#Mobile Barbershop near Me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years ago

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My sweet buttercup; Eugene Sledge x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well this only took me a couple days to write this little genius but now I’ve got it done and ready for you all to enjoy. Now I really wanted to try something different with this Eugene fic, I really wanted to DIVE right and get to the heart and root of the blossoming relationship b/t Eugene and the reader in this fic. So more n the lines of what they were like as kids together, early teen years, basically a Pre-WW2 fic mostly before the ending.

Warnings: Fluff, bit of angst, family disownment, mentions of PTSD, forbidden love.

But I hope you all enjoy this fic so much and until next time ;)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@dancingcoolcat

@queensdivas

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

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*June 14th, 1928*

It was a warm summer day in Mobile, Alabama. In the center of town stood a farmer’s market shop run by Sheldon (L/n). Sheldon (L/n) was once part of the 1st Marine division back during the Great War. After the war he settled back home in Mobile to run himself a farm where he was known for growing the brightest, freshest, most delectable apples in the whole state of Alabama.

Why if you asked people where the stores got their apples from, nine times out of ten they would tell you they came from (L/n) farm. Sheldon while having his shell shock moments from the war, still managed to have the American dream.

He married his high school sweetheart Marianne Lewis and they lived a good life together and had a beautiful baby girl they named (y/n) (l/n).

Sadly though, when little (y/n) was just a year old, her mom died of breast cancer. Sheldon was devastated but he tried to keep trudging on by being both hard working man, and loving father to his little girl.

Walking through the town was Dr. Edward Sledge, his wife Mary Frank and their two sons, Edward Jr. Sledge and Eugene Sledge. Eugene was five years old, going on six come the fall.

His bright auburn hair bounced off the summer sun and as they came right towards Sheldon’s shop, Edward stopped his family in their tracks.

“Maybe we best find another way around.” Suggested Edward warily.

“Edward, it was five years ago, can’t you learn to let it go?” Mary Frank told her husband.

“I have, but Sheldon on the other hand…..that man’s as stubborn as an ox.” It was then Sheldon came out with some crates of food ready to be shipped off to the stores.

As soon as he saw Dr. Sledge, a gruesome scowl came across the farmer’s face.

“Just what do you think you are doing here Sledge?!”

“Now Sheldon calm down, we were only passing by.”

“If you think I’m gonna do any type of business with you, think again! After what you had done…..”

“Sheldon there was nothing my husband could do to help Marianne.”

“Mary Frank you keep out of this.” Her husband warned her cautiously.

“You best listen to him Mary Anne. This is no concern of yours. Now get yourselves as well as those little monsters of yours away from my shop!” he spat down at the ground in disgust before slamming the door of his shop closed.

“Why does Mr. (L/n) hate us so badly mama?” asked Edward Jr.

“Oh never you mind that Edward. It’s just grown up business.” Mary Frank assured her eldest son.

“Come along boys, we’re gonna head back towards the barbershop and go through the back alley there to get to the fair.�� The two boys groaned.

“But that’ll take longer!” whined Edward Jr.

“Why do we have to go back!?” groaned Eugene.

“Now boys don’t argue with your father. Now come along, or else we can just head right back home and forget about the fair till next year.” Their mother scolded them. That immediately got them to stop whining and soon they turned back around and went the long way to the fair.

They barely got a block away from Sheldon’s market shop when Eugene heard someone calling out to them. It was a faint psst sound so he stopped right by a flower cart and soon peaking out from it was a young girl around his age.

She had curly (h/c) hair and bright (e/c) eyes that sparkled like the stars at night. Eugene knew this girl very well, it was his best friend (well secret best friend) (Y/n) (l/n).

Yep. Even though Sheldon has repeatedly drilled into his daughter’s mind to never, ever, ever under any circumstances go anywhere near the Sledge family. But due to the fact that the two kids were in the same class as one another, they just—clicked immediately.

Her, Eugene, and Sydney Phillips were like the three Musketeers. But Eugene and (y/n) well—they had a special bond with each other. They were just like peas and carrots. Different in every way but somehow they managed to click with each other.

“Eugene, over here!” he smiled before turning to see his parents and older brother who hadn’t noticed he wasn’t with them anymore. He smiled and ran up to (y/n) who had a basket filled with wildflowers in them.

“Hey (y/n). Mrs. Mulley said you were sick last week and that’s why you weren’t at Sunday school, what did you have?”

“Just a bad tummy ache. But I’m all better and I’ll be back in Sunday school tomorrow.”

“That’s good. What did you find?” he said gesturing to her basket. Sometimes, if they could manage it, Eugene and (y/n) could be seen going out to the fields picking wild flowers together. They would even have contests to see who could pick the most flowers in a certain amount of time.

“Mostly pink and blue flowers. But check this out,” she then held up a yellow buttercup flower.

“That’s a buttercup flower. My mama sometimes grows those in our garden.” Eugene said.

“Buttercup huh? I like it, it suits it.”

“You know my mama says that if you hold a buttercup under your chin, it’ll make it glow. I tried it once but it didn’t work.” (y/n) looked at it with curiosity before putting it under her chin.

“Does it work for me?” and well and behold, her chin was glowing right over the buttercup flower.

Even at the tender age of five, Eugen B. Sledge always knew he held more than a friendship feeling for (Y/n). Whenever she’d laugh, his heart would beat faster and it felt like he was being tickled by a billion butterflies in his tummy.

His face would go red every time they would pick wild flowers together, and his heart ached every time she had to mention that her daddy didn’t want her talking to him.

“It sure does buttercup.” He said softly.

“Did you just call me a—”

“(Y/N)! Oh now where is that girl at? (Y/n)!” her father’s voice soon called out from the market. He whistled for her like she were a dog and that’s when she turned to Eugene and whispered.

“I gotta go, see you at church Eugene, bye!” she quickly ran off with her flower basket towards her daddy. As Eugene watched her father kneel down in front of her giving her a soft but firm lecture about running off, Eugene couldn’t help but feel those butterflies again.

“Eugene! Eugene!?” at the sound of his brother’s voice, he snapped out of his daze and quickly ran off before Mr. (L/n) could take notice of a Sledge boy staring at the two of them.

*September 17th, 1938*

It was a hard time in America. For five years now, the whole country was under a Great Depression. Every American was affected and of course that didn’t exclude the Sledge’s or the (L/n)’s. Without enough payment for the extra help, it was all up to Sheldon and (Y/n) to work the farm.

And in order to help bring extra money and food on the table, the Sledge siblings both got jobs helping their dad out with his physician at home job.

Right now Sydney and Eugene were walking along the outskirts of Mobile. Along for the ride was Eugene’s new little pup, Deacon. He had gotten Deacon as a ‘job well done’ gift from his dad. A client of his had a dog that recently had a litter of pups but times were tough and if they didn’t get the pups adopted soon they’d be taken to the shelter.

So Edward being the kind hearted gentleman that he was known for, got the dog and decided the pup would be a good gift for his son Eugene, as a token for being such a big help through these uncertain times.

As the two boys walked over the tall hill, they soon came upon the (L/n) farm. Sydney and Eugene were both shocked to see just how much the Depression had affected the farm.

The soil that they remember being a rich stretch of fresh soil was now dried up and cracking. Weeds were growing up in almost every spot imaginable. Without the extra help, it was almost impossible to keep the weeds in check.

And of course there was hardly anymore livestock anymore. Save for the horse, 2 cows, and the chickens. All the other animals the (L/n)’s once had, had to be sold off in order to get the money they needed to survive.

“Man, I heard (y/n) was struggling but—never did I think it was this badly.” Sydney said with a solemn shake of his head.

“No wonder why she said she had to quit school and be with her dad.”

“Are you sure it ain’t for another reason why you miss her?” teased Sydney. At that moment (y/n) had came out of the chicken coop with a bunch of eggs in a crate and the two of them watched her enter back into her family home.

“You wish you were right Sid.”

“Oh I know I’m right. I’m always right when it comes to you two. Don’t think I didn’t know about the time in 3rd grade when you offered to do her side of the book report when she broke her leg and had to stay at the hospital.”

“I was being polite and didn’t want her getting held back.” As the two of them bickered back and forth, the 10 month old pup had raced down the hill catching scent of the chickens and crept towards the chicken coop.

Deacon slowly stalked towards the door before entering inside of it. The young pup stared at the chickens before one of them caught sight of the unfamiliar creature that stood in their coop.

