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aestheticvoyage2024 · 2 months ago

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Day 299: Friday October 25, 2024 - "A Freddie Freeman"

Started a new tradition tonight with William that I surprisingly fell in love with myself - I had saved 5 or 6 packs of 2024 baseball cards from mid-season for tonight - for the start of the world series, to pull out and open with William. Even if I got his attention for a half minute with it, thatd be fun. But as it was, with the first inning on the TV, and popped corn in the bowl, we sat and opened two packs together. In it, he pulled a Riley Greene card - way to go! I was excited for him, exactly what I needed - thank you baseball gods! I found his little collection box in his closet and opened a few more packs myself, what an old nostalgic dopamine hit!!! How fun! As I opened one deck, Stanton launched a magestic Home Run that stood to be the difference in the game until the 9th. Would be cool if I pull a Stanton card after that, I said. No - Stanton, but I got a Freedie Freeman, maybe he'll be the hero tonight.!"

The thought of a hero was on my mind, in this old timey historic baseball matchup. I had decided I didnt care for anything more from these two teams than just 7 good historic games that gets decided by a no name pinch hitter and a journeyman reliver and somebody wins in a way we call and talk to our friends about.... Its been a fun baseball season. I hope something really great for baseball happens in this next week. Something that everyone can love - even if it is LA and NY. Audrie was giving me some (admitted) pregnancy grump and I had a great idea - "you need to open some baseball cards!" YEA! I loved watching her flip through her pulls and pronounce the names of the guys. Just like a kid - to see who'd you get and how pretty and special they are. I fell back in love with this old forgotten feeling. What a neat trick. Especially at the end of the baseball year, when all but the most important part of the story has been told, but all the characters have been developed and we just need to see how it ends. Audrie pulled an Anthony Rizzo and it made her smile and I thought that was really great. "He's good right?" Totally, I affirmed. He's right there batting right now! And how loved am I, that here's my tired pregnant wife, that understood my enthusiasm and put on a baseball shirt for the world series.... I didnt even do that! I love her so much and it was fun watching with her and Deni (a Dodgers fan).

The game wound up tied in the 9th, as we navigated William's bedtime, and in the 10th the Yankees played old school national league small ball to get in a run. Buth in the bottom of the tenth, Shohei Ohtani loomed large with an opportunity to tie it....but it wasn't Shohei who'd be the hero tonight...itd be Freddie Freeman instead, with two outs and a no doubter to right field. A Game 1 Walk Off. The first ever walkoff grand slam in World Series History. First in History. Check. Game 1 delivered.

And it wasn't long before I was seeing on social echos of the same thing I was telling Audrie about - about Gibson's shot to Right Field against the Athletics in 88. It was my first memorable sports moment. She watched it with me as I told her vividly how my Uncle Ryan was babysitting me and let me stay up late to watch it. It was probably the first real sports moment for me like that, you know because sports wasn't on TV all the time like it is now. I shared with her that probably more than anytihng up to that point, Boxing was the sport most watched in my house. "Really?" ABC Wide World of Sports - yea it was a different time! But imagine how my Uncle Ryan would have been energized by the moment as it built - this Spartan of his generation who 4 years before led the Tigers to the Championship and now here he was hobbled in LA doing something dramatic - a disney moment, and probably the first time I was ever moved by Sports. Audrie and I watched that long at bat, how Gibby fouled off pitches and worked the count, and then launched a shot to the almost exact spot in the right field bleachers as Freeman's tonight. A Game 1 walkoff. It was uncanny. You know, I pulled a Freddie Freeman tonight? Now thats special... A good way to kickoff this world series tradition. A game Id call my friends about in the morning. William came out from his bath with Grammee and wanted to see the end of the game and sat with me after I backed it up and watched bright eyed as Freddie popped his homer and held his hand up in the high and started to run the bases. William promptly squealed and ran around the house. The Dodgers celebrated and we all agreed, I guess we're cheering for the Dodgers this year. Beacuse that was pretty cool.

Song: Shakey Graves - Dearly Departed

Quote: “You're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. You're by no means alone on that score. Many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. Happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. You'll learn from them-if you want to. Just as someday, if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. It's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement. And it isn't education. It's history. It's poetry.” ~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

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tfgadgets · 2 months ago

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Yankees vs. Dodgers: Freddie Freeman wins Game 1 with first walk-off grand slam in World Series history - Yahoo Sports

Yankees vs. Dodgers: Freddie Freeman wins Game 1 with first walk-off grand slam in World Series history Yahoo Sports Yankees vs. Dodgers World Series Game 1 Highlights | MLB on FOX FOX Sports Dodgers’ Freddie Freeman makes history with first walk-off grand slam in World Series history New York Daily News Michael Kay, YES hosts eviscerate Aaron Boone over costly Nestor Cortes decision New York…

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recentlyheardcom · 2 months ago

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Freddie Freeman walk-off grand slam gives Dodgers Game 1 win

Down to their final out with the game on the line, the Dodgers came through in the clutch. Dodgers’ first baseman Freddie Freeman crushed a no doubt, walk-off grand slam to give L.A. a 6-3 victory over the New York Yankees in Game 1 of the 2024 World Series. The game winning home run was the first ever walk-off grand slam in World Series history. After Yankees left fielder Alex Verdugo made a…

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alwaysreenie · 1 month ago

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freddie freeman; first walk-off grand slam in world series history.

In a year that has been so improbable...

#baseball #la dodgers #freddie freeman #world series 2024 #world series champs

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heliads · 4 years ago

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Time Can Heal (But This Won’t) Chapter Three: Bloodstains

You’ve been a lone demigoddess, daughter of Hecate, ever since your home of Hellas sank beneath the waves centuries ago. You loved the Darkling until he crossed you and you fled the Little Palace. Now you’re disguised as a mere cartographer. Can you face him again, knowing what he’s done?

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There was no way around it, no way to avoid it. Like it or not, you would be returning to the only place you’ve ever truly called home since you left behind the sinking shores of Hellas, past a people who would never rise again. You had seen Os Alta built, walked the newly constructed halls of the Grand and Little Palaces with the Darkling before you knew enough to run from him. This is where you’ll be going- not to a new future, but a chance to drown in all the memories you’ve tried so hard to forget.

However, you’ll have to survive the journey to Os Alta first. You’re not here as an esteemed guest or prisoner, you’re here as a double, a lure. Someone who can be killed so that Alina Starkov walks out alive. You know this as well as your ice-eyed Darkling who rides next to you, who thinks nothing of you but that you share a name with a woman he thought he could manipulate. That is all.

