#tino west side story
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Martinez, Johnson, Gregory-O'Connell to be Honored at 44th Annual Thurman Munson Awards March 14
Two hard-hitting World Series champions and a Bronx basketball trailblazer enshrined in three Halls of Fame will be honored by AHRC New York City Foundation when they are presented with Thurman Munson Awards at the 44th annual benefit on Thursday night, March 14 at Pier Sixty at Chelsea Piers (23rd Street at West Side Highway) in New York City: Four-time New York Yankees World Series champion first baseman Tino Martinez (1996, 1998-2000), 1986 Mets World Series champion third baseman Howard Johnson and Fordham University women’s hoops pioneer and New York City Basketball Hall of Famer Anne Gregory-O’Connell will each receive “Thurmans” as members of the “Class of 2024.”
The Munson Awards are presented to individuals for on-field excellence, and the betterment of sports and community. The AHRC NYC benefit has helped to keep the memory of the legendary Yankees catcher and captain Thurman Munson alive since his tragic passing 44 years ago, while raising more than $21 million for children and adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities to lead richer, more productive lives.
Robert Scheinman, Principal, J.T. Magen & Company, Inc., will receive the M. Anthony Fisher Humanitarian Award.
Thurman's widow Diana Munson is an honorary chair who has supported AHRC NYC and its fund-raising efforts through the Thurman Munson Awards for four decades.
The 2024 benefit will celebrate the 75th Anniversary of AHRC NYC.
The Master of Ceremonies will be FOX 5 lead sports anchor and Sports Extra host Tina Cervasio.
Special guests expected to attend include Football Giants Super Bowl champions Harry Carson, Ottis Anderson, Chris Canty and Karl Nelson; Yankees World Series Champion Jeff Nelson; four-time Islanders Stanley Cup Champions Butch Goring and John Tonelli, former Mets pitcher Nelson Figueroa, NY/NJ Gotham FC soccer midfielder McCall Zerboni, SiriusXM Radio host Ed Randall and New York radio/television personality Sweeny Murti of MLB.com, with others to be announced.
Martinez, whose plaque installed in the Stadium’s Monument Park underline his Yankees legacy, was an integral member of four Bombers World Championship teams in 1996, 1998, 1999 and 2000. During a 16-year major league career, Tino knocked in 1,271 runs on the strength of 1,925 hits and 339 home runs. The two-time All-Star had more than 100 RBI in six different seasons and led the American League in homeruns (44) and RBI (141) in 1997.
His two most memorable World Series home runs were a Grand Slam in Game 1 in 1998 to give the Yankees the lead and the win against the Padres; and then in 2001 against the Diamondbacks. With the Yankees down to their last out, Martinez launched a game-tying, ninth inning home run in Game 4 and the Yankees went on to win in the 10th.
Like Thurman, Martinez starred in the Cape Cod League early in his career (1986), and last summer returned to serve as an assistant coach for the Hyannis Harbor Hawks. The Tampa native was a standout in college at the University of Tampa as a three-time All-American.
Johnson was a Tigers product who debuted in 1982 and was a member of Detroit’s 1984 championship team. He was traded to the Mets following that season and two years later went on to win his second World Series in 1986. With the Mets, Hojo was a two-time All-Star and led the National League in both home runs (38) and RBI (117) in 1991. Johnson still ranks third on the Mets’ all-time list for homers (192), RBI (629), doubles, and stolen bases (202).
Inducted into the Mets Hall of Fame earlier this year, Hojo is a three-time member of the “30-30 Club” (1987, 1989 and 1991) all in New York, and set the record for most home runs (36) by a switch hitter in 1987.
During his 14-year career, Johnson drove in 760 runs totaling 1,229 hits, 228 home runs and 231 stolen bases.
Gregory-O’Connell scored 2,548 points and pulled down 1,999 rebounds during a storied Fordham career from 1976-80. She is enshrined in the Fordham Athletics Hall of Fame as the first female inductee in 1986, the New York City Basketball Hall of Fame (2017) and the Bronx Basketball Hall of Fame (2023). In 2023, in a celebration of Title IX’s 50th Anniversary, she was recognized for her contributions in spearheading the growth of women’s sports as an Atlantic 10 “Trailblazer’ by the conference for “paving the way for thousands of girls and women to participate in and be successful in sports and life.” Anne’s number is the only number of a women’s player retired by her alma mater (2009), and #55 hangs from the rafters at the Rose Hill Gymnasium on the Fordham campus.
The women’s basketball pioneer is a New York product from The Bronx, New York. A stone’s throw from Yankee Stadium, Anne Gregory was a dominant force on the Fordham University women’s basketball team from 1976-80, long before women’s basketball took off as part of mainstream sports. The rebounds total stood as a record in women’s basketball until 2009. Anne graduated cum laude from Fordham with a degree in sociology in 1980.
She was one of seven children who grew up in the Parkchester section of the Bronx and is a product of Holy Trinity High School in Hicksville, New York. She played professionally briefly in France following her Fordham career.
Anne’s late husband was the beloved Hall of Fame college basketball writer Jim O’Connell, whom she met as a Fordham student when “Oc” was the university’s Sports Information Director.
Always giving young people direction during 36 years in Catholic School education, Anne’s post-basketball career included 20 years as guidance counselor at Holy Trinity High School, 12 years at Aquinas High School, and two years at Cardinal Spellman; Anne began that career at a physical education teacher and basketball coach at St. Helena Commercial High School.
