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suddeninklings · 5 years ago

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Update!

Hide Your Fires. A little over a year after the events of the Dover-Birch case, Detective David Loki has a chance run-in with a former classmate. Equally lonely souls, burdened with pasts they would like to forget, the two reconnect in ways neither expected. Detective Loki x OC. Romance, Thriller, Comfort.

(Part 1)

Tuesday.

Helen Abbott-Howser. The fourth of twelve victims. Between October 1997 and March of 1999, the incongruously named Roadside Ripper had been active across the counties of Centerfield, Cambria and Conyer’s own Middlesex. A round dozen, the killer had proclaimed in a typed letter posted in rest stops across the state in the early hours of April 1st, 1999. Some called it a manifesto. In it, he attempted to rationalize the attacks. At the time, there was no word for a man like the Ripper. With the turn of the century and the rise of the internet, there now was. All of the victims were women between the ages of 25-40. In the letter, he cited years of rejection and humiliation as proper cause. It wasn’t until 2012 that similar attacks brought the Rippers killings back to light and gave him a more suitable label. He was an incel.

One of many men who practiced what they called “voluntary celibacy” due to the lack of romance or sex in their lives. In their minds, women were to blame and many of them believed that women should be made to suffer. As they had. To most, they were angry young men, dangerous and ruled by hate, but heroes to some. Sixteen years had passed since his last victim had been found off the interstate, ten miles outside of town. Despite the PSP and the FBI’s involvement in the case, there was no evidence other than the circumstantial. No leads. The few suspects the police had managed to find had all of them been disproved by DNA. The case was open, but practically dead in the water.

David could remember his foster mother, Teri (or was it Denise then? They all blurred together in his memory) watching the story play out on the news with equal parts disgust and fascination. Women were told to take caution driving on the highway alone. Some police departments advised against it altogether. Even after the manifesto had been found, in which the killer claimed he had been absolved of the shame and pain of living as “subsidiary male in a society that set him up to fail,” people were on edge for many of the years that followed. It wasn’t until the string of missing child cases grew more and more frequent that public focus shifted and the Ripper was more or less lost to time.

Shit. David thought, the weight of his offense still weighing on him. Maybe it’s too early. I should come back later.

He stood on the Howser porch, fighting the urge to pace. Sleep had not been easy to find that night and the lack of it made him restless. He blinked, his grip on the paper wrapping in his hand tightening. He had been up before dawn trying to craft an apology in his head, but anything he managed to come up with felt hollow on his tongue, lacking the sincerity he knew he owed her. It was a problem he had dealt with since childhood. Even now, he still struggled to engage with people outside of work. He couldn’t interrogate them. Couldn’t order them about or adhere to their orders. There were no such hierarchies in life, or at least, if there were, there shouldn’t be.

He took to observing from a young age, desperate for social cues and leads. He attempted emulation, but as a child often failed, leading him from home to home. Shuffled through a broken system that neither liked nor cared for him. Those years were not ones he wished to linger on, but he couldn’t deny that they had helped him build an arsenal of tools that allowed him to excel at his work. Being guarded and watchful were gifts professionally. But personally? So many relationships were shot before they could even properly begin. He convinced himself it wasn’t troublesome. That it made life easier. Easier to push through life from one day to the next.

He lifted his hand, to knock on the door one last time, when he picked up the sound of light footfalls behind him.

“Are those for me?”

David turned. Grace stood at the bottom of the small staircase leading up to the porch, having just returned home from a morning run. Her cheeks and forehead flushed red and a thin sheen of sweat covered her face and neck. She wore a loose grey t-shirt and leggings, a thin hoody was tied around her waist. Strings of loose hair clung to her temples or floated like a strange crown around her head. Small clouds of smoke escaped her lips as she slowed her breathing. He looked down to his hand, where her gaze was focused. An early morning drive, to help better his thinking, had resulted in, not the right words, but flowers. The market on the corner of Main and Bradshaw had been stocked full at opening and he had had his pick. It was a small bouquet; sprigs of white daisies and purple hoary stock in place of olive branches. He nodded, opening his mouth in hopes that the right words would just tumble out.

“I’m an asshole-” He felt his own cheeks go hot.

Grace shook her head, hitching her hands on her sides with a breathy sigh. She looked towards the ground. “David, it’s fine-”

“No really, I-wasn’t even...My head’s be so full of-”

“David!” She laughed this time.

He stopped, blinking twice before daring to look her in the eye again. They were light, almost amused. Yesterday they had looked hazel, but under the glow of the early morning sky they seemed almost green. She smiled and stepped up to meet him, snatching the flowers from his hand and holding them up to her nose.

“They’re nice,” She said, whole-heatedly. “I can’t remember the last time someone gave me flowers.”

David dodged her eye, the heat spreading from his face down his neck. A mixture of relief and nervous energy still broiling. It seemed too easy. All the officers at the station, they talked about their wives and girlfriends as if apologies were impossible.

“You…want to come inside? I have coffee.” Grace said, her voice lilting as she placed her hand on the door and pushed it open.

David settled into a chair at the head of a small oval table off the kitchen, waiting for Grace to return. After ushering him through the narrow front hall, passed the steps to the upper floor and into the family room off the kitchen, she had brought him a cup and excused herself to change. Out of habit, he began to appraise the home. It looked as though no work had been done to it since it had been built. The formal dining room across the hall had been converted into an office; stacks of papers and books were littered across a small folding table that doubled as a desk. A computer that looked to be older than anything he had come across in the precinct was already sitting in a box. The kitchen was small, with bulky walnut cabinetry and aging appliances. The family room was equipped with a small television, couch and recliner that seemed to have labored through the most use. There were few photos on the walls. A watercolor painting of a marina scene hung over a small electric fireplace in the corner next to screen door that led out to the backyard. There was a stale scent in the air. Dust. He could see it floating slowly, as if practically frozen in time, catching the light of the morning sun as it filtered lazily through the glass.

“Looks like you have your work cut out for you,” He said when she returned. She nodded, her eyes rolling back as she settled into the chair across from him. Simultaneously, they reached for their cups and drank. The coffee was black as night. Just how he liked it. Apparently how she liked it too.

After a moment’s quiet, Grace said softly, “I feel like I’m the one who should apologize.”

David sat up straighter. “No, Grace, I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s alright, really. I don’t know why I reacted that way.” She lifted the mug to her lips again, but paused before taking another drink. “I mean that was one of the reasons I left,” she took a sip and continued. “...And didn’t come back. Some people, that’s all they want to talk about. Martin never seemed to mind it but...I couldn’t stand it. Being the dead woman’s daughter. All that pity and nosiness...disguised as niceness. People I never knew would approach us about it. As if they had any right or reason other than morbid curiosity.”

David understood the feeling. It wasn’t often that he dated. Or even met with friends. They all wanted to talk about his work. Especially after the Dover case. He could sense when they were about to bring it up. Their eyes would take on a strange light. He could practically see the gear in their heads twisting and turning, trying to find a way to steer the conversation towards the case.

Grace set her mug down, exhaling. Her shoulder dipped down as if they had been pushed by some invisible weight. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to hear all of this. Hell, I don’t have time for it. The junk company is coming tomorrow and then the realtor and-”

“I can help.” David said.

Grace stopped, fixing him with a look of confusion. “What? No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“No, really.” David said, leaning forward. He thought of his empty home across the road. The lack of errands. He thought of his desk at work and how he had been more or less banned from returning to it until the following Monday. “I know it won’t make sense, but...you’d be doing me a favor.”

It didn’t take much convincing, despite the oddity of the request. Once he was able to convince her that he wasn’t aiming to help simply out of guilt, they began to rifle through each room of the house. Boxes were filled, piles of papers tagged for lawyers, furniture pushed towards the center to account for the painters coming later in the week. To David’s relief, the day didn’t drag and before they knew it, the evening had home. Endlessly grateful and thoroughly exhausted, Grace put in an order for pizza. At David’s suggestion they crossed the street over to his house, where a refrigerator stocked with cold beer and a welcoming deck were waiting to be taken advantage of. They sat outside, watching a thin bank of clouds drift slowly over the lake, their colors shifting from a soft white to a pastel yellow to an alarmingly vivid shade of orange as the sun drifted further and further down.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do this all without you.” Grace said, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “But...I have good news and bad news.”

“Bad news?” David asked, reaching for his beer.

Grace squeezed her eyes shut, the corners wrinkling as she indulged in a playful wince. With a shake of her head, she buried her face into her knees for a moment before continuing bashfully, “There’s a basement.”

He smiled. It was small and fleeting. He wasn’t sure if she had seen it. They remained outside, talking softly and long into the night, until the all manner of sunlight dipped down below the treeline and the sky above became an inky blue sea of stars. As though they were, and always had been, old friends.

Wednesday.

David wandered over to her house at 12:15, after he saw the realtor pull out of the drive and drift down the road, out of sight. She opened the door at first knock, wearing a smile that was quickly becoming familiar to him.

“Afternoon,” She said breathlessly. She hitched one arm against the door, her hip jutting out in the opposite direction. A large box, filled with books and bearing the label Goodwill sat at her feet. Her hair was piled up on the top of her head, wisps and strings falling loosely around her face.

“Look at that, you have arms.” She joked, with a nod of her head. David looked down, feigning a laugh. The day was uncharacteristically warm and humid. A silver sun glared down through a layer of paper thin cloud cover, coating the land below with an odd, muted shadow. He left his jacket and button ups at home this time, instead sporting a jersey t-shirt and ravaged pair of jeans he pulled out when working on his own house. She was dressed similarly, wearing the same leggings as the day before and a cutoff shirt with thin, horizontal pinstripes.

“How’d it go?” He asked, following her through the narrow front hall.

“Oh, fine,” She said, making a hard left. “His dad was friend’s with Martin’s, so he’s going to cut me a deal which is nice. Now, I’m almost completely sure that everything down here can be trashed.”

She opened the door to the basement, absentmindedly pulling at a string of ribbon hanging just inside the doorway. A small bulb flickered on with a crackling snap, but it did little to properly light the wooden steps that led down.

“I’ve been too scared to look, but hopefully there’s not too much do-Ah!!”

A creak and a crash, followed by several smaller thumps and finally a sickening shatter, sent David rushing around the corner after her.

“Grace!?” He barked, bracings his hands against the frame of the door.

“Fine! I’m-I’m fine.” Came a garbled response from the shadowy depths below. David reached for the handrail.

“Wait! Stop!” She called, halting him in his tracks. “There’s a faulty step. I...forgot.”

“Are you alright?”

“-fourth one down, be careful.” She continued. “Ouch. Fuck me.”

He leapt passed it, taking the next few two at a time until he reached the bottom.

“There’s a switch. On the wall.” She mumbled, looking more like a mass of black shadow as David’s eyes attempted to adjust. He pressed his hand to the wall, flicking it on. A bank of old fluorescents buzzed to life. Grace was hunched over on her knees, her hair having fallen loose from the scrunchie.

He tried again. “Are you hurt?”

“Uff,” She breathed, pushing her hair away from her face. “I mean, my pride is yeah...and maybe my knee. Ow!”

She hissed, drawing her hand away. The tips of her fingers were coated in blood.

“God...dammit.” She said, shifting up so that she could sit on the last step. The unmistakable sound of glass scraping against concrete filled the room. David knelt down in front of her.

“Language, Abbott, please.” He tutted, with a wry smile. Grace huffed a laughed, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip as she tried to shake off the shock and the embarrassment. God, I hope he didn’t see. She thought, as the fall played back through her mind. She was fairly certain she had looked as graceful as a penguin tottering off to sea. She watched as he assessed the damage, trying to push the image far away.

“Looks like you landed on something.” He said, finally, his fingers gingerly pushing at the now flattened box that sat where she had fallen. It felt necessary, if not useless to state the obvious.

“Looks like it.” Grace said, her hands hovering over her knee. Sure enough, a few bits of grainy glass had torn through her leggings and looked to be embedded in her skin.

David stood, offering her his hand. “Here.”

She looked up, her face flushed red. She took it and he pulled her up, winding her arm around his neck so that he could better help her hobble up the stairs.

Grace sat atop the kitchen counter next to the sink, situated so that David could tend to her knee. He pulled a chair in from the living room and set it in front of her. She watched quietly as he rifled through a first aid kit. Where he’d managed to find it, she didn’t know. It must have been older than the pair of them. He still looks so young though. She thought, her eyes drifting down past his face to his neck. Except for the tattoos. Did he have those in high school? I can’t remember. That she recognized him, or anyone, was a surprise to her. Her senior year and been a blur of grief and determination. Conyers felt more like a prison then. A barrage of whispers and glance she was desperate to escape. When she couldn’t sleep she studied, earning herself valedictorian status and a full ride ticket out of town. She promised herself she would never look back. It meant losing touch with long kept friendships and starting from scratch. But it felt worth it. Now it seemed a little dramatic, but she was a teenager then.

Maybe it’s because he seems...the same, in some ways, She thought. Quiet and sedate. Many girls in her grade had spent some time nursing a crush on David Loki. He was the ‘new kid’ after all. A broody boy from the outskirts of town. No one had known him before he showed up on the first day of school. He was a loner. A mystery. Grace understood the appeal then, but never enough to act on it. Very few of them had. Even then, as an underweight, seemingly insomniatic teen, he had a strange air about him. As if he were haunted. Or the one doing the haunting. Grace had never been sure which. He had filled out since those high school days, but he still looked saturnine, as if a good day’s rest eluded him entirely.

She leaned back, her head hitting the cabinetry behind her. She looked around the room, feeling suddenly impolite for staring. The kitchen felt so small, smaller than she remembered. Her legs dangled off the edge of the counter, her feet swaying gently from side to side, as if caught in a breeze. She felt very much like a child, having tripped in the backyard and come bursting through the door with tears streaming down her face and crying for a parent. She could practically feel the heat of the tears, the wobbly path they would make before drying against her skin. She had been holding them back. Fighting them really. Since entering the house after so long. Despite her best efforts, there were still memories here. Small signs of her mother that Martin hadn’t willed away.

“Grace? Do you mind if I-?”

“Oh! No, I can-” Her hands went to her leg, fingers pulling at the torn fabric of her leggings, until she gathered all of it above the knee. She winced as she could now clearly see the bits of glass, tinged scarlet.

“This might sting,” David said softly. With surprising tenderness, her carefully pulled loose the pieces of glass, before pressing a damp cloth to the torn skin. Grace’s hands balled into fists as the antiseptic sunk into the shallow wounds. He let it sit for several seconds, before pulling it away and letting it fall into the sink at his right side.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” Grace said, trying to fill the silence.

“We all go through some basic training at the academy.” He explained as he began to wrap her knee with a thin layer of bandage. She felt his finger brush the back of her leg and deftly lift it slightly. Quite strangely, she thought of Cinderella with her leg poised to receive the infamous glass slipper.

Christ Grace! She thought to herself, feeling her neck grow warm. You are no put upon damsel and he’s no...daring prince…

She looked down at him again, her eye catching sight of a small divot just above his left temple. Were it not for the closeness of his cut, she may not have noticed it at all.

That must be...She thought. “The bullet wound.”

“What?”

Oh shit. Grace thought. Did I...say that out loud?

With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. I just keep digging myself deeper. Well...what is it they say? In for a penny...

“I may have, um,” She flushed, leaning her head back against the cabinet again and gazing up and away. “-looked you up. Last night.”

He didn’t seem surprised.

She shrugged her shoulders. “The Dover-Birch case? That’s...quite a story.”

Dammit. She thought, eyes flicking shut as she prepared for the backlash. Why’d I say that?! I’m going to scare him off. As if he wasn’t wary already. Being a cop and all. She had seen the way he’d blanched at the bar. It wasn’t much more than a blink but it was all she needed to draw the proper conclusions. She had enough dealings with cops to know how they felt about her work. It didn’t bother her if they despised her. But David was...well, not a friend but...he was something.

He exhaled, long and low, but the breath didn’t carry the disdain or annoyance she expected. He almost sounded amused. That can’t be right. She looked back down at him. Surprisingly, a wry shadow of a smile ghosted across his face.

“Force of habit?” He said, almost teasingly as he tucked the remaining wrappings back into the kit before snapping it shut.

“I guess, yeah.” She said, sheepishly, feeling well and truly chastised.

He paused a moment, a far away look in his eye before standing up. Instead of moving away, he leaned towards her, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter, each one positioned a respectful distance from her legs. His face was level with hers now. And close. Almost uncomfortably so. At least it should have been. But it wasn’t.

His eyes. She thought, pressing her lips together in a thin line she could only hope was unreadable. They were deep and dark, as blue as oceans. She could see fleck of brown in the irises. He was close. So close. But not close enough. She swallowed hard as the realization came slowly. She wanted him closer. Needed it.

“Your exposé on the DWP was good.” He said, finally. “Really something,”

Her brow shot up.

“I...looked you up, too.” He said, a knowing smile flashing across his face.

Grace reciprocated. “Really?”

“Really.” The smile remained, tugging at one side of his mouth. Grace felt the yearning in her chest begin to churn and warm.

“Guess we’re both a little too curious, huh?” She said, lifting her hand up. “...May I?”

He tipped his head down. Ever gently, her fingers brushed the longer lengths of his hair up and back so she could better see the scar. Instinctively, he drew closer as her legs slid further apart. She could feel his breath, slow and warm against her neck. Her own breath hitched as she took in the angry, craggy line. It had mostly healed over, but she knew enough about these sorts of wounds to imagine what it had been. He tilted his head up again. She could feel his hands dragging across the counter, drifting closer and closer to touching her. Almost. But not quite. She let her fingers slide through the tendrils of his hair. Back and down until they could more easily cup the back of his neck. It was all the encouragement he needed. He leaned in, his lips pressing against hers. Softly at first. Her fingers tangled in the hair and pulled. Closer. They thought, almost in unison. She could feel his hands on her thighs now, clamping down and drifting upwards. Her hips rocked against him. Once. Twice. The next thing she knew she his hands were underneath her, pulling her up easily. Her legs wrapped around him tightly. Her arms reached around his shoulders and pulled at his shirt. His lips pulled away from her mouth for only a second. Enough time for her to whisper the question they both knew the answer to.

“Bedroom?”

He drew her off the counter and her legs unhooked, but his arm stayed tight around her waist, keeping her mouth in line with his. Her toes barely made contact with the floor as they moved down the hall. He paused just before the doorway, spinning her round. Her back hit the wall. He muttered an apology as he peppered kisses up her jawline. His hands were splayed on either side of her shoulders, his body pressing up against hers. She could feel the hardness of his form, from his chest all the way down.

“Don’t be-” She heard herself whisper, her breath ragged and raw. “Just keep going-”

She fumbled with her shirt, trying to loose her arm free. He was there, his hands pulling it up over her head. She followed suit, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it over.

They disappeared through the door, unable to wait any longer, the basement well as truly forgotten.

Just a little tease this time around, but there will be more soon! It’s been a while since I’ve written these kinds of scenes. I feel out of practice. >.< Thanks for reading! Hope to update very soon.

#detective loki #jake gyllenhaal #fanfiction #hyf

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incoherentbabblings · 6 years ago

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Unspoken Promises

Sitting on the car roof waiting for Zatanna to show up, Stephanie became acutely aware of how their leaving home must have looked to the rest of the family, and makes her think about what want from the future, especially after everything had come crashing down in the aftermath of Brother Eye and the Batman of Tomorrow. Tim for once isn’t thinking too deep about it.

2,500 words on Tim and Steph cuddles from YJ #5. AO3 Link here!

So for all my doubt about Bendis (He also liked my tweet I sent him thanking him for making TimSteph so cute so like… that gave me a whump of validation right there) I was so over the moon with his interpretation of Tim and Stephanie’s relationship that it actually got me to write fanfiction for the first time in about a decade (ooft). I am following in the grand DC tradition of what is continuity in that I am writing as if the Bat’s History is all in tact, but YJ and Teen Titans is just what had been established in the New 52. How does that work? It doesn’t but never mind that I wanted to write mush

Anyway here is Tim I look at my girlfriend as if she hung the stars at night Drake and Stephanie We have 100% ran away from home which means we are 100% eloping which means yes I will marry you no you don’t even have to ask Brown.

There are like…so many references to past and current stories and dialogue in this, as well as my previous babblings on their relationship.

Anyway, enjoy!!!

He had a habit, she’d noticed, ever since they’d been together, of holding her face. His fingers had always been cold, but dry, and his palm fit neatly along her jawline. He was always soft with her, and she wouldn’t dare have it otherwise. When she isn’t talking, and he isn’t smiling and humming indulgently at her wittering on, he seemed to be nothing more than quite content to just hold and stare at her. Like the sun is infused in her hair. Like her and her alone is immune to the anti-life equation, like she is life’s meaning. Like she is so precious that she might be gone the next morning.

Because that did happen once, when she was left to die without him. Does Tim hate me? She had asked Batman. No. Bruce had replied. He adores you. Always has.

Only now with them lying on the bonnet of Tim’s red car, his stare so openly reverent, Stephanie found herself trusting Bruce’s statement to the dying girl with a broken body (and heart).

He’d been taken from her too, violently and so suddenly that she had found herself talking to a clay program of his, so starved for his face and hungry for his advice… Then again Stephanie had heard from other sources that he’d considered throwing what he’d thought was her corpse into a Lazarus Pit, so maybe they were both reliant on the other to act as a guide.

Those Batmen she’d seen, first the one from a future where she was either dead or under what seemed like permanent house arrest (it wasn’t clear), and then one made of corrupt dreams and corrupt computer programs… They were ones she’d silently promised herself that she would reel in within Tim whenever they reared their ugly, twisted heads. She’d remind him, remind them why they wanted to help people. The two of them didn’t know any other way, not anymore.

How stubborn they were that they scraped their way back to each other.

Stephanie soon grew shy being gazed at by Tim and leaned forward. One hand tightened in his sweater, whilst the other cupped the back of his head. He quickly got the idea and leaned forward, their lips touching briefly for a moment before she readjusted her position, straddling one his legs to get a firm pressure between her own.

Tim’s smile turned cheeky then, and he began to push up into a sitting position. Stephanie gave a slight grunt, and forced him back down, hand slipping down his top to grip at his hip. She kissed him deeply.

A bird took off near the car, disturbing some fallen leaves on the ground. It was still warm enough at sunset to not have to wear a coat, and both of them had opted for oversized sweaters, Steph in her customary purple, Tim in his usual green. They had been travelling for a few weeks now, enough for the new school year to have started, and yet here they both were, several states down, in DC, nowhere near Ivy University in New England. The thought made Stephanie giggle.

“Now you have to admit it!” She exclaimed, thumping her head down to rest on Tim’s chest, listening to his heart beat. Solid. Warm.

Tim meanwhile was looking awfully smug, one arm cradling her shoulders, pressing their already entangled bodies closer, the other arm thrown up behind his head. His eyes were shut, and he was smirking.

“I don’t have to admit anything.”

“Admit it!”

“I was raised by Batman, Stephanie,” – and right on que her eyes rolled up to her skull. Batman Batman Batman – “I am a stubborn master.”

“Admit we ran from home!”

That got him to open his eyes and stare at her once more. He was indulging her again, she knew, and she let him do so.

“A Batgirl and a Robin told everybody we were going off to college and then we drove the other way.”

“Because we’re in the middle of an investigation into the –”

She interrupted him, whispering the phrase “Nobody knows where we are!” conspiratorially, as if they weren’t sitting outside one of the most heavily monitored buildings in the county. But sure, they were definitely back in New England, studying at one of the country’s most prestigious universities.