So you force your gaze away from the Darkling and back towards your hands, which grip the reins of your offered steed. You mentally catalogue the scant few weapons you had on you before you were dragged along after Alina- two knives, a medium length dagger, and the small pistol all First Army soldiers were forced to have on them. You’ve never particularly cared for guns, though- they’re dirty, loud things, nothing compared to the damage you could wreak with a syllable from your tongue. Then again, if it came down to it, you’d rather have a pistol in your palm then risk using your magic in front of the Darkling. In the end, you’re here to stay hidden, not reveal yourself in the most dramatic way possible.

That being said, you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. You’ve learned long ago to listen to the voices that whisper past your ear, speaking of dangers lurking in the woods and ill-intentioned beings who wait for women who walk alone. Some are remnants of past protection spells, and others are shades from the Underworld who’d managed to conjure up some corporeal strength and warn you of an attack. You are the last living Hellenid to walk the earth, and so they feel duty-bound to protect you. Through you, your people live on, and so even the dead watch your back.

So when the voices come, you listen. Your eyes flicker shut for just a second as you listen, past the thump of your heart and the pattern of horse hooves on the dusty ground. The carriage rolls noisily some distance in front of you, and then you hear it stop. Around the bend, you hear the disgruntled mutterings of the guards even though they’re too far for a human ear to pick up. A tree has fallen down, blocking the path. You know it’s a trap even before the shots ring out.

You hear the choked screams of men falling with arrows through their throats and eyes and begin to panic. They’ve come for Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner who could damn the Fjerdans to a lifetime under Ravka’s watchful eye. They’ve come to kill her. You sense the Darkling rearing his horse beside you, and his stallion picks up into a canter. You don’t have to say a word, just listen to his commands to his men. There are more men attempting to circle behind you and pick you off, you can distract them and the remaining attackers trying to get into the carriage.

A Heartrender turns to you, gesturing for his fellow Grisha to follow you. “Come, Alina! We have to get you to safety!” This command is far too loud for any self-respecting Second Army soldier to ever utter, but to the Fjerdans, it is nothing out of the ordinary. Ravka already swears by its legions of witches, why shouldn’t the ice-haired drüskelle believe themselves above the pathetically obvious Grisha? They follow you without a second thought.

You wait a minute, listening to the sound of boots crashing through the forest floor after you, then jump down from your horse in one swift motion. Your knives appear in your hands and you sprint towards your attackers, knocking them down again and again. You slam the hilt of one knife into a Fjerdan’s nose, and you can hear the bone shatter as if it was your own. Light flashes off of the Grisha steel blades as you slash and stab, drawing blood without taking a break.

A small part of your mind gleefully notices the way the Fjerdans are running towards you now, drawn towards the sunlight reflected by your knives. They think you the Sun Summoner now, all because of metal polished to a shine. And why shouldn’t they? You have enough power to tear this continent in half, to let the sun pierce the planet’s very core. Why shouldn’t you be feared? Why shouldn’t you be the Sun Summoner yourself?

The man in front of you cries out, and you come back to your senses. Your eyes follow your knife, twisting in his windpipe, and you withdraw it hastily. You wipe the scarlet blood on the grass before turning to fight another Fjerdan attacker, but none come forward. You realize that they’re all dead, either by your hand or by the Heartrenders. Although, you notice with a sickening twist, most are killed by you. You’re supposed to be a shy First Army soldier, and you’re not exactly playing your part quite right.

Across a clearing, you see the Darkling helping Alina to her feet. She looks stunned, most likely due to the body of a Fjerdan lying at her toes. It’s been sliced perfectly in half- so he’s used the Cut. No wonder she looks as if the world has just been exposed for being woven from nightmares. She glances over at you and blanches even further. Shame twists in your gut as you realize your hands are covered in blood, none of it yours. You were borne of a race of warriors, fighting has been in your history for as long as Hellas has stood. To Alina Starkov, however, this is a massacre like she’s never seen before. You carefully sheath your knives again once you’re sure there’s no blood left on them.

You stare at the bodies, forcing your eyes to remember every last detail. May your gods or their Saints watch over them, wherever they may go. You don’t have enough coins to place under their tongues as per the Hellan tradition, although even if you did you couldn’t risk drawing the Darkling’s attention with such a specific ritual. Instead, you burn their faces into your mind. Memories and legacies were how your people retained their power, and being forgotten was a large part of how they crumbled away. At last you can remember these men.

A voice sounds from in front of you, and you look up hastily. “Do not pity them. They attacked the Sun Summoner, your friend.” The Darkling stands before you, something strange in his eyes. You’ve seen this look before, a few centuries ago. You had been careful to hide the true extent of your magic from him, perhaps knowing even then that he would want nothing more from you then the power you could give him.

In that long ago instant, you had let go, allowing your spells to run wild as stallions through the air. You were attacked, yes, but you had used it as an excuse for true bloodshed. It had been so long since you had truly tested your limits, always making sure to hide what you truly were, even from the other Grisha. You wanted to see what you could do, just this once. Even then, you were just scratching the surface, but the wash of inky emerald over the scene threatened to drown out the world. Bodies dropped, trees were stripped of bark, entire buildings crumbled despite the strongest of foundations.

The few other Grisha present looked at you with true horror, but not the Darkling. No, he looked at you as he does now, with a sort of hunger that could consume entire countries and never be filled. He saw no girl or lover, he saw a weapon. He saw you standing before him, pulling a blade from your chest and offering him the hilt. He’d take it, not caring (or even relishing) your blood still dripping from the blade. The things he could do with you were unimaginable even in your worst nightmares, and it would never be enough. The worst part is that you thought you might go along with it, that you’d be willing to watch the end of the world with him.

This is how the Darkling looks at you now, a weapon ready for the taking. You remember hastily that he’s likely expecting something of you, so you duck your chin and do your best to summon up the modesty expected by the likes of Y/N Stassov, mapmaker and nothing more. “It’s just, well, a lot of death.” The Darkling inclines his head. “Maybe. Where did you learn to fight like that?” You don’t like this line of questioning, where it could lead. “The First Army. Sir.”

The Darkling’s lips quirk at the last minute honorific. “I’ve seen no First Army mapmaker who could take out a dozen Fjerdans with a pair of knives. Maybe I should send some of my soldiers to learn from your generals.” You panic, sure he’s testing you, then realize that he’s joking. Ridiculous. You force a smile. “I think they’re probably fine with their heartrending and all that.” The two of you have begun walking back to the horses now. The Darkling mounts his steed, then looks back at you. “Maybe so.” When he takes off, you’re not sure which scares you most- him figuring out who you are, or the idea that he would not look for you at all.