The list of previous Thurman Munson Award recipients reads like a “Who’s Who” of sports stars including: Muhammad Ali, Arthur Ashe, Yogi Berra, Mariano Rivera, Jorge Posada, Joe Torre, Bernie Williams, Tom Seaver, Mike Piazza, Gary Carter, David Wright, Willis Reed, Patrick Ewing, Julius Erving, Jim Brown, Harry Carson, Aly Raisman, Nancy Lieberman, Theresa Weatherspoon, and Mark Messier, just to name a few.
Founded 75 years ago, AHRC New York City is a family governed organization that is fiercely committed to achieving equity for people who are neurodiverse in New York City. With over 5,000 staff, reflecting the demographics of our city, we offer an unsurpassed array of services to more than 15,000 people and their families annually in the five boroughs. The organization is part of a social justice movement grounded in our common humanity. AHRC NYC is fully accredited by the Council on Quality and Leadership (CQL) and is a recognized leader in the field. We are committed to promoting the highest levels of excellence and innovation in all of its programs and services.
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Curiosity Killed The Cat | Owen Patrick Joyner
Requested: Yes/No
Hi! I was wondering if you can do an Owen imagine kinda based off his Instagram story of him finding a cat. I was thinking he’d actually find the missing cat though and come ring your doorbell at 4am bc he’s chaotic. You can decide everything. Thank you in advance!!!
A/N: The cat doesn’t actually die in this, it’s just a saying that i liked for the title, so don’t worry! It’s got a happy ending!
Pairing: Owen x Fem!Reader
Song(s) used: none
Warnings: none
Words: 3,949
A week. It had been exactly one week since y/n last saw her cat, Tunabean. The white, grey striped Ragamuffin cat had been absent from y/n’s apartment for way longer than she normally would be and it worried y/n to the point where she’d be out looking for the little rascal every night after work.
“Found her yet?” Jamila asked as she entered y/n’s apartment after coming home from work.
Jamila was y/n’s roommate and best friend since college. The two had lived together through their college career and decided to be roommates after too, as long as neither had significant others to go live with.
“No,” y/n’s lip stuck out into a pout as she feverishly reposted the message on all her social media platforms. “People have been tearing down my posters as well. Did you see the ones near Andrews Park? They were torn to shreds!”
Jamila pulled her lips into a tight smile before putting her bags on the dining room table and joining y/n on the couch. “Yeah, I saw. I’m really sorry, y/n. If you want, we can go and put up some more posters? Exchange the torn up ones with some fresh ones?”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course! Sweetie, I’d do anything to get little Bean home, you know that, right?” y/n nodded her head in response, though she wasn’t sure if she knew that.
Jamila wasn’t the biggest fan of Tunabean at first. She hated cats. Growing up, she’d always had a dog but never a cat. She didn’t trust the little rascals for one second. So, when y/n showed up with little Tunabean after having had what felt like the worst week of her life, Jamila was a tiny bit angry. But eventually warmed up to Tunabean when the little kitty seemed so placid, you could easily cuddle up to it on the sofa.
“Let’s go find Zach at his work, bribe him to print me more posters for cheap, hang ‘em up around town and then maybe Tino’s?” Jamila’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite restaurant.
She snapped her fingers and pointed finger guns at her best friend. “Sounds like a plan!” she said and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. It was a cold November day and no person could leave their house consciously without being bundled up into layers and layers of clothing.
“I hope Bean didn’t hide under a car and the owner didn’t tap the hood before getting in…” y/n muttered, her voice thick with worry, as they exited the apartment building and stepped into the blistering cold.
“I’m sure she just found a few boyfriends and is spending her time with them,” Jamila tried to reassure her, but knew all-too-well that Tunabean wouldn’t stay away this long, even if she had a lover cat to make little kittens with. She loved Jamila and y/n’s home too much.
“Are you slut shaming my cat right now?”
“Our cat,” Jamila corrected, causing a smile to find its way to y/n’s face, “And no, I am not. I’m just trying to be optimistic here, y/n.” Jamila tucked her cold hands into the pockets of her tan peacoat. “I’m sure Tunabean is alright.”
“What if she isn’t though? What if she’s like meowing somewhere in the middle of Norman and no one to hear her pleas?” Jamila rolled her eyes at how dramatic her best friend was being.
“Norman ain’t that big, sweetie. I’m sure if she’s meowing somewhere, we would’ve heard her already.”
“Exactly! Which means she’s either dead or god knows anywhere! She could be in Oklahoma City! We don’t know that!” y/n exclaimed loudly, using excessive hand gestures more so to keep herself warm than emphasis.
Jamila stopped in her tracks and grabbed y/n by the shoulders, stopping her too. “Stop being such a drama queen, y/n! I’m sure Tunabean is fine. Maybe she’s on an adventure or making new friends, you don’t know that!”
“You don’t care about our child, admit it,” y/n muttered. This rendered Jamila silent. “Admit you don’t care about our child, Jam!” Passer-byers shot them a weirded out glare, which Jamila sent right back.
“Oh, please! Don’t pretend there are no lesbian families in Norman too!” she yelled at them. The comical side of the whole situation made y/n laugh a tiny bit. “There’s that smile I like to see.” Jamila softly touched y/n’s chin with her knuckle before grabbing the girl’s hand in hers. The warmth of Jamila’s hand radiating through to y/n’s made her feel all toasty. “Let’s go print some posters!”