Not that they didn’t leave with the purest intentions, this investigation into timelines and universes… However neither had the foggiest clue where to start. Tim had recalled Dick and Bruce talking of Wally, the idea that something or someone been messing with time or memories. To avoid Bruce catching wind of what they were up to, they had asked Black Canary, and Dinah had suggested magic, which had led them to Zatanna.

Tim knew Bruce knew they weren’t at college. He just didn’t want Bruce to know why. This trip was partially for him and Steph to be alone. Properly. Without Bruce and his weird secrets and mind games. Without the pressure of fighting crime each night with all its mental and physical traumas.

Without Cassandra bursting through their window with takeout after a night of training, catching Steph in her nightshirt and Tim with his pyjama bottoms halfway up his legs.

It had been going well, as well as could be expected of two seventeen-year olds going on a targetless road trip. Tim had enough money to his name to keep them going for more than enough time, and Stephanie didn’t want for much regardless.

Still, this trip had a purpose, and they both hoped that speaking with Zatanna would orient them in the right direction.

“I’m just saying,” Stephanie continued, now grinning back at Tim’s softening smile “The only thing missing is the circus for us to join.”

It was almost funny how their conversations always came back to their future together. They were still so young but they always spoke of what their lives would be, could be, five, ten, fifteen years down the line.

Not that the circus was a serious suggestion, but it made her point all the same. They had split off from the family back home, deliberately gaining some distance. They’d not spoken to Bruce since he’d waved them off, hearing that they’d get the official wedding invite ‘any day now’ (any day now had been going on for weeks at this point, both were afraid to enquire for an update). They’d not heard from Dick in even more time (something was going on with the Titans, on and off the field, but Tim hadn’t chased it). Damian and Jason were enigmas as usual to them (coming and going as they pleased). They’d get the odd photo and message sent from Cass and Duke and Barbara, the three of them seemed to be forming a little huddle, but for the most part, it was radio silence. Maybe Bruce had encouraged it for once. Leave them alone. Let them be teenagers. They can figure it out if they want to do the superhero gig on their own.

Or maybe that was too forgiving of an assumption of Bruce.

The other day Stephanie had been filming Tim being a dweeb, and she had muttered about making their (hypothetical) children watch this so they could be assured that their (hypothetical) father was never once cool ever. Tim had just laughed and argued that she was just as bad as he, she was only better at covering it up. He didn’t flush at the mention of children, and he didn’t call out at her statement at all. It was a quiet assumption between them, the idea of children (plural. Both had been so lonely growing up they couldn’t bear the thought of repeating their parents’ mistakes). An unspoken promise never confirmed aloud.

Seventeen years old and they were already thinking of when they’d be thirty five. Maybe one near (actual?) death experience each made them grip to that future tightly. They would have it all. They would help people until there was no longer a need for them to do so anymore, upon which they could bow out, ready to drop the double-faced world they occupied.

It had been temporary for Tim, initially. He didn’t so much as want to be Robin as he was at the only one who could be Robin.

It had been temporary for Stephanie, initially. She couldn’t let her father go on hurting people, and she was at first the only one who knew what weird, over the top schemes he’d managed to cobble together.

It was supposed to be temporary, for both of them.

I can make it all work. I can make a system that can sustain itself… After all that, I can take care of myself. Take care of us. I promise.

And yet that promise he’d made aloud, mere hours before everything had blown up in their faces – literally – had been a rude awakening that their line of work didn’t allow easy early retirements, not truly.

That was okay though, not today didn’t mean not ever, or at least, that’s what they had both told themselves at night sleeping in assorted cheap hotels. The receptionists had always given them funny looks, no doubt Tim and Stephanie probably did look like young eloping teenagers. Tim had surprised Stephanie in his reaction to their expressions, putting his foot down when affirming yes we want a double bed no not twin singles. When checking out in the morning Tim defiantly left the bed an unmade mess, as if they were a pair of rabbits who couldn’t get enough of each other, as if trying to earn that slightly disapproving look from across the counter.

She thought maybe he was tired of people giving their opinion on the two of them being together.

And ultimately, that is what they were wasn’t it? Teenage sweethearts running away from home.

And to the circus, if that’s what it came down to.

Stephanie’s buzzing phone and Zatanna’s arrival had brought an end to the feeling of joviality. Stephanie’s thoughts were being torn in two directions. She couldn’t stand the thought of her father running around doing as he pleased, and she had a sudden sharp stab of fear for her mother, but she had just reaffirmed that she was staying with Tim come hell or high water. Tim made the decision for her. He knew she wouldn’t be focused going forward unless she chased down her father, so gave the both of them a three day deadline.

“You’ll be focused and I’ll have a start.” He stated. He was dressed in his uniform, looking somehow both dashing and fragile at once. What he thought he knew had been shaken again, except for the blonde girl standing in front of him. The one who was looking at him with a slightly befuddled but still endeared smile.

“I love you Tim Drake.” She said, ignoring for a moment where they were and what he was dressed as.

There was a beat of silence. Enough to make Stephanie uncomfortable. He had usually always been the first to declare it to her. Now that she had uttered it first, he seemed at a loss on how to respond. She decided to prompt him, trying not to sound too desperate when she asked:

“Did you hear –?”

“I’m madly in love with you, Steph.” He blurted out. His smile widened until he looked overjoyed. “I was just about to tell you that. I was going to tell you I was so happy you were in my repressed memories, too, because I didn’t want – ”

A life without you was how he was going to finish his declaration before she threw herself at him, smacking a kiss on his lips, and Tim saw his world go pink for a moment.

He had been relieved that she’d been in those memories. She had to have been. She was the only one, for so long, who knew him as both Robin and Tim. The Teen Titans had asked and asked but he’d always been so reluctant to cave in, whilst part of his fear of leaving the title of Robin would mean losing Bruce and Dick and Barbara, for what possible reason could Tim Drake have to associate with them? It was different now, he was Bruce’s adopted son, so their connection could not be severed regardless of him wearing a mask or not, and he had opened up to his friends, slowly but surely.

She was still the person he wanted to be with him every step of the way. She’s never cared what title he’d held, she’d cared more about the way he held her. This was his chance though. She had always been stuck on the fringes of their generation, not having many close friends outside of Gotham. If his friends and family could become hers… he just wanted her with him every step of the way. It was selfish of him he knew, but she deserved a better family than the one she’d been born into, and he had the opportunity to give it to her.

She was gripping the front of his uniform tightly, and he was holding her shoulders. Leaning forward, he put their foreheads together with a gentle thunk. Still smiling, he reminded her of the three day deadline.

“Two days.” She pushed.

“Promise?” He looked at her, and she smiled guiltily. How many broken promises had they made to each other? How many had they kept? How many had remained unspoken, for fear of them never coming true?

“I can’t.” Stephanie exhaled unsteadily, her eyes tearing up.

He didn’t sound disappointed when he responded, “I know.” He understood. Better than anyone he understood the danger of promises and oaths.

For a brief moment she longed for them to forget responsibilities and be utterly selfish. Run away to the circus like she’s joked. Confirm every suspicious look those receptionists had given them for the past four weeks. Leave behind broken families who didn’t know what good communication meant between the lot of them and start a newer better family in its place. It was a whim that would remain in her head, but she answered the question she would sit and wait for over the next twenty years if need be out loud, as both a promise to Tim and to herself.

“…But I do.”

Tim didn’t say anything more in response, but looked up at her, his forehead still pressed to hers, and breathed a laugh. He knew what she’d meant when she’s said I do, of course he figured it out, but he also knew to let it remain out of context. Another unspoken promise.

They’d be fine. More than fine. He would find his friends and he would take care of them. They’d scraped their way back to each other for a reason. He couldn’t let her, or Conner or Cassie or Bart or any of the others, slide by any longer.

Another unspoken promise.

#dc #timsteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #this is super self-indulgent so please indulge me...#my fic tag

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sml8180 · 6 years ago

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Shot at Redemption - 07

Connections

Rose remained in Joseph’s home for a week, recovering her strength and letting some of her wounds heal. In that time, Joseph and John both checked up on her regularly, making sure that she had what she needed. After a few days, she was up and walking around the room, once again sketching in her journal. John had come in one evening when she was looking out the window, sketching the sunset, and had simply watched her, saying nothing while he was there. After a week had gone by, she was feeling well enough to leave Joseph’s home, though he argued against her leaving the compound. Following one particular argument between Rose and Joseph, the small woman stormed out, backpack with all her belongings, including her radio and copy of Joseph’s book, slung over her shoulder.

Unable to go back to her cabin by the river, Rose decided that she would risk going into town, wherever she came across one. She had found cash stashed away in several places around the area while exploring, so she wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while. Walking along the main road, Rose kept her head down, her hair tucked up into one of her beanies to hide it. One of the most recognizable things about her was the reverse ombre color she had, leading from her naturally bright blonde hair at the roots to a deep red at the tips. She’d had her hair colored like this for quite some time, it was one of the first things she had done after getting out of the service, and she’d touch it up once it got too long and faded. Now, it was starting to grow out, and she had some options. She could just cut where the orange mid-tone faded to her natural color, and leave it be, or wait until it all grew out and faded. It was something she would have to think about, when she had the downtime.

Eventually, Rose came to the town of Fall’s End. It was small, and reminded her of the small town in Maine she had grown up in. There weren’t many people around, even for the small size of the town. The woman sighed, exhausted by the trek she’d just made, especially considering she still wasn’t in the best condition following her time at Jacob’s hands. Spotting a brightly lit sign reading “Spread Eagle”, Rose shrugged to herself, and decided to head inside. It was fairly quiet inside the bar, with just a few people milling about. The worn-out woman came to the bar, pulling herself up and perching atop one of the stools.

“I’ll be right with you,” came a female voice from across the room. A blonde woman was wiping down a table, conversing with a man wearing what looked to be a bullet-proof vest, if Rose was correct. The woman approached after a few moments, stopping in front of Rose on the other side of the bar. “Looks like you’re worse for wear. Need a drink?”

“I could go for a water or soda, if you can. I can’t actually drink,” Rose replied, resting her arms against the bar.

“Well, we’ve got pop, if that’s what you’re looking for,” the woman gave a soft laugh, ducking down to grab a bottle of a fairly popular local brand. “Going by what you’re calling the stuff, you’re not from around here, are you?”

“Not at all. In from Maine,” Rose confessed, watching as the woman came back up, popping the cap off the bottle and setting it on the counter for her. She reached for the bottle, taking a sip of the sweet liquid it contained.

“Explains it,” the woman smiled, bracing her forearms on the counter and leaning against it. “What brings you all the way out here, then?”

“Wanted to get away from shit back home, is all. Ended up in this chaos, instead.”

“It wasn’t always like this, that’s for sure,” a male voice cut in. The man the blonde had been speaking with got up from the table he was seated at and made his way over to the pair. “Hope County used to be a pretty peaceful place, until Joseph and his flock started to really kick things up.”

“Jerome’s right. We used to be what most would probably call an ideal little town, calm, tight-knit, everyone knowing everyone. Then all this happened,” the blonde sighed, turning to look at a photo behind the bar.

“He’d be proud of the hell we’ve been raising against those Peggies, Mary. I’m sure of it,” Jerome’s voice was a gentle one, even with how low it was. Mary simply gave a nod, turning back to the pair. The three heard the door open once more, and a dark skinned woman came up to the bar, settling between Jerome and Rose. Mary ducked down, coming back up to stand with a beer in hand, uncapping it and handing it off to the woman.

“You always know what I need, Mary,” the new woman’s voice was rough and a bit low.

“Well, you always go for the same thing, Grace. Every time you come around,” Mary laughed a bit, as Grace shrugged and took a drink from the bottle in her hand.

“And who’s the new one?” Grace looked to Rose, her black ball-cap casting a dark shadow over her face.

“Rose,” was all Rose said, looking towards the woman beside her.

“Most people have been leaving Hope County, not coming in. What brought you here?”

“Running from shit back in Maine. Dunno now long I’ll be around,” Rose confessed, shrugging a bit.

“There’s a place not far from here, just down the road, a little bed and breakfast type place. If you’re looking for a place to stay, I’d check with them. Good people, they could help you out,” Jerome offered.

“Thanks, I’ll check it out.” Rose gave a little smile, before taking another sip from her soda. The cool liquid soothed her dry, sore throat.

The group chatted for a time, when the subject briefly turned to her various bandaged injuries, Rose simply claimed she’d fallen while out on a hike. Luckily, the others didn’t press for further details, and simply expressed that they were glad she’d been lucky enough to have not broken anything. The conversation went on for quite some time, as they discussed anything that came to mind. They spoke about what things had been like before the Project started to become an issue, about what they were doing, and how crazy Joseph seemed to be. Rose simply kept out that she’d encountered all three brothers, and had agreed to join the Project to save her own skin. Eventually, Mary and Jerome went to take care of a few things, leaving Grace and Rose to their own devices. Another hour or so of conversation passed, with the two females going back and forth, eventually discussing their respective time in the service. Eventually, Grace’s radio crackled to life, as someone contacted her to call for some help somewhere else in the county. With a quick goodbye, Grace left the money to pay for her beer on the counter under the empty bottle, and headed out, leaving Rose on her own.

The smaller woman remained where she was, finishing her soda and simply thinking. The Project was violent, chaotic, and unpredictable, and they were merciless as they tried to “save” the people of Hope County. And yet, she’d chosen to practically side with them to keep herself from being taken into custody. Shaking her head, she put down some cash under her own empty bottle, and made her way out of the bar. The sun was low in the sky by now, and Rose knew she wouldn’t be able to find somewhere else to stay before it got dark, especially in her current condition, still being weak from Jacob’s treatment. Thus, she made her way to the bed and breakfast Jerome had spoken about, and talked with the owners. Like the three others she’d met, the owners seemed like good people, and after giving an altered summary of her story to them, they were able to get her into a room, saying that she could stay as long as she needed, considering the circumstances, and they would work out a fair price later on.

In her room, Rose set her backpack down by the small desk, and sat on the bed. She yawned, stretching a bit before pulling her journal out of her backpack, opening it up and starting to write down what had gone on. As night fell completely, Rose’s physical state started to really make itself known. Now that she wasn’t on the move, her muscles felt even more sore, and she felt generally exhausted. She put her journal back into her bag, ignoring the radio and Book of Joseph as she grabbed one of her large T-shirts and changed into it, checking over her wounds as she did. Most of the smaller wounds were almost fully healed, by now, leaving the larger ones behind, along with the bruises that had been darkest. At least they were no longer in their fresh dark purple stage, having faded into a sickly yellow. She sighed, pulling the shirt over her injuries and checking her bandages before finally deciding to turn in for the night. Sleep came quickly, though her dreams were anything but the usual.

Her mind was filled with fuzzy images of Jacob looming over her, of the song that played from his music box. She saw Joseph’s face, his blue eyes obscured by his yellow aviators, close to her own as he spoke about trying to clean up her act. And she saw John, caging her in with his arms, his face mere inches from her own, their eyes locked. His voice echoed in her ears as she slept, though she had no idea why.

Despite her newly formed connections to a small handful of the town’s residents, Rose couldn’t let go the connections she’d already made with each of the Seed brothers. After all, the only person standing between Rose’s freedom and her arrest was that damn lawyer turned baptist. Blue held all the cards, and they both knew it. It would only be a matter of time before something happened between them, though Rose had no idea what that something would be. For now, though, while she was awake, she would simply be resting, letting her body and mind recover from her recent ordeal.

Taglist: @deputyoneill @johnseedthot @deputyshitlordsantana @jacobsmusicbox @farcrying5 @johnseedsplane @rookieseed @ignoranttruly

#fc5 fanfic #far cry 5 #mary may fairgrave #jerome jeffries #grace armstrong #oc: rose carter #shot at redemption #SaR

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the-grendel-khan · 7 years ago

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More Census data and density.

Continuing to dive into the Census data, I've extended the dataset to go back to 1990, and I've gotten two reasonably good visualizations.

This is a histogram of population. Think of the shaded mass as the actual people; there will be more shaded area as there are more people; they're arranged at different parts of the chart. It's very clear that very dense (over ten thousand a square mile) places didn't grow at all in those twenty years, nor did the countryside empty out. Rather, new people all went to the same moderately-dense set of places. (The purple parts grew from 1990-2000; the red ones grew from 2000-2010.)

This is an empirical cumulative distribution function, essentially the integral of the histogram. (You can get the derivative of this, essentially an empirical density function, substituting geom_density for stat_ecdf.) 1990 is green, 2000 blue, 2010 red, as noted. The vertical lines are, respectively, the second, tenth, twenty-fifth, fiftieth, seventy-fifth and ninetieth percentiles for density, reproduced in awful ASCII table form here because Tumblr's Markdown support is apparently awful:

. | 2% | 10% | 25% | 50% | 75% | 90% -----|------|------|-----|------|------|------- 1990 | 10.6 | 46.9 | 262 | 1998 | 5344 | 11239 2000 | 11.9 | 53.6 | 289 | 2060 | 5368 | 11199 2010 | 12.6 | 62.4 | 364 | 2120 | 5182 | 10591

The result: there's been a move toward the middle. We're much less rural, and we're slightly less super-urban as well. Note that the demand for dense walkability is quite strong, especially as reflected in housing prices.

Following the cut: as much information as I'd need to reconstruct this from scratch myself.

Getting the 2000 and 2010 data in comparable form was pretty straightforward. The 2010 data is in a file called DEC_10_SF1_GCTPH1.CY07.csv, available here.

Luckily, it's possible to attach multiple datasets to a single plot; ggplot2 is very flexible in that way. The field names are a bit different, too. So, here's the two-census plot:

ggplot(NULL) + geom_histogram( data = populated, aes(HC08, weight = HC01), fill = 'blue', binwidth = 0.02, alpha = 0.5 ) + geom_histogram( data = populated10, aes(SUBHD0401, weight = HD01), fill = "red", binwidth = 0.02, alpha = 0.5 ) + scale_x_log10( "Density (persons/square mile)", labels = scales::comma, breaks = c(1, 10, 100, 1000, 10000, 100000) ) + scale_y_continuous(name = "Population") + theme_economist() + theme(axis.text.y = element_blank()) + ggtitle("United States Population by Density, 2000-2010")

Is it possible to get the 1990 data? The complete partitioning of the United States into Census tracts was only completed in 2000; in 1990, all counties were partitioned into tracts or "block numbering areas" which seem comparable; before that, breaking down data below the city level was pretty much ad-hoc.

The selected data page for the 1990 census includes, as its last item, "State by state files from Tables 1 and 19 of the 1990 Census of Population and Housing: Population and Housing Characteristics for Census Tracts and Block Numbering Areas (CPH-3) report." The link is dead, but the Wayback Machine points to the right place! There are fifty-three PDF files, each of which looks like a simple table, printed out. (Luckily, no OCR is necessary here. Whew!) poppler-utils has a simple utility to convert PDF to text.

All lines with actual data in them have a five-digit county code somewhere in the line. Note that there are spaces in some county names, but it looks like the fields are all delimited by at least two spaces. So...

$ pdftotext -layout AL.pdf - |grep "[[:digit:]]\{5\}"|sed 's/\s\{2,\}/,/g'|head -1 01001,Autauga,201,1773,3.78,184,9.9

We also need to add one more row at the top, for the headers (tract numbers look like 123.02; BNA IDs look to be four-digit codes above nine thousand):

StCou,CountyName,TractBNA,Population,Area,PovertyCount,PovertyPercent

(I'm not looking for data about poverty, but this is what I could find.) Note that because of space-parsing issues, I had to collapse spaces between numbers, between letters and numbers, but not between letters, hence the Perl. (Not sure why the repeat of the last bit is required.)

$ echo 'StCou,CountyName,TractBNA,Population,Area,PovertyCount,PovertyPercent' > Census1990.csv $ for x in *.pdf; do pdftotext -layout $x - \ | grep "[[:digit:]]\{5\}" \ | perl -pe 's/([a-z.])\s+([0-9])/\1,\2/g; s/([0-9])\s+([A-Za-z])/\1,\2/g; s/([0-9])\s+([0-9])/\1,\2/g; s/([0-9])\s+([0-9])/\1,\2/g' >> Census1990.csv; done

At this point, there are twenty-four unparseable rows, which I guess I'm going to have to deal with. And note that the numbers don't quite add up; the total population is 252M, when it should be 249M; the area is 3.6M square miles, where it should be 3.8M.

> sum(census90$Population, na.rm=T) [1] 252191384 > sum(census90$Area, na.rm=T) [1] 3564912

Tidy the data:

census90[census90$Area == 0,]$Area = 0.01 populated90 <- na.omit(census90[census90$Population > 0,]) populated90$Density = populated90$Population / populated90$Area

And here's the full code for the histogram:

ggplot(NULL) + geom_histogram( data = populated90, aes(Density, weight = Population), fill = 'dark green', binwidth = 0.02, alpha = 0.8 ) + geom_histogram( data = populated, aes(HC08, weight = HC01), fill = 'blue', binwidth = 0.02, alpha = 0.33 ) + geom_histogram( data = populated10, aes(SUBHD0401, weight = HD01), fill = "red", binwidth = 0.02, alpha = 0.33 ) + scale_x_log10( "Density (persons/square mile)", labels = scales::comma, limits = c(0.1, NA), breaks = c(1, 10, 100, 1000, 10000, 100000) ) + scale_y_continuous(name = "Population") + theme_economist() + theme(axis.text.y = element_blank()) + ggtitle("United States Population by Density, 1990-2010")

For the empirical CDFs, replace geom_histogram with stat_ecdf, which is easy enough. But seeing how the percentiles move is less simple. The quantile function does the right thing for plain data, but this is weighted--not all census blocks contain the same number of people. (We'd just get the nth percentile of census blocks, not of people.) Luckily, there's a wtd.quantile function in the reldist package that does the right thing. Sanity-checked:

> library(reldist) > wtd.quantile(populated90$Density, weight=populated90$Population, q=0.5) 50% 1998.271 > sum(populated90[populated90$Density < 1998,]$Population) / sum(populated90$Population) [1] 0.499948

Compare to the naive approach, biased low because of a large number of low-population rural tracts:

> quantile(populated90$Density, probs=0.5) 50% 1854.299 > sum(populated90[populated90$Density < 1854,]$Population) / sum(populated90$Population) [1] 0.4851802

I could not get a key to show up on the graph itself, likely because the main ggplot call is empty, but even adding a year variable to each of the tables didn't quite seem to work.

probs = c(0.02, 0.10,0.25,0.5,0.75,0.9) ggplot(NULL) + stat_ecdf( data = populated90, aes(Density, weight = Population), color = 'dark green', ) + stat_ecdf( data = populated, aes(HC08, weight = HC01), color = 'blue', ) + stat_ecdf( data = populated10, aes(SUBHD0401, weight = HD01), color = "red", ) + geom_vline( aes(xintercept=wtd.quantile( populated90$Density, weight=populated90$Population, q=probs)), color="dark green", linetype="dashed", ) + geom_vline( aes(xintercept=wtd.quantile( populated$HC08, weight=populated$HC01, q=probs)), color="blue", linetype="dashed", ) + geom_vline( aes(xintercept=wtd.quantile( populated10$SUBHD0401, weight=populated10$HD01, q=probs)), color="red", linetype="dashed", ) + scale_x_log10( "Density (persons/square mile)", labels = scales::comma, limits = c(0.1, NA), breaks = c(1, 10, 100, 1000, 10000, 100000) ) + scale_y_continuous(name = "GREEN=1990, BLUE=2000, RED=2010") + theme_economist() + theme(axis.text.y = element_blank()) + ggtitle("United States Population by Density, 1990-2010")

For more thorough information, the National Historic Geographic Information System contains tract-level data going back as far as tracts existed, but so far as I can tell, you have to do some magic with shapefiles to get the area of each tract. It might be worth trying to dive into at some point.