The Darkling calls for the party to take a respite that night, waiting until the moon shines low in the sky for everyone to tie up their horses and rest in a long-abandoned barn. Alina runs over to you as soon as she gets off of her mount, flinging her arms around you in gratitude. You can tell from the hammering of her heart whenever she looks at the Darkling that she hasn’t forgotten his use of the Cut, and probably won’t for a while.

“Saints, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here. I couldn’t do this alone.” You can sense the eyes of the Darkling and the other Grisha on your back, and you know what’s expected of you. To them, you are no more than an otkazat’sya mapmaker, someone utterly unworthy of their Sun Summoner’s company. They’ll leave you to make your way back to Kribirsk when Alina is safe at the Little Palace, and they no doubt expect you to make her path easier.

So, you smile, smoothing back an errant piece of her hair into place. “That’s a lie, and we both know that. If you can punch an irritating officer or survive the Fold, you can ride a horse to Os Alta. Promise.” Alina rolls her eyes. “It’s not like that.” You raise an eyebrow. “It totally is. Believe me. Now come on, chasing after you all day is exhausting. I intend to go to sleep right now.” Alina grins. “That sounds good to me.”

Despite your weary eyes, you can’t seem to fall asleep at all. Alina sleeps next to you, the few Grisha lookouts stand unmoving at their posts. Eventually, you get sick of tossing and turning and staring up through the rotting beams through the barn roof. You stand, making your way quietly out of the barn. If the sentries see you, they do not stop you. Evidently, they trust you enough to let you walk around, or they view you as useless enough to not stop you from trying to run. Either works for you.

You don’t go far, just outside of the doors lying at odd angles on their hinges. You take a seat on a rusting metal bench, leaning back against the faded paint of the barn walls. You stare up at the sky, eyes tracing the constellations. Somewhere up in the night, there were once heroes and monsters, prideful queens and stubborn kings whose stories were famous enough to warrant them a place amongst the stars. You’ve been looking for them for a while, though, and know that the skies are empty of all souls who were once cast up there. It’s just another reminder that you are well and truly alone. The last remainder of a long dead culture.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” You startle, turning to see the Darkling walking out of the barn beside you. You manage to cover up your surprise with an apology. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d woken anybody.” The Darkling shrugs. “You didn’t. I was already awake.” This feels somewhat surreal- here you sit, a false face and a fake history as a farmer turned soldier. Here stands the Darkling, looking just the same as always. It makes no sense, though- why would he keep seeking you out? Why would the general of the Second Army keep looking for an otkazat’sya soldier? He must know you, somehow. There’s no other explanation for it.

The Darkling clears his throat. “Thank you for speaking to Alina. I appreciate your words.” You dismiss the gratitude with a lift of your shoulder. “She’s my friend. I couldn’t exactly make her feel worse, could I?” The Darkling turns to look at you now, familiar quartz eyes seeming to tear you in two. “You could. You could have refused to play along with the role of double, you could have refused to fight by her side, you could have done your best to turn her away from us. You did none of that.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I could have resisted a team of the most skilled Grisha in all of Ravka? I intend to keep my life.” Something almost like a smile appears on the Darkling’s lips. You’ve seen this look before, in sunset afternoons and deepest nights. It’s so familiar that it seems to cut at you like a knife. You almost want to call out to him now- know me, please. Remember me. If you look close enough, you will see the woman you pretended to love. We could pretend again, if we wanted to.

You silent the murmurings, and he speaks again. “All the same, it was appreciated.” You turn back towards the sky, partly to take in the sight of the night sky again and partially to hide the smile giddily appearing on your own face. How is that after all this time, all these hurts, he still has this effect on you? “Well, I want her to have some good memories after this. I’ll be shipped back to Kribirsk, I don’t really want to leave on bad terms.”

The Darkling remains silent for so long that you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, opened up too much. A simple mapmaker would never confide in a centuries-old Shadow Summoner, he must suspect something. Surely, hopefully, he does. But instead, he turns to you, a softness present in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It rounds the edges of his quartz gaze, making it easier to fall hard and fast. “You aren’t going to leave for Kribirsk. You’re staying in Os Alta.”

You stare at him, night sky forgotten. “What? But I’m no Sun Summoner.” The Darkling laughs quietly in the night. “No, but few of us are. I have a personal guard, the oprichniki. I would like you to begin training with them once we arrive.” The sentence is phrased so casually that it almost floats by you completely undetected. The monumental weight of the words, however, is enough to shake you whole. The oprichniki are not Grisha, so you would fit in, but they are the Darkling’s special guards. Only the toughest and bravest of fighters are selected, certainly not a mapmaker who’s best skill is pretending to be a Sun Summoner.

You tell him as much, so stunned by this that you forget to hold your tongue. When you remember who you are and who you’re doing your best to pretend you’re not, you wish you had remained silent. For some reason, however, the Darkling doesn’t seem taken aback by this momentary lapse. Instead, it just makes his lips twitch even more. He is most certainly hiding a smile. “I saw you fight, Miss Stassov. If you can do that without any of our training at all, I’d say you’re a good candidate.”

You lean back against the barn wall. “Oprichnik. Me.” You whistle quietly, letting the sound echo in the night air like the call of a dove. The Darkling inclines his head. “You are free to turn the offer down at any point-” his smile grows at your raised eyebrow- “Although it is not an offer I take lightly. You have potential. Besides, keeping you in Os Alta will be a support for Miss Starkov.”

You furrow your brow. “I thought you would want to separate her from her old life, not keep having ties to it.” It’s what the Darkling would do when you knew him. He would have cut out another mapmaker without a second thought. The Darkling considers this. “Perhaps. But if she feels too alone, she may draw in on herself and feel unwilling to use her power at all. You have your merits, Miss Stassov. Perhaps more than you see yourself.”

You barely hear him when he goes back inside the barn. He has always had this ability to disguise his footsteps, letting the shadows cloak him in sound as well as in sight. For once, it doesn’t trouble you. Instead, you’re troubled by the future ahead of you. If you were an oprichnik, a guard loyal only to him, there would be even more chance of the Darkling finding out that you were Hecari, the woman he’d loved and who had run from him, feigning death rather than stay by his side and fear his knife.

Being near him, though, it makes you think back to every moment you’d shared. Could it be possible that you had misheard? Would the man you know, the man drenched by moonlight who makes offers of joining the ranks of the oprichniki to mapmakers he’s barely met, truly want you dead? The answer is yes, you know that. But your heart whispers differently, telling you that you could be wrong on this. You’ve always trusted your whispers, the ghosts of the past. The only problem is that these aren’t Hellenid spirits now, they’re your own. Longings for what might have been, what you left behind.