The girls reached a one-storey building with red decrepit letters stuck to the roof.
HOOPER PRINTING CO.
As y/n opened the glass door and held it for Jamila to walk in, the smell of ink reached her nostrils. Though not a very traditional scent to love, it reminded y/n of one of her best friends. It was like her brain just knew that the muscles in her cheeks would soon start to hurt thanks to Zachary. A boy the girls had met in college as Xana.
Jamila spotted the bleached blonde mop of hair immediately and signaled to y/n to sneak up to him. On their tippy toes, the two approached the tall slender man, and when they were close enough, they took in a deep breath and-- “Don’t even think about it,” Zach mumbled without even looking at them.
Jamila and y/n glanced at each other, cheeks puffed out from the breath they were holding. “How’d you--?” y/n didn’t even finish her sentence as she looked past Zach and her eyes landed on a tiny tv screen. Cameras, of course.
“Since when do you have security cameras?” y/n asked as she hopped onto the counter Zach was sorting invoices on.
He shrugged, “Sometime this week, I think.” His bright blue eyes met y/n’s as she sheepishly looked at him while kicking her legs. The boy sighed exasperated, knowing all too well what the girls are here for. “No. Not again.”
“Please, Zachy! Tunabean is still missing and her posters have been ripped down!” Her eyes teared up at the thought of her kitty being out there all by herself in Norman. All she could hope was that the creepy dudes from Doyle’s didn’t get their filthy paws on her little princess.
“Come on, Zach. You love that cat too!” Jamila chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him knowingly.
“Fine, come here,” he reached out his hand and y/n handed him the thumb drive on which she kept her self-made posters. “You’re gonna have to buy me Tino’s though.”
“We were going there afterwards, if you wanna join?” y/n’s voice was teasing and sly.
“I’m off at five,” he simply stated before pressing a few buttons on his desktop and waking up the printer closest to them. “How long has she been gone for?” he then asked after a few beats of silence. Y/N dropped her head and stared at her still moving legs for a moment.
“About a week,” she replied.
Zach pulled his lips into a tight smile. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of hers. “She’ll come back.”
“How can you be so sure? She might be hurt somewhere or dead and I won’t even know. I won’t even be able to say goodbye to her.” Tears pooled in y/n’s eyes as she thought of the sweet little kitten she had found in a ‘take one for free’ box on a curb one day. She was the last one left.
“I’m not sure, y/n. But I’d like to be optimistic. Besides, Tunabean is resilient and the most independent kitty I’ve ever known. She’ll survive. She’s probably out adventuring with some friends.”
Though the words weren’t very reassuring and y/n knew she had every right to be worried, they did calm her down a little. Tunabean was resilient and extremely independent. She’ll find her way back home.
*
“I’ll see you guys later, bye!” Owen waved at his friends as he stepped into the cold November night. It was 4 am and he was just returning home from a day spent with friends. He had fallen asleep during the movie, only waking up in the middle of the night, realizing his parents were probably worrying about him, seeing he’d told them he’d be home by midnight at the latest.
He softly hummed along to the song that was playing in his head as he walked down West Main Street, his hands tucked deep into his pockets to try and keep them warm. He should’ve brought a thicker coat or a thicker jumper.
“Ah, mister Joyner!” a familiar voice with a thick accent made him shake out of his train of thought about the cold. The friendly face of the robust Italian greeted him in the dim light of the restaurant behind him.
“Still working, Tino?” Owen asked as he stopped in his tracks to talk to the man everyone in Norman, Oklahoma loved.
“Already back at work, ragazzino!” he replied in his thick Italian accent. Owen always thought it was fake and just for show to lure clients, so that they knew he was a pure Italian man, sharing his love for the Italian cuisine in his restaurant.
“At four in the morning?!” Owen exclaimed, stunned at the man’s determination for his job.
“Deliveries don’t wait, signore.” His laugh boomed into the empty, dark streets of Norman. Owen couldn’t help but let out a laugh too while his eyes averted and landed on a poster in the window. A black-and-white picture of a small cat stared back at him.
MISSING: TUNABEAN
Grey-and-white striped ragamuffin cat, listens to the name Tunabean.
“She’s been missing for a week, the poor girl who owns her is worried sick,” Tino told Owen when he noticed what he was looking at. The blond twenty-year-old pressed his lips together. He only ever had a dog that had never run away, but he could imagine what it would be like to not know where your pet is. He would totally lose it if Bindi ever went missing.
“I feel sorry for her,” Owen said, unsure of anything else to say.
“Yeah, me too,” said Tino. “Keep an eye out for Tunabean, yeah?”
“I will.”
And with that, Owen continued his walk back home. The cat on the poster kept haunting his mind. Those big eyes were something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Thanks to said image plastered in his brain, he even started hearing meowing when he got to Andrews Park. It was a soft, fragile meow that had to echo through his brain for a few seconds before he realized it actually came from the bushes he was walking past as he passed through Andrews Park.
Curiously, and kind of feverishly, Owen started to dig into the shrubbery until he found a tiny cat. “Oh, don’t worry, little one. I got you.” He said as he carefully detangled it from the branches. As he held it up to his face, he found the big, round eyes from the poster staring back at him in real life. “Tunabean?” he cooed, and the cat tilted its head ever so slightly.