For similar work done elsewhere, see here; this compares the per-state density with per-county density. (Fun quote: "It would be even better to do this for smaller areas, such as census tracts, but we were too lazy to chase down the data." Ha. This seems analogous to the coastline paradox, though at least humans are discrete rather than continuous.) Possible future work: examine how density varies at the state, county and tract levels, for each state.

#r programming #census #i made this #urbanism

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orbemnews · 4 years ago

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A SPECIAL JOURNAL REPORT: Family still seeking justice one year after Macy woman's death Galen and Tillie Aldrich hold a photograph of their daughter, Ashlea Aldrich, whose lifeless body was found in a farm field on the Omaha Indian Reservation. Galen Aldrich speaks at a memorial service for his daughter, Ashlea Aldrich, at the Walthill Fire Hall on Jan. 7. Ashlea Aldrich was found dead a year before on that date. Galen and Tillie Aldrich talk about the death of their daughter, Ashlea Aldrich, during an interview in their rural Walthill, Nebraska, home in January 2020. The naked body of Ashlea Aldrich, a 29-year-old mother of two, was found in a farm field on the Omaha Indian Reservation. The Aldriches say her death was the result of domestic violence. Tillie Aldrich, center, and Galen Aldrich, right, give gifts to family members at a memorial service for their daughter, Ashlea Aldrich. Tillie Aldrich, right, and Galen Aldrich, left, give gifts to family members at a memorial service for their daughter, Ashlea Aldrich, at the Walthill Fire Hall in Walthill, Nebraska, on Jan. 7. Ashlea Aldrich was found dead one year ago on this day. MACY, Neb. — Framed inspirational quotes decorated Galen and Tillie Aldrich’s home on a bitter cold day in January 2020. Photos of their youngest daughter, Ashlea, once hung in their places on the light-beige walls. After the 29-year-old mother’s lifeless body was found lying muddy and naked in a cornfield on the Omaha Indian Reservation two weeks earlier, her photos were packed away and her clothes were bundled up in a gray star quilt. In keeping with tribal tradition, Galen then took the quilt to the old Cook homestead north of Macy, said a prayer and hung it in a tree. “It’s like our mourning process,” he explained. “We keep her for four days and then we send her off to heaven. If we cry too much or keep some of her photographs and clothes, that might stop her from going. Her spirit will just wander around here.” The Aldrich family holds a memorial service at the Walthill Fire Hall for Ashlea Aldrich who was found dead a year ago in January 2020. The Aldriches claim Ashlea lost her life because of domestic violence. But no charges have been filed in federal court against anyone in connection with her death. Since 2013, the Aldriches say they have called tribal police dozens of times after Ashlea’s longtime boyfriend assaulted her. Native American women experience disproportionately high rates of violence, with more than 55 percent reporting that intimate partners have committed physical violence against them, according to a 2016 National Institute of Justice-funded study. “The court system and our law enforcement never protected my daughter. I’m going to make sure nobody ever forgets what happened to her,” Galen said. Last month, The Journal obtained a copy of Ashlea’s death certificate from Nebraska’s Office of Vital Records. The document, filed on Jan. 17, 2020, lists the immediate cause of death as “hypothermia complicating acute alcohol toxicity” and the manner of death is listed as an “accident.” Ashlea was “found deceased after she wandered off.” The time of death is unknown, according to the document. The FBI has not made public information about how Ashlea died. When The Journal asked about Ashlea’s cause of death, Amy Adams, a spokeswoman for the FBI’s Omaha office responded, “The FBI can neither confirm nor deny an investigation.” After the Douglas County Coroner in Omaha performed an autopsy, Ashlea’s parents said they viewed her body at Munderloh-Smith Funeral Home in Pender. Before the viewing, Galen said he met with an FBI agent who told him there was no evidence that his daughter had been strangled or sexually assaulted and there was no bruising on her body. “She had a black eye, her nose was swollen and there were little welts all over her,” Galen told The Journal in January 2020. After the viewing, Galen said he called an FBI agent and told him about the injuries he observed on his daughter’s body. He said the agent attributed the marks to the way Ashlea’s body was lying on the ground. Galen said he disagreed with that assessment and told the agent so. Ashlea Aldrich is shown in a photograph that was printed on the front of her funeral program. Her mother said she was creative and liked to do hair and makeup. Aldrich family photo During the interview, Tillie said Ashlea was found with no clothing, socks or shoes, less than a quarter mile from where she lived with her boyfriend. Tillie said Ashlea’s sister, Alyssa, who discovered Ashlea lying in the field, observed mud all over Ashlea’s back, which stretched down to her calves. However, Tillie said an FBI agent later told her Ashlea had no soil or abrasions on her feet. “It was hard to even wrap my head around anything,” she said at the time. After receiving Ashlea’s death certificate last month, The Journal contacted Tillie. She said she feels “betrayed and neglected by the FBI.” “The agent who originally investigated was negligent and clearly wanted a quick, closed case. There are too many unanswered questions,” she said. On Jan. 7, 2021, the first anniversary of when Ashlea’s body was found, dozens gathered at the Walthill Fire Hall and a bridge near the site to pray, sing and remember her. “Even we couldn’t protect her,” Tillie said at the fire hall. “The law enforcement can’t protect her. None of our laws can protect her. That’s what we’re fighting for. We’re fighting for justice, so that we’ll never have another Ashlea. I can’t bear any of my tribal members to go through what I went through this last year.” Over the past year, candlelight vigils have been held in Ashlea’s memory on the reservation and in Lincoln, Nebraska. In a display of solidarity, a group of Walthill High School cheerleaders even stood with red handprints painted across their mouths during a basketball game. Red handprints have come to symbolize missing and murdered Indigenous women and relatives. Judi gaiashkibos, executive director of the Nebraska Commission on Indian Affairs (NCIA), stated in a report published May 21 that the reservation saw a “wave of suicides among teenagers” in the aftermath of Ashlea’s death. “This was a clear sign of the desperation that can rise up during times of tragedy in a profound and dangerous way in communities that feel isolated and hopeless,” she wrote in the report, which was the result of an NCIA and Nebraska State Patrol study on the prevalence of missing Native American women and children in the state. Gwen Porter, a member of the Omaha Tribal Council, acknowledged that the tribe has faced one crisis after another, even before the COVID-19 pandemic, with methamphetamine, suicide and domestic violence. “It hasn’t broken us, but we’ve been dealing with it. Having people and other communities to reach out and support us during our time of need is what has gotten us through,” she said. ‘Fully investigated and prosecuted’ When Ashlea’s body was found on the reservation, the Thurston County Sheriff’s Office said federal authorities were in charge of the investigation. Although the FBI had a team onsite, they would not confirm that they were investigating a death or the location. More than nine months later, when The Journal asked her if the FBI was investigating Ashlea’s death, Adams responded, “The FBI investigates cases in tandem with the Omaha tribal police. The FBI has spoken directly to Ashlea Aldrich’s family with respect to the outcome of our investigation.” According to a background inquiry filed Feb. 10, 2020, in Omaha Tribal Court, three days after Ashlea’s body was found, her boyfriend was charged with criminal homicide, criminal contempt, and duty to give information and render aid. Tillie said he was held at the tribe’s detention facility in Macy, but then, in April, he was released. The U.S. Attorney’s Office for the District of Nebraska has jurisdiction over major crimes committed on the Omaha, Winnebago and Santee Sioux reservations. While Assistant U.S. Attorney Michael Norris told The Journal he cannot comment on specific cases and investigations, he said his office is “confident” that the homicides that have occurred on Nebraska reservations were “fully investigated and prosecuted.” “We are not aware of any homicides that were not investigated or not prosecuted,” he said. “We can’t ethically file charges when the evidence does not support a charge of homicide.” Porter said she feels “there was due process” concerning Ashlea’s boyfriend, but she said “there’s a lot of unanswered questions.” She said the situation has been difficult for her, since she has close ties to both Ashlea and her boyfriend. “I grew up with Ashlea. She was a niece. Her auntie is my best friend, so I babysat Ashlea. We’ve had outings together. We went to birthday parties and went to the lake,” she said. “For the (boyfriend), I also babysat him, too. He’s my nephew, distantly. We all know each other. We’re all connected in one way or another.” Tillie described Ashlea as shy, but always smiling and happy. “She was just a little scrapper,” Tillie said with a chuckle, as she sat at her kitchen table behind a flickering purple candle on Jan. 21, 2020, just a couple weeks after Ashlea’s death, thinking about Ashlea as a child. “She was just aggressive when it came to her sisters, because she was so tiny. She always fought harder when they wrestled or did anything.” Tillie said her daughter was also very creative and artistic. Ashlea liked to draw and do hair and makeup. After graduating from Omaha Nation High School in 2009, Ashlea studied cosmetology at La James International College in Fremont, Nebraska. She received her diploma from La James in 2010. The following year, Tillie was diagnosed with breast cancer and the Aldriches also lost their home to flooding. They moved to a small three-bedroom apartment in the middle of Macy. “We all struggled through that,” Tillie said. “I think that’s when I started to lose her. When I was busy fighting cancer, she was drifting away and getting into a relationship.” Tillie Aldrich, at home with her husband Galen, said she feels “betrayed and neglected by the FBI.” Tim Hynds, Sioux City Journal Support Local Journalism Your membership makes our reporting possible. featured_button_text Ashlea reconnected with her boyfriend, whom she had dated in high school. They had two sons, but their relationship was marred by violence, according to the Aldriches, who approached the Omaha Tribal Council about the matter. In an email sent June 9, 2017, to council members, Tillie detailed a June 3 incident in which she found Ashlea standing in the shower of the apartment where she lived with her boyfriend fully clothed and covered in blood. Tillie wrote that the couch was also “soaked with blood” and that there were “splatters on the wall and mattress.” According to the background inquiry, Ashlea’s boyfriend was charged in Omaha Tribal Court with domestic disturbance and two counts of endangering the welfare of a child on June 3, 2017. Those charges were dismissed later that August. The document also lists four domestic abuse charges for four separate incidents that occurred in 2013, 2014 and 2016. It is unknown from the document whether any of those cases involved Ashlea. The charges were either dismissed, reduced or, in one instance, the boyfriend was found not guilty. “As many times as we’ve turned him in, nothing has ever happened to him,” Tillie said. Since Ashlea’s death, Porter said roles have changed on the reservation. The tribe has a new attorney general, prosecutor and chief of police. She said the tribe is reviewing its judicial system and providing community training to respond to incidents of domestic violence. “It has our attention. We’ve been taking action,” she said. The Aldriches said they made it clear to Ashlea they would be there for her no matter what and she always had a room in their home. Galen said Ashlea struggled with alcohol use the last two years of her life. He said she was drinking daily and losing a lot of weight. During the summer of 2019, Tillie noticed that when her daughter would leave her boyfriend and come home, each time, she was staying longer. Ashlea laid on the floor and read books with her sons, who have been in the Aldriches’ care since July 2018, or worked on jigsaw puzzles with them. “(Ashlea) was always so content with them,” Tillie said, voice quaking, as tears streamed down her cheeks. “That was her happiness. She didn’t even need anything else.” Tillie Aldrich, right, hugs Aurelia Robinson during a memorial service for Aldrich’s daughter, Ashlea Aldrich. Jesse Brothers That September, Tillie took her daughter to New Town, North Dakota, where her sister lives. During the visit, Ashlea conquered her fear of heights. She sent her mother a photo of her standing on a ledge overlooking a lake. “She was just proud of the picture. ‘I did it, Mom. I faced the fear. I feel so much better,'” Tillie recalled. Before Thanksgiving, Ashlea went to a detox center in Omaha. She stayed four days and then sought a bed at an inpatient treatment facility. But, Galen said she never got into treatment because of the long waiting list. Ashlea returned to the reservation. Not long after Thanksgiving, Tillie heard Ashlea had been hurt. She said she called the tribal police department and was told Ashlea had been taken to Twelve Clans Unity Hospital’s emergency department in Winnebago. When Tillie saw Ashlea at the hospital, she said Ashlea’s fingers were purple and that one of her fingernails was coming off. She said Ashlea told her her hand was slammed in a vehicle’s door. Ashlea stayed at her parents’ home most of December. On Christmas Eve, Ashlea’s boyfriend came by to give her a mobile phone. Tillie told her daughter the gift was his way of keeping track of her. Ashlea was excited about the phone, nonetheless. Another present she really liked was a forest green winter coat with brown fur that her father picked out for her. “She put it on and she fit it just right. She was just happy with it,” Tillie said. Around 2:30 a.m. on Dec. 26, Tillie said Ashlea came into the living room and put on the coat. As Ashlea was about to go outside to smoke a cigarette, Tillie told her daughter, “Ashlea, don’t leave.” Not long after Ashlea walked out the back door, Tillie saw the headlights of a vehicle. Ashlea was gone. Tillie quickly got in her black Kia Sportage and headed to Macy, where she found Ashlea and her boyfriend. She said she told Ashlea she was scared for her safety, but Ashlea reassured her she was OK. Ashlea stood by the front passenger door of Tillie’s vehicle and said through the rolled-down window, “I love you, Mom.” Tillie replied, “I love you, Ash,” and then drove away. The evening of Monday, Jan. 6, Tillie couldn’t stop thinking and worrying about Ashlea on her way to work in West Point, Nebraska. Earlier, she received a text from Alyssa, informing her that someone saw Ashlea “beat-up” in the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s SUV on Sunday. As the setting sun painted the sky a blaze of orange, purple and pink, Tillie, who works as a certified nursing assistant, stopped her car, took some sage out of the glove compartment, burned it and said a prayer for her daughter. She asked God to watch over Ashlea and keep her safe. The next day, Galen said he was performing tribal home maintenance work, when he spotted the SUV that Ashlea’s boyfriend drove parked in a cornfield in the area of Main Street and Blackbird Creek, just south of Macy. He said he looked inside the vehicle and walked around it. “I could see her tracks where she got out kind of going around the front of the truck. I could see his tracks, but I really couldn’t tell which way they went,” he said. “Then, I had that feeling – I knew something was wrong.” Galen Aldrich said he is going to make sure that no one forgets what happened to his daughter, Ashlea Aldrich. Jesse Brothers, Sioux City Journal Galen went over to a nearby concrete bridge. He walked underneath the bridge, and, when he came back up, he said he saw Ashlea’s boyfriend pull up in a vehicle. He asked, “Where’s my daughter? When’s the last time you’ve seen her?” Galen said Ashlea’s boyfriend told him he hadn’t seen her since Sunday, when his SUV got stuck in the mud. Ashlea allegedly went to find help, while he stayed in the SUV. After the encounter with Ashlea’s boyfriend, Galen headed to the tribal police department to speak with then-Omaha Nation Police Captain Ed Tyndall. While he was there, he heard a dispatcher call for officers to respond to a female screaming for help south of town. He immediately took off for the site. Just minutes earlier, at roughly 3 p.m., Alyssa was looking for her sister when she spotted the SUV Ashlea’s boyfriend drove parked in the field. Tillie said Alyssa looked around the SUV, but then she began walking toward an opening in the trees. That’s when she saw Ashlea’s long black hair blowing in the wind. Tillie said Alyssa ran to her sister’s naked body, which was lying facedown on the ground more than 100 yards north of the SUV. Alyssa tried to rouse Ashlea, but she was cold and stiff. She took off her coat, placed it over her sister and laid next to her until law enforcement arrived. When Tillie reached Macy, she saw squad cars, the SUV parked in the field and a white cover lying on the ground. She screamed and ran toward the white cover, until Tyndall stopped her. “I said, ‘Is that my baby?’ He said, ‘Tillie, you can’t come here. This is a crime scene,'” Tillie recalled Tyndall telling her. “He kept pushing me back and I kept fighting it.” Tillie said the FBI collected soil from her daughter’s body and the ground she laid on. She said those samples were sent to the FBI’s crime laboratory in Quantico, Virginia, along with Ashlea’s fingernail clippings. “I voiced my concern to deaf ears,” she said. “If anybody listened then, I believe my daughter would still be here.” A SPECIAL JOURNAL REPORT: Native women face epidemic of violence A SPECIAL JOURNAL REPORT: Questions surrounding death of Omaha Nation woman remain Dialysis unit slated to open in Walthill Twelve Clans Unity Hospital offering inpatient care Subscribe to our Daily Headlines newsletter. Source link Orbem News #Alyssa #anatomy #ashleaaldrich #Charge #criminallaw #Death #domesticviolence #Family #full-longform #galenaldrich #gwenporter #Journal #Justice #Law #lawenforcement #macy #Medicine #mmiw #omahatribeofnebraska #Report #seeking #special #SUV #suvashlea #tilliealdrich #womans #Year

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Usa today Rare yellow cardinal sighted, escaped goat caught, fossilized bear skull found: News from around our 50 states

Usa today

Usa today Alabama

Opelika: Development has begun on a novel skate park that will cater to residents of Opelika and Auburn, which will seemingly be partnering on the project. The Opelika-Auburn News reported that Auburn is to blame of the improvement of the project, nonetheless is splitting the value with Opelika. Day after day upkeep will seemingly be Auburn’s accountability, nonetheless renovation and restore charges will seemingly be split between the cities. The park is being constructed on the discipline of some used tennis courts at Indian Pines Golf Route. The target is for the park to be executed by early next year.

Usa today Alaska

Fairbanks: An escaped goat that eluded authorities for nearly about two days became caught after a hunt racy requests for public assistance and sightings shared on social media, officers acknowledged. The goat became within the custody of Fairbanks North Big name Borough Animal Regulate on Tuesday night, The Fairbanks Day after day News-Miner reported. The male goat became reported missing Monday morning. Animal preserve an eye on officers asked the public to contact a legislation enforcement phone number in a social media post that became shared extra than 500 instances. Two inform troopers transported the animal after the goat became caught by of us come a avenue “leaping into web page online web page online visitors and inflicting some considerations,” acknowledged Ken Marsh of the Department of Public Safety. Facebook users who adopted the trek updates named the goat Curry. The proprietor, who became no longer identified, planned to in the beginning return the goat to the herd “so he can heal from this journey. The herd he grew up in will bring him some comfort,” Fairbanks animal preserve an eye on operations supervisor Sandy Hill acknowledged.

Usa today Arizona

Chinle: The Navajo Division of Transportation has closed Chinle Airport’s runway till additional ticket on story of of existing asphalt deterioration. Authorities acknowledged the division’s Avenue Upkeep and Airports Management departments assessed the Chinle Community Airport on Monday. They acknowledged the overview indicated that the south slay of the runway has deteriorated a good deal; vast cracks exist, precipitation is leaking via the cracks into the subgrade and the present pavement is raveling. Authorities acknowledged the runway is closed indefinitely whereas the Navajo Division of Transportation determines improvement plans. Nonetheless, the airport’s tarmac will dwell originate for helicopter scientific transport.

Usa today Arkansas

Hiwasse: The inform has started engaged on multimillion-buck construction tasks to entire its portion of Interstate 49. Motorway Commissioner Phillip Taldo acknowledged when I-49 is accomplished, this can motivate the financial system of northwest Arkansas. The freeway will bustle from the Gulf Soar come Novel Orleans to Canada. The Northwest Arkansas Democrat Gazette reported that officers broke ground Tuesday on a project to entire the Bella Vista Bypass, recognized because the Arkansas/Missouri connector, 2.5 miles from the inform line. The quite quite a lot of project is to severely change a roundabout to a single-level city interchange in Bentonville. The director of the Arkansas Department of Transportation acknowledged the Bella Vista Bypass has been talked about for on the least 25 years. Taldo acknowledged extra funds are wanted to entire the final portion from Alma to Texarkana.

Usa today California

Anza: Authorities acknowledged they seized illegal marijuana with a street tag of $1 million after stopping a van on a Southern California street on story of a passenger wasn’t carrying a seatbelt. The California Motorway Patrol acknowledged an officer smelled an scent of pot after stopping the van Monday in Anza, an unincorporated neighborhood in Riverside County. The Riverside Press-Enterprise acknowledged the van became elephantine of trash bags and intelligent containers that the driver acknowledged contained marijuana. The CHP acknowledged it chanced on 335 kilos of pot. Marijuana use is authorized in California nonetheless some cultivation and transportation of the plant remains illegal.

Usa today Colorado

Pueblo: A marijuana grower offered it lost tens of millions of bucks all the scheme via a cold storm after half of of the vegetation froze sooner than harvest. The Marijuana Industry Day after day reported Wednesday that Pueblo-based Los Sueños Farms lost about 20,000 vegetation in hours of subfreezing temperatures and several other inches of snow all the scheme via an October storm. Company workers acknowledged the damage is predicted to have an affect to your entire inform’s marijuana provide. Employees acknowledged outlets and processors would possibly face elevated wholesale hashish prices, nonetheless extractors are expected to motivate by having salvage entry to to additional plant subject materials to earn items such as infused merchandise, edibles and concentrates. Employees acknowledged they tried salvaging the plants by maintaining them with blankets and utilizing sizzling water to preserve the roots warmth. Los Sueños owns dozens of acres for out of doors manufacturing.

Usa today Connecticut

Stamford: 5 law enforcement officers are suing Stamford, alleging city officers left out accurate scores on the sergeants’ exam and overpassed them for promotions. The Stamford Recommend reported that officers are promoted to sergeant if they salvage the head three scores or ranking within 5 components of the head ranking on the sergeants’ exam. Court docket paperwork point out that the officers who bought the head three scores were chosen for promotion. The plaintiffs acknowledged they were handed over for promotion in settle on of affiliates who scored decrease on the promotion exam. They snarl town violated civil-provider rules and town charter. Then bolt smartly with is such as a criticism filed final year by city firefighters. A city attorney acknowledged she would possibly no longer observation on the bolt smartly with.

Usa today Delaware

Wilmington: Chipotle offered a program Tuesday that enables workers to pursue a college degree debt-free at 5 institutions all the scheme via the country, including Wilmington University. Thru a partnership with Guild Schooling, a company that works as an middleman between companies and workers to present education advantages, Chipotle is maintaining all charges upfront for 75 industrial and expertise levels. The very best rapid out-of-pocket expense is books. Wilmington University declined an interview set a question to Wednesday. When asked via email how and why Wilmington University partnered with Guild and Chipotle, the college’s president Dr. LaVerne Harmon acknowledged in an announcement, “Wilmington University is tickled to be a segment of Chipotle’s imaginative and prescient to abet workers reach their tutorial targets and make stronger their lives via education.” At Wilmington University, Chipotle workers can pursue levels connected to marketing, laptop science and organizational and industrial management. Chipotle has six areas in Novel Citadel County and eight all the scheme via Delaware. With about 25 workers per location, in accordance with Chipotle’s annual shareholder represent, the corporate workers roughly 200 of us in Delaware.

Usa today District of Columbia

Washington: Yahoo no longer too long ago offered that it plans to roll motivate the performance of its Yahoo Groups web page, which is a novel tool damaged-down for discussing neighborhood components within the district, WUSA-TV reported. Dozens of neighborhoods from Tenleytown to Anacostia use the Yahoo Groups web page to make online forums for locals to bring consideration to policy components, crime and even missing pets and capabilities. In accordance with Yahoo, on Oct. 28, users will no longer be ready to upload divulge onto the discipline. Then, on Dec. 14, all previously posted divulge on the discipline will seemingly be completely removed. As smartly as, all public groups on the web site will seemingly be made non-public. Nonetheless, users will tranquil be ready to keep in touch with varied users within existing groups via email. Yahoo has urged group users assign any conversations, photos or hyperlinks that they need from their neighborhood forums sooner than they delete them in December.

