Winner's Circle

Dig my awesome winner's shirt. 

Merry Christmas!

Season's Greetings from Mojo Jojo and Uranium J! 

No, I'm Just Resting My Eyes!

I may or may not have drooled on the carpet. Don't judge me.

PicSpam!

Mojo Jojo is in town and we be eatin' seafood!

He ate the whole thing.

Not just a pizza. Yum, yum.

A Divas Christmas

Last night was the Fayetteville Divas Christmas Party at Roly Poly's and it was a blast. We has a great time Connecting, Empowering, and Growing with one another. The highlight of the evening was the Carolina Selfie Stand a service that was donated to the event free of charge. Everyone had a great time taking photos with all the silly props that were available. 

Here you can see that the leadership team even got in on the action. I have to say that I am so lucky to have this great group of ladies in my life right now. They do nothing but inspire me!

English Major Monday - Beowulf and Comitatus

Since my NaNoWriMo was heavily influenced by Beowulf and since I have nothing else to talk about today I am going to share a paper I wrote in college. Let me know what you think. I think it's worth discussing. This essay was originally posted in my other blog www.joyceannunderwood.com during NaNoWriMo.

Comitatus and “The Other” in Beowulf

            Medieval society was based on the concept of “comitatus” in which the liege lord was the “ring giver” or provider and his thanes who were his retainers. The liege lord fought for glory and the thanes fought to protect the liege lord. These relationships were tightly knit and the greatness of a leader was shown by the loyalty of his men. Often a leader’s greatness was such that he not only commanded the loyalty and respect of his own country men, but also that of men who were outsiders. We see evidence of this in Beowulf with the presence of outsiders who fight along side by side with the liege lord. The most famous of these outsiders is Beowulf’s thane, Wiglaf, who is by Beowulf’s side as he battles the dragon. Wiglaf can be read as a foil for Beowulf in that he is “the other” in Beowulf’s court as Beowulf had been “the other” in Hrothgar’s court. As “the other” they both perform the duties of a loyal thane in fighting for their lord, despite their foreign blood. The loyalty of these foreign ambassadors to the lords they come to serve shows not only the greatness of that leader, but also illustrates that an outsider, “the other”, to be more honorable than the leader’s own thanes in that they are able to uphold the comitatus where the native society cannot. The superiority of “the other” through their demonstration of comitatus shows fatal flaw of the culture and foreshadows that society’s eventual demise.

            Beowulf himself was “the other” among the Danes more than once. Although he is a faithful thane to Hugelac, Hrothgar states, “I knew him when he was only a boy;” showing that Beowulf had been in Heorot to which he later returns in order to slay Grendel (Chickering, line 372). Beowulf’s presence and eagerness to assist Hrothgar in disposing of his monster is evidence that Hrothgar is an exceptional lord. As Beowulf and his retainers are led to Heorot which has been plagued by Grendel for the past twelve years, we see “the road was stone paved,” showing that the basic infrastructure within the Danish society seems to be in full working order (line 319). Despite their pesky monster infestation, everything seems to be business as usual. The fact that Heorot still stands is yet another testament to Hrothgar’s greatness, Grendel can keep the Danes from using it, but he does not dare destroy it. This implies an individual issue within the Danes, not a societal problem.

            As the center of all life within the society, the mead hall is representative of civilization itself. The fact that Grendel does not destroy it completely, as the dragon later destroys Beowulf’s mead hall shows that the Danes are not yet a doomed society. However, “he could not come near the gift-throne, the treasure / because of God- he knew not his love;” he who sits in the throne was blessed also and thus safe from Grendel’s claws (lines 168-169). While Hrothgar, his throne, and his mead hall were safe physically, the blight of Grendel brought shame to all three. Thus, the presence of Beowulf serves to merely solve the individual issue: Grendel. After all, “at that time none of the princely shieldings betrayed each other” alluding that the time will come when the society falls due to betrayal and the failure of the comitatus (lines 1018-1019). Unferth displays this possibility in his willingness to question Beowulf’s ability to slay Grendel to which Beowulf cleverly replies:

“I’ll tell you a truth,     son of Ecglaf

Never would Grendel     have done so much harm,

The awesome monster     against your own leader,

Shameful in Heorot,     if heart and intention,

Your great battle-spirit,     were sharp as your words.