He stroked the cat’s head and scratched behind her ear before pulling it closer into his chest. She was shivering, but Owen wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the fear. If she’d been missing for a week, God knows how long she must’ve been stuck in there.
“You hurt, little one?” he mumbled to it as he absentmindedly made his way to the one person he knew could help.
“Owen,” Emmy groaned when she’d opened the door to find him standing on the curb with a pout on his face. “It’s four in the morning, I have to be up in an hour for work.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he said and showed her the cat he had tucked in his jacket to keep it warm. “I found her in the bushes near Andrews Park. Can you check if she’s okay?” Emmy’s eyes darted from the cat to Owen and back. “Please, Emmy? You’re the only one I know could help her out.”
“Come on in,” she sighed, clearly disgruntled at the early wakeup call. But she couldn’t say no to a little kitty in need. She’d been rescuing animals since she was a little girl, she wasn’t going to leave this one in the dust.
Owen placed the cat on the table as it meowed and nudged Owen’s hand with her head. “It’s okay, Tunabean, Emmy here is gonna make sure you’re okay.”
“Tunabean?” Emmy asked as she put on latex gloves.
“Yeah, I think it’s the cat from the missing posters you see all around town?”
Emmy gingerly took the cat in her gloved hands and started her check-up. “Ah, yes! My brother and his buddies took some of them down, thinking they were ‘rebellious’.” She rolled her eyes. “You gonna bring her back?”
“Of course, Tino said the owner was worried sick about her.”
Emmy smiled at this. Owen had always been the compassionate one in their friend group. He’d only act upon things if he was sure it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Though, sometimes that compassion vanished when they were with their friends and he got a ‘brilliant’ idea, which was most likely kind of dangerous.
“Oh, look,” Emmy whispered as she showed Tunabean’s paw. There was a thorn stuck in the little pad. “Poor thing! Hold her for a second, please? I’m gonna get my tweezers to get it out.” Owen placed a hand on the cat’s stomach, his fingers lightly scratching at the white fur.
Emmy returned with everything she needed, and within a few seconds, Tunabean was freed from the thorn in her paw and back on her feet. She suddenly seemed a lot more peppy than she was before.
“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Owen said as he scooped the kitten back up into his arms, holding it close to his chest. Emmy took her gloves off and scratched the cat’s head.
“Goodbye, Tunabean,” she cooed, earning licks from her rough little tongue. “Ooh, I think I got the girl’s address here somewhere. Tunabean is Anna’s client and we’ve got them in the system.”
As quickly as she’d said it, she’d handed the address over to Owen. After thanking her profusely, Owen went on his way with the cat tucked safely in his jacket for warmth.
He was nervous as it was already five in the morning and the woman most definitely was still asleep. But he didn’t want to keep her in even more suspense and worry about her cat as she already was.
“Hello?” a sleepy voice sounded through the intercom.
“Hi, I’m Owen, I think I got your cat, Tunabean?”
A silence fell, only Tunabean’s sleepy snoring disrupting the peace and quiet of the night. The poor girl had fallen asleep in Owen’s arms. He almost felt sad he had to give her away again.
It took a good minute before the door to the apartment building opened up and a girl in red flannel pj’s opened the door. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun with big strands falling out of it. Though she’d probably rather not be seen like this out in public, Owen thought she looked breathtaking, even in the dim light from the hallway of her corridor and the street lights.
“You really got Tunabean?” she asked as she held onto the door, squishing herself in the small opening she’d granted herself. Owen opened his jacket and carefully showed her the cat who’d woken up from her slumber. “Tunabean!” the girl exclaimed and grabbed the grey pet from the boy’s hands. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and though y/n was too busy with her cat, Owen felt it. He felt the spark.
“I would invite you inside for a drink to thank you, but my roommate is still asleep and I don’t want to wake her.” Owen held up his hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head.
“That’s okay. I don’t need a reward. I’m just glad I could reunite the two of you again,” he said, smiling at the girl and her cat. “Oh! She did have a thorn in her paw though, but my friend is a vet and I took her to her for a check-up before I came here.”
“Aw, poor Bean,” she scratched the cat’s head before turning back to the blonde boy. “Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.” He tipped his head forward, the smile still persistent on his lips.
“Glad I could help,” he repeated, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket again. “I’m gonna go though. I’m sure you’d rather go back to sleep right now than talk to a complete stranger on your doorstep.”
“Oh, uhm, okay… Goodbye then? And thank you again for bringing Tunabean back.”
Owen took a few steps backwards as he said, “You’re most welcome. Goodbye, Tunabean and…”
“Y/N.”
“Goodbye Tunabean and y/n.” His eyes lingered on hers for a few more seconds before he turned around to really make his way home now, no distractions.
“Wait! I didn’t catch yours!” she whisper-shouted after him.
He turned again, but kept walking. “Owen,” he said.
“Goodbye, Owen.” She grabbed Tunabean’s paw and waved at him with it, causing a giggle to rake through Owen’s body. With his hand still in his pocket, he waved back.
The more distance he created between them, the bigger his smile became as he thought of her. She was the epitome of a beautiful dream come to life. It made him wonder what she’d look like if she did put effort into her appearance. That could just be the death of him.
*
After two more hours of sleep, the alarm blaring through her room woke y/n from a beautiful dream with the mysterious blonde boy that rang her doorbell very early in the morning. It caused her to wake up with the thought of him, wondering if she’d ever see him again.