Usa today Florida

Port St. Lucie: A rare yellow northern cardinal with a genetic color mutation became seen and photographed in Port St. Lucie on Saturday morning. Tracy Workman, who teaches pictures at a homeschooling group in Port St. Lucie, acknowledged she first seen the rooster in her backyard Oct. 3. Nine days later, Workman saw the rare rooster but again, following it for 5 minutes and utilizing her Canon T5i camera to clutch some photos. Geoffrey Hill, a professor and curator of birds at Auburn University and an knowledgeable on rooster coloration, acknowledged the rooster in Workman’s photos is an adult male northern cardinal with a rare genetic mutation chanced on within the species. Hill acknowledged the mutation chanced on within the northern cardinal species acts as a “knockout of the redness pathway” within the rooster’s DNA, blocking the conventional purple pigment and replacing it with brilliant yellow color. Most productive three yellow cardinal sightings are reported a year, making the rooster’s look a rare “one in a million” discovering, Hill acknowledged. The mutation is such as albinism chanced on in folks, Hill acknowledged. Love folks, all birds have DNA that is subject to mutations. The rooster became chanced on within the discipline of Prima Vista Boulevard and Floresta Power, nonetheless Workman did no longer want to present the actual location for bother of an expand in enraged rooster watchers coming to her apartment. Workman gave the yellow cardinal the nickname “Sunny,” she acknowledged. Thomas Webber, a sequence supervisor of the Division of Ornithology on the Florida Museum in Gainesville, acknowledged the yellow cardinal makes up “smartly below 1 percent” of your entire cardinal inhabitants.

Usa today Georgia

Covington: Town has asked a company that sterilizes scientific units to briefly hand over work over air quality checks that demonstrate elevated ranges of a carcinogen that leaked from the capability final month. News shops reported Covington officers need Becton Dickinson to close operations till extra emissions controls are applied and checks demonstrate they’re efficient. A city observation acknowledged preliminary air quality take a look at outcomes confirmed elevated ranges of ethylene oxide. The Nationwide Institute for Occupational Safety and Properly being sid publicity to the colorless gasoline can discipline off nausea, headaches, respiratory difficulties, exhaustion and varied negative outcomes. Cobb County no longer too long ago paused the operations of one other company, Sterigenics, on story of of considerations over the equivalent chemical. Becton Dickinson released an announcement that acknowledged the chemical can come from many sources.

Usa today Hawaii

HIlo: The Hawaii County Council committee has popular a proposed ban on utilizing herbicides on county property, news experiences acknowledged. The Agriculture, Water, Vitality and Environmental Management Committee voted Tuesday to forward the invoice to the first of two required council hearings. The invoice subsidized by Councilwoman Rebecca Villegas would ban herbicide use for four years in several categories of property owned by the county. The invoice known as for a transition period beginning in January and a entire ban applied by 2024. The ban would observe to county companies that preserve public areas including parks, roadsides, sidewalks, trails, drainageways, and waterways. Deepest property home owners would no longer be affected, officers acknowledged. The proposal gains a long list of particular chemical substances to be banned, along with examples of merchandise that enjoy the substances, such as weed killers with glyphosate. Glyphosate’s connection to cancer in folks remains a subject of scientific and authorized debate. The invoice would require the public works department to rent a consultant to coach work crews, acknowledged Director David Yamamoto.

Usa today Idaho

Coeur d’Alene: Employees on the Coeur d’Alene Public Library have confirmed on the least one person is intentionally hiding books going via components historically assigned to extra liberal political platforms. Books selling LGBTQ rights, discussing gun preserve an eye on policies and criticizing President Donald Trump were chanced on hidden in areas all the scheme via the library, the Coeur d’Alene Press reported Wednesday. Library Director Bette Ammon is ride the teach is no longer an accident or miscommunication after receiving an anonymous observation card. Books on varied matters were also moved, including readings on impeachment, white privilege and girls voting rights, workers participants acknowledged. For every guide that is hidden, the library spends up to $20 for a replacement and hours of time to hit upon the common copies. Books are hidden about 5 instances per week to 10 instances a month, she acknowledged. They're normally recovered days later in spots the farthest from workers vantage components.

Usa today Illinois

Chicago: Mayor Lori Lightfoot is pushing two choices for a Chicago on line casino. One requires a on line casino owned by town and the inform, and the varied requires a privately-owned on line casino. Lightfoot pitched the proposal to Illinois lawmakers. She acknowledged either would require the Legislature to approve taxes decrease than these written into expanded gambling legislation enacted earlier this year. A look for by Las Vegas-based Union Gaming particular that with an efficient tax rate of 72% – including a third of earnings earmarked for city police and firefighter pensions – on top of charges, no developer would possibly right financing for the improvement of a on line casino. Democratic inform Gain. Greg Harris of Chicago acknowledged Lightfoot will have a laborious time getting a tax alternate. He acknowledged the tax structure for a Chicago on line casino is segment of a kit for existing casinos and 6 novel ones.

Usa today Indiana

Indianapolis: The naming of a downtown Indianapolis post office in honor of used U.S. Sen. Richard Lugar has now been popular by each and every houses of Congress. The Rental urged the proposal in a unanimous express vote on Wednesday after the Senate popular it in July. All 9 of Indiana’s Rental participants and each and every senators joined together on legislation naming the postal department a couple of blocks north of Monument Circle within town the assign aside Lugar became mayor sooner than his 36-year Senate tenure. The proposal follows Lugar’s death in April at age 87. Democratic Gain. Andre Carson praised the Republican Lugar’s bipartisan work, most prominently helping spur the post-Wintry Battle dismantling of thousands of used Soviet nuclear weapons.

Usa today Iowa

Des Moines: The Marine Corps has corrected the identification of one other of the men who were photographed raising the American flag at Iwo Jima all the scheme via World Battle II. The Marines acknowledged in an announcement Thursday that after questions were raised by historians who studied photos and flicks, it particular that Cpl. Harold P. Keller – who has family members residing in Brooklyn in central Iowa – became amongst the six men who raised the flag. The Marines acknowledged Pfc. Rene Gagnon had helped within the convey nonetheless for a long time became mistakenly identified by the Marines as one among the flag-raisers. Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal shot the iconic photograph atop Mount Suribachi all the scheme via an intense fight between American and Eastern forces in 1945. In 2016, the Marines corrected the identification of one other man within the photograph after historians raised questions. NBC News, which first reported on the Marines’ possibility, acknowledged Keller died in 1979 in Grinnell. “He by no come spoke about any of this when we were rising up,” Keller’s daughter, Kay Maurer, 70, instructed NBC News. “We knew he fought within the battle, we knew he became wounded within the shoulder at one level. ... But he didn’t expose us he helped lift the flag on Mount Suribachi.”

Usa today Kansas

Emporia: Two sisters chanced on a partially fossilized endure cranium whereas kayaking the Arkansas River in south-central Kansas. The Kansas Department of Wildlife and Parks acknowledged in a news beginning that sisters Ashley and Erin Watt made the invention in August after flooding interestingly dislodged the cranium. They posted their safe on Facebook, which caught the consideration of a sport warden. Two Sternberg Museum of Natural History paleontologists then took a look. Regarded as a few of the paleontologists, Mike Everhart, acknowledged the cranium became washed out of the equivalent river sediments the assign aside Ice Age-expertise bison remains were chanced on. It’s believed to be either a up-to-the-minute grizzly or an older species. There are several historic accounts of grizzlies in Kansas. But they are believed to have died out within the inform by the mid-1800s.

Usa today Kentucky

Louisville: A boy present process chemotherapy who asked for playing cards for his 10th birthday has bought extra than 2,000 to this point. News shops reported Carter Matthew Willett grew to turn out to be 10 on Thursday and has several weeks left of his original bout of chemotherapy. Willett became identified final year with Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare earn of cancer. A Facebook web page following his narrative acknowledged Willett has had a bump on his head since he became 4 months venerable. It acknowledged the bump in actual fact began to peril him final year and it became removed around Thanksgiving. It acknowledged the family realized days later that the bump had been a cancerous tumor. Most up-to-date photos posted on the web page confirmed the family receiving dozens of letters and capabilities, with Willett even posing with some mail carriers. If you tranquil would decide to send a card or present, send it to 2825 Elam Power, Louisville, Ky., 40213.

Usa today Louisiana

Novel Orleans: Tulane University has offered plans for a famous guide festival to be held per annum between Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest. The famous Novel Orleans E-book Festival at Tulane University will seemingly be March 19-21. A news beginning acknowledged extra than 40 authors have signed on to this point, including Fox News Channel commentator Donna Brazile, humorist Roy Blount, Jr., novelist John Grisham and Novel Yorker workers creator Malcolm Gladwell. University spokesman Roger Dunaway acknowledged rather a lot of the festival will seemingly be free, with a restricted possibility of ticketed events. The common Novel Orleans E-book Festival became created in 2010 as a one-day young of us’s festival, increasing from 2015 via 2017 into an all-around guide festival. It became based by Cheryl Landrieu when her husband became Novel Orleans’ mayor. She’s co-chair of the novel festival.

Usa today Maine

Augusta: Recount officers acknowledged they obtained’t give driver’s license and inform identification card facts, including citizenship location, to federal officers looking for to incorporate it within the 2020 Census. The Portland Press Herald reported inform officers denied the Census Bureau’s set a question to in unhurried September. The bureau acknowledged it became looking for the records to expand census accuracy. All 50 states bought the set a question to. Patty Morneault, the deputy secretary of inform for the Bureau of Motor Autos, instructed census officers Maine doesn’t provide bulk facts that capabilities inside of most facts and lacks the capability for the month-to-month experiences requested. Morneault acknowledged the possibility adhered to Maine legislation “and the sacred belief of the electorate of Maine.” The U.S. Supreme Court docket dominated a particular quiz concerning citizenship can’t be included within the 2020 Census questionnaire.

Usa today Maryland

Annapolis: The Board of Public Works has popular the Maryland Stadium Authority’s authorization to convey novel bonds for a spread of the Ocean Metropolis Convention Heart. The board on Wednesday also popular MSA’s authorization to structure financing phrases for the project. Recount Sen. Mary Beth Carozza, who represents Ocean Metropolis, acknowledged the capability has long been a predominant economic driver for town and the inform. The expansion is decided to make extra than 600 jobs and recount in additional than $60 million to the inform. Carozza subsidized a invoice to authorize the MSA to convey $24.5 million in bonds for the expansion. Groundbreaking is decided for April, with a completion date of December 2021.

Usa today Massachusetts

Worcester: The 2d-largest city in Massachusetts is sticking with the Oct. 31 date for Halloween celebrations this year. The Worcester Metropolis Council made the possibility on Tuesday. Councilor Matthew Walley became pushing to completely alternate the holiday’s date to the final Saturday of October to guide particular of complications with midweek trick-or-treating. On Tuesday, Walley acknowledged it's too unhurried to earn the alternate for this year on story of many Halloween events within town had been planned, nonetheless he would decide to preserve in mind it for the future. The Telegram & Gazette reported many city councilors appear to haven't any passion in changing Halloween’s date, including longtime Councilor-at-Tidy Konstantina Lukes, who acknowledged, “let’s no longer rewrite historic past now.”

Usa today Michigan

Wayland: A Native American tribe is planning a $100 million expansion of its western Michigan on line casino that will embody including novel eating, leisure and gaming discipline. MLive.com reported Thursday that the Gun Lake Tribe acknowledged preliminary discipline work has started on the on line casino in Wayland. About 76,000 sq. feet of discipline will seemingly be added to the on line casino, which has been originate since 2011. The expansion will accommodate extra than 2,000 slot machines and 47 desk games and is predicted to originate within the summer season of 2021. The on line casino employs 1,100 of us and officers acknowledged the expansion will lead to an additional 125 hires. The announcement comes after the U.S. Supreme Court docket dominated final year it smartly ended a lawsuit over the tribe’s Michigan on line casino.

Usa today Minnesota

Minneapolis: The federal courthouse in Minneapolis is being named after a judge who is considered as a trailblazer within the Twin Cities authorized neighborhood. Resolve Diana Murphy became the first lady appointed to the federal bench in Minnesota in 1980, and later grew to turn out to be the first lady to sit down on the eighth Circuit Court docket of Appeals. She died final year on the age of 84. In a landmark case, Murphy dominated in 1994 that the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe retained hunting and fishing rights outlined in an 1837 treaty. The inform of Minnesota appealed, nonetheless the U.S. Supreme Court docket upheld Murphy’s possibility. Margaret Chutich, a Minnesota Supreme Court docket justice who worked as a legislation clerk for Murphy within the mid-1980s, instructed Minnesota Public Radio News that Murphy consistently did the perfect she would possibly with the facts and legislation she had.

Usa today Mississippi

Gulfport: Near to $12 million from a inform public belief fund will bolt toward waterfront tasks and park enhancements along the inform’s Gulf Soar. Mississippi Secretary of Recount Delbert Hosemann presented the $11.74 million from the Public Belief Tidelands fund on Wednesday. The Biloxi Solar-Herald reported the money will finance novel boardwalks, boat ramps, park components, restoration initiatives, tutorial facilities and varied tasks along the shore. The belief is essentially funded via leases and in lieu of payments for on-shore casinos and varied companies that sit on inform-owned land. Some transport companies and utility companies also pay into the belief. Hosemann acknowledged about $6 million is decided aside for public salvage entry to tasks. One other $3.5 million will toughen the Department of Marine Sources operations and an additional $1 million is distributed for bond repayment.

Usa today Missouri

Jefferson Metropolis: Not up to half of of Missouri schoolchildren are performing at grade stage in English and math for the 2d straight year, in accordance with newly released inform facts that critics bitch makes it complicated to present how individual college districts are faring overall. At convey is that the Missouri Department of Traditional and Secondary Schooling didn’t provide district-stage annual performance represent scores when it released the records Thursday. These scores, which were a combination of measures that included take a look at scores, attendance and graduation charges, had been damaged-all the manner down to earn accreditation choices. In their location, the inform released statewide and district stage take a look at averages, along with a spreadsheet of color charts and scales that comes with a 77-web page guide. Cici Tompkins, of the nonprofit Children’s Schooling Alliance of Missouri, acknowledged that without the simplest composite ranking, it’s extra complicated to abet districts responsible, namely for families who are eligible to switch from unaccredited to authorized districts underneath inform legislation. Overall statewide take a look at scores demonstrate that 49% of faculty students within the public and charter colleges are proficient or evolved in English and 42% in math, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported. The worst-performing district became the provisionally authorized Normandy college system within the St. Louis discipline. Normandy Superintendent Charles Pearson acknowledged the district has “set issues in location to switch it forward,” including a novel early childhood heart.

Usa today Montana

Missoula: Two grizzly endure cubs had been killed by a order in northwestern Montana, utilizing the possibility of endure deaths toward final year’s file stage for the spot, inform officers acknowledged. The two cubs, one female and the varied of unknown intercourse, were chanced on Tuesday night along railroad tracks come the little city of Trego, about 30 miles south of the Canadian border, acknowledged Montana Fish Wildlife and Parks spokesman Dillon Tabish. A file 46 grizzly bears died in 2018 in a spot that capabilities Glacier Nationwide Park, the Bob Marshall Barren region and surrounding areas. The spot is home to extra than 1,000 bears. The 44 grizzlies killed or removed to this level in 2019 embody eight hit by trains, essentially the most recorded in a year. About half of of the bears had been killed by wildlife managers in accordance with bustle-ins with of us or livestock. Two bears listed on the mortality list were saved alive nonetheless moved, to enhance a varied inhabitants of the animals along the Montana-Idaho border. Grizzlies are protected as a threatened species all the scheme via the Lower 48 states. They're hunted in Alaska and parts of Canada.

Usa today Nebraska

Lincoln: Authorities acknowledged a person became rescued after being trapped in a storm drain for on the least 24 hours. Lincoln Hearth & Rescue Chief Michael Despain acknowledged Wednesday that any individual heard the man’s cries for abet at this time sooner than 6 p.m. Tuesday. First responders couldn’t straight away safe the man, so they unfold out. He became chanced on about three blocks northeast of the Capitol, inside of a 4-foot-vast pipe, with a bicycle. Despain acknowledged it took decrease than 30 minutes to salvage him out, and he became treated on the scene. It’s unclear how the man got into the drain. Despain acknowledged the man perceived to have psychological smartly being complications. His name hasn’t been released.

Usa today Nevada

Reno: A pilot interestingly escaped any serious damage in a little plane fracture north of Reno between Pyramid Lake and the California line. Washoe County sheriff’s spokesman Bob Harmon acknowledged hunters chanced on the plane wreckage Thursday morning. He instructed the Reno Gazette Journal the pilot attributable to this fact became accounted for and is OK. Federal Aviation Administration spokesman Ian Gregor acknowledged a preliminary investigation indicated a little, single-engine Piper PA18 suffered vast damage when it crashed whereas landing in an originate field come Gerlach at about 4 p.m. Wednesday. It’s unclear the assign aside the plane took off from or the assign aside it became heading.

Usa today Novel Hampshire

Concord: The inform Department of Properly being and Human Products and companies acknowledged an adult from Laconia has examined certain for a mosquito-borne virus. The department acknowledged Wednesday the adult examined certain for the Jamestown Canyon virus, transmitted by infected mosquitoes. It’s the 2d time a case has been identified within the inform this year; it became identified in a Kingston resident in August. Experiences of Jamestown Canyon virus in folks are rare nonetheless have elevated over the final several years. Right here's Novel Hampshire’s eighth case since the inform’s first represent of the disease in 2013. The department acknowledged most diseases triggered by the virus had been light, nonetheless sensible-to-severe central anxious system involvement has been reported, including lethal infections.

Usa today Novel Jersey

Minute Egg Harbor: A inform appellate court has upheld a person’s conviction on an obscenity fee for watching porn movies on his iPad whereas sitting in his automobile out of doors a rapidly-meals restaurant. Minute Egg Harbor police replied to the restaurant in April 2014 after getting a criticism about 53-year-venerable David Lomanto’s actions. Authorities acknowledged he in the beginning refused to leave his automobile, then but again and but again refused to demonstrate the officer his license or varied identification. Lomanto became charged with obstruction, and a depend of public communication of obscenity became later filed. He became convicted in Would perchance well well 2017 and sentenced to 2 concurrent one-year phrases of probation and 5 days in jail, which he has served. Lomanto claimed the definition of “publicly communicates” within the obscenity legislation is overly famous and that watching porn within the privacy of his automobile is protected underneath the U.S. Structure.

Usa today Novel Mexico

Albuquerque: Dozens of environmental groups and scientists are asking U.S. wildlife managers to rethink how they knowing to be particular that that the survival of Mexican gray wolves within the Southwest. Following a loss in federal court, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Provider is engaged on crafting a novel rule to guide the management of the endangered predators in Novel Mexico and Arizona. The coalition acknowledged that rule have to be based on “an fully novel come” that accommodates the perfect science whereas acknowledging the restoration effort’s past shortcomings. The groups on Wednesday despatched a letter to U.S. Interior Secretary David Bernhardt and federal wildlife managers. They’re asking that the course of to revise the management rule be public and that a vast differ of likely choices be belief about since this system has faltered over time.

Usa today Novel York

Novel York Metropolis: Lawmakers voted Thursday to close the notorious Rikers Island jail complicated, which has turn out to be synonymous with violence and neglect, and change it with four smaller jails intended to be extra fashionable and humane. The Metropolis Council voted 36-13 to interchange the complicated with four smaller jails located nearer to town’s famous courthouses in Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Bronx and Queens. Rikers is scheduled to shutter by 2026, ending a decades-long bustle as one among the arena’s largest jails. Mayor Invoice de Blasio and varied Democrats toughen the knowing, which has a value of additional than $8 billion, in segment on story of of a perception that in an age of falling crime charges, gigantic jails are segment of the public security scenario in preference to segment of the reply. The vote on the knowing became disrupted by anti-jail activists who chanted “If you salvage it they'll occupy it” and threw flyers from the balcony. Metropolis officers acknowledged a steep descend within the jail inhabitants has made it feasible to close Rikers, a complicated of 10 jails on an island between Queens and the Bronx that essentially houses inmates expecting trial. Backers of the jail overhaul acknowledged they set a question to town’s jail inhabitants will preserve losing on story of of criminal justice reforms. Critics of the knowing acknowledged fewer cells would possibly unbiased mean extra violent criminals on city streets.

Usa today North Carolina

Durham: The inform Department of Labor has issued extra than $21,000 in fines to a few companies taking into account a lethal natural gasoline explosion. News shops reported PSNC Vitality and two subcontractors were cited for the April 10 explosion in Durham that killed two of us, injured 25 and destroyed buildings. Optic Cable Abilities became fined $14,000 for 2 security violations. The department acknowledged Optic didn’t hit upon underground pipes sooner than drilling and didn’t straight away name authorities after the gasoline line ruptured. PS Splicing LLC became fined $2,100 for no longer performing traditional inspections of the discipline. PSNC, segment of Dominion Vitality, became fined $5,000 for “ineffective response procedures.” The department acknowledged the responding employee wasn’t carrying maintaining gear and parked his automobile come the leak. The utility acknowledged it disagrees with the findings.

Usa today North Dakota

Bismarck: Recount regulators acknowledged drillers discipline a file for oil manufacturing in August. The Department of Mineral Sources acknowledged the inform produced an average of 1.47 million barrels of oil day to day in August. That’s up from the old file of 1.44 million barrels a day in discipline in July. North Dakota also produced a file 3 billion cubic feet of natural gasoline per day in August, up from 2.9 billion cubic feet in July. Statewide, companies flared 19% of all gasoline produced in August, which is smartly above the 12% goal. There had been 15,942 wells producing in August, down a dozen from the file discipline in July. The August totals are essentially the most fashionable figures accessible. There had been 60 drill rigs working Thursday, down two from the August average.

Usa today Ohio

Cleveland: Mayor Frank Jackson offered a dedication of up to $1 million yearly for the next 10 years to occupy up town’s tree canopy. Jackson made his announcement all the scheme via the outlet of the Sustainable Cleveland 2019 Summit on Wednesday. The mayor acknowledged the efforts came from a conference he had attended a decade ago that analyzed what would possibly very smartly be executed to reply to the affect of the recession. The mayor realized any reply must incorporate sustainability and replenishing the tree canopy falls within that. The knowing would commit town to plant novel bushes to boot to bewitch away unnecessary or diseased ones for several advantages, including entertaining air pollution and lengthening property values within the discipline.

Usa today Oklahoma

Oklahoma Metropolis: Visitation is being reinstated at two extra Oklahoma prisons locked down after one inmate became killed and three dozen were injured all the scheme via coordinated violence that officers acknowledged resulted from tear-based gang tension. The Department of Corrections acknowledged Thursday that visitation will resume this weekend on the minimal-security Jim E. Hamilton and Northeast Oklahoma Correctional Centers. Visitation became suspended and all inform prisons were locked down after fights in six prisons final month. Afterward, Gov. Kevin Stitt issued an executive uncover to crack down on contraband cellphones he acknowledged were damaged-all the manner down to facilitate the violence. Traditional operations have returned to a host of prisons no longer too long ago, nonetheless the DOC acknowledged the inform-bustle North Fork Correctional Heart, Dick Conner Correctional Heart and Mack Alford Correctional Heart and the three non-public prisons dwell locked down.