But he has discovered     he need not dread

Too great a feud,     fierce rush of swords,

Not from your people,     the ‘Victory-Scyldings.’” (lines 590-598)

The shaming of their leader should have incited each and every Dane to make an attempt at slaying Grendel or die trying. Instead, they let him wreak havoc on Heorot night after night, and in so doing, allow him to continue to shame Hrothgar. It is only an outsider who is willing to step up to the challenge of disposing of the brute, thus calling the loyalty of Hrothgar’s own thanes into question.

            Because Beowulf successfully eliminates Grendel, Hrothgar proclaims, “I will love you like a son, cherish you for life,” and in feast seats him accordingly (lines 947-948). This extreme move on the part of Hrothgar alludes to the relationship that is present later in the poem between Beowulf and Wiglaf, another outsider who becomes more loyal to his leader than the leader’s own countrymen. Although this impromptu adoption may be viewed as a slight to Hrothgar’s own biological sons, I argue that he is sending out a message of disappointment to his thanes. Hrothgar goes on to state “Often for less I have given treasures, honorable gifts to lesser warriors, poorer at battle,” further illustrating his displeasure with his own thanes in an understated way (lines 951-953). Had one of them had the strength, courage, and intellect to destroy Grendel, they too might have been regarded as Hrothgar’s own. However, not one of them was willing to actually step up to the task despite their many drunken boasts. Therefore, the privilege of being regarded as the son of the king has been bestowed on he who is worthy: an outsider. This also foreshadows the fall of the Danes when attempts at peace weaving fail. Betrayal will be the undoing of the Danes, as cowardice will be with the Geats.

We are later able to see the Danes as a foil for the Geats and Hrothgar as a foil for Beowulf. This comparison is played out in the second half of the poem when we see Beowulf as an aged king. He ruled “this people for fifty winters, and there was no ruler of surrounding nations, not any, who dared meet [Beowulf] with armies,” then lo and behold, there came a monster: a dragon (lines 2732-2734). Although similar to Grendel, the dragon is indicative of a societal problem. Grendel merely haunted Hrothgar’s mead hall; the dragon completely obliterated Beowulf’s mead hall. The dragon took no prisoners; it came, it saw, it burned the place to the ground and as a result, Beowulf is left feeling impotent, much like Hrothgar had when faced with Grendel. These differences lie in that Grendel had been the unnatural “kinsmen of Cain” while the dragon is a seemingly unstoppable force of nature (line 104). The mere fact that we are talking about this monster in terms of “it” rather than “he” or “she” as had been the case with the other two monsters, shows the inherent difference present in the dragon as a threat. Grendel and his mother had been more of an individual problem, killing individuals and keeping them out of the mead hall. Meanwhile, the dragon not only burned down Beowulf’s mead hall which decimated the society, it also ended Beowulf’s life.

            This difference in aggression on the part of the dragon illustrates why “the other” proves to be more honorable and faithful to the liege lord than the lord’s own countrymen. The dragon destroys the mead hall, which is the center of all life in the society, and thus the society is irreparably damaged. This damage has been a long time coming; betrayal of the comitatus doesn’t happen over night. The peace that was with the Geats may have actually proved to be their undoing. It is easy to boast bravery in the mead hall when you have never had an opportunity to be truly brave. As Beowulf battles the dragon it is Wiglaf who calls to the Geats to defend their lord, crying out: “Now sword and helmet, / mail-shirt, war gear, must be ours together,” as he rushed in to defend his lord (lines 2650-2660). These Geats had most likely never seen hard battle before, much less a fifty foot fire breathing fiend. They failed to uphold the comitatus because they had never been called to do so before. Happily, they consumed Beowulf’s mead and enjoyed his gifts of fine armor and rings, but when they were called upon to repay his kindness “too few defenders / pressed round the king when his worst time came” (lines 2882-2883). Only Wiglaf stands by Beowulf in his final moments of need; a foreigner, he is the one to uphold the comitatus fighting for his lord as his lord fights for not only glory, but for revenge and the survival of his people.