“Morning,” she greeted Jamila when she found her best friend in the living room, gathering all her stuff. “Guess who came home last night!” As if on cue, the little cat pattered across the hardwood floor towards the dark beauty that was Jamila. Her eyes widened as did her smile upon seeing the white-and-grey ragamuffin.
“Bean!” Jamila shrieked as she knelt down to pick the four-legged friend off the floor. “Oh, baby! I missed you!” She peppered the cat with kisses, receiving the kisses back from her tiny pink tongue. “Where’d you find him?”
“Oh, I didn’t. This guy, Owen, did. He brought her back at, like, five in the morning,” y/n explained as she absentmindedly smiled at the thought of those pretty blue-ish eyes.
“And this Owen guy is pretty cute, isn’t he?” Jamila asked upon noticing her best friend’s flustered demeanor. “Did you ask for his number?” Y/N rolled her eyes before she started gathering her things she needed for work.
“It was five in the morning, I had just woken up and I was too busy with Tunabean’s return to even think of that,” she explained, mostly cursing at herself for not asking his number. “Besides, I looked disgusting, I doubt he thought I was the epitome of beauty.”
Jamila simply shook her head, debating against saying any more about it before pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek and leaving the apartment.
A silence fell over the space, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts. Her beautiful, yet annoying thoughts of the handsome boy at her front door. “He was handsome, wasn’t he, Tunabean?” she asked her cat, who simply tilted her head to the side as she sat in front of y/n on the floor.
Once y/n had gathered her stuff for work today, she said goodbye to Tunabean and left the apartment. She was fumbling around in her handbag to look for her car keys when a vaguely familiar voice made her look up.
The gorgeous blue eyes she’d been dreaming of for two whole hours were staring down at her whilst the plump pink lips curled up into a dreamy smile. “Oh, hey, Owen.”
“I wanted to come and check up on Tunabean,” he carefully said, pointing up at the building she’d just come out of. “You know, see if she’s okay and stuff.” He suddenly seemed nervous. More nervous than he did at five in the morning.
“Uhm, she’s okay, actually. Slept well and seemed very chipper this morning,” y/n reassured him, a smile playing at her lips as her eyes scanned his face. She made sure to make a mental note of every single detail of his face. Like how he stuck his tongue between his teeth as he smiled or how his eyes squinted slightly or the stubble faintly growing on his chin.
“Oh, okay, good. That’s--that’s all, then…” He awkwardly coughed.
Y/N awaited anything else, her eyes darting left and right as they just fumblingly stood on the curb in front of y/n’s apartment. “I-uhm… I have to get to work though, so…” She pointed somewhere behind Owen, indicating she needed to pass him and get going.
“Right!” he said and took a step aside to let her through. She offered him a little wave and a soft ‘bye’ as she passed him. He watched her walk away, cursing at himself for not asking what he really wanted to ask. “Wait!” he yelled, making her stop in her tracks and turn around again with an expectant look on her face. “That’s-that’s not what I wanted to ask. I mean it was, but it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask.” He scratched the back of his neck as y/n’s eyes searched for an answer on his face.
Y/N looked at him with a piercing glint in her eyes, urging him to continue.
“Oh, right! Uhm… Would you -- would you maybe wanna go have a drink with me later today? Or something?” Her smile grew wider as she slowly nodded her head in response.
“I’m off at five. Meet me at Gray Owl then,” she told him before turning to walk away.
Owen was left on her curb, wondering if he had died. He thought she looked pretty when she’d just rolled out of bed, but now that she was all dolled up for work, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And that smile. That smile was killer.
She was more than the epitome of a dream come to life. She was beauty and grace. She was a poem and the poet. She was the lyrics and the melody. She was the question and the answer.
Owen grew more and more curious about that girl the more he thought of her. He wanted to know what she liked and what she absolutely hated. He wanted to know how she laughed and how she cried, if she sang whenever her mind wandered. He wanted to know how she liked her eggs in the morning.
Even though he knew curiosity killed the cat, he knew for a fact the cat in this story was just the beginning of something beautiful.
*
*
*
JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti
Owen taglist: @alexpjoyner
Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist!
#julie and the phantoms#julie and the himbos#julie and the fat ones#jatp#owen patrick joyner#owen joyner#owen x reader#owen joyner fic#owen x fem!reader#alex jatp
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It’s A Start
In this plot, Brooke starts talking to her father again and they make up or something like that. This story will also tap into another head canon I have for Brooke that has not been talked about, so that will be explained later, most likely in a separate post.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She stared blankly at the piece of mail in her hands. She had no idea what the contents were, nor what was inscribed on the front. All she knew was that the letter was from her father. The man she had, up until recently, not spoken to for 48 years. She sighed and sliced it open, grabbing what appeared to be a letter from within the envelope. Written on the piece of paper was one sentence, which read ‘Meet me at the docks, 17:00, Nov. 14th’. One simple sentence that could change the last 48 years, for better or for worse. She raised an eyebrow at the message, unsure as to what he could possibly want. Most times when he needed something, he would go through one of her coworkers or siblings to get the info across. So for him to up and have a letter delivered to her house, which he did not have the address to, was rather suspicious. She looked at the time, ‘16:10’. She groaned at the sight of the clock. If she wanted to get there on time, she would have to leave at that moment, so that’s what she did. She threw on her coat and set off to meet her father at the docks, a place the two of them hadn’t been together in years.