In the end, you retreat back inside the barn. When you sleep, you dream of a quartz-eyed boy, dark-haired and smiling before he thought to use you.

series tag list: fave @underc0vercryptid, @hotleaf-juice, @aleksanderwh0r3, @kaqua, @nemesis729, @imma-too-many-fandoms

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scotianostra · 4 years ago

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Happy 51st Birthday 2020 PDC World Darts Champion Peter Wright.

Peter was born in Livingston, but spent most of his childhood in England, he chose the country of his birth as his home nation when playing darts and helped Scotland win their first World Cup of Darts title in June 2019, defeating the Republic of Ireland 3-1 in the final in Hamburg.

Originally a qualifier for the 1996 Lakeside Championship, it would be more than a decade before Scottish-born Wright joined the PDC circuit on a full-time basis, he has since given up his job as a tyre fitter and gone from strength to strength.

After making progress up the rankings during 2011 and 2012 - which included his maiden ranking title at a Players Championship in Killarney - the following year saw Wright reach his first televised semi-final at the UK Open. He went on to reach the 2014 World Championship final, losing out to Michael van Gerwen but securing himself a spot in the Premier League and World Series of Darts, where he reached the final on his debut in Dubai.

The most colourful character on the circuit - with wife Jo, a hairdresser by trade, providing the painted hair to match his unique dress sense - Wright's rise to third in the world included him being a finalist in back-to-back UK Opens and World Series of Darts Finals in 2015 & 2016 as well as in the PDC World Cup of Darts and a World Series event in Japan.

Wright began 2017 in style as he followed up an appearance in the World Championship semi-finals with three UK Open Qualifier wins, before going on to finally claim victory on the big stage with his triumph in the UK Open finals in Minehead, where he saw off Gerwyn Price in the final.

Three European Tour triumphs followed a treble of UK Open Qualifier victories, while Wright also claimed a Players Championship victory to consolidate his status as world number three in a brilliant start to 2017.

Wright went on to reach the Premier League Play-Offs for the first time in May 2017, finishing second in the final league table before defeating Taylor in the semi-finals, but he would pay for six missed match darts as Van Gerwen edged a thrilling final.

The Scottish ace claimed a European Tour title at the start of July 2017, before reaching the final of the World Matchplay later that month, only to lose out to Taylor in his last appearance on the Blackpool stage.

Wright picked up another European Tour win, followed by the German Darts Masters World Series crown, before going down to van Gerwen in the final of the Grand Slam of Darts in November 2017.

Having reached the final of the 2018 World Cup of Darts in June, Wright then won a first title of the year at Players Championship 14 in Wigan and then claimed his second World Series triumph at the Melbourne Darts Masters.

Wright backed up his Australian success with a third title of the year at Players Championship 17 in Barnsley in September and reached the World Grand Prix final for the first time the following month, losing out to Van Gerwen.

In the World Championship in December 2020 Wright survived a match dart at bullseye to win a sudden-death leg against Noel Malicdem in the second round, before beating Seigo Asada and Jeffrey de Zwaan, to reach the quarter-finals, where he triumphed 5–3 over Humphries to reach the semi-final for the first time since 2017 where he played Welshman Gerwyn Price winning through 6-3 in a bad tempered match.

In the final he again met Michael van Gerwen and won 7–3 in the final to become the 2020 World Darts Champion on January 1st.

In a season that was affected by the covid pandemic Wright piced up two of darts “majors” winning the Masters in February and 2020 Unibet European Championship in November, beating England’s James Wade 11-4 in the final. However Wright had a poor showing at the Grand Slam failing to get through from the group stages, he later admitted it hit him hard and said “ I could have walked away from the sport quite easily." His form improved in his next event with a run to the semi-finals of the Players Championship Finals making him just the third player in history (after Michael van Gerwen and Phil Taylor) to exceed £1,000,000 on the order of merit. Peter returned to defend his world title but Peter was eliminated in the third round after losing 4–3 to Gabriel Clemens who became the first ever German player to reach the fourth round.

Peter’s hair takes two hours to complete and is done by his hairdresser wife Joanne and inspired by their daughter. He equates his look to applying war paint before going into battle, as he is naturally shy away from the oche. The second pic shows how he looks when he relaxes at home, posted on his twitter in 2018 and showing his support for World Down Syndrome Day wearing odd socks he wrote he always wears odd socks!

#scotland #scottish #darts play #world champion #sporting history #happy birhtday

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

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All in the Family

Chapter 1: The Accident...

It is recommended, though by no means a must if you know the Marauders history enough to be reading fanfiction about them, you read We Were first. The first five chapters are slightly AU to the continuity of this fic, but the grand point and especially the final chapter are key to the beginning of this fic as you get plopped in the middle. Link is below or you can find it in my profile.

Before you get started; Warnings include- Explicit Wolfstar (Remus/Sirius), and on the whole a rather flimsy premise that I honestly created to indulge myself because I didn't let myself do it the first time. A lot less logically based and a lot more I just felt like having fun with this one. It's not to say I'll let this degenerate into tropes and one note things, but there's going to be even less reading of the books involved, as in literally they're just interacting around the story with only passing mentions of what's going on in there. If you want a much more grounded basis and more 'realistic' approach to a reading series, I put my heart and every cell of my mind into The Life that Never Lived, PDF's upon request. I'm pretty sure this one grew from my funny bone that I broke when I was seven.

HPHPHPHP

The dungeons where Potions were held had always felt like the most oblique part of the castle, and Sirius had been in every corner of it to claim as such. It wasn't entirely the fault of the dark stone walls, sweltering hot air from the many flames, or the often unexplained fumes. The feeling seemed to seep up straight from the cold stone floor no matter how many fires were lit, as if the wooden stool itself were trying to pin them all with the unknown.

Sirius had never been more grateful for a Potions class to be over, and that was really saying something. It was the last one of this bleeding school semester, and if he had to spend one more day glaring at a cauldron and somehow inexplicably turning it the wrong color one more time without the usual helpful hint from Peter telling him why, he was going to chuck every last drop of it in Slughorn's face for constantly telling him he'd figure it out!

He'd never packed up his bag faster, even managing to multitask by muttering under his breath how stupid all this was. He was the first person to make it to the door, but collided with someone even less pleasant to see than the three people he'd most been avoiding lately. He cursed loudly, earning several dirty looks as the rest of the class was now passing. His bag had ripped upon stumbling into his little brother and smashed to the ground, sending his things flying and managing to spray him with ink.