            The irony here, as Wiglaf points out, is that the Geats hadn’t been worth Beowulf’s death in the first place. Their cowardice brought shame to themselves as individuals, to their families, and to the Geats as a nation. They had been blessed with the finest ring giver to have ever lived, and they left him to die when it was their duty to die either for him or with him. A good thane fights to the death for his lord; Beowulf’s thanes leave him to die alone. This betrayal is cause for exile. “Death is better / for any warrior than a shameful life!” is Wiglaf’s proclamation as calls out the fate they have sustained through their cowardice (lines 2890-2891). Beowulf’s death sees Wiglaf as the new leader of the Geats by virtue of his honor, and thus we see the eventual dissolution of the Geatish nation. They are led by “the other” and thus their claim to sovereignty as a nation is lost. It is only a matter of time before some other nation comes and incinerates what is left of their culture, just as the dragon incinerated their mead hall. The only honor present is that of Wiglaf, who is seemingly left to restore order but does not.  Rather, he leaves the Geats to the fate which they have brought upon themselves. Their shame and dishonor is the death of the Geatish society as “deprived of their rites each man of [their] families will have to be exiled” (lines 2886-2887).

Friday Free For All! - HIV Here & Now

World AIDS Day fell on the same day as the end of NaNaWriMo (as it always does) and since for the first time ever I actually won I chose to bask in the glory of winning on my blog instead of writing about the fight to stop AIDS. Rest assured, I did spam the hell out of Facebook with pertinent AIDS Day related content as well as changing my profile picture and banner.

Not that any of that really matters but it made me feel like I was doing my part to ACT UP and FIGHT AIDS.

Earlier this year, I participated in another project that is much bigger and more worthwhile than my tiny yearly Facebook campaign. It's called the HIV Here & Now Poem-a-Day Countdown to 35 Years of AIDS on June 5, 2016. I submitted two poems to the project back in September which were published on the site and which I hope will also be published in the anthology that is forthcoming. You can read those poems here: September 15, 2015

If you or anyone you know is a poet, I highly encourage you to submit a poem to this project. They are always looking for poets and the organizer, Michael Broder, is a joy to work with. I promise you, if you are at all passionate about HIV/AIDS you should look at the poems on HIV Here & Now. You won't be disappointed.

The Four Women Who Inspire Me The Most

I saw this list on Peanut Butter Fingers' blog and I thought "Who are the four women who inspire me the most?". This question is more difficult for me than it might seem as I have way more male friends, heroes, and  people I talk to on a regular basis. I am a recovering female misogynist. I am older now, and realize what a stupid worldview that was to have in the first place. In the interest of furthering my recovery, I now give you

The Four Women Who Most Inspire Uranium J

(dunh! dunh! dunh!)

• Captain Tesla

The things we did for student transitions.
Source

This girl is so talented it makes my head hurt. For her Undergraduate studies, she majored in Physics and got a minor in Philosophy. As an undergrad, she taught classes, worked her way up to a major leadership role in Student Transitions, presented research at a conference, all while (in my humble opinion) dressing like a rock star. As a grad student in the computer science department she was teaching physics to undergrads and doing all the normal grad school stuff, while preparing for some big ballet event. Presently, she's a PhD candidate in Physics. Yes, she's brilliant, she's beautiful, and she does point. She also has the most impeccable manners I have ever seen on someone in my generation. The grace and poise with which she conducts herself everyday has always impressed me and caused me to wonder if she went to finishing school and just didn't tell anyone. Her tastes in things that you buy at a Barnes and Noble are very similar to mine, something I appreciate since so few people understand my tastes. Did I mention she can drive a stick shift and play the piano? Or that she is very well versed on classical music? I could go on and on. This woman never ceases to blow my mind and I love it.

• Merlisser

And she can grill! Source

I don't talk about Merlisser on here very often because she lives on the other side of the freaking country and is super busy with her husband and kid and the life they are trying to make for themselves in the Northwest. But I am usually in awe of her. She is one of the strongest and most positive people I know. I'm sure that she doesn't see it that way, but I promise you, it's true. Her random sense of humor and her perky personality never cease to make me smile, even when I really don't want to. I know that I am better having known her. She challenged me when I needed it, encouraged me when I was down and out, and never let me feel sorry for myself. I swear to you, she's a little Asian Ruby Gloom! She always looks on the bright side of the dark side. She has no problem going out of her comfort zone - a trait I envy. She moved COMPLETELY across the country for love. She took up sailing in college. She is a phenomenal artist. She knows how to keep cookies fresh. She is so full of life and love, compassion and creativity; and I sometimes hope that when I grow up, I can be a little bit like her. 

• My Mom

Oh boy! A toothbrush! 