Once arriving at the docks, she started to look around for her sperm donor, as she had been calling him around her sister. Brooke had no idea where she would find the man, but as she was looking around, she smacked into someone who was walking. She stumbled backwards, apologizing, not really looking up until a familiar voice spoke up.
“Long time no see, Brooklyn.” Her father said, voice mostly void of emotion. She frowned and stepped backwards.
“Likewise.” She said shortly. She was not looking forward to any conversation she would have with him. Mainly because the last time they actually spoke face to face, they had a blow up argument. They stood there in awkward silence before her father cleared his throat.
“Shall we walk?” He asked, sounding almost hopeful. All she did was nod as the two started walking.
They walked along the docks, past the cargo ships and farther into the archipelago, leaving Beckholmen and wandering into a park on Djurgården. It was a rather serene location, as the birds were chirping, the wind was blowing softly through the trees and the water birds were resting on a nearby pond. They stopped at the first bench that overlooked the pond, sitting down...on opposite sides of the bench. They sat in silence watching the world go by before her father spoke up once more.
“I’m sorry.”
Brooke stared blankly at her father, as she couldn’t believe what she just heard.
“What?” She asked, wanting clarification on what he said. He sighed and looked over at her.
“I said, I am sorry.” He reiterated. It looked like he was about to say more, but he held off as some joggers ran by. Brooke took the moment to speak instead.
“So, you are apologizing for what? Being an absent father? Leaving me alone with a psychopath? Choosing your boyfriend's affair baby over your actual blood? Allowing Elain to make me a weapon of war against my will?” She stated, scoffing.
“Brooklyn, I-”
“Nej, I am not done yet. To be honest, I am not sure why you are even bothering to apologize. It’s been 48 years. You chose your side by ignoring everything that Aaron had done to me. You chose your side long ago, when you would leave me with Lukas for long periods of time, or when you would let that devil woman whip Kalle and I for ‘not being good enough’, or my personal favorite, when you vanished for a year after the bloodbath. You left me all alone when I needed you most. You left me to Kalmar’s torture and went god knows where with Tino. Only damn issue is you forgot your children, ya know, the small humans you decided to raise? Although you didn’t raise us much. You left most of that to Lukas, who for as long as I’ve been around you all, has been more of a father then you have. He was there after the bloodbath to make sure I didn’t die after what Kalmar did to me. He was there when I would get hurt, or when I would need help. But where were you? No one knew. Not even Tino knew where you would run off to.”
“Fuck, you weren’t even around after we left the union. I would probably be more understanding if you even tried to make an effort after we left, but nope! You just pawned us off onto Elain who was almost as unavailable as you were.” She spat, trying her damned hardest to keep her composure, although it probably wouldn’t last much longer. “I tried...so hard, to get your approval, when it didn’t even matter. Why would it matter if you were never around? You weren’t around then, so why would you be around even if I was the perfect daughter. You never showed up to meetings, I had to jump through hoops just to get information from you and to make things worse, you married me off to the first man who showed any interest in me! It’s almost like you have purposefully avoided me since I was born.” She sighed. “So why, why now, almost 50 years later, have you decided to make up?”
“Because I regret the choice that I made. I realize that this most likely will not change anything, but I thought you should know. I regret choosing Aaron over you. I regret not listening to you when you tried to tell me about what he did. I should have listened, but I chose to ignore it for my own selfish wants. I regret not being around when you were growing up. It wasn’t right of me to force you onto Lukas nor was it right for me to just vanish like I had been doing. I will admit, I struggled after you were born. I was left alone with you after your mother ran off, with no support system as my family was back west and a job to try and keep up. Then there was the instance when I almost lost you, and I just couldn’t look at you after that. Every time I tried, I only saw your pale, cold face. It was traumatic to say the least, because at that time I had no idea if you were immortal or not. I know it’s not an excuse as to why I wasn’t around, but it played a part in it. I suppose I distanced myself from you in a subconscious attempt from getting close to you, for fear of losing you. I thought if I wasn’t around enough, and you did turn out to be more human, that I wouldn’t be as distraught if something happened. Unfortunately, that backfired on my part as my lack of being around seemed to push you into the danger I was trying to protect you from. I regret ever leaving you alone with Elain. I should have seen it early on that she saw you two as nothing more than tools for her conquests, but I was blind with power. I didn’t see what she was doing to you, the hurt she was causing and the harmful mentality she was instilling. I let Versailles marry you because I thought he could give you a better life. One better than what you would be able to achieve in our region. He promised me that you would be taken care of, and that no harm would come to you. However, knowing you, my hopes on that matter were not too high.”
“My deepest regret though, was leaving you with Kalmar. You’re right, I should have taken you and Kalle when I left, but you were in no traveling shape and Kalle wouldn’t leave your side. I was faced with a difficult decision, leave you and Kalle behind and go back to organize the revolution, or stay back and endure more years of suffering. I would have taken you, I truly would have, but after the bloodbath, you were in no shape to ride horseback for god knows how long. Your wounds were too deep and the motion of the horse would have caused the stitches to open up. That wasn’t something I was going to risk. And while it wasn’t the best choice in the long run, it was the best choice at the moment, as it let you heal up.” He said, sighing. “I never should have left you alone. Not with Lukas, not with Elain, most definitely not with Kalmar. I don’t expect this to fix our relationship, I don’t even expect you to accept it, but I would rather try late than never,”
Brooke shook her head and leaned back against the bench, looking up so he wouldn’t be able to see her cry.