The pup then let out a series of barks which sent the chickens running mad with fear. From up on the hill, Eugene looked down to see Deacon was gone and from the barks that came down below, he immediately put two and two together.

“DEACON NO STOP!”

“Eugene wait you can’t go down there!” Sydney raced after him.

At that moment, Deacon came out of the coop chasing after the flock of chickens who were racing around frantically trying to escape this wolf-like creature.

(Y/n) immediately peeked out from her bedroom window and was shocked to see what was going on. The chickens being chased by the dog, the dog being chased by Eugene, and Gene being chased by Sid.

“Oh hey (y/n).” Sid stopped by her bedroom window.

“Sid what in the samhell is going on out here!?”

“Funny you should ask, but uhh—mind helping us out?” she quickly got on her shoes and crawled out of her window before running beside Sydney to try and round up the chickens.

Running around like—well chickens with no heads, Eugene, (Y/n) and Sydney all tried to calm the situation down before he father would return home.

“WHAT’S GOING ON OUT THERE!?!?” at hearing that thunderous voice. (Y/n) stopped running as she held a chicken in her arms and froze in fear.

“You guys need to get out of here, now!” she urged Eugene and Sydney on. Eugene who had finally gotten hold of Deacon turned towards (Y/n) but before he could say a word, a gunshot was heard and the shot landed just a few inches away from his foot.

“C’mon Eugene lets go!” Sydney pleaded and soon the two men took off running for the hills. The backdoor slammed open and there stood Sheldon with his shotgun in hand and his jaw dropped at the sight before him.

All the chickens out of their coop, now finally calm, the chicken coop now lay there in rubble (when (y/n) and Gene tried to wrangle Deacon and a few chickens that had gotten back into the coop, the sudden jostling and heavy weight of both humans trying to calm the situation down, forced the coop to collapse under their weight).

“What-gup—what happened here!? (Y/n) (m/n) (l/n). You were supposed to be gathering the chicken eggs!!”

“I know daddy.”

“Then why the hell are they out and about!? How did the coop get destroyed!? JUST WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING GIRL!?!?”

From up on the hill, Eugene’s heart broke at hearing (y/n) getting yelled at by her own father. She had nothing to do with this. So getting the courage, he held Deacon once more and walked down the hill back towards the farm.

“Eugene, Gene don’t you dare! He’ll kill you if you go over there. Eugene!” Sydney hissed out quietly but Gene refused to listen to his best friend.

“I—” (Y/n) began to respond till Eugene’s voice called out.

“She didn’t do it sir.” The two of them turned around. Gripping his gun tighter, Sheldon stood in front of his daughter and said lowly.

“What was that boy?”

“The chicken coop. And the reason why the chickens got out. It was my fault. (Y/n) had nothing to do with it. You see my dog—”

“Great, the Sledge’s have a dog. One more thing to worry about.” Sheldon muttered angrily to himself.

“Please Mr. (L/n), don’t blame (y/n) for this. She was doing her job just like you told her to do. If anyone’s the blame, it’s me. And I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” Hearing Eugene confess, it made (y/n)’s heart flutter and place her hand over her heart.

“Oh you can be damned well sure you will boy. As much as I hate to say this. You’ll be helping me out for the rest of the Harvest season, as well as repairing the chicken coop! And you young lady, come with me.”

He dragged his daughter back to the house as he whispered harshly to her.

“Throughout the time he’s here repairing and helping out, I don’t want you anywhere near him. No daughter of mine is gonna be seen with a Sledge.” As her father continue to rant out his hatred towards the Sledges, (Y/n) turned back towards Eugene and softly smiled at him and mouthed out a thank you.

Eugene smiled softly and seeing her smile it was like cupid’s arrow had struck him as he made goo-goo eyes at her. Even as Sydney snapped his fingers in Gene’s face to get him to snap out of it, Gene was stuck under the love spell he was on.

As agreed; Eugene worked with his father helping him run the at home physician and on his breaks, he’d ride his bike over to (Y/n)’s place to repair the chicken coop, as well as pull out the weeds.

Of course that didn’t stop Eugene and (Y/n) from sneaking puppy love eyes at each other as the two teens were put to work. Throughout the harvest season, it only allowed Eugene and (Y/n) to grow closer than they ever were before.

*June 14th, 1941*

Eugene and (Y/n). Never has there been a couple more meant for each other. Sid always referred to them as childhood sweethearts, and now for these past several years, they’ve really seemed to just hit it off. And with him being the only real person who knew of their ‘more than friendship’ relationship, he kept that to himself.

Of course Eugene’s parents never turned (y/n) away. From the early days when they were kids, they welcomed her with open arms. What they didn’t know was their blossoming relationship. Neither of their parents knew of their courting with each other, and they wanted to keep it that way for just a little while longer.

The two of them were at their favorite hillside where they once picked wildflowers when they were kids. Splayed out along a blanket cuddled close together watching the summer sunset. Eugene lying on his back with (y/n) lying her head against his chest, their hands intertwined with each other’s and their thumbs stroking the back of each other’s hands.

“Happy Anniversary my love.”

“What do you mean Gene?” she looked up at him.

“You heard me, happy 131, 456 hour anniversary.” Eugene said with a small grin as he picked up a buttercup flower and tucked it behind her ear.

“What? That’s way longer than when we first met.”

“I know. But it’s the anniversary of the day I first called you my buttercup.” He said as he cupped her face. Inside (y/n) felt warm and fuzzy remembering that day by the flower cart when Eugene had called her buttercup after finding out one glow underneath her chin. “But it’s fine if you forgot and didn’t get me anything.” Teased Eugene as he sat up trying to hide a grin. She rolled her eyes at Eugene’s teasing.

“Actually I did.” She crawled towards a log and pulled out a guitar case. Eugene’s eyes widened and as she opened the case up he said.

“Oh darlin you shouldn’t have but uhh—I don’t really know how to play.”

“Quiet you.” she teased back as she took the guitar (which was actually hers) and she began playing a soft tune. After letting the soft tune play for a bit she opened her mouth and began to sing.

As she sang; she began to remember all the times she and Eugene had together. From sharing secret letters/drawings with each other (with Deacon being the messenger dog), nature walks together, or secretly waving at each other from her father’s shop.

Their times doing out to the soda shops every Saturday night to go dancing. Always dancing together

We're far apart in every way

But you're the best part of my day

And sure as I breathe the air

I know we are the perfect pair

On a prickly path that goes on for miles

But it's worth it just to see you smile

And I cannot be pulled apart

From the hold you have on my heart

And even if the world tells us it's wrong

You're in my head like a catchy song

“I’ve always loved hearing you sing.” Sighed Eugene lovingly.

“The song’s not too gushy is it? Be honest now.”

“It’s everything but gushy, please sing more for me.” He said as he laid his head close to her thigh. (Y/n) continued to sing while Eugene just stared at her with loving eyes.

More memories came to both of them from their nature walks through any type of weather whenever they had free time. The stargazing’s they’ve done, and even one time when (Y/n) was struggling with the farm one spring that she ended up working till nightfall.

When morning came that morning, she found herself being covered with Eugene’s jacket and just a couple feet away from her, laid an exhausted Gene. He had actually came by and done the rest of the work for her so that she could get some sleep. As he slept, she had sat down beside Eugene and stroked through his auburn hair.

The seasons change and leaves may fall

But I'll be with you through them all

And rain or shine, you'll always be mine

On a prickly path that goes on for miles

You're the only one who makes it all worthwhile

And you should not blame me, too

If I can't help fallin' in love with you...

At the last verse, the two of them went red. While they have called each other their love or life, and while they were technically courting, neither of them has actually those three binding words. (Y/n) covered her mouth with her hand and looked down shyly as her face went red.

“Well that’s unfair. I was gonna tell you that first.”

“Yeah right.”

“I’m serious, I was gonna pull you up,” he stood up and helped her stand up. “Cover your eyes,” he covered her eyes. “Lead you over here.” He then guided her as he kept his hands over her eyes towards the wooded area of the fields. “And say surprise!” he uncovered her eyes and (Y/n) saw the sweetest thing she would ever see.

There along the willow tree they used to climb when they were kids, was a heart engraved at the center of the trunk and written in that heart were their initials. E.B.S + (F/I). (M/I). (L/I). She walked up towards their willow tree and placed her hand over the engravement.

“And then you’d say ‘Oh Genie. It’s—it’s so beautiful. I love it’.” He said imitating her Southern bell voice. “And then I’d say, ‘well, not as much as I love you’.”