Regulus hesitated in the doorway, muttering a quick, "sorry Sirius."

"Oh, it knows my name," Sirius growled under his breath, though his tone was far less hateful than usual, considering this was the first time he'd had a proper conversation with someone in nearly three weeks. His little brother was hardly his first choice, given his proud Slytherin status and being two years younger didn't remotely have them coming near each other most days, a fact he was usually grateful for.

"Yes, he does," Regulus' scowl looked remarkably close to Sirius', the two put side by side at once was rather eerie. His tone though was even more friendly than Sirius', which wasn't all that hard as he tried to explain his abrupt appearance. "I ah, I came sprinting down here to see if I could catch Slughorn, ask him if I could pick up an extra credit assignment."

Sirius straightened with his stuff still half strewn around, but again that pull for someone to talk to seemed greater, especially as he glanced back and saw who hadn't left yet, so he responded no matter how unenthusiastically. "Yeah, what you struggling with?" While tapping his bag and mending the tear, slowly bending down to pick each item back up while he absently listened. Regulus even began to help him while he explained in short, precise sentences like he was practicing for the teacher.

Frank Longbottom and Alice Smith slipped in past the two Black brothers at the doorway and found the room mostly empty, and they shared an exasperated look as they wondered if they'd just walked in on Slughorn telling this group off again. They were early for their next class after all, but the teacher was nowhere in sight. They did get a full view of what started quite an interesting journey.

James was hanging by Evans' cauldron, trying to chat happily with her, but mostly waiting for Sirius to leave first. He could hardly stand to look at him these days, let alone pass by him in such a restricted place, yet the wanker had struck up a conversation with Regulus of all people, someone he'd hardly spoken a whole sentence to in the past five years, but no, he'd chosen now! Probably just waiting for them to walk past first, like this was all still some game to him.

Remus and Peter were hovering on edge right beside him, Remus fidgeting with what was left of his cauldron on the desk while Evans was trying to pack hers up and being hampered by James staying in her way. "Won't you at least consider coming? It's our last game of the season! What if you're my good luck charm, you've always been the best at those! Do you really want to be the reason Gryffindor loses?"

"They've gotten on just fine without me there the past years," Lily snipped. She never knew why she even bothered responding to him half the time, but considering it no more discouraged him than ignoring him, at least this way she got to vent.

She tried to sidestep past him, James once again stepped into her way, and the two collided with each other, their hands accidentally slipping into her cauldron Remus had just mistakenly dumped his own potion into.

Whatever the concoction the two mixed together created upended the entire world.

At first though, nothing really changed. There was no marvelous flash of light, no force of nature that showed everyone outside of this room had vanished. Lily simply made a gagging noise as she pulled her hand out of the vat and glared furiously at the oddly pale teen, pulling her wand out at once with her less dominant hand she hadn't tried to catch herself with and banish the gunk off while hissing at him, "You are so lucky I turned that in already Lupin! What the hell did you even create? I've never seen this before," she finished with a critical eye at the now steaming mess, that vanished before their eyes.

"Wow Remus, you should do that more often, really makes cleanup easier," Peter chuckled while Remus looked rather concerned.

"I, err, I'll admit, I really screwed up my potion worse than usual. I think I added three things I actually wasn't supposed to, so you've got me."

James just flung the mess from his hand, which also vanished before it had even landed on anyone, and glanced back hopefully like he'd thought his source for this mess had left already.

He hadn't.

His face was turned in their general direction, like he'd been trying to subtly glance over and hope for the same, but now he was looking right through James. That wasn't uncommon lately, but the stunned look of confusion on his face was enough James grudgingly turned his head the other way to see what.

Back on the lip of the cauldron, was a slim red book with a golden one on the spine. It was just sitting there, like Evans had left it on purpose, but it certainly hadn't been a second ago.

Lily took his distraction as a chance to bolt from the room, Regulus gave his brother an awkward wave goodbye and went back out towards Slughorn's office since he'd clearly missed him, and Alice and Frank tried to casually step back out as well. Even being a year above those four had not left them oblivious to their fight. The whole school was aware of the fact the four Marauders had not been seen together in quite some time, and neither of them particularly felt like putting their nose into why.

James was still frowning in confusion at the odd title stamped across, which simply read Harry Potter Year One.

"Err, did either of you-" James looked at the two as if in some kind of explanation, but both gave a mystified shake to their head. James couldn't help it, he still looked automatically towards his best mate, and then he caught himself and realized they were the only four left. Sirius' eyes had still been locked in on the odd object, really ridiculous his mind supplied as James had no relatives named Harry, and wondered if this was some odd attempt at a prank?

Sirius didn't stick around to care, completely forgetting the rest of his things, he turned on his heel and finally exited as well, when they all heard a shriek.

As one, the four bolted up to the Entrance Hall, Alice and Frank right behind them as they hadn't wandered off far, to see Lily standing in the middle and stamping her foot in frustration upon seeing them. "Damn, I thought someone would have reacted to that."

"Err, Evans," James began in concern as if for her health.

"Where is everybody!" She demanded while gesturing to the Great Hall where there should have been a packed lunch crowd. Nobody was in there, and now that they were listening for it, the din of a castle filled with people, was deadly silent all around them.

As if given a signal, everyone began shouting all at once, sure the ruckus would cause someone to appear, but the only other arrival was Regulus coming up from the stairs as well, looking at all of them with great concern. "Geez, you lots shouting usually has a much greater audience."

"Thank you Regulus for that helpful insert!" Sirius snapped.

Regulus ignored that and seemed to look around himself and really acknowledge his own words, before realization slammed into him as well as he whispered, "What's going on?"

"We'd all like to know that," Frank put his hands up in frustration, this was what he and his girlfriend got for getting to class early.

"This is ridiculous," Lily seethed, stomping up towards the stairs. She was intending to barge into every crevice of this place and find someone other than these idiots to deal with. She didn't know what the school was playing at, but it wasn't funny.

Alice and Frank followed her as they still considered her the least craziest compared to the others.

Sirius still couldn't bring himself to look at the other three and bolted out onto the grounds for an exit, and Regulus couldn't think of anything better to do but follow him.

James waited until they were back alone before nodding to Peter, who pulled the Marauder's Map back out and cast the charm to activate it. On cue, the magical ink appeared, spreading through the tattered paper, but only revealing eight names instead of the several hundreds it normally housed.

"What the bloody hell?" Remus demanded, snatching it away as if sure somehow Peter had cast it wrong. He deactivated it and retried five times before looking up in exasperation, to see James flipping through the book. "Of all times, you chose now to pursue one of those!" Remus demanded.