I sometimes think it's obligatory to add one's mother to these types of lists, but I was thinking about it today, and I really am inspired by my mom. Her life has never been easy, but she always tried to do her best by me and my sister. My grandmother died when my mom was five years old, so for most of her childhood she was motherless. She was also the only female in the household. This was a lousy situation, but I think she made the best of it. She held her own with her two older brothers and went on to work most of her life in fields dominated by men. Before she met my dad, she worked in a furniture factory and assembled sonobuoys. After I was born, she went to work full time with my dad as a handy"man". Learned plumbing, electrical, HVAC, and how to work on washers, dryers, and refrigerators. When my dad died, she was suddenly a single parent, and while it was hard, she made sure that money was never an issue when it came to the things that were really important. I had food, clothes, a car when I was 16, school trips, and more CDs than a teenager really has a right to. She fought and worked hard her entire life. I'm soft. If pushed, I doubt I could do half the things my mom has done, and while that humbles me to no end.

• The Woman That Sprout Will Someday Become

That Sprout with Captain Tesla. Source

How's that for a sickly sweet abstract concept? It's true though, and here's why: Everything I do now is shaping who she will become, so I kind of have to be on my toes. While I am not in love with parenting, I totally love my child, and I want to see her become someone truly awesome. I might look like I don't care, but that's because I don't want to hover. I don't rush over immediately when she falls. I want her to be strong, fearless, brave, smart, funny, and a top notch problem solver. You know, all those things I'm not. I also want her to be an accepting and tolerant woman who has her own unique personality, her own likes and dislikes, and enough integrity and intestinal fortitude to think for herself and nevermind the bollocks. Kind of like me, but so much better. In order for her to end up this woman that I hope she becomes, I have to start acting like that woman now. That woman inspires me to be the best I can be everyday. I struggle and I strive and I hope that by the time she actually starts to become a woman, I'll be her mirror. Reflect what you are, in case you don't know. 

Yes, I know that last one was kind of a cop out, but I couldn't think of a fourth. Lesson? I need to have more amazing and awe inspiring women in my life. I'm taking applications . . . 

Pear Harbour Day

What I know about Pearl Harbor Day because of my dad, who was in WWII. There's an interesting story for you. My dad was part of the Mighty 8th Air Force. I know I've mentioned this before, but I'll tell you all again because that was years ago when I still lived in Savannah. 

My dad who was born in 1920, was a crew chief stationed in England during WWII and growing up I heard a great many stories about the war. Mostly about how his Commanding Officer was rather useless and my dad more or less took command. I have no idea how true this was since my dad as far as I know was no more than a lowly Private First Class. Maybe he made rank? I've never had a look at his discharge papers and probably wouldn't know what I was looking at if I did.\

My dad made sure to let me know all the important dates when they rolled around on the calendar - Jewish holidays and American remembrance days. I never missed a Yom Kippur or a Pearl Harbor Day. What was strange about the former was the fact that we were not Jewish. I always assumed that fighting for the liberation of the Jews had an effect on him.

Were he alive, my dad would have just turned 95. Vera Lynn is 98 years old this Pearl Harbor Day and the only reason I even know who she is in the first place is because of Pink Floyd. My dad never talked about her. The only reason I know a lot of things is because of pop music, but I feel that's a discussion for another time when I have more time and attention to give to the matter. Until then, here's a pretty lady and a pretty song

Vera Lynn (Source)

Does anybody here remember Vera Lynn?

Remember how she said that

We would meet again

Some sunny day?

Vera! Vera! 

What has become of you?

Does anybody else in here 

Feel the way I do?

Kool Aid Pie

Today would have been my dad's 95th birthday, so in celebration I give you a story I wrote about something he loved:

Kool Aid Pie. It sounds so simple, and yet it’s not. It’s a long, complicated process. There’s only four ingredients:

2/3 cup sugar, 1 can evaporated milk, 1 packet of Kool Aid, and 1 graham cracker crust.

Simple right? But it was never simple. First of all, there was never any Kool Aid to be found. We were relegated to Flav-or-Aid, drink of choice for those who wish to commit mass suicide. While they were partial to grape Flav-or-Aid, I had a choice between lemon lime and orange. I don’t know how they did it, but my parents would buy it in variety packs, yet we only ever had the green or the orange. It was uncanny. My first Kool Aid Pie was orange.