“Well, you’re damn right about it not automatically fixing something, but I know it takes a lot for a man as prideful as you to admit when you’re wrong. You’ve got a long way to go in making it up to me, but….it’s a start.”
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I'M BACK!!!
Hopefully, I am back! Long Sloan hours, more dollars to platform people, and everything should be A-OK. This blog will tell the story.
The problem boiled down to the blog having become too big. My blogs longer and comments increased.
I missed doing the blog. I know from comments received over the internet elsewhere that some of you missed reading it.
My frustration knew no end.
I have decided to add to that which I do. Recall for a while a couple of years ago, I did a short daily podcast about 1 or 2 items. Then for whatever reason, I stopped.
The podcast is returning today. Short. Thirty to sixty seconds. Generally, one topic.
Titled: “What Bugs Me Today.” It will be found on my Facebook Key West Lou site.
Iowa a disgrace for the Democrats. Couldn’t have come at a better time for Trump. What a week he is having!
Trump’s State of the Union Address a disgrace. Lies upon lies upon lies. What bothers me is that 50 percent of the U.S. believe Trump’s lies.
The man truly a Pied Piper.
Yesterday’s religious breakfast and Trump’s acquittal address at noon also disgraceful. Disgraceful seems to be the word for the week.
Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord. No one told Trump. His words at both events clearly reflect his thinking that he is the Almighty.
His reference to political adversaries as evil, corrupt, dirty cops, leakers, and liars show he believes himself to sit in judgment.
I loved his statement that the impeachment experience “never, ever happened to another President, ever.” All in his head!
Clinton was beat up for oral copulation and a lie concerning the same. What Trump was charged with was far worse. He deserved the same pain and suffering that Nixon and Clinton went through during the investigations against them.
Trump apparently believes that which he says. Like those pursuing his actions were acting “almost like they want to destroy our country.”
Trump had it wrong. He is destroying our country.
As to his family: “We’ve been treated very unfairly.”
He apologized to his family “for having to go through a very phony rotten deal by some very sick people.” The pot calling the kettle black?
Trump is evil. Donald Jr. compared Nancy Pelosi to the devil: The “likelihood of Nancy Pelosi praying for Trump is about the same as the likelihood of Satan running around quoting the scriptures.”
Romney was the only Senator on the Republican side of the aisle to vote his conscience, to recognize his oath as a juror. Whatever you may think of Romney, he is a man of character. He has always been. His Mormon faith is deeply rooted in him.
Trump besmirched Romney. Referred to him as a “failed Presidential candidate” who “used religion as a crutch.”
Trump was acquitted out of fear. The Republican Senators to a person, except for Romney, “feared” him. A journalist wrote, “How in the world can these Senators walk around upright when they have no backbone? ”
The best laid plans of mice and men…..
I thought I had the “new” blog down to a science. Apparently not.
At this point, I wanted to add a picture of Tino sitting next to a Chicago Mayor. Tino portraying a political hack. I could not, cannot!
Means Sloan will be back over the weekend to “teach” me again.
A comment re the Super Bowl halftime performance. I thought the show was excellent! The music, beat, dancing, singing, etc. Did not consider it profane or dirty in any fashion. Jennifer Lopez and Shakira were wearing more clothes than the cheerleaders.
Did you notice?
The religious got involved.
Franklin Graham said the show lacked moral decency. It was a sexual exploitation.
Another referred to the halftime show as “Satan’s danced troupe.”
Then there was the Catholic nun in California. She considered the show “outrageous.” “Immoral.”
Catholic religious should not adversely comment till they clean their own house. From pedophilia, rampant homosexuality in the Vatican, nun involvement in sexual shenanigans, etc.
I could not help but think with all the bad things going on in the world that some people were complaining about a halftime show.
Time to remember His words…..Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.
I live and learn. Were you aware those starring in a Super Bowl half time show are not paid. Yes, Jennifer Lopez and Shakira were not paid for their performances. Props, etc. are covered.
Forbes says the reason therefore is that the show “is the biggest promotional vehicle for a music star on the planet.” A one hundred million audience.
The economic benefit to a star’s Super Bowl performance in the days following the show dramatically surge upward. So much so that the NFL has under serious consideration charging acts that appear.
So the world turns.
Issur Danielovich is dead. Kirk Douglas. At age 103.
A great actor!
May he rest in peace.
Glad to be back! Can’t wait to figure the pic problem out. Don’t forget to look for my Key West Lou podcast later today re What Bugs Me!
Enjoy your day!
I’M BACK!!! was originally published on Key West Lou
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GOOD MORNING AMERICA.....DICTATORSHIP 101 / JUSTICE SYSTEM BEING SUBVERTED / A MILE CLOSER TO AUTHORITARIANISM / BARR HAS BEEN LOWERED IN AMERICA / ATTORNEY GENERAL MUST BE DIS-BARRED
Title says it all! We are in trouble! Trump does not know when to stop.
Problem is Trump thinks as President he is almighty, all powerful. He is not. Everyone knows it but him. If he read more and thought American, he would be aware.
Trump is interfering with the Judicial part of out government. A separate and distinct body in every respect, including power.