“Guess I’m glad I beat you to it then.” She teased as she playfully bumped into him.

“I can accept that.” He said with a proud grin as he wrapped his arms around her waist while she wrapped her around his neck before the two of them finally kissed each other.

It was the kind of kiss that wasn’t deeply passionate that you couldn’t breathe. It was the kind of kiss that just felt like you found your missing half. Gene and (Y/n) were meant to be together and right as they kissed, it felt like it was right.

They were right for each other. And they began to dream of their bright future together. But of course no happiness lasts forever.

After returning from the fields later that evening, she came home to see her home filled to the rim with boxes. She asked her father what was going on and that’s when her father told her the grim truth.

They were moving to North Dakota.

Her father explained to her that the property here was just too dry to farm at anymore. Ever since the Depression decade the land hasn’t been the same. So he hired a contractor to tear the family home and the farm down, he had sold off the rest of the animals, and in two days they were gonna get a fresh start in a new land, with new people, and most important for him it would get them away from the Sledges.

(Y/n) was devastated. Two days and she’d never get to see Sydney Phillips, or Eugene ever again.

When she broke the news to Eugene the next day at the Willow tree, Eugene couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He held onto his weeping girl waiting for her to calm down before he finally spoke to her.

“But you’re practically an adult now (y/n). He can’t control you anymore.”

“What do you want me to say Eugene? I love you, I really do but—he’s the only family I got. And I—I have to stay with my family. I’m sorry!” with that she took off crying, heartbroken and alone.

Eugene looked towards the carving that he had done with his father’s old doctoring knife he used in the Great war. He placed his finger’s over (y/n)’s initials and knew what he had to do, but he knew he didn’t have much time so immediately he got on his bike and pedaled off as fast as he could into town.

By nightfall as (y/n) was solemnly packing up her stuff, Eugene came knocking at her window and he told her to come with him. He made up a story that Deacon wasn’t feeling to good and he needed his ‘mama’. Knowing how much she loved that dog, Eugene and her rode off on his bike.

They soon arrived at the church garden, which was an odd place that Eugene would bring Deacon at, but when she saw the candles all lit up and a beautiful flower archway standing near the back entrance of the church.

Wide eyed in awe, (Y/n) couldn’t believe what she was seeing. When she felt Eugene take her hand he got down on one knee and said to her.

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you. I don’t know what’ll happen in the future but—all I know is now. And I know that I love you so much that I’d marry you today. If you’ll have me that is?” tears of happiness filled her eyes as she said to Eugene.

“I’d like that too.” Eugene smiled and stood up as he embraced his fiancée and spun her around, the two of them cheering and laughing with glee.

After settling down, the two of them walked arm-in-arm with each other towards the pastor (who was actually their own Sunday school teacher who had since went up the ranks and was now one of the head pastor of their church). With Sydney Phillips as their witness and Eugene’s best man, the ceremony began.

The two young teens shared their vows together before the house of God and proclaimed their loyalty and love to each other.

“Then by the name of our Holy Father and in the eyes of the law; I now pronounce you—”

“Pastor Jacob! Pastor Jacob! Please can you help us our son is—Eugene? (Y/n)?” coming behind Sydney were Eugene’s parents.

“What is going on here?” asked Eugene’s father.

“(Y/n)!? Where are you girl you’re supposed to be packing!” soon coming up behind (y/n) from the bushes was her father. As soon as he saw his daughter with the Sledge’s he sneered out, “What are you two doing?” As both families came closer to see just what was going on, that’s when Eugene spoke up as he wrapped his arm around his future wife.

“Mother, father, Mr. (L/n). (Y/n) and I are getting married.”

“What!?” all three parents shouted in shock.

“That’s right. And we’ll officially be married as soon as Pastor Jacob says…..” (y/n) said firmly as she looked back at the pastor.

“Oh right, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” He stepped aside as he closed his Bible.

“Mrs. (Y/n) Sledge, has a nice ring to it don’t you think?” Eugene said as he cupped his wife’s face.

“Indeed.” The two of them kissed each other finally sealing the deal.

“What are you talking about married!? You both are too young to be married!” Mary Frank scolded as she came between them and pushed Eugene aside.

“Finally something we can agree on.” Sheldon spoke as he now stood beside his daughter. “(Y/n) (m/n) (l/n) you listen to me and you listen good, girl. We’re moving and that’s final. And you have got to stick with your family! So enough of this foolish teenage fantasy and come home!” he grabbed her wrist and began to drag her away.

Finally having enough of her father’s grudge against the Sledges, she broke free of his grip and proclaimed.

“No daddy!”

“No?” her father asked as if he had been punched in the face.

“The Sledges are my family now too. In the eyes of God and the law as Pastor Jacob has said.” Eugene brushed past his mother and stood beside his wife to give her backup.

“You can’t be serious. Are you really choosing to be family with the ones responsible for your mother’s death over your own flesh and blood?!”

“Are you making me choose?” she spoke with a trembled lip as tears filled her eyes.

Her father stood there in shock and everyone around them grew tense. Could a father really force his daughter to choose who she sides with?

“Yes. I am.” Her father demanded. Finally hearing that answer broke (y/n)’s heart but she stood her ground as she spoke in a broken voice.

“Then yeah. I guess I am.” Her father’s face showed absolutely betrayal before his eyes grew red and he snapped at her.

“Then I guess I have no daughter anymore.” Without another word he stormed away from the church.

Heartbroken by her father’s words, (y/n) wept out a river of tears. Eugene held his new wife close to him trying to comfort her, meanwhile Dr. Sledge walked up to the young newlyweds and placed a comforting hand to his new daughter in law’s shoulder. She looked up at the old physician and he told her.

“You’ve always been like family to us (Y/n). You’ve always had love here with us. Right Mary Frank?” after witnessing what she had seen, she couldn’t deny the fact that ever since they were kids, her son and this young girl were just destined to be together.

“Even though I don’t condone you both being married so young while you’re still in school Eugene, there’s—I cannot stop the bond that it is you both share with each other.” Hearing those words coming from her new mother and father, it repaired some of the damage that (y/n)’s heart had taken.

“Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Sledge.” She thanked them.

“Oh sweet pea, call me mama.” Mary Frank said as she came up and cupped (y/n)’s face.

“And whenever you feel like it, you can call me dad.” Dr. Sledge said with a warm smile. (Y/n) never felt so grateful to the Sledges, she continued to weep as she now hugged her new parents and they warmly embraced her back. Welcoming her to the family officially.

*August 29th, 1945 1st Person POV*

I lot has happened in the past few years. Six months after Eugene and I got married, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor and America was officially in the war with the Axis Powers.

Eugene wanted to enlist so badly but dad said that his heart murmur prevented him from enlisting, they knew with that he would never get it. So he always begged his father for frequent checkups every day until one day it was gone. That was the day my life changed forever.

I begged and pleaded with Genie to not go but he kept saying he had to do this. He’d feel like a failure if he were stuck doing bond trades or collecting scrap metal, while so many men including our dear friend Sid are fighting out in the front lines.

At that point I knew I couldn’t argue with him anymore and so he enlisted. Of course the night before he left, we made sure to make that night extra special because we both didn’t know if this would be the last time we’d see each other. We memorized each other’s kiss, scent, and touch (and I knew Eugene was trying much harder than I was since I knew he’d suffer the worse).

I went back to school, got my high school diploma and I’m currently now working as a teacher’s work assistant as well as a part-time librarian at the local library. I had remained with mom and dad taking care of house as well as Deacon (God rest his little soul) just trying to distract myself from missing Eugene.

It was (for once this past few weeks) a cool Summer’s day. I was tending to the garden outside planting a few roses, daffodils and of course buttercup flowers but I didn’t expect to suddenly get jumped by two little body masses.

Soon enough I was in the dirt and two 3 year old kids were piled on top of me. One was a little boy who looked so much like his daddy when I first met him, except he had my hair and eye color, and the other was a girl with the same curly hair I once had as a kid and her daddy’s auburn hair and brown eyes but the rest were my looks.

“We gotcha mommy now say you surrender!” my son proclaimed as he held up his toy gun at me, while my daughter had a couple of sticks, pretending they were a bow and arrow.

“I surrender, you both got me.” I held my arms up in surrender. They cheered as they got off of me but that’s when I tackled them both to the ground and began tickling them both.