Usa today Oregon

Salem: Environmental regulators acknowledged pesticide ranges in some Oregon waterways have dropped to fractions of used concentrations on story of of voluntary changes by farmers. The Capital Press reported Wednesday that the inform Department of Environmental Quality chanced on that growers who altered spray regimens helped make the water quality enhancements. Officers acknowledged about 50% of waterway web sites examined underneath an interagency “pesticide stewardship partnership” program confirmed growth in pesticide detections and concentrations. Areas with reductions included the Walla Walla watershed and Waco basin. The checks when compared outcomes between 2015 and 2017 to the old two years. Officers acknowledged about 27% of examined web sites confirmed declines in water quality from pesticides, whereas 23% confirmed no alternate. Officers divulge the monitoring targets streams the assign aside pesticides had been detected, whereas waterways without occurrences were dropped.

Usa today Pennsylvania

Harrisburg: Gov. Tom Wolf is scaling motivate a proposal to lengthen time beyond regulation pay eligibility to thousands of workers in Pennsylvania and is striking it on a path to a vote next month. Wolf’s administration submitted its proposed regulation Thursday for a inform rule-making board’s Nov. 21 meeting. The 5-member board has a 3-2 majority of Democratic appointees. Wolf, a Democrat, first unveiled the proposal in early 2018. The revised rule would segment within the expand over three years and require in 2022 that salaried workers earning up to $45,500 a year salvage time-and-a-half of pay for anytime they work extra than 40 hours in per week. Industry groups oppose it. Pennsylvania’s original threshold is $23,660 a year. Wolf’s administration acknowledged the rule will expand time beyond regulation pay eligibility to 82,000 workers who earn above a federal threshold that’s rising to almost $36,000.

Usa today Rhode Island

Providence: An economist acknowledged evolved industries such as biotech and records analytics in Rhode Island are improving after the inform’s financial system became hit laborious by the recession. The Boston Globe reported Bruce Katz presented a summary of his upcoming represent on Rhode Island’s long-time period economic knowing to the inform Economic Vogue Planning Council on Tuesday. Katz became hired to interchange the inform’s knowing after writing a represent in 2016 urging the governor to level of curiosity on evolved trade sectors, including biomedical innovation, cybersecurity and records analytics, and maritime expertise and manufacturing. The elephantine represent is due by the slay of the year. Katz acknowledged Rhode Island truly experienced an industrial give scheme not like any varied inform, and now would possibly be coming motivate. Commerce Secretary Stefan Pryor acknowledged he’s pleased with the growth, nonetheless there’s extra work to make.

Usa today South Carolina

Greenville: Furman University college students returned from tumble fracture to envision swastikas and “sexually particular” feedback and drawings in one dormitory. University officers acknowledged the graffiti became chanced on Tuesday on whiteboards that dangle on dorm room doors at Blackwell Hall, a co-ed dorm for freshman college students. “It became rude, offensive language,” Clinton Colmenares, a spokesperson for the faculty, acknowledged. Colmenares acknowledged the messages have since been erased. In an email despatched out to the campus neighborhood, Chief Differ Officer Michael Jennings acknowledged the graffiti became executed sometime between Oct. 11 and Oct. 15, when the college became on tumble fracture. Jennings also acknowledged vandalism motivated by bias in opposition to “tear, religion, disability, sexual orientation, ethnicity, gender or gender identification” violates inform and federal authorized guidelines. Colmenares acknowledged campus police are tranquil investigating the incident and they've no longer but identified who became to blame. Melinda Menzer, a Jewish professor of English at Furman, acknowledged she became no longer a good deal surprised by the graffiti. Menzer, a member of Temple of Israel in Greenville, acknowledged for her and others on campus, the graffiti is no longer one thing that can’t be brushed aside as a joke. She acknowledged she does not in actual fact feel that Furman is unfamiliar or extra dangerous than varied campuses on story of of the incident, nonetheless that the graffiti is a reflection of the upward thrust in white supremacy worldwide.

Usa today South Dakota

Sioux Falls: A jury has convicted a person of stalking Mayor Paul TenHaken. The Minnehaha County jury convicted 58-year-venerable Christopher Bruce after deliberating nearly about three hours Wednesday. Bruce declined to observation after his conviction. He faces up to a year in jail and a $2,000 magnificent. TenHaken instructed the Argus Leader he is tickled with the choice. Bruce became accused of sending a series of threatening emails to TenHaken between November 2018 and June 2019. Bruce instructed jurors Tuesday the emails weren't threats of violence. TenHaken testified that of the many of of emails he has bought from participants of the public since taking office in Would perchance well well 2018, handiest Bruce’s have referenced firearms and his family members, who embody his fogeys in Worthington, Minnesota.

Usa today Tennessee

Memphis: FedEx officers confirmed the corporate has filed a constructing permit for its novel kit sorting facility and world hub. The Memphis Industrial Enchantment reported the $212 million permit filed Tuesday indicated the corporate would possibly rapidly launch work on the Exclaim World Hub on the Memphis World Airport, a famous portion of a spread project offered in 2018. The permit known as for a four-stage constructing with areas of work, maintenance outlets and a cafeteria. FedEx officers offered in August the corporate will seemingly be investing an additional $450 million into the modernization project, for an expected entire funding of additional than $1 billion. The newspaper reported Gov. Invoice Lee signed a invoice this year giving FedEx extra than $20 million in tax breaks for the hub. It’s scheduled for completion in 2025.

Usa today Texas

San Antonio: Federal prosecutors acknowledged a carrying items retailer violated the legislation by selling an AR-15-vogue rifle and big-capability magazine to a person who damaged-down them to damage extra than two dozen worshippers at a Texas church. The Department of Justice acknowledged Tuesday in a San Antonio court lag that Devin Kelley presented a Colorado driver’s license at an Academy Sports actions + Commence air retailer in Texas to buy the rifle and ammunition. Prosecutors acknowledged federal legislation requires Academy to conform with Colorado statutes that would have prohibited the sale. Academy declined observation Thursday. Prosecutors want so to add Academy as a to blame third birthday party in an ongoing lawsuit. Kelley fired on the least 450 rounds within the First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs in November 2017. Authorities acknowledged he shot himself to death.

Usa today Utah

Salt Lake Metropolis: A inform trooper is being praised as a hero after saving a person stranded on order tracks. A dashcam video tweeted on Wednesday by the Utah Motorway Patrol confirmed officer Ruben Correa working toward a automobile that had crashed on the order tracks and pulling the driver out minutes sooner than a order barreled into the automobile. The boys jumped away from the automobile unbiased because the order hit it at elephantine tempo. No person became injured. Utah Motorway Patrol Col. Michael Rapich known as Correa’s actions “brave” and acknowledged they are grateful for the assign. The incident triggered web page online web page online visitors delays for a couple of hours on Interstate 15 and triggered delays in FrontRunner order provider.

Usa today Vermont

Charlotte: The Lake Champlain Transportation Company changed its agenda at one crossing on story of of high winds. The corporate acknowledged the Charlotte-to-Essex, Novel York, route has one boat provider Thursday. The ferry departed on the hour from Vermont, as a replacement of every half of-hour. Departures out of Novel York were on the half of-hour. The corporate acknowledged the crossing from Immense Isle, Vermont, to Cumberland Head, Novel York, became working as scheduled. A nor’easter brought high winds and rain to the Northeast on Wednesday and Thursday. The extremely efficient storm has left many of of thousands of of us without vitality within the spot.

Usa today Virginia

Richmond: Virginia Recount University has reinstated its marching band after an investigation into allegations of hazing. News sources reported college spokeswoman Pamela Tolson acknowledged the faculty’s investigation particular that participants of a campus social group conducted what college leaders known as “actions in violation of the University’s Anti-Hazing policy.” Tolson acknowledged final week that a few of the valuable hazing allegations were substantiated nonetheless did no longer make clear on what the allegations were. The group, named Drum Phi, has been positioned on suspension for on the very least three years. The college acknowledged participants of the group who participated in hazing had been disciplined underneath the college’s Student Code of Behavior. In accordance with the findings, the faculty acknowledged the Trojan Explosion Marching Band has been reinstated and would possibly resume performing.

Usa today Washington

Tukwila: Authorities have fined three companies taking into account a crane give scheme that killed four of us in Seattle in April extra than $100,000 blended. The inform’s Department of Labor and Industries released the implications of its investigation on Thursday. It chanced on, as consultants have suspected, that the crane toppled on story of workers who were disassembling it prematurely removed pins securing the sections of the crane’s mast. Sections of the crane landed on the novel Google constructing the assign aside it had been damaged-down and on the web site online web page online visitors below, striking six autos. Two ironworkers on the crane were killed as were two of us in autos. Officers acknowledged the largest magnificent, $70,000, became going to Morrow Equipment Co., which supplied the crane to total contractor GLY. GLY became fined $25,000 and Northwest Tower Crane Provider Inc. became fined $12,000.

Usa today West Virginia

Morgantown: A fraternity has revoked its chapter at West Virginia University, citing extra than one violations of alcohol and menace management policies. WBOY-TV reported the national Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity’s board of directors unanimously voted to revoke the chapter’s charter following an investigation. SigEp CEO Brian Warren’s observation acknowledged the national headquarters offered toughen to abet make a undeniable custom, nonetheless original participants have “squandered this assistance” and seem extra in being a “difficult club.” The chapter replied on Twitter that it's “saddened” by the possibility. It acknowledged participants had been held to high standards and participated in several actions to abet the neighborhood nonetheless were met with “disdain and mistreatment” by the national headquarters.

Usa today Wisconsin

Madison: A sunless security guard at a Madison Faculty District high college who became fired after he acknowledged he repeated a racial slur after telling a teen now to not utilize it has filed a criticism looking for his job motivate. Faculty District officers have zero tolerance for workers announcing racial slurs. But, Marlon Anderson acknowledged he became unbiased attempting to protect himself after a disruptive pupil unleashed a possibility of obscenities. The Wisconsin Recount Journal acknowledged West Excessive Main Karen Boran despatched an email to families Wednesday afternoon announcing that racial slurs are no longer acceptable in colleges, no subject context or circumstance. Anderson instructed the Recount Journal, “We’re combating this.” The Madison teachers’ union filed a criticism on behalf of Anderson with the district. It’s no longer recognized whether or no longer the pupil faces disciplinary circulation.

Usa today Wyoming

Jackson: Immense Teton Nationwide Park officers have offered plans to launch doing away with nonnative mountain goats from the park by lethal and nonlethal come. The Jackson Gap News & Files reported Tuesday that the final knowing from park officers contains hunting, capturing and relocating the goats. Park officers acknowledged the goats migrated from the Snake River Differ into the differ of native bighorn sheep and must tranquil unfold diseases that can damage off the native herd. Officers acknowledged the Teton Differ is home to a little herd of about 100 bighorn sheep. Officers acknowledged mountain goat meat from the nonnative goats also will seemingly be donated or dispensed for consumption.

Read or Part this narrative: https://www.usatoday.com/narrative/news/50-states/2019/10/18/rare-yellow-cardinal-sighted-escaped-goat-caught-fossilized-endure-cranium-chanced on-news-around-states/40336145/

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toldnews-blog · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/united-states-of-america/can-a-woman-win-2020-candidates-offer-an-easy-answer-i-have/

Can a Woman Win? 2020 Candidates Offer an Easy Answer: ‘I Have’

CRESTON, Iowa — Senator Kirsten Gillibrand of New York had a request: Before anyone mocked her claim that she was the Democratic presidential candidate best positioned to take on President Trump, at least listen to the evidence.

Ms. Gillibrand won her first House race in an upstate conservative district that had “more cows than Democrats,” as she likes to say. She ran on Medicaid expansion as early as 2006, long before it had become a litmus test for the progressive flank of the Democratic Party, which often derides her as inauthentic.

In her 2018 Senate re-election campaign, she flipped 18 counties that had voted for Mr. Trump just two years earlier, and in 2012 she received a higher share of the vote in New York than any statewide candidate before or since — better than Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo, better than former Senator Hillary Clinton, better than former President Barack Obama.

While many voters don’t know much about Ms. Gillibrand yet, she also sees a set of assumptions about male and females leaders at work.

“The first-blush analysis is inadequate,” Ms. Gillibrand said in an interview. “This is what makes me the best person to take on Trump — electability. Experience. Track record.”

“I’m the most elect ——” she stopped. “I have the type of experience they’re looking for.”

At this early stage of the Democratic presidential primary, much of the discussion among voters has focused on the singular desire of defeating Mr. Trump, and selecting a nominee who’s best suited to that task. But while that line of thinking has largely been associated with well-known veteran male politicians, particularly former Vice President Joseph R. Biden Jr., the women running in the historically diverse Democratic field, several of whom have a demonstrated track record of winning over Republican voters, have been telling anyone who will listen that they, too, are equipped to beat the president.

In addition to Ms. Gillibrand, Senator Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota has drawn on her electoral success in red counties to position herself as a bridge-builder in increasingly polarized times. And Senator Elizabeth Warren of Massachusetts — who soundly defeated a popular Republican incumbent in her first election — has focused recently on addressing concerns that she’s simply an “ideas candidate,” combining her rhetoric about economic inequality with a more explicit pitch on her ability to beat Mr. Trump. (A fourth leading female candidate, Senator Kamala Harris of California, has enjoyed most of her success thus far in Democratic strongholds.)

As they now campaign for president, they are encountering some of the same misogyny that Mrs. Clinton faced when she ran in 2016. They are running up against assumptions voters and pundits have about what presidential leadership looks like, battling a presidential archetype where men are the only touchstones.

As a result, they are frequently asked to explain why they believe they have paths to victory, and prove they can win over prized working-class voters in critical states like Ohio, Michigan and Pennsylvania. This has come even as polls have consistently found that numerous Democrats — including multiple women — enjoy an early edge in head-to-head matchups against Mr. Trump.

“We have 45 presidents who have been men. And seeing a woman in that role is still something that we’re not used to,” said Kimberly Peeler-Allen, a co-founder of Higher Heights, a national organization building the political power and leadership of black women.

She noted that the Democratic women running for president had been forced to answer for Mrs. Clinton’s defeat in 2016, and to allay concerns from voters that a woman can win the presidency. The men in the race don’t face such burdens.

She also pointed to last year’s midterm elections, in which more than half of the House districts that flipped from Republicans to Democrats were won by women.

“We have to, as an electorate, change our mind-set on what executive leadership looks like,” Ms. Peeler-Allen said. “Women lead differently. And that’s not a bad thing.”

Ms. Gillibrand has addressed the question head-on. She kicked off her recent “Rural Listening Tour” throughout southwest Iowa with a clear focus on highlighting her ability to win Republican votes. “Secretary Clinton and I, while I admire her, are very different people and we have very different stories,” she said at one stop. “I’m from the upstate part of New York. She’s from the suburbs of Illinois.”

On the campaign trail, Ms. Klobuchar touts the 42 counties Mr. Trump carried that she won during her re-election race last November. She won 51 of the state’s 87 counties in all, and she outperformed the other Democrats running statewide, earning 86,500 more votes than Senator Tina Smith and 76,000 more than Gov. Tim Walz.

She has made her understanding of rural issues and her ability to reach across the aisle central to her campaign pitch, trying to sell voters on what she’s termed “heartland economics.” In Nevada, Iowa, she vowed to protect the state’s farmers, suggesting she could form a coalition that could bridge divides between the agriculture industry and environmentalists.

“When I see those wind turbines out there and think of solar, and how that benefits us more in the middle of the country, you could put together a package that the Midwest would like,” Ms. Klobuchar said, pointing across the street to several turbines spinning in a chilly wind.

“I grew up in the metro area, but just on the border of farm country,” she said. As a child, she would ride her bike to her best friend’s dairy farm. “I was very close to that whole world. That was something that I grew up with and understand.”

In a race defined by early uncertainty, Democratic candidates such as former Representative Beto O’Rourke of Texas and Mayor Pete Buttigieg of South Bend, Ind., have garnered significant attention and high first-quarter fund-raising totals, outraising all the women in the Democratic field except Ms. Harris, who has relied on the liberal donor circuit in her deep blue home state. But their success has also fueled a backlash, as critics say their rise, in spite of their comparative lack of experience, is indicative of a presidential landscape that prefers male figures.

When asked in a phone interview if she believed her candidacy was being hampered by gendered notions of “electability,” Ms. Warren demurred.

“I can’t talk about everything in this race,” she said. “I can just tell you what I’ve done and what I plan on doing.”

In an interview in Iowa, Ms. Gillibrand specifically alluded to Mr. Buttigieg and Mr. O’Rourke, saying, “I don’t think either of them have won red and purple areas. I have.”

She also added a warning for the Democrats trying to occupy a more moderate lane, as Mr. Biden has since entering the race.

“If your ideas aren’t progressive or bold enough, you will not win the respect of the grass-roots,” Ms. Gillibrand said. “You will not win young people. You will not win black women — all the people who were responsible for electing a Democratic majority this last election cycle in the House of Representatives.”

The themes represent another fault line for a Democratic Party at an existential crossroads. After the surprise election of Mr. Trump, a sizable portion of Democrats began to voice concerns that the party’s embrace of gender and racial diversity had put it at odds with some of the electorate, and that Mr. Trump’s willingness to use racist and sexist political rhetoric had put Democrats at a disadvantage, especially in rural America or among Republican-leaning independents.

“We were not heard in ’16,” said Patty Judge, a former lieutenant governor of Iowa who started an organization called Focus on Rural America. “People did not understand the frustration and the anger that is out there in rural Iowa.”

When asked in surveys, most voters say they could support a woman for president. A recent poll found that 84 percent of Americans said they’re comfortable with a female candidate, more than those who said they were accepting of a candidate who is a Muslim, an evangelical Christian or over the age of 75.

But when pressed on the issue in interviews, Democratic voters in early primary states point to Mrs. Clinton’s Electoral College defeat as a sign that others — their family, friends or large swaths of the country — won’t back a female candidate.

During Ms. Gillibrand’s listening tour, voters who were asked to explain what it meant to be an “electable candidate” were fairly clear. They said Mr. Trump’s presence may require a man to lead the Democratic ticket.

“You’ll always hear ‘there’s no way a woman can win this,’ and they go back to Hillary,” said DeAnne Butler, who attended Ms. Gillibrand’s campaign stop in Clarinda, Iowa. “Even among my female friends.”

Ms. Warren said in a phone interview that she does believe voters sometimes forget about her 2012 Senate victory against Scott Brown, a well-liked Republican incumbent. Ms. Warren became the first woman elected to the Senate in Massachusetts history when she unseated Mr. Brown in a hotly contested race. A Boston Globe poll at the time found Mr. Brown had a higher favorability rating than Ms. Warren and that he was seen as the more “likable” candidate.

In her view, the question of who is best positioned to beat Mr. Trump depends on more than just poll numbers or the ability to flip red districts. It hinges on who can tell a cohesive story and put forth an “affirmative vision,” as she called it, that excites voters and draws contrasts with the current administration.

“The 2020 election is about big issues facing our country: who government works for,” Ms. Warren said. “We must beat Donald Trump, but we must do so much more.”

Ms. Warren, Ms. Gillibrand, Ms. Harris and Ms. Klobuchar can all claim an interesting distinction: They have never lost an election in their political careers. All of the most prominent male Democratic candidates, including Mr. Biden, Mr. Buttigieg, Mr. O’Rourke, Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont and Senator Cory Booker of New Jersey, have lost at least one.

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dcnativegal · 8 years ago

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I miss Black people

A tall Black man came into the office in Christmas Valley last week to introduce himself as a social services worker for parts of Deschutes County and north Lake County, too. My door and my fellow therapist’s door were open, and we introduced ourselves and chatted amicably. When he and I discovered we had both lived in DC, I became Chatty Cathy, waxing poetic about Ethiopian Food. It became clear that he wasn’t that familiar with it, couldn’t remember the word ‘injera’… but that was okay. I was talking to a Black man who knew DC. I’m pretty sure I embarrassed myself. My colleague was friendly and professional. I was irrationally glad to see him out of all proportion to the occasion.

He probably left thinking to himself, white people are weird. Guilty as charged.

I am one of those white people who study Black people. Their experience, history, personalities, and the systemic, systematic way in which they’ve been imprisoned in one big internment camp called the United States of America. Everything about them, with the possible exception of current music beyond a superficial point. My kids listen to nothing but music made by Black people, so we, as a family, have that covered.

Formative books: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. The Color Purple. Beloved. Also, Why do all the Black kids sit together in the Cafeteria, and When Race Became Real. Between the World and Me is the most recent.

Formative movies: Sounder (with music by Taj Mahal). Anything by Spike Lee (with the possible exception of Inside Job, which is excellent, but not about Black experience.) Moonlight. Daughters of the Dust. I am Not Your Negro is the most recent. Anything by Ava DuVernay, most recently, 13th. (I dare you, white reader, to watch it, on Netflix, and not have your mind blown.)

Music: Otis Redding. Songs in the Key of Life by Stevie Wonder. Early Michael Jackson and the Jackson Five. Tracy Chapman. India Arie.

I could go on and on… Perhaps I’ll stop with this link to 100 Woke Black women to follow: http://www.essence.com/news/woke-100-women

“Study” does not mean to keep at arms-length. I have been a marshmallow in a sea of cocoa since I can remember being alive. And since, many times, in different schools and neighborhoods, I was one of the few white kids, it behooved me to observe how we are similar and different. When you are the minority, you study the majority.

Little differences, in hygiene practices (Black women are more fastidious), in pronunciation (Andrea is pronounced An DRE uh by Black folks, AN dreeah by white. Darrell is DaRELLE for Black people and DAR rul for white.) In Happy Birthday songs: Black folks sing the Stevie Wonder version. In mythical secret jokes. Some Black people think that white people smell bad when wet. I’m serious. Based on how stinky the white men were when they came across the Atlantic to kidnap Black people. I mentioned this one day to a church friend, a PhD in Math, descended from Jamaicans, and she gasped! How did I know?! (I read it in a book, silly.)

I notice how much African American Vernacular English is used by white people. “You go, girl.” “24/7.” “I’m down.” “Word.” White folks don’t necessarily notice. I do. I try not to use AAVE. For fear of being scolded by my daughter. But also, because it is not appropriate. I struggle with this appropriateness thing. Because it’s the right thing to do. I keep learning how much culture has been stolen from Black Americans. Elvis Presley is just the tip of the iceburg. White people have stolen from Black people for millennia, and not just culturally. I look for examples of this, and find it, daily. I look out of long habit, so that I can give credit where credit is due.

It is absolutely true that Black people have transformed my life again and again. A Black 10th grade English teacher told me I was a good writer and should check out the Urban Journalism Workshop. I did, I applied, I got in, I learned to write, and the article I wrote earned an honorable mention from the Robert Kennedy Journalism awards. It was about the gentrification of Mount Pleasant, a neighborhood in DC. In 1976. I’m pretty sure I got into Oberlin College because of the Urban Journalism Workshop. Because I had zero extracurriculars besides running away from home. Thank you, Mrs. Feely.

I spent 40 years in the grooviest episcopal church on the planet (IMHO) because of a Black seminarian I almost married. He was 9 years my senior, I was 17, when we met. St Stephen & the Incarnation became my spiritual home because he was assigned there. And after I realized I was too young to marry, it stayed my parish home until I moved to the Oregon Outback in August 2016. Thank you, Eddie.

I miss my Black friends. Gay and straight women, with a few gay Black men in there, too. I know a lot of wonderful straight Black men, but I can’t say I’d call any of them in the middle of the night to take me to the emergency room. (One of my criteria for being a real friend. I’m sure they’d take me; I would just be so embarrassed.) Each of my friends is amazing. Of course, that is also true of my white friends. I’ve been mulling over the difference between my white and Black friends.

I’m reminded of something I read years ago about being friends across the racial chasm: the Black woman’s advice to her white friend was, “Forget I am Black. And, never forget that I am Black.” The zen koan of being friends with a Black person.