Four Americans stood up to him. The 4 Justice Department attorneys handling Roger Stone’s case. Per custom and law, they had submitted to federal Judge Amy Berman Jackson the government’s recommendation as to sentencing. Seven to nine years.
Trump had the Justice Department recommend a revision of the sentencing recommendation. The Justice Department in this instance being Barr himself.
The 4 attorneys withdrew from the case immediately. One even quit his position at the Justice Department.
During the past few days as this scenario was unfolding, Trump was tweeting all sort of nasty things about Judge Jackson and others involved.
Barr stepped in and said he was taking over. Forthwith he was going to be handling all cases the President had a personal interest in.
None of Barr’s business.
Trump is going to learn a lesson in this matter: Don’t screw with a federal district court judge! They are the most powerful in our governmental system and under the Constitution. Even more powerful than a President.
The wrath of the federal trial bench will befall him. Some judges may become blind in cases in which Trump is involved. What goes around, comes around!
If “justice” does not prevail in this matter, we are a step closer to becoming a tyrannical state.
Hillary Clinton in a tweet yesterday wrote: “Intimidating judges is the behavior of failed-state fascists.”
My day yesterday began early. Eight in the morning. Blood work.
Spent the rest of the day home till dinner time working on my Tuesday Talk blog radio show for last night.
Ran out for dinner. Shana Key. Good food, good company.
Twenty minutes of Tuesday Talk was eaten up with the Social Security/Medicare budget issue. Important enough to have taken that much time.
The show went well. Social Security, Medicare and Trump’s veracity close to my heart.
Big night ahead! Aqua Idol. Six o’clock at Aqua. Lynda Frechette’s fundraiser for the Waterfront Playhouse.
Not to be missed. Extremely entertaining!
Tino plays all sort of extra parts. Today, he is a prisoner. Third from right in photo. His back to us. Prisoner shirt, stubby, salt and pepper haired.
The New Hampshire primary was interesting. The mix moved a bit.
Sanders won. Buttigieg a close second. Klobuchar a strong third.
Sanders may be on borrowed time. His best states may be behind him. Klobuchar a flash in the pan. Buttigieg keeps moving ahead.
Biden and Warren may be yesterday’s news. However, there is still Nevada and Super Tuesday.
This whole thing may change dramatically once Bloomberg is in.
Key West loves Judy Blume! Judy and her husband must love Key West or they would not have settled here. Actually, settled has more than 1 location. They also have homes in New York City and the Hamptons.
Judy was born this day in 1938. Happy birthday, Judy!
Judy the famous author of children and young adult books. An occasional adult themed one along the way. Among others, she has authored Are You There God?, It’s Me, Margaret, Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, Blubber, and Forever.
Her books have sold 85 million copies world wide. They have also been translated into 30 plus languages.
Judy can be found daily at her special Key West love: Books & Books at the Studios of Key West.
The diary of May Johnson published daily in the Key West Citizen continues to garner interest. Especially her relationship with Miguel.
Continues to appear May’s mother does not like Miguel. May does. Yesterday’s February 11, 1896 entry has May visiting people and “then to Miguel’s.” Today’s entry: “Out for the evening: Miguel and I had it all to ourselves for a while. Ah much!’
Young love and a disapproving mother.
Things never change.
Cemeteries are wonderful places. Peaceful. The tranquility can be felt. Historical, also. Headstones tell stories.
The Key West Cemetery is beat up. The sun and salt air contributing factors. Then there are those stones/plots not cared for because the deceased’s families no longer reside in Key West.
Mayor Johnson has appointed an Historic Key West Cemetery Restoration Committee. Its mission a fact finding one. Determine how to restore the cemetery while maintaining its historical significance.
One of Key West’s more notable citizens in days gone by was Bum Farto. Key West’s fire chief, drug dealer, pimp, etc.
A checkered career.
The drug thing got him in trouble with the federal authorities. On this day in 1976, Bum was found guilty of 3 drug violations.
Bum faced 31 years in jail. He disappeared prior to sentencing. A Jimmy Hoffa type disappearance. Never seen since.
Bum and his story still available to locals and tourists. T-shirts. In Duval stores. Emblazoned on the front: Where Are You Bum Farto?
Trump is going to find out his “friends” may not be so. I refer to the birds of a feather thing. Though whose thinking and traits are similar.
The Philippine’s Duterte. In the process of proving that what goes around, can come around.
The situation arose when Trump had the visa of a Philippine senator revoked. Duterte waited a while. The visa was not returned.
Duterte took action.
The U.S. has a security agreement with the Philippines. Permits U.S. forces to be on the islands and train U.S. forces there.
Duterte unilaterally revoked the agreement. Sent a Notice of Termination to the U.S. Embassy. With the admonition that the agreement would not be reinstalled unless terms were “favorable” to the Philippines. The agreement would also be required to be of “mutual benefit to both countries.”
Both sides can play the game!
Voltaire’s words have meaning in today’s society where the hand of Trump is becoming heavier: “If you want to know who controls you, look at who you are not allowed to criticize.”
Enjoy your day!
GOOD MORNING AMERICA…..DICTATORSHIP 101 / JUSTICE SYSTEM BEING SUBVERTED / A MILE CLOSER TO AUTHORITARIANISM / BARR HAS BEEN LOWERED IN AMERICA / ATTORNEY GENERAL MUST BE DIS-BARRED was originally published on Key West Lou
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