Next came the evaporated milk – which was nothing more than a waiting game. You open up the can, pour it into a bowl, stick it into the freezer, and wait. As a little kid, “wait” means what happens between commercial breaks, but it takes longer than that to “partially freeze”, and every time you open the freezer to check on it, you let the cold out and prolong the process further. Eventually, you grow frustrated with the whole process and forget about it. After an hour or so, you remember, and rush to the freezer to find your milk completely iced over on top. A little longer and you would have had to start all over again, but as it is, the milk is perfect for working.

You take your bowl over to the counter, plug in the ancient green blender that only has one speed because your mom loaned it out once in the seventies to someone who decided they would use it to make cookie dough with and burnt up the speed control. You start to whip your semi-frozen evaporated milk until it turns into white foam. Then, you slowly add the sugar. Slowly. That was always hard for me. I am not a patient person; I always wanted to dump it all in at once. You can’t though, it’ll pull all the air out and make your pie hard. I learned this the hard way.

Once all the sugar is added, and you have what is referred to in cooking as “soft, white peaks”, you add in your Flav-or-Aid packet until it is completely distributed. Then, you pour it all into a pie shell and freeze it. When the time arrives for dessert, you will have a frozen pie that when sliced, is soft and creamy.

I made a “Kool-Aid” pie every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas and every year, my dad was the only one who ate it.

I could have made this very one. Source

NaNoWriMo Wrap Party!!!

I did it!

I am now going to go bask in the glory of my awesomeness. Expect precious few posts until after the new year. I am tired. Proud, but tired.

NaNoWriMo: Day 30

For Stella and Buckley, the year did start off rather well. They both went back to work after the holidays and things were settling into a sort of normalcy. Stella went to work at the school, then at Angel’s on weeknights. She managed to have weekends off. Buckley spent the night with her on some Friday and Saturday nights. She started making time for girlfriends. Buckley’s mom started to find her place in the community through the church. Things were good.

            No one talked about the men who had died the year before at Herlin Hall.

            Months passed and soon it was nearly spring break. Stella had made plans for Paige and Lottie to come and see her for the holiday. Lottie had decided that she wanted to make another documentary about Putnam County, but she didn’t know about what. Meanwhile, The Gators of Herlin Hall would soon be shown before the thesis committee.

            Buckley was still walking around with the ring in his front right pocket. The time just hadn’t seemed right to pop the question. While Stella’s depression had lifted, they had both been so busy, and she seemed so content with the way things were at the moment, he didn’t want to complicate things with talks of marriage. There would be time for that. They were both happy and with her parents out of the picture, she wasn’t going anywhere.

            There was also the matter of his mother to be dealt with. While she was finding her place in the community, she was also finding new and interesting ways to junk up her and subsequently, his living space. She had not thrown out one newspaper in the six months she had lived with him. Not even one. Her bedroom was a disaster looking for a place to happen and now she had gotten the bright idea that she wanted to burn candles in there. He felt like he was looking after a child instead of the woman who raised him. On the one hand, he wanted to get married and have a family with Stella, but on the other, he couldn’t see putting her through the stress of having to deal with his mother. It wouldn’t be fair. So, he held onto the ring and waited.

            Stella of course knew about none of this. She thought things were going along wonderfully with Buckley and his mother. She didn’t even think about the fact that she hadn’t been over to his house in months. She liked that he came and stayed with her. It was weird staying in the same house with his mama. And anytime there was a dinner party it was either at Herlin Hall or at Father Donovan’s House, so she didn’t think much of that either. She would have had Buckley’s mama over, but the old lady couldn’t make the stairs. Alas.

            Paige and Lottie arrived in Putnam County a week before Easter, which was the day after the Catfish Festival in Crescent City. Rhodes and Stella reflected that it was hard to believe a year had passed by already. Paige, who had majored in Physics was on break from her Computer Science Master’s program at UWF and she and Lottie had driven to Putnam County together. Stella had the week off from school, but she still had to work at Angel’s which Paige and Lottie found to be great fun. Lottie spent a great deal of her time in the evenings interviewing the locals on camera while Stella waited tables, while Paige drank coffee and read books.