The two of them laughed as they tried to escape my clutches but soon our moment was interrupted by one of the servants, Octavia.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Sledge?” I stopped playing with the kids and the look on her face was—unreadable.

“What is it Octavia?”

“Just come inside (y/n) dear, there’s—someone who you need to see.” Oh god please don’t tell me. Not when the war was finally over do I get the news.

“Mommy, what is it?” asked my son.

“Gene, you and your sister stay with Octavia okay?” I told him as I stood up and brushed the dirt off my dress as best as I could.

Slowly I walked through the back entrance towards the dining room where I knew mom was at stacking the dishes. I almost didn’t even want to turn the corner to see an officer in uniform telling us now that Eugene was dead. Finally I worked up the courage to turn the corner and there my heart stopped.

Standing right there by his mother and father in full Marine uniform, was my Genie.

He slowly walked towards me and I him until we finally met in the middle. For years I’ve dreamed of this day to come that—now it feels like it is a dream. He raised his hand to my face and the moment I felt his touch, I knew this couldn’t be a dream.

“You—you’re as beautiful as the day I left buttercup.” At that moment, the tears poured down my face as I felt myself collapsing against him. Eugene kept me steady as his head rested against mine and he rocked me back and forth.

“You’re back! You came back…..” I wept into his uniform.

“I told you I would.” He whispered to me.

“Mama?” Eugene and I separated from each other to see Octavia bringing in the kids. “Why are you crying?” asked my baby girl. When I looked up at Eugene, his eyes were wide and his body fell tense.

“Genie, I—I didn’t want to share this with you through letter. But—I’d like you to meet two very special people of mine. Kids come here.” Shyly they walked from Octavia up to me and Eugene as we now knelt down to their height.

Our kids soon came up and our daughter hid behind my back while our son fiddled with the ends of my dress as he curled himself around my arm.

“Eugene, these are our kids. The oldest of the twins is our son, Eugene B. Sledge Jr. and our baby girl, Daphne Eliza Sledge. Kids—this……is your daddy. He’s come home to us.” My son looked up at me hesitantly and I nodded to him telling him it was okay to go see him.

Little Gene walked up to his daddy and just stared up at him in both awe but a hint of fear.

“Little Gene, suits him. Guess you managed to convince Sid to not let us name our first boy after him.” Eugene teased at me as he gently ruffled his son’s hair. Knowing that this strange man in uniform wasn’t going to hurt him, little Gene smiled and immediately embraced his daddy.

Eugene embraced his son and kissed the top of his head and it just made my heart soar at seeing both my boys finally meeting each other and already loving each other. After giving his son some of his love, he looked behind me to our baby girl who was still shyly trying to hide from him.

“It’s okay sweetie bell. He won’t hurt you.” I assured her. Slowly but surely, she came out till she stood by my arm and clung onto it just like her brother.

“My, my, my. You—you look exactly like your mother when I first met her. Guess now I’ve got two buttercups.”

“How did you know my name?” Eugene looked at me confused so I explained to him.

“She likes to be called buttercup. Says it sounds more prettier than her real name.”

“Well whatever name you prefer darling, it sounds beautiful. Just like your mother, and just like you.” he gently booped his daughter’s button nose which made her giggle and finally loosen up around her daddy. Before long she too cuddled into her daddy’s chest and he gave her the same love and affection he gave his son.

Seeing him hold our two kids just—finally felt right. I always knew Gene would be a natural dad, and even now after being through such hell for the past 3 years, he can finally have some peace knowing his family has now grown.

The rest of the day it was just the four of us bonding and getting to know each other.

Of course I knew life wouldn’t be the same as it was before. For example the nightmares. Every night Eugene would suffer terrible and horrifying nightmares. Some nights I ended up staying awake all night just to make sure he didn’t suffer alone.

There wasn’t much I could do except to just assure him that he wasn’t there anymore and that he was home. Sometimes the kids would ask him why they would hear their daddy scream and cry but I told them to not ask him such questions yet.

After Eugene had returned with his dad from the dove hunting, I could see from the tearstains on his face and the slight red in his eyes that it didn’t go so well and that he had suffered flashbacks (I still remember when—well my old father still suffered from them night after night).

So Eugene and I, along with the kids decided to head out to Genie and is old favorite spot out in the fields. He and I were lying on our backs cuddled close to each other while the kids went off to pick wildflowers.

“How long till you found out about them?” he asked me. I looked up at him before turning towards our kids.

“A couple weeks after you left for bootcamp. I just felt so sick till dad checked me out and that’s when it was confirmed that I was pregnant. I would’ve mentioned it but—something like that can’t be said through letters.”

“They’re beautiful though. Just like you.” he said as I felt his nose bury itself into my neck.

“And you.”

“Mama! Daddy!” soon our kids came running up to us and Buttercup held up a buttercup flower. “Look what I found!”

“Yes sweetheart, you found the flower you’re named after. Did you know of a legend that goes with this flower?” she shook her head no. I took hold of the buttercup and told her, “If you hold a buttercup under your chin, it’ll make it glow. See how it works on me?” both my children looked at me in pure awe.

“Let me try! Let me try!” Little Gene called out as he reached out to take the flower. He took it and held it under his chin asking repeatedly if it was working. When Buttercup shook her head, Little Gene pouted, god he really was just like his daddy.

“No worries little Gene. It never worked on me either when I was your age, see?” his daddy said as he held the flower under his chin.

“Can I try it next daddy?” asked Buttercup. Gene nodded and held the flower under his daughter’s chin and low and behold, it worked on her. He smiled as he shook his head softly scoffing.

“Does it work?” she asked him.

“It sure does Buttercup. Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree, huh (n/n)?” I smiled as he picked up his daughter and began kissing her all over her cheek making her giggle.

“Mommy can you sing for us?” asked little Gene as he crawled his way into my lap.

“What would you like me to sing?”

“The catchy song!” The kids both proclaimed. I smiled and said.

“Okay. But you both know I don’t have the guitar with me to play it.”

“Please mommy!” they both gave me the puppy dog eyes they inherited from their father.

“I swear Eugene this trick came from you.”

“Uhh excuse me? You’ve done the puppy dog eye trick on me way longer than I have. Don’t you put this on just me.” Eugene said trying to point the blame on me. I scoffed that’s when Little Gene said.

“Mommy sing for us now!”

“Now, now Little Gene, that’s not the way to get something from your mother or from anyone. If you want something you ask politely.” Eugene gently scolded his son. Little Gene nodded and apologized to me. I told him it was fine and that’s when I began singing the song that I had made for Eugene what felt like an eternity ago, which now became the kids’ favorite song.

Eugene set our baby girl down and laid his head across my lap while I stroked through his auburn hair as well as down his face. And every time my fingers came close to his lips, he would pucker them out and give each of my fingers or the back of my hand a kiss. The kids all lay down close to us with my boy laying his head near my knee while our baby girl cuddled herself tight against her daddy’s side, like a little kitten.

After I finished the song, Eugene and I thought it best to head back home and put these kids down for their nap. I grabbed our son while Eugene held our baby girl, both our kids clung onto us once they knew we had hold of them. Eugene and I looked at each other before leaning in and giving each other a soft kiss before heading back to the house.

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johnandsarah · 5 years ago

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Honeymoon Day One: The Blue Lagoon, Reykjavik, and Driving at Night

We arrived in Keflavik Monday morning around 8:30 AM Iceland time. John and I both managed to sleep for the entire flight, which is par for the course for him and incredibly unusual for me. I guess the combination of a wedding weekend and a red-eye flight made my plane-snoozing dreams come true.

Getting off of the plane onto the runway was cold and windy enough that we started to wonder whether we had brought warm enough clothes, but we decided to make lemonade out of lemons—more on that later, though.

Our first stop was to pick up the rental car, where a very kind worker gifted us a mobile hotspot (hence my blogging from the wild), and then directly to the Blue Lagoon. I did get to check Iceland goal #1 off the list: touch some moss.

The Blue Lagoon itself was, as we were told, very touristy, but it was also, as we were told, really lovely. We got drinks from the swim-up bar (a Gull beer for John, a smoothie for me), experienced some allegedly pore-purifying minerals with mud masks, and got an incredibly aggressive shoulder massage from a waterfall—all while soaking in the warm waters.

(This photo was taken for us by two lovely ladies named Holly and Barb who were braver than we were when it came to taking their phones into the waters.)

After rinsing the silica off, we had a stunning lunch at the Lava Restaurant, where I finally got my first tea of the day.