I feel lucky when a Black person will deign to be my friend. They could so easily reserve their precious energies for other people of color, especially people of the African diaspora. Out of self-care. (deign: verb, do something that one considers to be beneath one's dignity. "she did not deign to answer the maid's question" Archaic condescend to give [something.] "He had deigned an apology.") When I am hanging out with my Black friends who are activists and seemingly tireless in their work for justice in all kinds of situations, I am amazed that they have time for me. I know in fact that they are tired. And I do my best to be someone they can relax with. Even though I am white.

I have a Black friend who grew up in Crown Heights Brooklyn, where my son lives now in an apartment with many roommates. Her parents were from Guyana, an African-Caribbean country. Crown Heights is gentrifying, but it seems to still hold a special mix of Caribbean immigrants and Hasidim. S is a little younger than I am, and also has 2 kids, one in college (same one as my daughter) and the other graduated (as is my son.) My kids’ dad and I met their family when we each had only one baby in diapers and one parent each were home, and craving adult conversation. Play group in Brookland DC used to meet once a week until the community-organizing father of my children got hold of it, and then it met 3 times a week.

Our oldest boys were friends. We had second children. We developed a tradition of going to the Outer Banks in North Carolina for a week every summer and sharing an old beach house that was right on the water, one family per bedroom. We’d have 4 families give or take, and take turns cooking, looking after munchkins, and going on field trips to the Wright Brothers Museum, Walmart, and movies.

When it was time to figure out where to have the oldest boys go to school, our two families combined forces. In DC, finding a decent public school requires a strategy. We got pretty elaborate: what are our criteria for excellence? How much did each value weigh in the decision? We teamed up, with S and I spending the night in her car one icy January to get on the list for a popular bilingual Spanish/English immersion school (Oyster Elementary). My kids’ dad and her husband hit a number of schools that were apparently much less popular but still made our list. My kid got into Oyster, and S, who was right after me, did not. We decided that our boys would go to a DC public Montessori program instead of risking separation.

By the way, S met a nice Jewish young man from Iowa when they both attended Harvard, and married him. After many years, she decided to convert to Judaism, and both boys had bar mitzvahs, which were very cool to attend.

Both families switched to another DC public Montessori program when the original one seemed in steep decline, and enjoyed that community for a while. It became clear that my son wasn’t doing as well in that context, so I got him on a waiting list for a phenomenal charter school that uses the Expeditionary Learning model (affiliated with Outward Bound.)

We remained friends as families, going to the beach, joining the pool just over the DC line that many Brooklanders belonged to. Our boys grew apart, but we still hung out. One amazing bit of fate is that it was S and her son who introduced my boy to film-making at around 6th grade. He now makes his living as a filmmaker and is a Tisch film school graduate.

S is one of those women who is rather butch, and also straight. She is not femme: never wears make up, keeps her hair very short for minimum of fuss, and never wears skirts or dresses (except in her wedding.) I taught her to knit on one of our beach weeks, and she’s gone on to become expert and imaginative. I figured out at one point that I had a crush on her, but I stomped that out, and we have had a great 20+ year friendship.

When my marriage ended, S and her husband extended dinner invitations to both me and my ex, separately, but only I responded. My ex is introverted, and for some reason he let his connection to these folks wither. I was grateful to hold onto the friendship, and enjoyed coming to their house for amazing food prepared by Ed, the son of the Iowan baker. Lots of far ranging conversation. We’d solve the problems of the world, and then I’d go home. We also share a love of movies. I had to call Ed once to get me to an emergency department, and he did with calm kindness.

Neither S nor her husband are on Facebook much, which is where I keep in touch with most of my social connections from DC. I’ll have to actually write them a letter, which I used to do routinely. I miss these people very much. Maybe I should just call them up. How novel.

S was my friend first, and Black incidentally.

B became my friend and her Blackness was way more prominent. Whereas S never uses AAVE, B uses it a lot, and with her I feel like I can say “GIIRRRRRLLLL” in greeting.

B is from a large African-American Catholic family, originally from Florida. Old school Black, which is to say, ancestors enslaved and brought to the mainland United States, then reared here after Emancipation, and always in the minority. Whereas Island folks, from what was formerly known as the West Indies, were also enslaved, they freed themselves from colonial power, and became majority Black countries. B taught me that some Caribbean folks look down on the old school Black folks. I learned a lot about hierarchies within Blackness from Brigette.

We met at a card game for women in our neighborhood. Her son was a year older than mine, and she lived within a block of us. I started to pursue her as a friend; we attended a Black-taught “all sizes welcomed” yoga class in the neighborhood, and would walk there and back every Saturday morning. On those walks we got to know each other.

She is so accomplished; a law degree, an all but dissertation PhD drop out, an author, a management consultant, a philanthropist. I was honored to be the one white person present for a discernment committee she gathered, Quaker style, to help her make a decision. She influenced me a great deal. I hope I was a good friend to her. She was, probably still is, extremely busy, always, involved in one justice-promoting effort after another. I felt like a slacker in her presence. And she was not judging me. She simply lived every waking moment as an opportunity for social change. I also know there is pain underneath that activity, not just ‘post-traumatic slavery syndrome.’ Our sons are out in the world making art. She is making change. I miss her.

There are many others… Imani, D, Isaiah, Fern, Paulette, Liane…and powerful Facebook friends... Claudia, Alan, Reuben, KM

When I see a Black person out here in Oregon, I am riveted and try not to stare. Black people in white places are used to this, it is the ‘white gaze’, just like women are conscious of the ‘male gaze.’ For the observed, this vigilance is automatic and barely conscious until there is a perceived danger. Is that man (of whatever color) following me down this street? Is that white woman following me in this store? I regret that I am adding to this vigilance for people of color in Oregon.

In Eugene Oregon at a huge hippy extravaganza called Country Fair, I took to counting Black people. Less than 20. I follow the SURJ-Eugene Chapter on Facebook. It’s the closest chapter to where I live. (Standing up for Racial Justice is a white person’s organization that hopes to support Black Lives Matter efforts. White folks can ask other white folks to call each other out and help each other grow. This is not the job of Black People.) Oregon is a very white place.

I am an anti-racist organization of one. Which is not to say I am the only one who cares about racism against Black people, systemic and individualized here in Lake County. I have not yet met anyone as steeped as I am, but it’s always possible. (Where are you?) Anybody out here willing to start a book club to read Witnessing Whiteness? It’s for white people who want to reveal and counteract the racism that lives within all of us.

From the context of my upbringing, and my choice, the collective and multi-hued Black American World is my north star. The Black/white conversation, the current animosity, the centuries-long history, is my cosmology: “noun, the science of the origin and development of the universe.” My social universe. The foundation upon which I build my politics, my theology of justice, my self-image. My corrective. Also, my joy.

I am a white person who works on her racism. Even when there are no Black people in my Oregon Outback world, except a phlebotomist, one former client, and the girlfriend of another. My moral universe is constructed around the fact of the injustice of slavery and its current unjust sequelae. (Noun. se·que·la. a condition that is the consequence of a previous disease or injury.) Part of the post-slavery curse is the anti-government bias that is ripping further the tattered safety net. It is hard work to help white folks in mostly white contexts to see how anti-Black racism seeps into every bit of politics and also harms them individually. I’m working on this. I find it exhausting when the occasional conversation starts with “I don’t have a racist bone in my body.” I was so spoiled in D.C.

Yes, I believe in reparations. TaNehisi Coates’ work on this in The Atlantic is a paradigm-shifter. (https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2014/06/the-case-for-reparations/361631/)

I only recently read a book on the native American experience, Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz’s epic, “An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States.” Now I can include the injustice wrought against native peoples into my cosmology. Except I did not grow up as a white person in a majority First Nation context. A whole new arena to familiarize myself with. First Nations are deeply relevant to life out here due to water rights. (You can watch Roxane Dunbar-Ortiz read from the book here: https://youtu.be/Pn4QTS6S3WU.) And you can read about water rights and the Klamath Nation here: (https://www.rotary.org/en/rotarian-helping-klamath-river-dispute)

I will continue to be a Black-identified white woman living in Whitelandia. I will try not to be obnoxious when I hear something flatly racist, although I will counter it. Someone said something about Black on Black crime early on. I said something, and now she knows I’m a ‘liberal.’ I share about Black experience on Facebook because I rejoice at the artistry and profound accomplishments of people who Overcome, every day. Maybe my new friends in Oregon will have a couple of stereotypes dashed by following my Facebook posts. Maybe not. Some of the clients at our mental health center are white ex-offenders with Aryan nation tattoos. Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.

My job is to enlighten white people, somehow, with humility, because i know next to nothing. I need to tell the truth, but tell it slant, as Emily Dickinson wrote, so the truth will dazzle gradually. My job is to live with integrity wherever I am, as inclusively as possible, mining my own deep veins of ignorance (see, Native American History, also, the racist history of Oregon vis a vis Sundown laws, et al.) Counteracting the deep ignorance of the public discourse about the roots of our current politics in my own thinking. And praying to know how to be a bridge builder.

Written on the immensely tall wall of the Lincoln Memorial are words from the 2nd Innaugural address. To quote Wikipedia, “Lincoln suggests that the death and destruction wrought by the [Civil] war was divine retribution to the U.S. for possessing slavery, saying that God may will that the war continue "until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword", and that the war was the country's "woe due".’ What I believe is that the great Civil War in the USA right now is the price we are paying for the sin of slavery, the divide of have and have not, early white immigrant/imperialist versus newer immigrant especially from South and Central America, the disconnect of white republican voters-for-trump and the fact of their deep dependence on the government. My cousin, President Lincoln, (4th cousin, 5 times removed) was more right than he knew.

I will be an ally no matter where I am, however (deeply) imperfect. I can’t help it.

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writefromthevoid · 8 years ago

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You can’t learn everything from your backyard.

Despite what many of us were taught in our high school English classes, Henry David Thoreau’s advice on the matters of travel and soul searching isn’t the greatest for writers and world building. We can search our souls without leaving our hometown, but we can’t experience different environments without getting out there. This is extremely important when building a world of your own.

Growing up, I lived with my mother in Camas, Washington. It’s a little mill town in the conservative pocket of Clark County. Just across the river is the thriving cultural hub that is Portland, Oregon. Now, I live in Texas, near Dallas. It’s just about as different as you can get without going to the other side of the globe. As a teenager, I spent quite a few summers here with my father, but living here has taught me to see some things I hadn’t considered before.

Two very different sunsets.

Friends from back North often ask me what it’s like to live in a red state since I lived in a blue state for so long. The differences, though, aren’t really political. Sure, that’s part of it, but the culture itself is what shows the most. It comes up in some of the strangest ways.

“Thanks for warning me…that would have gotten on my nerves eventually.”

Language is something that constantly evolves. It is influenced by the culture of the people who speak it. World building sometimes means coming up with a unique language to suit the people inhabiting the new universe. If it doesn’t, it probably involves different usage of certain words. This became evident to me when I found out my stepmom had warned my grandma about the way I talk before we met.

My step-grandmother thanked my stepmom, Amy, for the warning she received before meeting me. “She doesn’t say ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am,’ Mom. It’s a cultural thing. It’s as different as if she came here and started speaking Spanish,” Amy said.

At the time, Grandma brushed it off with an “okay,” and life moved on. When we met, we got along instantly. We bonded over our love of dogs and talked endlessly about Mississippi, her home state, and the Pacific Northwest. But Amy was right. I never once said “Yes, Ma’am,” to her. My vocabulary was different. I was quiet and polite, but not in the typical Southern way.

Who wouldn’t love this face?

That’s why she thanked Amy. Grandma grew up with honorifics being mandatory, and she raised her kids to know when to use them. It’s a sign of respect, and not using them can be disrespectful. In the North, however, it’s seldom used outside of the service industry.

When building your worlds, consider the differences of language. Would it cause any strife between characters? Would it be something a character would have to learn? What speaking habits would some of them have that others don’t?

“It doesn’t matter if we like you here. If we aren’t hospitable, the desert might take you.”

We have a family friend, Camille, who has a habit of being very straight forward, very blunt, in a way I’ve not seen from anyone else. When I met her for the first time in years, she intimidated the living hell out of me. Reading people is not my strong suit. I have had to actively teach myself how to read body language and I’m still working on learning tone. Camille is bold and loud. She has a passion for lifting and Pekiti–Tirsia Kali. In many ways, she’s my exact opposite.

I spent a lot of my time when she was around quiet, and it didn’t take long for her to realize I was nervous. She took me out to a Thai restaurant she really liked and we talked the whole time. We discovered a shared interest in music, both of us being clarinet players, and she offered to teach me the basics of Pekiti.

I told her when we got back to the car I’d been afraid she wouldn’t like me much. We’d seemed to be so different. She offered me a shrug and said, “It doesn’t matter if we like you here. If we aren’t hospitable, the desert might take you.”

I stared at her for a moment, stunned. The desert wasn’t a person. It didn’t have that much power. But she explained her statement to me, and I realized yes, yes it does.

You might not even notice until it’s too late.

The desert is hot, formidable, and merciless. Without water, people die. This fact alone shaped the whole concept of Southern Hospitality. When westward expansion was happening, survival depended on being able to put aside differences and help each other. The culture reflects that. Politics don’t matter. Religion doesn’t matter. Race doesn’t matter. Sexuality doesn’t matter. In the desert, without water, you will die. Francis Duggan was right. Death is the great equalizer.

In your world building, consider what parts of the environment would impact the culture of the inhabitants. Are people able to be generous and band together, or are resources so slim, it’s better to be solitary? Is it easy to survive alone? How does the land affect the individual, the family, the community?

“Oh, please. That was mild.”

My fiance is scared of storms.

He lives in Tornado Alley.

When we moved to Texas, he told me over and over one of the things he’d have to work the hardest on getting used to were the thunder storms, the hail, and, God forbid, tornadoes. I tried my best to be reassuring, offering a smile and reassurance that it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Earlier today he experienced his first tornado watch. Then warning. Then sirens. My dad made a point during the daylight to show us both the clouds and where to look for the formation that would eventually become a tornado. My stepmom drew attention to the sudden drop in air temperature as the cold and warm systems moved about. I pointed out the frequent change in the wind direction. We all wanted to teach him not to be so afraid.

The lightening was like a light show. The sky flashed yellow, then purple, then brilliant grey-blue. But still, it seemed tame. That is, until night fell. It sounded like our house was on the edge of the ocean. The wind blasted and the sky never stayed dark. It was almost daylight without the sun.

Hail dumped down. We huddled under the overhang by the front door, watching in quiet awe. Alex murmured to me then, “Nature can really eff some shit up.” No truer words have been spoken.

We retreated inside when the ice shards started skittering across the concrete. Amy and I drew the last of the curtains as the sirens sounded. Dad retrieved a few pieces of hail that had somehow stayed intact.

Yes, those fell from the sky. Yes, they could kill someone.

The wind started to die down. The hail quit falling. The sirens went quiet.

I looked over at Alex, who was still wide-eyed with the kind of feverish excitement that only comes from finding a new thrill. In the North, we don’t get warnings for storms. The hills and trees hide it. They come suddenly and end just as fast.”See why I told you Northern storms are tame?” I asked. “They’re a lot louder here. Much more violent, too,” I added.

“Oh, please,” Amy said. “That was tame.”

Think about how the environment affects characters’ fears. What is different? What is the same? Thunder storms in the south are more intense, but less frightening to Alex. Storms are also a stereotype of this area, but people are more comfortable with them here. Are there quirks like that in your world? Why?

Texas and Washington are completely different worlds. I am enjoying every minute of learning my new home. Every difference I notice brings me something else to think about when I write.

So go out! Travel! Talk to new people, debate, spark conversation. Find differences and revel in them. The world is richer for being diverse. Even if right now your world is confined to your own Walden Pond, there are people out there who are different than you. Dive into their wealth of information. Think.

Not only is that the route to being a better writer, it’s the route to being a better human.

World Building: This Isn’t Walden Pond You can't learn everything from your backyard. Despite what many of us were taught in our high school English classes, Henry David Thoreau's advice on the matters of travel and soul searching isn't the greatest for writers and world building.

#ask yourself #questions #storms #story time #texas #Travel #w #washington #world building #Writing #writing advice #writing tools

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imaginetonyandbucky · 8 years ago

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Once Upon A Time in a Shattered Mind Ch. 29

AO3 Link

Peggy cursed as she tried and failed to climb out the window. One moment she’d been alone in the castle, and the next someone was screaming bloody murder. When she’d gone to see what was happening she’d found Bucky trapped in his room. He’d been magically sealed inside too. He’d raged like a wild animal, slinging insults at Steve and cursing him.

That alone had made Peggy’s gut churn. When Bucky followed all that up by accusing Steve of working with Queen Wanda, a chill had run through Peggy.

She couldn’t imagine Steve working with Queen Wanda, not when he blamed her for everything that had happened to him and Bucky.

It would have been easy to ignore Bucky and pretend his claims were that of a mad man, but something in Peggy wouldn’t allow her to do that.

It was suspicious enough that Bucky had appeared in Steve’s home and been locked away. Steve’s continued absence made it all the more odd. His lack of response to Peggy’s summoning had turned her suspicion to foreboding. Now, having tried multiple times to set foot outside the castle only to find herself trapped inside the empty and cold halls, Peggy knew Steve had given in to his demons.

Peggy cursed under her breath and hurried to Steve’s study. There had to be something she could use to tear down these barriers that trapped her and Bucky inside the castle.

She refused to play the damsel in distress.

Rhodey snapped the reigns and ushered the horses onward toward Maximoff castle. His heart pounded in his chest as a desperate mantra shouted in his head; he had to save Tony.

It didn’t matter that he had no idea where Steve had taken his best friend, nor did it matter that Rhodey would be horribly outmatched if he managed to find Tony. He was going to rescue Tony.

Rhodey shoved down the voice in the back of his head that pointed out that it would take days to reach Maximoff castle and he had less than a day.

Rhodey rode through the dark of night, determined to get to his friend before Wanda unleashed her curse.

Tony struggled for breath.

The copper flavor of blood coated his mouth and smothered his sense of smell.

His body ached, and his mouth was dry.

Maybe if he tried hard enough he could pretend that he had woken up from a night of drinking and an unexpected brawl.

The manacles around his wrist made that impossible though.

Tony lay across the cold, stone floor of Wanda’s dungeon.

Beside him, a woman dressed in red eyed him. She had watched as he was tortured, never blinking once or making comment.

Before Tony had passed out from his torture, he’d tried to speak to the woman--perhaps together they could find some way to escape and thwart Wanda and her plot against Howard and his people. The woman had not responded though, instead keeping to herself.

“I was wondering if you would wake up.” Steve crouched in front of Tony’s cell. He smiled down at Tony. “I’d hate for you to miss the show.”

Even scowling pained Tony, but he forced himself to do so. “You’ve messed up. Wanda will betray you, and Bucky--he’ll-” Tony coughed, the action sending jolts of pain through him.

“He’ll forgive me, because he won’t remember you or any of the things he’s had to suffer.” Steve’s smile grew. “He’ll be back to his previous self, just like he wanted, and you--you’re going to stay right here where you will never get to him again.” Steve reached through the bars and grabbed Tony’s by the hair and lifted his head up.

Tony hissed at the painful tug to his roots.

“You did realize that, right, Tony? The immunity to Wanda’s magic I gave you is still in place, which means when she casts the curse you’ll be left behind.”

Tony spat in Steve’s face.

Yeah, he’d figured that much out.

Steve sneered and flung Tony back.

Tony winced as his body hit the ground hard.

The pain had been worth it.

“Try now,” Peggy hollered through the door.

Bucky twisted the doorknob, but it was locked. Bucky picked up the chair in the room (or what was left of it) and swung it against the door only to be met by the barrier again. “Damn it! That one didn’t work!”

Peggy cursed. “I have a another potion I can try.”

“Forget the potions.” Bucky kicked the nightstand in frustration. “What about a magical sword or something that can cut through anything? Those things are always mentioned in stories and legends. If there is one in existence, the Dark One must have one lying around somewhere.”

“Let me just try these two potions first and then I’ll see what I can find.” There was a pause. “I promise I will get you out of there, Bucky.”

Bucky’s heart gave a grateful lurch.

He owed Peggy so much.

If only they didn’t have literal hours before the world as they knew it would end and he would most likely be unable to return the favor.

Howard rode at a breakneck speed out of the capital of his kingdom. Smoke was thick in the air as a raging fire burned through Stark Castle. Cries of horror and victory came from the town. Those who wished him dead were thrilled, believing that soon they would have his head on a pike and thus save themselves, while others were filled with shock and fear as they watched their neighbors’ rampage.

Howard didn’t blame his people for their violent actions--he’d probably do the same if their roles were reversed.

However, that didn’t mean he was going to wait for his people to kill him.

Queen Wanda was vengeful--always had been, always would be. It didn’t matter if he surrendered himself or his kingdom; he and his people would suffer no matter what they did. At least this way, maybe he could live to fight another day.

He shoved down any brief wonderings about his son.

Tony had proven long ago that he could take care of himself.

“Locks of hair from the darkest souls,” Wanda muttered as she tossed the aforementioned strands into the bonfire. The flames grew as she circled around them, her skirts dragging across the dirt.

She picked up a small, golden chest that she had set on a rock nearby.

She hugged the chest close to herself. Memories of her beloved brother flooded her mind. Pain and sorrow rushed at her heart like hungry piranha. The sensation left her feeling a gaping hole in her breast.

That hole would be filled though once she finished her spell and had her new life--a life where wretched people like King Howard suffered and she was happy. That was all that mattered.

She opened the chest and took out Pietro’s heart.

For one precious second, she held onto it, unable to let it go. Then just as quickly as her moment weakness came upon her, Wanda regained her strength and threw the heart into the flames.

Thick, purple smoke and white lightning filled the sky and swept across the land.

Peggy slammed the mace down onto the door, splintering the wood and breaking through to Bucky.

Peggy stood stunned as she stared through the hole she had created.

Bucky gaped then quickly recovered. “Again! Hit it again!”

Peggy nodded and whacked away at the door, splintering off more chunks of wood. Hope blossomed inside her. She’d get Bucky out and then the two of them would escape. They would-

Bucky inhaled sharply.

“What is it?” Peggy continued to slam her mace down, breaking off the doorknob and lock with her last hit.

Peggy crowed in delight and dropped the mace. She grabbed the edges of the hole she had made and began to yank open the door, only to stop when Bucky’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

Peggy met Bucky's panicked gaze. “The curse,” was the last thing she heard before a cloud of purple engulfed her.

Dottie lay in bed, grimacing at her weakness.

Couldn’t the bloody curse have waited one hour so she could have faced it on her feet instead of being bed-ridden due to childbirth?

Ivan brushed back her sweat soaked bangs.

Dottie gripped his wrist. “Natalia?” She asked.

She heard the sound of the wardrobe being opened.

“Gone,” Pepper said, her tone full of disbelief.

Dottie scoffed. A werewolf questioning the powers of a wardrobe designed to take those put inside it to another realm was far too amusing.

Ivan squeezed Dottie’s hand as the purple cloud of smoke seeped into their home. “Until we meet again.”

Ivan was far too soft and sentimental. Nonetheless, she did love him so Dottie squeezed back.

She smirked as the curse washed over her. She was already victorious; she herself might not be able to break the curse, but her daughter damn well would.

Natalia would end this curse once and for all.

Twenty-Eight Years Later…

Natasha squinted through the fog and muttered to herself under her breath as she drove down the dark road. It figured she’d get rerouted off the highway and onto a street that looked like it belonged at the beginning of a horror film. The things she did for money.