"Remus, what the bloody hell was in that potion," James whispered to him.

Remus looked at him askance. "I told you I don't know, I was, well I-" it was hard to admit how thoroughly distracted he'd been, even more than usual in his potions classes. His past two attempts had been utter messes as well. Somehow without Sirius by his side and being a constant distraction, he'd found a way to blow up his more recent attempts, so he'd been rather proud this one had only changed the wrong color seven times. "What's your point?"

"This," James waved it around, his face still looking somehow detached as if he had no clue what he was really saying, "it's-" he broke off, and Remus huffed in exasperation as he snatched it away.

"Yes James, it has words, glory look at that they're even strung together with sentences! What's the big-" he stopped abruptly at what he saw quite clearly had Prongs so thrown off. Remus could feel it now, this book was giving off as if the most powerful magic to exist, certainly that he'd ever been around.

"This isn't, there's no way-" he tried to protest what his eyes weren't changing.

"What?" Peter demanded in exasperation of the two.

"That's from the future." James stated coolly.

Peter laughed, realized neither was pulling his leg, and then yanked the book to him as well.

"It, it's a joke or-" he tried to say, but it was the exact same to his eyes as well.

"Remus, what the bloody hell did you mix with Lily's Profligare potion?" James asked again like he'd have another answer!

"I, I told you, I have no clue!" Remus insisted, his heart restricting painfully in his chest.

"Why aren't their words in the rest of this book?" Peter asked curiously. There were an easy three hundred pages to this thing, but only the first sentence was visible. The rest was blank.

"Put that down," Remus suddenly yelped, slapping it away from him. It thudded to the ground and even skidded a few feet while Wormtail looked offended.

"Merlin Remus, James was holding it for a whole five minutes and he didn't explode."

"Let's prioritize for a minute," James insisted. "Ignore that thing and figure out where everyone is, maybe show that to Dumbledore-"

"That might be a problem, as there's no one else here!" Remus snarled.

"Well I'll say one thing, Evans sure can make one good banishing potion," Regulus commented as he stepped back into the Entrance Hall minus Sirius.

The question burst out of James before he could consider doing otherwise, "where's your better half?"

Regulus scowled hatefully, hesitated, but still answered, "still wandering the damn grounds, think he said something about checking the bottom of the lake. I don't know what you lot are fighting about, but for him to be saying that even as a joke really is something."

James flinched with the first spot of guilt he'd felt, and Remus looked away as if he hadn't even heard. Peter took the opportunity to shove the map back out of sight before he twisted his fingers together and just deciding to ignore that as well and said, "We might as well go find the other three and show at least them. Something Dark is going on around here, perhaps we shouldn't go wandering off."

"Oh that's nice, just leave him out on the grounds by himself then if that's what you're thinking," Regulus muttered as his two friends seemed to agree and took off up the stairs, Peter having to jog to keep up.

They found them already up to the second floor, and with every empty room they'd opened, they'd become increasingly more panicked. This just wasn't natural! Even during the holidays you were likely to run across someone by now! A ghost even! What was left of the Marauders caught up to them, and Lily's near hysterics weren't helped with their answer to this.

"Just come back downstairs!" James was trying to put his hands up in a comforting, surrendering gesture to the vivid redhead who hadn't stopped shouting for a solid minute, so her face was as bright as her hair. "We found something you lot really should see!"

It took a bit more persuading and Frank and Alice agreeing first before Lily conceded searching every room wasn't helping.

They went back downstairs and saw Sirius had rejoined his little brother, and the two were frozen in place over what had already been discovered with the book still open on the ground for all to see.

"You wanted to show me a book!" Lily demanded as she looked murderously at Potter. "How is that helping to find out what happened!"

"Just look at it," Potter insisted.

Without touching it, she went to where it had fallen on the floor, and then she too along with Frank and Alice saw.

Scrawled across the top was the title The Boy Who Lived, which meant nothing to anyone so their eyes skipped down to below that, which was just under the date 1981. Six years from now.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #James Potter #Lily Potter #Regulus Black #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Remus Lupin #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #all in the family

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fredmundo · 2 months ago

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FIRST WALK OFF GRAND SLAM IN WORLD SERIES HISTORY????? How can you not be a baseball fan????

walk off grand slam FREDDIE FUCKING FREEMAN!!!!!

#CRAZY #why yes i am drunk #la dodgers #go dodgers #fuck the yanks #mlb #WORLD SERIES

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africanamericanpeople · 4 years ago

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29 notable African Americans who helped change the world

From activists to entertainers to record-breaking athletes to a postal worker, 6abc shines a spotlight on the contributions of 29 influential African Americans in Philadelphia and beyond as we celebrate Black History Month.

Sadie Tanner Mossell Alexander | Writer | 1898-1989

A native Philadelphian, Alexander was the first black woman to receive a Ph.D. in economics in the United States, the first black woman student to graduate with a law degree from Penn Law School, and the first African-American woman to practice law in Pennsylvania. Alexander's work and views are recorded in speeches kept in the Penn archives. The Sadie Tanner Mossell Alexander University of Pennsylvania Partnership School ("Penn Alexander") in West Philly is named after her.

Richard Allen | Minister | 1760-1831

A minister, educator and writer, this Philadelphia native founded the African Methodist Episcopal Church, the first independent black denomination in the United States. He opened the first AME church in Philly in 1794. Born into slavery, he bought his freedom in the 1780s and joined St. George's Church. Because of seating restrictions placed on blacks to be confined to the gallery, he left to form his own church. In 1787 he turned an old blacksmith shop into the first church for blacks in the United States.

Maya Angelou received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from former President Barack Obama in 2010.

Maya Angelou | Poet | 1928-2014

Angelou was an American poet, singer, memoirist, and civil rights activist with a colorful and troubling past highlighted in her most famous autobiography, "I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings". She published seven autobiographies, three books of essays, several books of poetry, and is credited with a list of plays, movies and television shows spanning over 50 years. Her works have been considered a defense and celebration of black culture.

Arthur Ashe | Tennis Player | 1943-1993

Ashe's resume includes three Grand Slam titles and the title of the first black player selected to the United States Davis Cup team and the only black man ever to win the singles title at Wimbledon, the US Open, and the Australian Open. In July 1979, Ashe suffered a heart attack while holding a tennis clinic in New York. His high profile drew attention to his condition, specifically to the hereditary aspect of heart disease. In 1992, Ashe was diagnosed with HIV; he and his doctors believed he contracted the virus from blood transfusions he received during his second heart surgery. After Ashe went public with his illness, he founded the Arthur Ashe Foundation for the Defeat of AIDS, working to raise awareness about the disease and advocated teaching safe sex education. On June 20, 1993, Ashe was posthumously awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by President Bill Clinton.