Our next stop was Reykjavik, where my first goal was cutting off all this damn hair that I’ve been growing out for months and months. We found a very cool barbershop staffed by some very cool lesbians with very cool hair. They hardly spoke English and I don’t spoke Icelandic at all, but it turns out there’s a lot you can accomplish with hand gestures and a can-do attitude. Ultimately, cutting off about 10 inches of hair took 15 minutes, no product except misted water, and $30. Worth it, I say.

We really liked Reykjavik. The street art is gorgeous, and many of the houses downtown are colorful row houses.

We did, however, have a plan: get some handmade Icelandic clothes so we could stay warm in peace and style. We found a beautiful artisanal wool sweater store called The Handknitters Association of Iceland. I got a beret and scarf made by a gentleman named Philip with wool courtesy of his sheep; John got a lovely cardigan.

After a really great dinner at a vegan place called Gló, we began our long drive northwest to the Snæfellsnes Peninsula. This drive started out with achingly lovely scenery at twilight, but as is the way of rural highway driving, it quickly became utterly inscrutable landscape in total darkness. Our GPS worked great, but we honestly had no idea what we were driving past.

Spoiler from the next day: we missed some pretty good stuff in the darkness, but here’s to second chances on the drive back 😆

We arrived at our AirBnB near Hellissandur around 11 PM. It was, again, very dark, but we could hear crashing ocean waves and were fairly certain we’d wake up to another stunning vista. The partly cloudy skies tempted me to stay up late looking for the aurora, but it had been a very long day, so we called it a night in a cozy nest of blankets, unbelievably ready for some rest.

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djthebarber · 2 years ago

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waylonzejf688 · 3 years ago

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What the Oxford English Dictionary Doesn’t Tell You About mobile hairdresser

A stylist is somebody whose job is to reduce or color hair so regarding modify or individualize the appearance of an individual. This can be done making use of a mix of different hair styling methods, hair cutting, and also hair texturizing methods. These consist of curling/flat iron, famous hairdresser near me aligning iron, and some even make use of chemicals such as hair dyes. A hair stylist typically has an university level. Nonetheless, a beautician's profession is not just minimal to cutting/coloring/shaving hair.These days,

there are several advancements that hair stylists can relate to make their job easier. One such advancement is the use of digital colouring devices that can alter the natural colour of hair quickly. It can be utilized to include a couple of tones or entirely alter the color of your hair. A few of these devices can be used for short-term styling just such as an unique result throughout celebrations and celebrations. Longer term uses of these electronic devices are being discovered by the modern-day hairdressers.These brand-new electronic

tools allow the stylists to de-ruffle the client's hairs before they start working with them. A lot of the time, when you speak about hair stylists, you are talking about hair dressers that have their very own stores as well as they do not have accessibility to the web. Nonetheless, if you do a Google search regarding the term "beauticians ", you will stumble upon some establishments that are currently offering web solutions. Several of these consist of: If you get on a limited budget plan, you can try getting in

touch with your beautician and also inquire if they are additionally going to do colouring. You might need to pay a little added for this service, however it will certainly still be cheaper than what you would certainly pay for a professional salon. One more advantage of the colorings is that it makes the hairstyle looks far better. Unfortunately, most stylists are not ready to use colouring at a reasonable cost due to the fact that it does not add any worth to their service.While it holds true that lots of hairstylist as well as beauticians will certainly reduce your hair in the house for a cheaper cost, you need to be aware

that there are still some dangers related to it. The major risks consist of blood loss, infection, and also also nerve damage. This is why it is essential to ensure that you get your hair cuts from a professional cutting space that is correctly maintained. It is additionally advisable to have the hair treatment items that you make use of at home on hand in case the hair stylists need them.Hair beauty parlors are an outstanding option to stylists, because they use more affordable prices and a great deal a lot more convenience.

Hair salons can likewise style your hair precisely just how you want it, instead of the hair stylists who should cut your hair for you based upon their own choices. The disadvantage is that hair salons are not as professional as hairdressers. You will certainly still need to do your very own hair grooming, which can take some time.One of one of the most typical professions nowadays is barbers. Barbershops are usually the first quit for individuals that check out a beauty parlor or an elegance center.

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This is why numerous barbers are rich, as they supply all the equipment and also items called for by clients. The only disadvantage of being a barber is that it can be really tough to find excellent customers and consumers, as a lot of people discover it hard to discover a person who has a nice hair cut.In order to prevent having a poor haircut, many individuals are now picking beauty salons and also hair stylists which are much less official. This has actually made several individuals delighted since at the very least they can get a haircut and cut their

own hair, instead of needing to go to a hair stylists. Some salons supply a kind of" first impression"for their possible customers, which is why several stylists and barbers provide services to people prior to they decide to employ them. On top of that, these kinds of establishments typically have smaller personnel, as they try to see to it that each client is offered a personal solution.

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ixpixpixp · 5 years ago

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Brief Notes on Italy

Diversity

I was surprised to arrive in Rome and find my hostel in a neighborhood populated almost completely by immigrants from China, India, the Middle East, and Africa. Near the main train station (like Rome's Penn Station) are rows of small storefronts with plastic wrapped sundries, belts, off-brand sneakers, barbershops, and ethnic food lined up just across from ancient ruins. I'm honestly surprised to see Chinese people anywhere and everywhere that's not America and I'm always impressed by the immigrant spirit. Like, who was that first Chinese guy (or lady) who made it in Italy and told all his homies in the village that this was a place to make a life?

I wondered, how much has this neighborhood changed over the past 20 years, and how would it change over the next 20?

On the flip side I walked through Bocconi in Milan, one of Italy's most best universities, and I was surprised by the lack of diversity. Especially since the norm in top US universities is making diversity and multiculturalism a point. Seems like non-Italian people still haven't made it yet.

Rate of Change

I've been reading a lot of Nassim Taleb lately. One of his points is that while America seemingly is one of the worst developed countries in terms of income inequality, that taking a snapshot at any one point in time is misleading. Rather, in America class mobility upwards and downwards is much more fluid than most European countries, or at one extreme he uses Florence, where the same families have been holding most of the wealth over the past 500 years or so. My sense also when I've visited Europe over the past 10 years or so is that change generally happens much more slowly there. I'm not sure if its legislative norms (ex: much harder to hire and fire), cultural norms, or nostalgia for the past (ex: France sees its glory days in the past and isn't in a hurry to rush change vs. China sees its apex in the future so wants to get there as fast as possible). I also noticed way more small proprietors, like mom and pop shops passed through the generations, and way fewer large chains. It made me wonder if our American way is actually better, like how much value we get from big box / Amazon type retail where we have more variety for cheaper. First, is more variety necessarily better? Is next day delivery an innovation we actually needed? Also, in most American cities there really isn't a pedestrian culture. Just suburbs and big box and parking lots. I mean, maybe someday even big box retail will be obviated. There's something pleasant about walking around a neighborhood and interacting with the shopkeepers -- a sense of community, which has been unintentionally eroded by a lot of modern developments. Maybe now I'm just being nostalgic.

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parkandjungle · 7 months ago

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hoopslab · 7 years ago

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Barbershop: All-time teams, Dirk & KD’s crew vs MJ’s squad (RealGM)

Alright, hopefully by now you guys know that I’m a basketball nerd. And my nerd-ship expresses itself in different ways. One of the things that I like to do, is, compare players and/or teams in historical contexts. The proverbial barbershop argument...”Is Jordan better than Magic?” “What would happen if Shaq played WIlt”? Etc. etc. etc.