It was one of those evenings when she wished being a bails bond person was salaried instead of paid on delivery.

Natasha looked at her milage and did the mental math of how much this hunt was costing her in gas alone. She should have waited for her target to get closer. The man though hadn’t shown his face in her state, let alone her county, for months; she’d gotten overexcited, a mistake she wouldn’t make again.

Her phone lit up the passenger seat with a notification.

Natasha glanced down to make sure it wasn’t anything important.

There was a loud squawk followed by something large and fast slamming into Natasha’s windshield.

A gasp ripped itself out of Natasha as she slammed on the breaks and yanked her steering wheel.

The last thing Natasha saw before she crashed was a sign proclaiming: “Welcome to Storybrooke!”

#winteriron #tony x bucky #prompts #tony stark #bucky barnes #akira of the twilight #OUAT in a shattered mind #dark curse #captain hook! tony stark #mad hatter! bucky barnes #evil queen!wanda #dark one! steve rogers #savior! Natasha Romanoff

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benajahccjoseph · 7 years ago

Text

from gods slit wrist

Halogen Incense

Daddy stopped when he left her car seat on the roof.

She was born into it. Early she saw everyone was born similarly She lived in horror at the world’s endless supply of heretics.

Consuming confusion was brilliant in her entrance. A blinding that you tried to look through. The star, the yesteryear, the livid hopes; all under her banner. She entered stage center, dazzled and smiled the smile of small deaths and caught breath. Mississippi. A single precious tear from Gods face, a single drop of blood from Gods slit wrist, dropped in th mud. Seemed the whole state was confused, she never understood that. How was all a God’s country so turned around? Sometimes she thought maybe it was in her eyes.

They were catching a bus Daddy said, but she didn’t figure as much. She held his hand, comforting him. Our Lady of Perpetual Grace was passed without so much as a spit. Daddy wouldn’t look at it. Catholics. Mostly we called em the harlot. She knew what a harlot was. She’d been one.

Grady was supposed to be around Carthage. Hard boys up there, Momma said. Last time he was around he gave Momma some of his teeth. They were always doing that type of thing. They hugs was long uns.

Katherine Robertine Elizabeth Toter-Cobb. We was all flummoxed by such a regal name. Mama has some history attached to it but she only showed us the peeking corners and dirty obscurities.

Momma stole books and burned them after ‘eating’ them. She’d whisper that it felt like eating anyway. She’d say this every time. Perhaps these were only time she wasn’t listing. Momma believed in divine winds. She wouldn’t ever fight em. She wanted a hero, so bad. Her favorites were the ones who died at the end. Nothing confusing about that.

Katy-Rob they called her. Daddy called Momma pretentious. Or pretty contentious. It was one of the only times she looked at him with love. I magine she thought it witty. I know I did. After that look she went on to the pharmacy and Daddy went to buy tickets. I caught up to her looking real intent on some new tennis shoes on this dude with a Cat hat n’ those damn sequined jeans.

Know when you gaze up and on a thing…cher, you change it?

I know that mama.

Oh youre so erudite, you.

What?

Momma was Acadian and though she was supposed to be so smart she talked just like everyone else, cept kinda dumber for that couy’on shit. In every picture I every saw of her she was showing her long white teeth, like she was trying to sell something. Later I came to see she was trying to prove to the world she wasn’t poor.

Id seen Mama do some sketchy shit, some wicked shit…one time she rented Grady out for 3 months. Stabbed a girl in Germantown outside a Memphis because she was too high. In the heat of demon attack mama looked sinistral, eyes seemed almost all black and shadows moved about her profile like they was alive. Face would be all fucked up. I hated looking at her like that. You just wanted to put yourself inbetween her and that.

I wote a poem for her. She loved to dance. Long lines a sweat in every right place. Everyone looked at her when she was dancing… like they everyone wanted to hump ’er…momma had dat juju.

We leak through the clicks you clock and mourn for the rocks we see carried about Demure with reverence but cannot rationalize just feel within as we all watch our loved ones spin to try and place an eye on the thing That produces the suffering and in this spinning habitual it metastasized into ritual and the dance in its ignorance is beautiful lenocinant sinistral

and i wish we could all be still

“Feet pue tan, mi amor”

Mama don’t cuss. Never would.

I loved lines like that. The whole lot of us lived on that line.

There wasn’t ever gonna be any bus, and she was startlingly not shamed by his lie. Heretics. Small feet kicked at a Fanta Orange. Katy-Rob couldn’t be sure if they was black or dirty so she looked up a bit. Confusing who was proper and who wasn’t. She’d heard some ministers ministerin’ on keeping birds with birds and cows with cows.

She wanted to scratch when she itched but she never did.

Holed up at the non-denominational she took a moment to do her 4th dailies while she watched the transactions. Time and money for peace of mind, she knew there was no equanimity in that purchase for how can you sell somin inside the body. Only time she felt that was in the rock and roll church’s, that precious theater inside her heart singing out the most amazing dance numbers. Gold and purple feelings. Like Mamma’s Tigers.

Bus trip in the none-to-crisp suit pocket, they stayed for the Wed. prayer meetin. “Lord, clarity!?” is all she heard.

She let em. In her mind she wouldn’t say any of them words, though she knew em all. Not anymore. School want ever much of an option. She imagined she’d gone some 86 days counting Sunday school. Down in Delta Daddy drove the pickers and Momma would help her people at the gin. She guessed they also make juniper liquor, but she had never seen anybody so much as talking too much.

Usually she let em. Long as Grady wasn’t in the county or parish.

Carthage

Inside of the pain management clinic Momma wagged a smidgen more than usual.

The Cave. Yeah she felt like she understood what that peasant man had been on about. Inside of her the beasts walked behind her eyes projecting outward before the flame. Spirit. It was in there, everyone cept the great harlot believed that, maybe the Jews too.

The connection with the nebulous. A shadow moving over the death waters. Spirit. All of us believed in it, we just didn’t know what it did exactly. People loved to say ‘god-bless’ or ‘Lord have mercy’ without any effect registerin’. To my mind that just made it a cuss word.

She loved the swamp. Would try and draw it out on some papers she kept in a plastic sack. She would rub the expensive paper between her fingers and something stirred. The cicadas song was richer there, the air tugged back, weightier somehow. She felt like her house would one day be in the swamp, clapboard painted green with mesh to keep out the critters but not else.

It sounded like a side of deboned meat being hit with a Louisville slugger, he’d been there and few people went around with bats. Guns mainly. Breaking his hand had been a salvation. He thought he’d found religion but he’d found instead a boy from Colombia. Alerts rang. Grady felt drugs were a last option. Open but last on line. Everyone he grew up with said “in line” but Grady was careful with his mastery of what he considered the only separation betwixt man and dog.

Manfreid Israel Romele was Russian. Perhaps German. Older. Beautiful. Cement blonde. How is a fighter so beautiful? Grady knew.

Smoldering halogen incense prayed for them. Pissing on the carhood altar.

The boy was a fucking nightmare. Glowed. Darkness. He’d seen it before. Everything was loose when he prayed, like the boy standing feet away, steam roiling off of his neck, with “Molon Labe” tatted across the front of his windpipe, where he got hit 45 seconds later.

The Chevelle was purple and Grady wouldn’t lean on it. Surrounding the Big Red Barn choking the purity of the moment were the ‘chickens’. Grady had said, ”clucking foul” but his folk just spit out the gumbo. Grady did not respect a man who watched blood-sports.

Ancient and comfortable. It was more than he could bear, of at time he would sit in the pot till he’d eatin it. A marvel of his power, kneeling on the commode in communion. Particles of hay and heat, cicada’s his private herald. Easy 220. Easy. Against his knees fabric calmed his fingers, he thought of his sister; the smile closed. He thought of Teddy on his horse, the pompous, articulate fool.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood…”

So fucking obvious, like ham-in-hand. Natchitoches. Ham-in-Hand Festival 94. You could walk across the Sabine on boats, smells of the Cajun Microwave’s buried in the soft loam some 100 paces from the water. Whole hogs stuffed with chickens and doves. Grady wondered if dogs trusted smell the way humans subscribed to sight. It was over tween them and he should have seen it. Grady looked coldly at his need. Only the slightest of scowls. Chemicals he thought, chemicals and blips.

He didn’t think it much, to go to war. He was plied with Mozi, Xenophon and 1st Chronicles 4:10 early. Daddy leaning over him and pointing to sketches momma had drawn to go with the Gideon Bible which was in constant circumlocution with others of its ilk. He always walked hunkered down, tied firmly to many things that were not tied to him.

She scuttled over the grooved Cyprus, kaleidoscope of man reduced, he saw her; languidly absorbing the violence to come. Beneath her impressive multi-spectacled visage was her load, atwitter. Looked of fine hairs in a sharp breeze, her brood beneath her belly. She leaned back as if to sit or box or pray, front legs circling in the direction of the bigger man’s dead face.

Lawd have a way, boy you ready?

The man was a fat, suspender framing a whet shirt with nowhere to go came up on Grady’s boy Ara too fast.

Ok we ready?

Ill kill you ifin you don’t step back.

Things was tight, Grady knew all bout this here.

Aight then.

Theys a bit a nonsense bout that bet?

No. Straight up.

Mine’ll be in money orda?

Ara’d get it after the fight now, cause I’ll be on my way, Briar Rabbit style, gros cul.

Fat man took on a greasy bugger as backward he moved, “that man fittin to fuck you.”

Tingle. Mmmmmmm. Grady felt like Ehud preparing to assassinate the fat king Eglon of Moab.

Hear that Schvartze, eer dat fat man.

God give me a verse. He chewed a small hangnail.

Ha. He knew it. 2 Kings 9:20, 20 The watchman [a]reported, “He came even to them, and he did not return; and the driving is like the driving of Jehu the son of Nimshi, for he drives furiously.”

The Lord gave this verse a lot.

Ehud and Jehu. Lawd have mercy son.

This boy was car black, and it really aint right, that type a black. That sheen of purple that made Grady think of dinosaurs and that painter Turner. Give em almost like invisibility at night. And nobody wants that shit. It’s like that shine you can see you’re reflection in… but it gives pause cause it’s a black you staring back. How fucking mad you’d be. Grady wouldn’t look at those shiny black cars, he even avoided dark purple.

Fat man giggled into his cerchief and sat down on a bale; he thought, looking toward the unimpressive white boy, that this’d be soon over.

Grady prayed a bit, squatted and thought of something like a dwarf star painted on a canvas the side of the barn.

He knew the boy’d come over the top and heavy, he knew hed move left and the boy’d come in with a quick step and a lunge at his knees. All the cat in that man was now cutting its way to the top. the breath was bull-like in intensity but shallow. The red rims mean he’s a drinker probably and he favored his left knee a bit. Grady felt sorry then. Sorry for his life and his momma, sorry for the man who was gonna try a kill him, sorry for the fat man who bet against his own kind, sorry that Mississippi water that he smelled on everything was growing less pungent. Sorry God was real and poetry was to hang him. Sometimes things seeded afor birth ripen when they aint wanted. He always felt tears was fine where laughter was.

They drummed him out of the military for being too young. Sure at that time it would be the catalyst for a life riding the dark horse, he considered killing himself but didn’t. Grady’d look in the mirror most days to check and see if it was time.

I read somewhere that poor people typically name their kids names like Unique, Kandy, Sherry and Amber. Later, I read somewhere that girls with some particular names wind up being hookers and dancers and in the porno’s. It bothered me it took two studies to not say that poor girls went to stripping a shade faster than rich ones. Academicians are so fucking stupid. Not only this but everyone knew that strippers changed their names. I thought then and think now I should be in charge of a hair more.

I guess I followed her around some. I remember the taste of bubble-gum scented shampoo and her face. We were protective of each other as should be expected. Daddy woednt too much of a provider, nor a daddy. I guess she burned out that wild streak cause she came back directly. “I wish I was in Dixie, hurrah hurrah In Dixie land Ill take my stand to live and die in Dixie. Oh way Oh way Oh way down south….. in Dixie.” She loved the word Dixie, long as I knew her though I believe she thought it more of a state of being, like glory or honor. She may ah never known it was holding all our heads under water. Grady knew all about it and loved it anyway. Some things just don’t figure. Soon as I could I got out. Not sure anyone else ever did, not really.

I remember him takin pictures of her holding onto a lit lighter and a squeeze bottle a lighter fluid. I remember when the men came in and he couldn’t protect us. He tried. Grady says, “tryin dyin.”

I read an article somewhere bad things happen to poorer people more often, it was more nuanced than that but that’s what I got. “Katy-Rob, bring us that phone.” “your cellular phone?” “We aint go no…little smart-alec.” She was always doin stuff like that. I couldn’t ever figure who she was making fun of, Daddy or this Democratic Republic. Maybe Jonny Locke. Momma was a Rhodes Scholar, I do not know how.

The slovenly way she met my laughter got her a lick. She called herself red velvet, not a nickname, her color. Said mamma was white as the driven snow cept a little Cocoa and a dash’a red food colorin. At a certain age I started realizing that I was gonna be mostly for myself, like my cousin Fay. I took to strippin like anybody’s business. First night in, this little Indian girl told me we do private parties, all naked. I couldn’t see much difference anyhow. It was illegitimate and the girls were indifferent to the men sucking on their titties and stuff. It just suited me fine.

I told Grady that he was to keep my little sister outta my world. There was only room in Carthage for one Cobb stripper.

The striker clicked down and something happened but it sure did not fire a round. White slipstream stepped quickly and quietly inside and hit the man with the gun in the throat. That noise is a thing. Everyone knew he’d done killed him. Grady remembered Niccki Bercham getting punched just so and dying. He guessed he coulda just knocked the gun away. Somewhere, someone was probably holding a little nigglet, waiting on daddy to call. It’d be a wait.

There were eight Cobbs all said but they slithered off, most of em anyway, to Bama and Nam and Peru. Doesn’t matter too much because once they left sight of the Mississippi River, they was good as dead.

Why’d they decide to try and kill him? Grady had a small warrant out on him that left the Boss little choice. That’s what I heard.

Theys four of us around and we all came. Amber, Bo, Katy, and me. Grady stood up from a Shaker stool he loved.

Grady said they’d maybe come for one of us.

They got Katy Rob two nights later, sent in her fron tooth wit they diamond set in it. Fucked up but shed done talked about rippin it out her own self.

Similies was supposed to be a real swanky joint but it was not. Owner by strategery has built a damn motel in the back. Lord have mercy, sulphur factory. I went to pills in the first month. Once you have gonna church and believe, shit gets real hard to do…after the first couple times anyway.

Grady wasn’t blood related to all the girls and he knew to divide his attentions. You cant just go around fighting the whole wrestling team. Amber was neck-tatted and out from around at 14. Our older cousins had done some strippin down on the redneck riveria and I reckon it called her harder’n dope.

Katy took to the hard life too but came back to me and Daddy, Momma and her never cared to talk to one another. She came back quieter and only wore beige and grey. She wrote long letters to Amber and cried some but I would have had her cry all the time if’n she’d just stay.

You’se too young buddy.

I knew you’d say that shit.,

Amber drove up in a fucking Infinity with something clanking under the jappy hood. I knew Grady wouldn’t even look at her, not even one time.

Amber and me gonna go talk to Joe-Block. See if we can figure something out.

There wasn’t any reason to hate Grady for being what he was but I had me a weapon too.

I never knew a way to complete the things that others completed. I reckon I’m slow or I ain’t totally grown up yet. Somin’. When I saw those men take Katy and beat Daddy, there was some sort of wet click and I seemed of a sudden to be able to see it all. The vast expanse and the precipitous nature of the wealthy and the bright. left us all killing each other over a double wide and an abortion.

I watched myself, knowin somehow I had made a decision that was about being a man, about being a Cobb n’ a Toten but there wasn’t anything movie about it. I stole a ladies cruiser out front a the Winn Dixie and played with myself all the way to Biloxi. I felt greasy and popped a pimple on my back. Somehow the Ruger felt lighter the further south we went, like it was becoming less offended by its own.

I was in love with the purity of my little brother. He would never talk to me in front of other people but in private he asked after my girlfriends and me. Once I got a bit too graphic and he white’nd up so I was sure he was gonna kill me. I think he’s still a virgin at 24.

I had made 1200. I have no damn clue where that fucking money is now. Jessie and I were working on a routine, she had this idea for a ‘concept piece’ with Moors and an allusion to the Hearst family but we just wound up kissing and smoking cigarettes till it was our turn.

They could see her now. More whispers to Letty, “This place gone turn out.”

“mmm”

“Im gone go bump th doe man and see if he got a piece.”

Letty smiled a ray of rancid rainbow.

5’1 or 5’3 he guessed. Wadnt no 5’2. Tatted up like her momma didn’t give a fuck. A little bump in his chest somewhere reminded him of another girl, another stripper, another piece of meat in the wily trades of men.

She caught his eye and may have winked, which sent Letty whom everyone called Lessy to the potty to laugh in the stall.

Men with huge dicks walk a bit different she whispered to a man sticking a 10 in her g. Lets the whole world who cares to know. The roxi’s in her were turning everything a little less than, like life was amped up but she was at regular speed. She kept seeing > signs. In the glass of the bowl, in her reflective panties, in her eyes in the cracke john mirra. Pulling his head she thought momentarily of licking his ear but these was Halliburton boys, fresh oft the rig and in Hub City to be jackass’s but not to take a good shower.

When she threw up the front row moved toward anywhere that wasn’t there. Same time a rukus in the commode and a gunshot out the back.

A week later a tall boy walks in and politely asks after Robert-Earl. No one really wanted to tell him.

Everything I did the hardest I ever done. I worked all my life with Daddy at whatever we was doing then so I always knowed I could throw a bale a bit harder than most. I was always taught to be polite even if they weren’t, so I thought Id just ask after Katys old boss. Figured with his lip Id go on ahead. His eye popped out with that first one, his ocular cavity crushed, and I walked toward the back looking at the mirrors for boys coming up on me. I know I punched some girls and I hope to high hell they aint no videotape a me but when it started in earnest it couldn’t be helped. I know one of em kissed me on the back of my neck while I was stomping on this colored boys. Heard later he got paralyzed some. Gottim a check anyway.

I learned that night why mama said them Carthage boys is hard. Robert-Earl. I had a drown his brother in front a him and it wernt no easy thing.

Amocitea

Your Daddy aint gonna recognize you.

Still that little girl. When under all of it, peach flame tripped along at the word. She wanted so much for him to swoop, it was pure. A clean thing, her vision of Daddy just doing what all real animals did. Maybe he was too human.

That golden blanket that she just expected to keep on being, didn’t; and she stepped out really believing that they was gentlemen in this South, in this here state. One night looking deep in her own eyes while everyone elses in the room were on her crotch she realized that this southern thang was a crock. She spected Margaret Mitchell probably just cold wishin like every other Dixie brat split-tail. It was a precious pity that she thought in that manner, she thought…probably affecting her self-image or the like.

She’s hurt I felt. Hurt people, hurt people but with such a swirlin tide, a man just got to decide when to jump in, not if.

Once I heard that Grady involved everybody in his business, I knew I hadda get us outta town. I didn’t really think Momm’d come wit her doctors here and whatever else she was into. Since Id come back from the Wilderness I had taken to wearing full length skirts and not shaving. I know my flesh well and I knew that just like this skirt, I could put it back on rrrrrreeeeeaaaalllllly quick. And that’s the plan, back to the hotel to make us some money.

Half-way from the bus-stop to the club I thought just maybe I was being a bit drastic, but I cant remember what my next thought was after that.

Bo adjusted the mirror on the 91 Olds to see if he’d indeed gotten dip on his collar. A birth canal in the back seat caused him to blink for a second longer than average. The strip-club owners Daddy used to be a Marine and it showed. Punching and biting his way out of the trunk into the car was a feat, Bo’d be the first to tell ya. He’d blindfolded, zip tied and hit the man with 75000 Watts but this Minotaur was now in the backseat. Fucking Carthaginians.

They realized quick they’d done fucked up with this one. She prayed aloud all day long, was unfailingly polite and every chance she got she tried to kill em. Lessy had knocked her tooth out purely on accident but after he reckoned the diamond to be fake, he sent it on to the boss. Almost all his spare time went to kittens. More had received some care from a witch the Dixie Mafia used for dogs. Little bitch had fought harder than any man ever would. In the end she’d ripped off a testicle and with that they put her in box. She calmly told em she couldn’t breath.

I hada shoot him through the seat and we wrecked. He was hurt even worse, so I lit a floor mat afire and ran off in the other directin than Angola, Fuck that, Daddy’d worked there as a guard for 3 days till they done found out he’d been in Parchman for vehicular homicide. Mamma said that great clouds a nephalim hung over those places. I couldn’t see them but I smelled em. Mamma and Katy-Rob always had eyes for that type of thing. Maybe they both lyin though.

I figured theyd run they dogs from around the car so I needed to get gone.

Did not like taken anything from white folks, I did not know how I was gonna pay for that ladies car I done wrecked but it’d get done. The little Kawasaki three wheeler cranked up nice and I left them my hunting license to show good faith.

You aint gonna believe this shit.

Francis-Jean Prichideaux III really could have done without hearing another person say that. It seemed to preface every comment. As a boy he’d felt something akin to the feeling he had now when other nut-brown Acadian boy’s ud say, “Wanna see something…hold my beer.”

Nothing good eva come outta dem type a commentary’s.

What?

Claudius came over with a note. Says here that Similies had another big da-doo.

Whan?

Last night.

Itd been 2 weeks since they colored boys come up in that terrible place and Blanc Bebbette got taken, now what dis shit?

Dixie Mafia used for dogs. Little bitch had fought harder than any man ever would. In the end she’d ripped off a testicle and with that they put her in box. She calmly told em she couldn’t breath. More heard, “I feel free.” thought long and hard about that medicine Melodina gave him, the plan was he was, of a time, to go back. ER out the wustion. She told him he could still sire a brood, if he chose.

Right now the chose was in nose. That moment, eternal, universal, when you know for certain that thing are bout to get lit.

I figured theyd run they dogs from around the car so I needed to get gone.

Did not like taken anything from white folks I did not know how I was gonna pay for that ladies car I done wrecked but it’d get done. The little Kawasaki three wheeler cranked up nice and I left them my hunting license to show good faith.

You aint gonna believe this shit.

Nothing good eva come outta dem type a commentary’s.

What?

Claudius came over with a note. Says here that Similies had another big da-doo.

Whan?

Last night.

Itd been 2 weeks since them colored boys come up in that terrible place and Blanc Bebbette got taken, now what dis shit? Least he didn’t have any crackers around to be yapping about…”oh what now you gonna do colored ssherrff”

The problem we have with God honey is related to expectations and not based in the hard VERITAS of life. See here, what happens when youo to church?

I listen to the preacher

Right, sure but when you’re singing a good Hallelujah song. Or something real once make you cry every time. That jut Him leeting us know that we are cared for.s like that one goes, “Lord You are more precious than silver…

Lord You are more costly than gold.

Together, “Lord You are more beautiful than diamonds.

And nothing I desire compares to You.”

Lord, honey you have a voice like angel blast-furnace. When you get that deep purple swell….

Purple and Gold.

Yesssa, and that is the real thing and it is a thing that belongs in this world yet has a hand fully in the next. But what you looking for there is that feeling to keep on keepin on.

Yessir.

But it don’t.

No.

Is that Gods problem or yours?

I feel like sometimes it is Him.

Cause you just go home and go straight to sinning.

And I wonder why in all His Greatness, I just can’t get a little help in that department.

But you care don’t ya?