James Baldwin | American novelist | 1924-1987

Baldwin was an American novelist, playwright and activist, most notably known for "Notes of a Native Son", "The Fire Next Time" and "The Devil Find's Work". One of his novels, If Beale Street Could Talk, was adapted into an Academy Award-winning dramatic film in 2018.

"It is certain, in any case, that ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have."

U.S. Deputy Marshals escort Ruby Bridges from William Frantz Elementary School in New Orleans, La.

Ruby Bridges | Civil Rights Activist | 1954-present

At age 6, Bridges embarked on a historic walk to school as the first African American student to integrate the all-white William Frantz Elementary School in Louisiana. She ate lunch alone and sometimes played with her teacher at recess, but she never missed a day of school that year. In 1999, she established The Ruby Bridges Foundation to promote tolerance and create change through education. In 2000, she was made an honorary deputy marshal in a ceremony in Washington, DC.

Kobe Bryant | NBA star, humanitarian| 1978-2020

Drafted right out of Lower Merion High School at the age of 17, Bryant won five titles as one of the marquee players in the Los Angeles Lakers franchise. He was a member of the gold medal-winning U.S. men's basketball teams at the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games and the 2012 London Olympic Games. In 2015 Bryant wrote the poem "Dear Basketball," which served as the basis for a short film of the same name he narrated. The work won an Academy Award for best animated short film. A vocal advocate for the homeless Bryant and his wife, Vanessa started the Kobe and Vanessa Bryant Family Foundation aimed to reduce the number of homeless in Los Angeles. Bryant, his daughter Gigi, and seven other passengers died in a helicopter crash in late January.

Kobe Bryant inspired a generation of basketball players worldwide with sublime skills and an unquenchable competitive fire.

Octavius V. Catto | Civil Rights Activist | 1839-1871

Known as one of the most influential civil rights' activists in Philadelphia during the 19th century, Catto fought for the abolition of slavery and the implementation of civil rights for all. He was prominent in the actions that successfully desegregated Philadelphia's public trolleys and played a major role in the ratification of the 15th amendment, baring voter discrimination on the basis of race. Catto was only 32 when he was shot and killed outside of his home on South Street in1871, the first Election Day that African Americans were allowed to vote. In 2017, a monument to Catto was unveiled at Philadelphia's City Hall.

Philly unveils first statue dedicated to African-American. Vernon Odom reports during Action News at Noon on September 26, 2017.

Bessie Coleman | Civil Aviator | 1892-1926

Coleman was the first black woman to fly an airplane. When American flying schools denied her entrance due to her race, she taught herself French and moved to France, earning her license from Caudron Brother's School in just seven months. She specialized in stunt flying and performing aerial tricks. Reading stories of World War I pilots sparked her interest in aviation.

Claudette Colvin | Civil Rights Pioneer | 1939-present

Colvin was arrested at the age of 15 for refusing to give up her seat to a white woman, nine months before Rosa Parks' more famous protest. Because of her age, the NAACP chose not to use her case to challenge segregation laws. Despite a number of personal challenges, Colvin became one of the four plaintiffs in the Browder v. Gayle case. The decision in the 1956 case ruled that Montgomery's segregated bus system was unconstitutional.

Medgar Evers | Civil Rights Activist | 1925-1963

Evers was an American civil rights activist in Mississippi, the state's field secretary for the NAACP, and a World War II veteran serving in the United States Army. After graduating from college with a BA in business administration, he worked to overturn segregation at the University of Mississippi after Brown v. Board ruled public school segregation was unconstitutional. Evers was assassinated by a white supremacist in 1963, inspiring numerous civil rights protests which sprouted countless works of art, music and film. Because of his veteran status, he was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery.

Mary Fields | Mail carrier |1832-1914

Known as "Stagecoach Mary", Fields was the first African-American to work for the U.S. postal service. Born a slave, she was freed when slavery was outlawed in 1865. At age 63, Fields was hired as a mail carrier because she was the fastest applicant to hitch a team of six horses. She never missed a day, and her reliability earned her the nickname "Stagecoach". If the snow was too deep for her horses, Fields delivered the mail on snowshoes, carrying the sacks on her shoulders.

Rudolph Fisher | Physician | 1897-1934

Fisher was an African-American physician, radiologist, novelist, short story writer, dramatist, musician, and orator. In addition to publishing scientific articles, he had a love of music. He played piano, wrote musical scores and toured with Paul Robeson, playing jazz. He wrote multiple short stories, two novels and contributed his articles to the NAACP all before his death at the age of 37.

James Forten | Abolitionist |1766-1842

Forten was an African-American abolitionist and wealthy businessman in Philadelphia. Born free in the city, he became a sailmaker after the American Revolutionary War. Following an apprenticeship, he became the foreman and bought the sail loft when his boss retired. Based on equipment he developed, he established a highly profitable business on the busy waterfront of the Delaware River, in what's now Penn's Landing. Having become well established, in his 40s Forten devoted both time and money to working for the national abolition of slavery and gaining civil rights for blacks. By the 1830s, his was one of the most powerful African-American voices in the city.

Robert Guillaume claimed the 1979 Emmy for Best Supporting Actor for his role in "Soap".

Robert Guillaume | Actor | 1927-2017

Robert was raised by his grandmother in the segregated south but moved to New York to escape racial injustice. There, he performed in theatre for 19 years, gaining momentum and a Tony nomination for his portrayal of Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls. In 1976, he landed his infamous role as Benson on Soap which won him an Emmy and his spin-off, Benson for which he won another Emmy. He returned to the stage in 1990, playing the role of the Phantom in Phantom of the Opera at the infamous Ahmanson Theatre. He voiced one of Disney's most beloved animated characters, Rafiki, and can still be heard as the narrator for the animated series, Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales For Every Child.

Francis Harper | poet | 1825-1911 (died in Philadelphia)

Born free in Baltimore, Harper was an abolitionist, suffragist, poet, teacher, public speaker, and writer. She helped slaves make their way along the Underground Railroad to Canada. In 1894, she co-founded the National Associated of Colored Women, an organization dedicated to highlighting extraordinary efforts and progress made by black women. She served as vice president.

Langston Hughes was instrumental figure in the Harlem Renaissance and jazz poetry.