One of the places that I like to talk basketball-nerd shop is on RealGM’s message boards. Later this summer, there’ll be a Top 100 players of all time project that I’m going to participate in, and that you’ll see a lot about in the Hoops Lab. But in the meantime, they started an All-Time historical draft project that caught my eye. 16 people had a historical draft, built their teams (limit was 90 field goal attempts for the 8-man team), and now are having a tournament on which teams would beat the others. I’m one of the judges. So, in this space and other articles like it, I’m going to list both teams, and give my analysis of what I think will happen. Today’s teams:

Team 1 (Eminence):

2011 Dirk Nowitzki 2017 Kevin Durant 1988 Patrick Ewing 2002 Jason Kidd 2015 Kyle Korver 1995 Anthony Mason 2017 Ricky Rubio 2017 Joe Ingles

vs Team 2 (Micah):

1991 Michael Jordan 1994 Reggie Miller 2017 Giannis Antetokounmpo 1975 Artis Gilmore 2008 Bruce Bowen 1981 Maurice Cheeks 2015 Marvin Williams 2014 Chris Andersen

Here’s my analysis, from the thread:

Wow. This is interesting. Some thought dumps as I try to work through this... 1) This is an example of a situation where I feel like one team might be better in a vacuum, but I'm not sure they win the match-up. An offense built around Dirk/Durant as savant off-ball threat scorers with Jason Kidd at the point, another shooter at the 2 and Pat Ewing as the center sounds absurd, and I can see a Warriors-like oppressive unit (WLOU) built on this. Micah's squad seems like more iso scorers, and that's a harder approach against WLOU units. But. 2) Last year I watched the Thunder beat the Spurs and give the Warriors ALL they could handle in the playoffs, and to me the biggest reason was Russell Westbrook's inhuman relentless approach. In a 7-game series, having one guy that can put THAT KIND of pressure on a team, consistently, can be it's own weapon of mass destruction. And of course, Jordan was the prototype of that kind of relentless scorer, but at much higher efficiency. But interestingly...Jordan wasn't the first that brought the Westbrook analogy to mind. It was instead Giannis as the power point forward that triggered the thought, because when he's focused and attacking downhill he puts mega pressure on defenses with his length and athletic ability as a finisher plus his ability to pass to teammates to attack imbalanced defenses. 3) Seems to me that Dirk defending Giannis full-time is a terrible idea. Dirk's a solid defender in the right circumstances, but there's no way that I want him on an iso island on-ball all-game against the opposing team's main ball-handler. Either Dirk's getting in foul trouble, or Giannis is in the paint all game and Ewing is in foul trouble. Frankly, I probably put Durant on Giannis and let Dirk play off of Bowen. 4) If Giannis is the full-time defender of Dirk, I think I run my offense more through Durant. Dirk is an offensive unicorn, which makes him very difficult to defend...especially once he brought his post-up game into it. But the best defenders of him tended (early in his career) to be those with the footspeed to defend his face-up game and the toughness to make his postgame difficult. He outgrew those Stephen Jackson-like defenders by 2011...but Giannis is freaking 7-feet tall with mantis arms. He can handle Dirk on the face-up, and if Dirk posts him he's still dealing with someone just as tall and shooting over that length. Dirk would get his, no doubt, but he wouldn't create the type of mismatches, spacing and gravity that you usually expect from him. 5) I think Cheeks needs to be getting more attention. He's playing 28 minutes a game, and he's a big impact player. But more than that, when he's on the court, Kidd has to guard him. He has to, Cheeks would torture Kyle Korver. So, in that situation...who is Korver guarding? Who is guarding Jordan? Does Korver have to be hidden on the bench, keeping him from getting his 36 minutes? Does this mean that Ingles is spending more like 15 minutes a game on Jordan instead of 5? 6) I frankly don't see either center contributing majorly on offense in this match-up. There are too many perimeter scorers, so anything outside of garbage buckets for the centers may actually hurt the offense. Staying away from the personality questions (e.g. can the centers be happy with that), to me this also makes Ewing and Gilmore very similar in expectations and execution. Both are defensive anchor bigs in the paint, protecting the rim but not especially mobile. And really, in this type of match-up, I'm questioning whether either center is playing anywhere near the 36 or 38 minutes suggested. I'm thinking that whichever team goes small-ball first tortures the other one with quickness, and that both sides eventually end up with their small units. I'm seeing lots of: Cheeks/Jordan/Reggie/Bowen/Giannis vs Kidd/Korver/Durant/Mason/Dirk line-ups. 7) Kidd's not a pick-and-roll point guard, nor is he a big scoring threat. As such, especially when the opposing defense features a perimeter defensive who's-who of Cheeks/Jordan/Bowen, I think Kidd would have trouble running a WLOU-type offense against this particular team. Especially since Dirk and Durant can't make the opposing defense collapse due to mismatches. Thus, I feel like the primary offensive production in this series will look more like a series of isos than the type of free-flowing that we see from the best team units. Which brings me to... 8) Michael Jeffrey Jordan. I'm on point 8, and I really haven't even mentioned him all that much yet. Yes, Kidd would be a good defender for him. But good is relative...Jordan would still give him a high-efficiency upper 30s if called upon. And he'd be playing off the ball, with Giannis or Cheeks pressuring the defense and Reggie as a relief valve. Thus, when Jordan gets it, he's going at a defender that may be in the midst of rotating back to him and doesn't have nearly the type of help that you'd like to put on him. Because if they ARE helping on Jordan to the extend needed, then Giannis is scoring 25 points directly at the rim and/or Reggie is getting wide-open looks. Conclusion: I just think Micah's team just applies too much relentless pressure on Eminence in this particular match-up. Wouldn't be surprised at all if, in this hypothetical league, Eminence's team had the better regular season record. But I don't like the match-ups for him...and he doesn't have enough on defense to handle the versatile relentlessness of Micah's squad. Ewing's not mobile enough to keep Jordan and Giannis from finishing from different angles without getting in foul trouble. Maybe if Durant and Ewing were instead Kawhi and Olajuwon, I'd feel differently. But unless the conversation really changes the way I'd see it playing out, I'm really leaning towards Micah's squad taking this. Maybe in 5 or 6 games.

Other Barbershop arguments on Hoops Lab

Barbershop argument: Which MVP duo would you take at their peaks?

Barbershop argument: Which superstar trio would you rather start your team with?

KG vs Admiral: Which was better at prime, in regular season?

#historical #Dirk Nowitzki #Kevin Durant #Patrick Ewing #Jason Kidd #Michael Jordan #Reggie Miller #Giannis Antetokounmpo #Artis Gilmore #Maurice Cheeks

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thisdaynews · 5 years ago

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Who will win New Hampshire? 5 top state Democrats dish on the state of play

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/who-will-win-new-hampshire-5-top-state-democrats-dish-on-the-state-of-play/

Who will win New Hampshire? 5 top state Democrats dish on the state of play

Andrew Hosmer

Andrew Hosmer,the new mayor of Laconia, which voted for Barack Obama twice before backing Donald Trump in 2016.

Pete Buttigieg winning — that would surprise me just based on how far he has come in a year. There’s a realistic possibility, and it would be shocking given that it would mean he nudged out two sitting senators and a vice president. It isn’t impossible.

Melanie Levesque

Melanie Levesque,a political operative who recently became the first black person elected to the state Senate.

It would surprise me if an underdog won. At this point, it would be near-impossible for someone to beat Biden, Warren, Buttigieg and Sanders, given their campaign and field operation. The other surprising thing could be the number of voters who are unaffiliated with a party who take Democratic ballots in the open primary. That will go up significantly, and if not, that would be very surprising.

Lucas Meyer

Lucas Meyer,the 29-year-old chairman of the New Hampshire Young Democrats.

It would surprise the hell out of me if someone won the primary by 10 points.

Kathy Sullivan

Kathy Sullivan,a top Democratic Party official in the state for more than two decades who served as Hillary Clinton’s state co-chairwoman in 2008.

It will surprise me if Iowa and New Hampshire have the same winner. New Hampshire loves a comeback story, so you could have someone who finishes second or third in Iowa who comes in first here. And if someone drops out after Iowa, that could have a huge impact.

Jay Surdukowski

Jay Surdukowski,a liberal Democrat who led a local effort to draft Beto O’Rourke for president and is now running for a seat on the powerful Executive Council of New Hampshire.

Slow and steady Joe Biden beats local favorites Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders. There seems to be a conventional wisdom that it will be Warren or Sanders in the blue ribbon spot. But New Hampshire’s independent-minded voters might hand it to the tried and tested statesman — especially if war clouds are on the horizon.

Who is a dark-horse candidate who could place in the top three, and how do they do it?

Hosmer:Let’s say Amy Klobuchar has a strong showing in Iowa, coming in third or fourth, then she gets the momentum coming here and it’s kind of a snowball effect. There’s also something about her that she is moderate and plain-spoken — that authenticity will resonate with voters here.

Levesque:Booker and Klobuchar are the ones to watch. They have been steadily increasing in the polls. They are differentiating themselves by showing their competency to lead and bring the country together, which will be key.

Meyer:Anyone who tells you they know who the top three candidates are going to be on Election Day is speculating wildly. Things can change so dramatically. But Klobuchar has had a lot of momentum heading into the final stretch.