I care a great deal. I expect it’s my conscience.

Yes. But a conscience ain’t a stopper, it’s just a fuse light indicator.

So then where’s the stopper?

That’s the catch.

Meaning its all up to me.

Honey, you ever look at a real life hero?

Maybe Rooster Carley?

Hmm. Ain’t none. He died 2000 years ago, therebouts. Now we just hunker down. Oh you gone sin. I’m gone sin. Yo Mamma, Lawd have a way. Its not about ‘not doin’ its about accepting your place in grace.

My place in grace.

From behind him mamma stepped, lightly, elegant specter. White on white on white, yet the air hovered lightly around it as if mistrusting. Mama’s essence was rebellion. Born with a dead twin boy, she lay never crying once in granny’s arms. Said she wouldn’t look nobody in the eye. They was alarmed from the get go. Mamma was said to have spent some of her teen years in Walnut Gove. She supposed to have found God in there, in the gladiator school. Once when she came home to the Shady Acres #3 after being out for a minute, she took me and we sat behind the dumpster; she told me about the first love of her life while she smoked up a cool bill a rock. Some people get all crazy scared of people on hard drugs, like they got special powers or summin. I ain’t but but a buck and change and I’m telling you I have cold knocked fuckers out who go too close. It’s best just to warn white folks up front, but when mamma slumming or Im at school and we dealing wit regular street niggas, I just stay loose, if mamma grab and go…then well, Im just down wit mine.

Oh Daddy.

I love my Daddy…

What are ya’ll ssscheming on. Lemme see your billfold.

Daddy’s trying to tell me all the war we got with sin is just an illusion.

Woman, that’s not what I said.

That we have to learn to accept our weakness as part of life. And personally for me, cause I listen to all them preachers and I read all them books and I pray on the Bible…I do it all with a knife in my belt and Im down for the clan but I do not wanna keep on living this way.

Ooh its one of them talks, you…what your daddy is remise in sharing is that there are other forces at work in this world.

NO.

Well talk later honey.

We never did.

I believe Mamma occupies some special place in this world, like a gold key that is made for just one lock, the most magnificent things await behind it; but you put that fucker in your back pocket with a handkerchief and they key is lost in the Misty Mountains. Myrrh and aloe and decay and female sex and the heat after summer rain and moss and Cyprus and dawn and linen white. Mamma mind was fine. Mammas body was the problem. She worshipped it to hurt her.

She saw a movie once at the Motel 6 in Latham Springs Texas called Jennifer’s Body, she said that though the metaphor was sloppy and the genre “totally LA” a poor excuse, yet she understood that somehow this connected us, because I was watching her becoming self aware.

Of an aspect only I believe, but a crack in the wall blinked a purple light in my eye and I realized that indeed “the affections of the heart are Divine”. If God dropped the veil once in a while, it somehow ran through my mother.

But even though I am slower than other folks, I can tell you that if Daddy believes that things are moving behind the scenes and mamma sees em too. Man, these things are making them worse…not better.

Man out of trunk

Boy wrecks.

Runs into St Francisville swamp

The kidnapping event

Tearing the tooth

Too much “arm” dead girl

Grady gets pickeup

Amber breaks him out

Bo meets someone unexpected

Daddys lie

Gradys brother is Robert Earl.

Daddys bet

Layerdown. from gods slit wrist Halogen Incense Daddy stopped when he left her car seat on the roof.

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davidpires578 · 7 years ago

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Dark Chocolate and Sponge Cake (1)

Following on from a recent post about acquiring some mahogany, Swietenia mahagoni, originally from Florida, I had a few additional observations I'd like to share in regards to this special mahogany, based both on some recent readings and my impressions from having milled up a bunch of this stock now. I've learned much in the past few days. We're all doomed, basically. While I was searching for info on Swietenia mahagoni, I came across a British timber merchant who lists Cuban Mahogany as one of his species. On their page for the wood, one finds the following mouth-watering description:

"This stock is a fantastic find, unused old stock from a factory workshop originally imported from Jamaica in 1908. It is very rare, very famous and very desirable."

Then when you check their catalog for what is actually listed for Cuban Mahogany, you find out that this 'fabulous' and "very desirable" find is a few 2"x2" sticks, 24" long. Twigs, basically. Uh, jeez, erection lost. Keim lumber lists a few bards from a non-straight tree, and a few of those individual boards go for more than $10,000/ea. nearly $20,000(!) Will anyone bite at that price? It won't be me. I think that is one of the most expensive pieces of wood I've ever come across. Kinda nuts. From what I understand the wood I have is from a Florida Key, or nearby, harvested some 40 years ago. According to the writer Clayton D. Mell, the Floridian variety was the densest of all the mahoganies found around the Caribbean and down into south America. My direct experience confirms how heavy this particular material is in the hand. However, just because a mahogany tree grew in Florida there is no guarantee that the hard and dense quality of native Swietenia mahogani wood will be what lays within. A Proceeding from the Florida Horticultural society by Julia F. Morton entitled "Our Misunderstood Mahogany and its Problems" was an enlightening read in this regard. It seems that Florida, in line with its national reputation as a super site for invasive non-native flora and fauna of all kinds, has become a place where mahoganies of all kinds are being planted as specimen trees. You can find Swietenia mahagani, and Big Leaf Mahogany (S. macrophylla) planted, as well as Khaya spp., or African Mahogany. So, if you stumble across mahogany lumber purportedly from Florida, it doesn't mean it is the native kind. That's one point. And in cases where the native variety has been planted for landscaping purposes, the nature of the environs strongly determines what the wood is like. Location is everything. As Morton notes in her piece,

"It develops a tall, straight trunk and hard, dark wood in hammocks on outcroppings of limestone on the Upper Keys. If close to the shore, it is protected by a fringe of mangroves. On the more humid mainland and poorly drained soil, the wood is pale and not as hard; limb breakage is common."

Further the author notes, as regards the native mahogany,

"Its native habitat in southern Florida was picturesquely portrayed by John Gifford in his book Living by the Land:

"It is common ... in very low, limestone swamps close to the sea, where it produces wood of exceptional quality. It grows in little groups, often surrounded by red mangroves, and although spots where it grows are a trifle above the surrounding land, it thrives within a few feet of very salt water, flooded at times by storm and often actually sprinkled with salt spray . . . This tree is native to the Madeira Hammock . . . close to the Bay of Florida. Trees which have been there for a long time have on many occasions been flooded with salt water to a depth of several feet, and the land is more or less salty at all times, except when leached by heavy downpours of rain ... It grows in the midst of the mangrove swamps, on jagged coral rock so rough and full of potholes that walking there is difficult and even dangerous."

The note about the Madeira Hammock - the S. mahagoni is also termed 'Madeira wood' (Madeira stems from 'madera', meaning wood in Spanish.) - this location is found at the southern tip of the Everglades, West of Miami and north of the Keys - note the mark on the following map: p.p1 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 8.5px Helvetica}

So that's the sort of ecology within which the good native mahogany can be found - not that there is much native Florida mahogany to be had these days except in exceptional/illegal circumstances. I had never come across the term 'hammock' before as a ecological feature, so in case you are interested, here is the meaning according to Wikipedia:

"Hammock is a term used in the southeastern United States for stands of trees, usually hardwood, that form an ecological island in a contrasting ecosystem. Hammocks grow on elevated areas, often just a few inches high, surrounded by wetlands that are too wet to support them. The term hammock is also applied to stands of hardwood trees growing on slopes between wetlands and drier uplands supporting a mixed or coniferous forest. Types of hammocks found in the United States include tropical hardwood hammocks, temperate hardwood hammocks, and maritime or coastal hammocks."

As far as the ecology of the Tropical Hardwood Hammocks found primarily in Miami-Dade County, a very informative read can be found here. These hammocks are quite vulnerable to the effects of both climate change and associated changes in sea level, falling water tables, and human introduction of exotic plant species:

"Recent GIS mapping of invasive exotics throughout the Florida Keys shows that approximately 2,833 hectares (7,000 acres) of susceptible upland habitat have been invaded by exotic plants, especially Australian pine, Brazilian pepper and latherleaf (Kruer et al. 1998). Areas of disturbed substrate within and adjoining Keys hardwood hammocks are often heavily infested with exotic plants that are rapidly spreading into and displacing the natural plant community...Hybrids between native and exotic plant species have also begun to appear (Hammer 1996, Sanders 1987), ultimately threatening native species with extirpation or extinction."

Fortunately, most tropical hardwood hammocks outside of the Florida Keys along the coast of the Everglades are now protected from development, but climate change affects everywhere, and invasives are spreading without regard to lines were draw on a map, so it all remains threatened regardless. Swietenia mahagoni coming from southern Florida is a wood in which the location in which it grew is a huge factor in the quality of the wood obtained. I imagine the same goes for the species when it is growing on other islands in the Caribbean. Take for example a quote from Patrick Browne (1756) in his work The civil and natural history of Jamaica, in regards to S. mahagoni growing in Jamaica:

"This tree grew formerly very common in Jamaica, and while it could be had in the low lands, and brought to market at an easy rate, furnished a very considerable branch of the exports. It thrives in most soils, and varies both its grain and texture with each; that which grows among the rocks is smaller, but very hard and weighty, of a close grain and beautifully shaded, while the product of the low and richer lands is observed to be more light and porous, of a paler colour and open grain . . . The most beautiful part of the wood is that obtained by sawing across the bottom of the stem and root."

I realize now that I am most fortunate to have stumbled into the 'good stuff'. Sobering to read the wood was but 'formerly' very common in 1756. I mentioned in the last post that there is some S. mahagoni for sale on eBay, apparently 97 years old and originally from Jamaica. Here's a photo from one of the ads:

What's curious to me about what is pictured, if it really is S. mahagoni from Jamaica (which is one of the places where it does naturally grow), then is why is this wood so light colored? The material I have, though not as old as 97 years (since cutting), is dark purple, and I have found that the surface oxidation, after some 40 years, penetrates deeply into the wood. Even Big Leaf Mahogany turns a darker color after a few years, so, I'm a bit suspicious of what is advertised there on eBay. 97 years old - really? It's priced at $32/board foot. To give a charitable assessment, maybe it is a variety which is much blonder in color and doesn't oxidize darker as it ages? Hmmm, it's not convincing me, but you never know. I think I'll give it a pass, and in any case, when I contacted the seller for a list of his boards and their sizes they did not reply, so I doubt we'll be getting to the point where they would send samples. As mentioned earlier, I have now milled up a bunch of the 'Madeira Wood'. Here, laying on the infeed table of the surfacer, are the components for the upper and lower horizontal frames with a few pieces of leftover stock standing to the left:

In the leftover pile I have a ribbon stripe board which is a bit of an orphan since it does not match anything else in this piece, along with a short and wide chunk which unfortunately has slash grain and is of limited usability:

More bug-eaten trimmings, and a pith board on the left:

Next are the pieces which will form the main posts, the front door frames, and some of the back framing of the cabinet:

While it is certainly true that to have the most direct feel for any wood you need to chisel it and plane it, or turn it on a wood lathe, I have nevertheless formed a strong impression of the material just by running it over my jointer, through my bandsaw, and even the planer. I can report that it does not suck. In fact, I am kinda ruined now for Honduran Mahogany. I was finding myself a bit giddy after cutting stock for a few hours. And I'm only giddy once every few years. I now have a glimmer of understanding as to why joiners and furniture makers of the 18th and 19th centuries coveted this material like they did, and found the Big Leaf Mahogany 'spongey' by comparison. If you would entertain an analogy, S. mahagoni, at least what I have, could be described in the following manner: while Honduran mahogany is some kind of Weight Watcher's™ diet chocolate bar, this stuff is more like a decadent fudge and dark chocolate bar. Or, put another way: Honduran Mahogany is like Wonderbread™, while Cuban Mahogany is like an artisanal loaf from a specialty bakery with a chewy crumb and intriguing flavors. It's hard to explain otherwise. I am in the process of obtaining more, as much as I can afford. Fortunately my sister in law has lent me some money to help out with this purchase, on very generous repayment terms. I face a few challenges, beside staving off personal bankruptcy in my lust to buy more of this wood. One is the oxidation issue. The dark chocolate to purple color of the wood is the product of some 40 years of exposure, and the oxidation has reached deep into the wood - close to 3/8" (1cm). That means that re-sawn sticks have reveals of much lighter wood in the middle, trending towards the dark brown as you reach either arris on the face. Obviously, a year or two down the line, the freshly-cut surfaces will darken and begin a journey to a point where it will all look much the same, namely dark chocolate with purple tones. I'm sure that 5 years from now it will be a good portion of the way there. However, the 'brand new' appearance of a cabinet is important. I'm not one of those people obsessed with closely matching colors - that's more of an interior designer tic it seems to me. I enjoy the variegation of natural materials, and like getting to know them as they change over time. However, the difference here between faces is quite striking, so maybe I'll have to do something. I spoke with the fellow from whom I obtained the Cuban Mahogany. He has long experience with Big Leaf mahogany, but has only worked a very small amount of his cuban stock, and was familiar with the issue of which I asked. He suggested a solution which had also crossed my mind, namely using dye on the lighter faces. He said that the dye will, over many years, weaken in effect, and sorta 'wear off' the surface, however as that happens the wood is naturally darkening, so it's like a simple case of replacement over time. That sounds good to me, and he recommended a particular Behlen's product, an alcohol-based non-grain raising dye in the Solarlux line, the Van Dyke Brown. I've found Behlen's stuff to be good, though for dyes I've employed TransTint products previously. I'll of course test this stuff on a small scrap piece first. I also plan to check in with my client to see how he might like the piece without the use of dye to obtain greater uniformity of color. If it were my piece of furniture I'd be inclined to use the wood 'as is' and let it age gracefully, but not everyone will feel similarly. I think I'll build the piece and see how it looks all assembled before making a decision in that regard. This cabinet, as it is going into a bedroom and will not be exposed to the same sort of hazards and wear conditions as were the coffee table, side table, and sideboard I built for the client, could perhaps be fine with a thinner, less tough finish, something even closer to the wood. With that in mind, I've chosen a German product made by Kreidezeit, and sold in the US under the Unearthed Paints label. This is a 'hard wax oil', and is a blend of Carnauba wax, colophonium resin (that is, Rosin) and a Tung Oil/Linseed oil mix. The product is 100% solids, with no solvents or water. No friggin' VOCs to deal with, which is all good as far as I am concerned. I initially came across this wax oil product on a Japanese website, which lead me to find the German company site and check it out further. I was glad to find they had a supplier in the US. I've heard good things about the 'hard wax oil' and it is very simple to apply, just wipe on, leave 20 minutes and

#woodworking #wood #working #miter #saws #Woodworking

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nofomoartworld · 7 years ago

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Hyperallergic: A Comic Artist Draws on Emotional Isolation and Domestic Strife

From Roughneck by Jeff Lemire (image courtesy of Gallery 13)

The post-career road for brawny ex-pro hockey player Derek Ouelette is crushing him, but the years that came before were absolutely pulverizing. In award-winning comics artist and writer Jeff Lemire’s ink and watercolor graphic novel Roughneck, a pugnacious former defenseman can’t steer through a weekday without a drink. It’s a crippling habit for the emotionally isolated loner that leads to altercations at his corner bar as well as a stream of memories of the abusive alcoholic father who terrorized him. The weight is only lifted when his sister returns to their hometown to ask for his help. In two new comics from Lemire — Royal City from Image, and Roughneck, the first work from Simon and Schuster’s graphic books imprint Gallery 13 — the artist portrays a pair of families’ difficult pasts as well the obstacles that crowd their paths ahead.

From Roughneck by Jeff Lemire (image courtesy of Gallery 13)

The Ouelettes’ story unfurls beneath a small Canadian province’s smoking chimneys and ash-toned winter skies. Roughneck’s broken, broad-nosed protagonist beats a bar patron senseless in the snowy present-day fictional town of Pimitamon during a violent first act. Physical attacks here viscerally call attention to a past that Ouelette spent in the penalty box or enduring the wrath of his family’s drunken patriarch. When Lemire breaks from the comic’s subdued blue gradients and deep blacks for full-color flashbacks, we see middle-aged Ouelette’s glory days as an “enforcer,” an unofficial hockey label for a player who racks up penalties when responding to an opponent’s violence. The hockey minutia conjures Lemire’s popular Essex County, but I was also reminded of deceased Saskatchewan-born player Derek Boogaard, and not just for his given name. Like Roughneck’s similarly burly character, Boogaard was raised up north, and his time in the NHL ended while playing for the New York Rangers. The New York Times reported that he traversed Western Canada’s “dark and icy landscapes” as a kid for scrimmages before he went pro. Things aren’t nearly as tragic for Ouelette as they were for Boogaard, who died at 28 from an accidental overdose and was discovered to have had a brain disease. But just as an injury halted the pro’s career, the beating that Roughneck’s enforcer delivered on the ice ended his own.

“I was never a hockey player, Al,” says Ouelette to a family friend, mulling the dirty play that got him expelled. “I was just a thug.”

Cover of Roughneck by Jeff Lemire (image courtesy of Gallery 13)

Lemire’s balding “thug” has slitted eyes and lumpy cheekbones. His boxy shoulders swallow up a full-width panel’s real estate when he’s maneuvering in and out of the book’s many small spaces. After line-cook shifts at a diner, Ouelette sleeps in a local hockey rink’s janitorial closet. His job is depicted in maddening panels that bounce the reader from a wall clock’s face to a frying pan — a nod to Lemire’s work in downtown Toronto kitchens that’s reminiscent of Mimi Pond’s Over Easy. Ouelette’s contact with others is limited to Al or Sheriff Ray, who is often tasked with arresting him for assault (or trying to — for all of Lemire’s realist endeavors, his character breaks the law and walks with ludicrous frequency). Outdoors, widescreen naturalist scenery envelopes Ouelette. He’s suddenly slight and vulnerable amid a range of black-silhouetted pines or snow-capped water towers on Roughneck’s splash pages. Al, a father figure who grew up with Derek’s beloved mother, teaches him to hunt in the still Canadian bush. Otherwise Ouelette just lingers, gazing skyward and fishing whiskey from his parka to quiet memories of his ferocious father.

When his sister Beth shows up, Ouelette pulls back on the drinking. It’s been years since they talked — after Derek shipped off to the NHL, Beth was left to fend for herself on a path that led her to homelessness, opioid abuse, and into the arms of a scruffy criminal named Wade whose red-checked flannel pops from Lemire’s primary-color palette. He differs little from their father.

“You left me,” Beth tells Ouelette. “I was thirteen and you left me alone here, Derek!”

Difficult circumstances force the siblings to hide away — out of Wade’s reach — at Al’s remote hunting cabin. There’s trouble ahead for Beth, and its related tension is paired with a reopening of fresh childhood wounds. But when she seeks out her father at his blue-collar job near Pimitamon, it feels extraneous and inauthentic. The confrontation has all the limpness of an afternoon soap opera compared to the artist’s portrayal of the decades-old trauma that Derek and Beth finally sort out at the cabin. The siblings’ austere temporary quarters are darkened with robust ink strokes and sapphire paint washes, and Lemire revisits the type of familial responsibility that bubbled to the surface in his magnificent graphic novel The Underwater Welder three years before he finished Roughneck. Tucked deep into richly visualized woods, Derek commits to shielding Beth from the kind of danger that characterized their past. But he’ll need to do it without so much as throwing a single punch.

From Royal City by Jeff Lemire (image courtesy of Image Comics)

Royal City, one of Lemire’s several monthly comics, abounds with sentimental overtones and supernatural flourishes that mirror those in The Underwater Welder. Here, the artist chronicles domestic strife and a reckoning with the past à la Roughneck. When a stroke lands their father in the hospital, the three adult Pike children and their mother grapple with a fracturing present and the traumatic years behind them. The full-color first arc of Royal City isn’t without problems, but this is only part of an already evocative drama that takes shape just within the muted facades of a small factory town’s ranch houses and riverside smokestacks.

Graying husband and father Peter Pike collapses in his workshop overnight while repairing one of the scores of antique tabletop wood-cased radios that line its organized shelves. Static, which Lemire relates as swirling smoke trails, filters out of the radio’s dusty speaker grill. It’s punctuated by the voice of a child.

“Daddy?”

The voice belongs to Peter’s son Tommy, who died when he was just 14. His ghost is integral to Lemire’s script. Tommy is drawn like a flesh-and-blood character, and for reasons that connect directly to their own struggles, each family member experiences visits from differently aged versions of his restless spirit.

From Royal City by Jeff Lemire (image courtesy of Image Comics)

Blocked author and oldest adult son Patrick Pike returns to his hometown, Royal City — and to its accompanying baggage — when he hears about his dad. He visits with a lanky version of Tommy at the age of his death and looks to him for his next novel’s source material. His sister Tara, an ambitious land developer, meets regularly with a young, pajama-clad version of their dead brother, who has a spiky crop of yellow hair. The alcoholic screw-up Pike son, Richie, is gaunt and unshaven, with perpetual troubles and lines under his eyes that lend him a look of fatigue not entirely unlike Derek Ouelette’s. Richie drinks with an older version of Tommy who never came to pass. Owing to a recent blunder, their mother Patti’s considerable guilt yields a version of Tommy as the priest she hoped he’d become, a wholesome figure to whom she looks for absolution and forgiveness.

“Priest” Tommy and his mother clutch a rosary in Peter’s dismal gray-and-algae-green hospital room. The scene follows a lush, dreamlike interlude in which the unconscious father stands on a two-page-length street corner, surrounded by building-sized replicas of the Philco vintage radios he resuscitates in his workshop. Three inset panels layered atop the big ornate consoles reveal antennas that are broadcasting Peter’s own pre-teen version of Tommy.

No family member knows of the others’ encounters with Tommy, and he’s never in the room with more than one relative. The first issue’s narration borrows from his 1993-era journal, which Patrick carries with him and mines for book ideas. Its wide-ruled pages suggest that the youngest Pike took his own life.

“Would anybody notice if I wasn’t even here at all?” Tommy writes.

From Royal City by Jeff Lemire (image courtesy of Image Comics)

Royal City’s characters feel familiar to me, and their pining for days gone by is a relatable notion, even while some of their present-day hurdles feel forced. Pat’s battles with his literary agent are well-worn clichés, and Tara’s marital discord owes mostly to her land-development proposal — one that you’d never risk a relationship over. But these conflicts accentuate the story’s notes of nostalgia and reverence for adolescence. Pat’s novel will keep Tommy’s story alive, and a reckless real estate deal would surely disrupt the unassuming suburb’s quaint aesthetic — the way they know it, the way it’s always looked. This is borne out in precise architectural details of the row homes and factory mills that spill over into the comic’s inside front and back covers.

Clad in a Nirvana shirt, Patrick “wanders the house [he] grew up in like a museum” in the fourth issue. He ponders his family’s inability to fully move on since their loss, and in impressive, abstract illustrations that open the comic, he embodies their state of limbo and his own, locked between his adult self and the “person [he] worked so hard to leave behind.” Like Derek and Beth Ouelette, Pat’s family make a go at unshackling themselves from the past, but it isn’t easy. There’s comfort for the Pikes in the years gone by — before the walls of adulthood closed in, back when they still had their baby brother.

“How old is too old to start over?” asks Pat at the water’s edge. Lemire breaks up the river’s temperate wash of purple and navy blue hues with inked squiggly ripples. “At what point does all the shit I’ve done weigh me down so much I can’t move forward anymore?”

Roughneck is now available from Gallery 13. Issues 1 through 5 of Royal City are now available from Image Comics and will be collected in trade paperback in September.

The post A Comic Artist Draws on Emotional Isolation and Domestic Strife appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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