remember that the lone john in the basement had nothing but a curtain in front of it. I had to pee a lot, and felt like I was on display every time I did.) As my curfew time approached, Victor took me up to his dad’s office so I could call home. Sitting on Victor’s lap, it took me several tries to punch in the numbers. Dad answered the phone. I told him I was having a lot of fun and asked to stay later. The guys sobered me up and I was able to drive the half-mile home by 2 a.m. or so. Overall, it was a most pleasant evening – my first drunk in the midst of friends who loved and respected me for who I was, lumps and all.

Poor Julie got too much for her system and started vomiting. Her parents came and picked her up early. I don’t even remember her leaving the party. I learned about that later.

. The P��

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