Sullivan:If you assume Amy Klobuchar is not a dark horse, then I’d say Cory Booker. Although he has not popped in the polls, he has a lot of support from legislators and activists. He needs to turn that into a wider net of voters. I would also keep an eye on Deval Patrick and Michael Bennet.

Surdukowski:Amy Klobuchar. She will need a springboard with a strong finish in Iowa. But that said, she could make her own magic having assembled a compelling coalition of diverse backers and a practical message. Andrew Yang or Tulsi Gabbard could also pull it off if they can cobble together enough independent-minded and even libertarian-leaning voters.

Who is running the best campaign in New Hampshire and why?

Hosmer:Pete Buttigieg. Some of the indicators for me are the number of offices and staff on the ground. They’re quality staff — not just bodies. I’ve also been impressed by Klobuchar’s willingness to come out and help us local elected officials — they helped quite a bit in my campaign for mayor. I was really impressed by their organization and their desire to get involved in communities like Laconia.

Levesque:Warren, who has hired some of our best people very early and started a strong door-to-door campaign. She commands large crowds, articulates her vision well and takes selfies with anyone who wants one.

Meyer:Warren’s organization was smart enough to realize early on that helping to get people elected to local offices would make a difference for her when she needed their support. They stepped it up to help us, mobilizing her volunteers to do work on down-ballot races, and that is really important among local Democrats.

Sullivan:Elizabeth Warren. She has a large organization of staff and volunteers who have blanketed the state. They are not letting the ups-and-downs of polling distract them from their plan and have constantly sought to broaden their support, unlike Bernie Sanders, for example, who has not. She also has done a great job at retail, with her town halls and the selfie lines. She is the most approachable of the current top four, which means something here.

Surdukowski:Bennet has been scoring very impressive endorsements and has a team working extremely hard. In terms of crowd size and buzz, Buttigieg would win if the primary were tomorrow. But a lot can happen in a month, just ask Howard Dean.

What is the media missing in New Hampshire?

Hosmer:If you go to coffee shops now, literally everyone is talking about the primary. It’s very much a jump ball. I was at the barbershop and struck up a conversation with a complete stranger. He talked about three or four candidates that interested him, and it was impressive to see how well-read this guy was about the candidates. But he was still undecided.

Levesque:The media is completely missing minority populations here, especially with all the talk of lack of diversity in New Hampshire and Iowa. The media could do a better job of seeking out opinions from more diverse populations in both states.

Meyer:Recent changes to the state’s residency laws for voting, which are a big deal and could significantly impact turnout among college students. Our state has done a huge disservice to young voters, especially by not clearly and concisely answering the questions that have come up for students who live on campus.

Sullivan:At this point in 2016, Sanders was at 50 percent in the polls. He ended up winning with about 61 percent. Now he’s in the mid-20s. That’s a pretty significant loss of support, yet the media seems to think he is doing well. The media is also missing the potential that there may be no clear winner here. Any candidate who finishes with more than 15 percent of the vote picks up delegates under the party rules. Let’s say there are four people who win delegates, then we’re on to Nevada and South Carolina!

Surdukowski:I think a hard, methodical and data-driven look at what “unicorn voters” who voted for President Obama twice and then voted for President Trump. There is a reflexive conventional wisdom that a race to the left is universally important in Democratic primaries, but in New Hampshire, where roughly 42 percent of the voters are independents who can draw a Democratic ballot in the primary, there is a real potential for a win by Buttigieg or Klobachur who have worked far more aggressively at courting folks in purple and red towns. The independents are the majority party here, something D.C. consultants helicoptering in may neglect at their peril.

How does a centrist who isn’t from a neighboring state break the Sanders/Warren stranglehold here?

Hosmer:I think a centrist wins by convincing voters in New Hampshire that if you want tobeat Trump, you’ve got to win the general. You’ve got to win the important states that we didn’t win in 2016 — Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, Florida. And you’ve got to convince people that the far-left in the Democratic Party cannot win rural America. Of everyone in the field, I think Klobuchar and Buttigieg have the best chance of making that case.

Meyer:The supposition that Sanders and Warren have a stranglehold on the state is wrong. They certainly have an advantage by virtue of familiarity. But that also creates a much greater expectation for them to perform very well. The strength of the other campaigns also cancels out whatever home-field advantage they may have, creating a pretty equal fight here.

Levesque:It’s really about meeting people and getting vetted by voters. Sanders and Warren have a neighboring-state advantage, but there is room for those who are looking for more moderate candidates. With the current crisis in Iran, people may be looking for someone with experience on the international stage who can get us back on track working with allies in short order.

Sullivan:Show up and talk to voters. But I disagree that there is a stranglehold. Biden is doing well and could win. Buttigieg is doing respectably. Klobuchar is moving. At some point, all those undecideds are going somewhere, so this is not over.

Surdukowski:Personal charisma and practicality in policy outlook. A boost in Iowa doesn’t hurt for the many who won’t make up their mind until the final days. I still believe most people will vote for who inspires them.

#Democrats #Foreign #Politics #State

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rubywriting12-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Frank (Journal Expansion)

Prasad gently stroked a damp towel against Frank’s cheek until it was free of shaving cream. Once it was completely clean, he quickly applied an astringent, unclipped Frank free of his cape, and left to ring him up at the cash register. Frank idled for a moment, watching his own reflection stroke his freshly-shaven chin. His brows were in their usual, unknotted disposition above his strikingly light brown eyes. For a rare moment, Frank smiled wide, feeling the fresh tautness of his skin wrap around his jaw. Frank had two teeth missing in the back of his mouth and instead had a pair of symmetrical gummy voids, like adjacent empty lots across the street from one another. You wouldn’t be able to see the empty spaces when he smiled, but if you looked close enough, there they were, without crimson signs of trauma or the veneer of porcelain. And the few people who got close enough wondered inwardly, “How did he lose these teeth?” and “Why doesn’t he get that fixed?” And Frank was deceivingly perceptive enough to note the flickered confusion on their faces and, with a reciprocated silence, answer their questions: “They never grew at all.” By the time he was 10-years-old he had had sufficient life experience to understand that people usually had a full array of teeth, real or not. He asked his mother, Eve, why he didn’t have the common set, and she replied with, “They just never came in, I guess.” And he was left with the accepted certainty of uncertainty.

It was one of the reasons why he chose never to explain his dental condition to puzzled, prodding eyes—Frank was fine with having the subject laid to rest for the continuation of his life. He didn’t care to hear people’s opinions on why or how they decided not to grow. And if the vacant spaces didn’t hinder his daily activities, there was no reason to fret. Frank understood that incessant curiosity was the habitual grime of an unhappy soul.He could ask questions and challenge everything that found itself before him or he could just agree with the tentative strings on which the world hung itself, so much more complex than what he would ever be able to comprehend. He would have rather lived his life embracing blind truths than constantly be interrupted by disillusions. Things were the way they were, only revisited if absolutely necessary.

There were few things that Frank mindlessly let be exceptions to this rule. One of them, the most important one, was named Winifred, and she lived in the suburbs of northern Long Island in a town called Huntington, but in the neighborhood of Lloyd Harbour, in a house she had inherited after her aunt and uncle passed away, housing her teenage son Wyatt.

Frank lived next to his barbershop in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Rarely did he speak to his barber, Prasad, but he still considered him the closest thing he had to a best friend. Prasad shaved Frank once a week, every Wednesday. This was to benefit Frank, in that every Thursday, Winifred Bailey made her weekly fruit delivery to the Halal market across from the bank for which he manned. He worked as a security guard, armed with a baton and a mobile phone. He wondered if Winifred would ever look up from the apples and take the time to recognize him. He didn’t think that he looked very different from the last time she had seen him.

When Frank was in high school, about forty years prior, he followed his own rule of avoiding society’s yearn for discrepancy. He was plagued by routine passiveness, never letting curiosity be his guide. He let his hair deflate to a greasy mop and sat idly as patchy stubble began to form on his round chin, unwilling to cater to unwanted stares in the hallway. But Winifred occupied the seat adjacent to him in his literature class, running only on curiosity. She challenged like no other, driven by the inquisitive abandon that he had defected at a young age. Upon seeing her face and hearing the rhetoric of her voice, Frank felt intrigue for the first time and went to the department store to buy a bottle of eau decologne, a razor, a can of shaving cream, and peach-scented soap. The next day, he shook her hand like he had never wanted to know something so bad. He quickly found out the basics on Winifred Bailey. She was living with her aunt and uncle, as her parents had passed away two years prior. She had two sisters, Clara and Annie. When she grew up, she wanted to be a lawyer for the government. She also liked to collage.