Langston Hughes | Poet | 1902-1967

Hughes was an American poet, social activist, novelist, playwright, and columnist. Born in Missouri, he moved to New York at an early age becoming one of the earliest innovators of a new art form, jazz poetry. In the early 1920's, his first book of poetry was published and he wrote an in-depth weekly column for The Chicago Defender, highlighting the civil rights movement. His ashes are interred beneath a floor medallion in the middle of the foyer in the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture in Harlem, the entrance to an auditorium named for him.

Zora Neale Hurston | American author | 1891-1960

Hurston became an American author, anthropologist, and filmmaker but as a child she was unable to attend school after her father stopped paying her school fees. In 1917 she opted to attend a public school but had to lie about her age in order to qualify for a free education. She studied hoodoo, the American version of voodoo, and found her way to Hollywood by working as a story consultant. One of her most notable works, Their Eyes Were Watching God was turned into a film in 2005.

Nipsey Hussle | Rapper, entrepreneur | 1985-2019

Born Ermias Joseph Asghedom, Hussle, was an American activist, entrepreneur, and Grammy Award winning rapper. Raised in South Central, he joined gangs to survive before eventually attaining success in the music industry. Hussle focused on "giving solutions and inspiration" to young black men like him, denouncing gun violence through his music, influence and community work, while speaking openly about his experiences with gang culture. Hussle was shot and killed a day before he was to meet with LAPD officials to address gang violence in South Los Angeles.

If you stop and look around near the intersection of Grand and Ellita Avenues, a brightly-colored mural of Grammy-nominated rapper Nipsey Hussle is sure to catch your eye.

Harriet Jacobs | Writer | 1813-1897

Born a slave, her mother died when she was 6. She moved in with her late mother's slave owner who taught her to sew and read. In 1842 she got a chance to escape to Philadelphia, aided by activists of the Philadelphia Vigilance Committee. She took it and worked as a nanny in New York. Her former owners hunted for her until her freedom was finally bought in 1852. She secretly began to write an autobiography which was published in the U.S. in 1860 and England in 1861. She lived the rest of her life as an abolitionist, dedicated to helping escaped slaves and eventually freedmen.

Cecil B. Moore | Lawyer |1915-1979

Moore was a Philadelphia lawyer and civil rights activist who led the fight to and successfully integrate Girard College. He served as a marine in WWII and after his honorary discharge, he moved to Philadelphia to study law at Temple University. He quickly earned a reputation as a no-nonsense lawyer who fought on behalf of his mostly poor, African-American clients concentrated in North Philadelphia. From 1963 to 1967, he served as president of the Philadelphia chapter of the NAACP and served on the Philadelphia City Council. Moore is cited as a pivotal figure in the fields of social justice and race relations. He has an entire neighborhood named after him in the North Philadelphia area.

Bayard Rustin | Civil Rights Activist | 1912-1987 (Born in West Chester, PA)

Bayard Rustin was an American leader in social movements for civil rights, socialism, nonviolence, and gay rights. He was a key adviser to Martin Luther King Jr. in the 1960s and was posthumously awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2013. Rustin has local ties as he was born in West Chester and attended Cheney University of Pennsylvania, a historically black college. A gay man, he adopted his partner to protect their rights and legacy.

Nina Simone | Musician | 1933-2003

Born Eunice Waymon in Troy North Carolina, Simone was an American singer, songwriter, musician, arranger, and civil rights activist. Her music crossed all genres from classical, jazz, blues and folk to R&B, gospel, and pop. She learned to play the piano as a toddler and played in church where her father was a preacher. She would cross tracks to the white side of town to study classical piano with a German teacher and was later accepted into The Juilliard School. She went on to record more than 40 albums and in 2003 just days before her death, the Curtis Institute awarded her an honorary degree.

Big Mama Thornton | Singer | 1926-1984

Thornton is best known for her gutsy 1952 R&B recording of "Hound Dog," later covered by Elvis Presley, and her original song "Ball and Chain," made famous by Janis Joplin. Affectionately called "Big Mama" for both her size and her powerful voice, she grew up singing in church and eventually caught the ear of an Atlanta music promoter while cleaning and subbing for the regular singer at a saloon. An openly gay woman, she joined the Hot Harlem Revue and danced and sang her way through the southeastern United States. She played at the Cotton Club and the Apollo Theatre and continued performing sporadically into the late 70's.

Sojourner Truth | Abolitionist |1797-1883

Truth was born into slavery but escaped with her infant daughter to freedom in 1826. She then sued and won the return of her 5-year-old son who was illegally sold into slavery. In 1851, Truth began a lecture tour that included a women's rights conference where she delivered her famous "Ain't I a Woman?" speech, challenging prevailing notions of racial and gender inferiority and inequality. She collected thousands of signatures petitioning to provide former slaves with land.

Denmark Vesey | Carpenter | 1767-1822

Vesey was born a slave but won a lottery which allowed him to purchase his freedom. Unable to buy his wife and children their freedom, he became active in the church. In 1816, he became one of the founders of an independent African Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church and recruited more 1,800 members to become the second largest "Bethel Circuit" church in the country after Mother Bethel in Philadelphia. In 1822, Vesey was alleged to be the leader of a planned slave revolt. He and five others were rapidly found guilty and executed.

Muddy Waters | Singer | 1913-1983

An American blues singer-songwriter and musician who is often lauded as the "father of modern Chicago blues", Waters grew up on a plantation in Mississippi and by the age of 17 was playing the guitar and the harmonica. In 1941, he moved to Chicago to become a fulltime musician, working in a factory by day and performing at night. In 1958, he toured in England, reviving the interest of Blues and introducing the sound of the electric slide guitar playing there. His performance at the Newport Jazz Festival in 1960 was recorded and released as his first live album, At Newport 1960. In 1972, he won his first Grammy Award for "They Call Me Muddy Waters", and another in 1975 for "The Muddy Waters Woodstock Album".

Phillis Wheatley| Poet |1753-1784

Born in West Africa and sold into slavery, she learned to read and write by the age of 9 and became the first African American woman to publish a book of poetry. In addition to having to prove she had indeed written the poetry, no one in America would publish her work. She was forced to go to England where the pieces were published in London in 1773. Years later, she sent one of her poems to George Washington who requested and received a meeting with her at his headquarters in Cambridge in 1776.

Serena Williams is arguably the greatest women's tennis player of all time, with 73 singles titles and an overall record of 831-142.

Serena Jameka Williams |Tennis Player |1981-present

Williams emerged straight outta the streets of Compton to become the world's No. 1 player. She has won 23 major singles titles, the most by any man or woman in the Open Era. The Women's Tennis Association ranked her world No. 1 in singles on eight separate occasions between 2002 and 2017. She has competed at three Olympics and won four gold medals.

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