For the remaining years of high school, Winifred Bailey and Frank Howard were notorious best friends. The summer following graduation, however, was the defining period of their future relationship. The two struck up a romance. It had been so obvious to Frank that this love was in the itinerary of the stars—they both were doomed for a deeper companionship. The relationship ended mutually, but not on amicable terms. Constant tenderness was traded for cheap, harsh words, and the premonition of a nearing storm. Winifred grew evidently resentful of Frank’s intrinsic sense of certainty like most people did. Frank refused to change. She told him he was too stubborn. Frank told her she was too ambitious.

His time at Lloyd Harbour High School with Winifred felt like centuries ago, presumably obscured by years of wear and age. And Frank wanted to know it all again.

When he found out that his 40-year high school reunion was on the Thursday of that week, his trip to Prasad meant a thousand times more to him. He had made himself a vow that he would never again attend such an event after the disaster that was the 10-year anniversary. He took a cab all the way from Brooklyn to Huntington, which was a hefty financial investment. He knew it would be an awkward function, and the sole reason Frank submitted to it was to see his old friend. He speculated, with good reason, that the rest of the attendance merely represented a congregation of answers to questions he had never asked. However, Winifred and Frank did not speak. While Frank knew that Winifred was not one to harbour outgrown pique, she stayed silent towards him. For a moment, Frank had concluded that, like him, she was done with challenging and had surrendered. But he quickly changed his mind—Winifred would never be silent.

Frank was not courageous enough to detach from his comfortable muteness, especially after Winifred walked into the poorly-lit recreation room stroking her swollen stomach, a man on her arm looking many years her senior. And she was silent, but just to her old best friend. Frank gathered information by eavesdropping in on her conversations with their other alumni. To Moses Chen, she recounted her recent engagement to Julian, and how they were going to have a son very soon. Julian remarked that he couldn’t wait to meet his little Wyatt, and Frank, with his back to them, felt his little heart quiver. As he waited for the night to end, he learned that Julian had been her professor in law school, a venture that she had given up on after second year. Frank was shocked to hear this. In high school, Winifred rarely strayed from her usual political drive, and her sole interest of challenging rules did nothing but fuel this pledge. Julian was an ethics professor, which was, to Frank, ironic, as he had struck up a romantic relationship with a student from a foreign generation.

There was little speculation that anything would happen with Frank and Winifred that night, but Frank hadn’t called a for a taxi home. He refused to excuse himself to the pay phone outside to do so until the end of the night, when he overheard her plan to leave soon, too. He wanted to see her until the last minute. He wanted to know her again. She didn’t have to know him, but he had to know her. She left quietly, an arm chained to Julian, the other hand cradling the life within her stomach.

And though Frank looked back on the 10-year reunion with embarrassment, he couldn’t contain his intrigue any longer. It had been brewing for almost half a century, and his knuckles were sore from the nights where he couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of letting Winifred Bailey dissolve into a life he did not know.

With this thought, Frank recalled a dream he once had in which he himself was sleeping in bed, aware of his slumber. All of a sudden, he was jolted awake, harshly greeted by rushing paramedics. A half dozen of them, and they all looked like the same person, someone who Frank did not know. They checked his pulse, pressed on his stomach rhythmically, and tore off his blanket. One of them snipped open his pajama shirt, the one with the blue and white stripes that looked like the set he had when he was ten-years-old. “Stop this!” He shouted. “There’s nothing wrong with me!” He felt fine. Jilted by the paramedics’ fervor, but fine. He had gone to sleep healthy. “We’re losing him!” The six paramedics said in a staggered harmony. Frank was then lifted onto a gurney. Then he was tossed in sharp, jagged motions into an ambulance, lit with blinding yellow lights. He felt like a ship on the sea during a wild, unflinching storm. Weren’t sick people supposed to be handled like china-dolls? But then he remembered he wasn’t sick. “I’m not sick!” He shouted. A paramedic covered his mouth with a contraption he had only seen before in the movies and once when he had to visit his grandfather in the hospital—the kind that was a translucent, mask-like thing, hooked up to some ambiguous machine via a mess of tubes. The moment the paramedic’s hand pulled away, Frank began clawing at the mask, but it wouldn’t give. The elastic around his head was too tight, not like elastic at all. He didn’t know the meaning behind the dream; perhaps it was a symptom of a fever. But every time he was at his station at the bank doors, studying Winifred piling pineapples onto a wooden cradle across the street, the same feeling came to him. It was a feeling of franticness—the feeling of not wanting to be lost in an illness he had insisted upon himself for so long. It was final. He RSVP’d for the reunion and called a taxi company to pick him up in Greenpoint at 6 PM sharp.

There was Winifred, munching on carrots at the buffet table, holding the hand of someone else. She was an infant girl with a rose garland around her head, sloppy glue gun webs sprouting from its buds. Though Frank had come for Winifred, so determined and resolute, there was a sudden shame that washed over him. He was an intruder on her existence. Perhaps she was, in fact, just another enigma that Frank knew he would never crack. When Frank was about to turn away, his old friend looked to him and opened her mouth. What was astonishment turned into a smile. “Frank!” she called. The intrigue rushed back as swiftly as it had vanished. Frank knew he was never going to stop wanting to solve her. “Frank!” she repeated. She tightened her grip around the toddler’s hand and flew over to him. “I’m so,” she smiled. “It’s so great to see you.” She wrapped her arms around him. “You too, Winifred. I don’t know what to say. It’s been so long.” “I barely recognized you.” She laughed. “You’re so, just, grown up. It’s crazy how that happens.” Frank intercepted the stare of the infant girl. “This is Marilee, my granddaughter. Can you believe it?” “Granddaughter?” “I know. She’s my boy, Wyatt’s, daughter.” “Hi, Marilee.” “Marilee, say ‘hi’ to Frank, grandma’s old friend.” The toddler refused to speak. Frank looked back to Winifred, who couldn’t help but offer a loving gaze to her granddaughter. He could not look away. “This is Julian,” she said, turning her eyes to the man at her side. “Hi, Frank, right?” “Yes,” Frank faltered. “Hello.” He couldn’t help but feel disappointed, and he hated that fact. He wondered what he had expected, showing up 40 years later. But even with the man on her right, Frank knew that he was the first love. Nothing, not even a handsome, older man could infringe on such a title.

With Julian pushed to the back of his mind, Frank and Winifred spent the night catching up, rehashing old memories and inside jokes as if they had not been hibernating for a long 40 years. The laughs felt like the end of a much too long intermission. She would always be, to him, the dreamer in his literature class, and though her body had aged, her spirit would resist the cruel progression of time.

When Frank needed a rest from standing, he watched Winifred and Marilee and Julian dance in the centre of the banquet hall, the toddler’s small hands locked in the embrace of the big ones. He watched Winifred’s face, and for what seemed to be the thousandth time of the night, searched desperately for what he imagined her to be. It had been so long, and there she was, finally. But Frank began to frown. He couldn’t find the lawyer, the writer, the dreamer. He couldn’t find the lover. For so long, he had insisted that she was somewhere in there, and he was so desperate to be the man to bring her out again. Through a silent confession to himself, he realized that all he could find in her was the answer he did not want. Winifred was not an enigma—or, at least, Winifred was not an enigma for him. Winifred was a woman who he used to love, and maybe still did, but she was also a woman he had not spoken to in 40 years. For the first time in his whole life, Frank considered that true love and romance were not supposed to be decades of mutual silence, of one-sided curiosity and infatuation.

At the end of the night, Winifred excused herself and Julian to reunite with an old girlfriend, and Marilee was left with Frank. He looked at her watch the late-night stragglers on the dance floor with a furrowed brow. Perhaps that was the Winifred he was trying so hard to find: not a lover, but a legacy. “Your grandmother’s a very smart woman.” He said. “I bet you will be, too.”

He wondered if that sensation from his dream was not a frantic desperation for true love, but for the release from the confines of his loneliness.

Winifred slipped from his embrace at the end of the night, gathering her people, and then exited the banquet-hall doors like a summer sun setting on a tranquil dusk. For once, the placidity on Frank’s face was not under a furrowed brow. And while sitting solely in the backseat of a silent cab, he strangely felt less alone. The soft, nocturnal light of the city seemed to resurrect from the black, inky river ahead.

#term 2

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