            Their days were spent driving around the back roads of the county, exploring the places that were off of the beaten path, looking for the things that only the locals knew about. Lottie was their guide. They spent a lot of time in between Crescent City and Palatka weaving in and out of the lush green highways taking in all the junk shops and small, otherwise insignificant roadside attractions. It occurred to Stella as they visited several of these junk shops in their travels that she could see how Buckley’s mama could find a fascination with the things she found there. The places were full of all sorts of things you didn’t just see every day. The remnants of lives you have no idea had even been lived. They were almost like low culture museums, what with all the record albums, household items, and various sundry ephemera. These places held a record of the ways people once lived. The trick that Buckley’s mother couldn’t seem to master was to not walk away with the sum of someone else’s life on your back. A piece here and there woudn’t weight you down. But to carry it all with you, in addition to your own – it was too much. The burden was too great.

            The three women however did possess the skill of moderation and therefore they were able to enter these establishments and exit with one or two things each. Stella was quite fond of buying records and old photographs. She had begun to surround herself with other people’s families since her own wanted nothing else to do with her. She had hung several of these postcard sized photographs in frames in various places around her apartment, along with some pictures of celebrities she had cut out of some magazines and a few pictures of her and Buckley. She was creating an illusion – building a narrative. For her ersatz mom and dad, she had a photograph of Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson. All the ones from the junk stores were her ancestors. She still held out hope that her sister and nephew might be a part of her life so she hadn’t replaced them yet.

            Paige and Lottie knew nothing about what had gone on with Stella and her parents so as far as they knew, her affinity for musty old pictures was nothing more than a passing fascination. They also knew nothing about what had happened between her and Brad or why she and Buckley had ultimately gotten back together, but they were happy for her. They could tell that he made her very happy, and they hadn’t seen her very happy in college. She had been content perhaps, but rarely happy.

            That Friday, the night before the Catfish Festival, Stella didn’t have to work at Angel’s and the girls went to Crescent City for the gospel singing and pre-Catfish festivities in Eva Lyon Park.

            “Why are we doing this again?” Stella asked.

            “It’s just what you do,” Lottie replied. “Everyone goes to the park to listen to the gospel music, then they all walk down to the Parker House and get drunk. It’s like a big reunion. I imagine I’ll see all sorts of people I haven’t seen in years.”

            “Is that a good thing?” Paige asked with a laugh.

            “That depends.”

           

            They arrived at the park just in time to hear Sister Dollie Harrell and the congregation of the Pentecostal Revival Center do a stirring rendition of “Lord, Prepare Me to Be a Sanctuary” a sight the likes of which Paige had never seen. Lottie was used to this sort of thing because she had grown up in the area and Stella had become acquainted with Sister Dollie since moving to Putnam County over the summer. For Paige though, the sight of the bespectacled, high haired, modest dress wearing lady preacher with the thick Southern accent was a bit of a shock. She was from a less rural part of the state and not accustomed to seeing Pentecostal Holy Rollers. Sure there was Pensacola Christian College, but she tried to stay as far away from their student body as they did from UWF so that never the twain should meet.

            “Why are we here again?” Paige asked.

            “This is just what we do. Come on, let’s sit down.”

            There were risers in front of the stage for people to sit on. These were donated from one of the area schools. There were also plenty of people who brought lawn chairs and folding chairs to sit it. Most of the crowd gathered in front of the gazebo/stage was over the age of 50, meanwhile middle and high school kids congregated behind the stage and cavorted around the park.

            “We aren’t going to stay long. I just wanted to see a group that had some boys I went to school with in it.”

            “Ah,” said Stella.

            The group was called God’s Examples and they were an R&B Gospel act. And they were great. Paige and Stella were captivated.

            After the show, they wandered down the street to the Parker House for the “reunion” or whatever Lottie had called it. When they got there, the whole parking lot was roped off and there were police there guarding it. Essentially, the whole bar parking lot was turning into a big block party.

            Stella had told Buckley to meet them at the Parker House. He still hated parties, but for someone who hated parties he sure seemed to go to a lot of them lately. In truth, Stella wasn’t really fond of parties either, but she liked spending time with her friends and they all seemed to like to spend time at parties.

            There were so many people inside the bar that it was nearly impossible to get a drink. Outside there was a stand selling beer, but Stella was drinking Diet Coke since she was driving and that she had to get from the bar. Eventually, Buckley showed up and the ladies got their drinks much more quickly owing to his imposing height.

            All things told, they had a good night at the Parker House. Lottie saw a lot of her friends from school and introduced Stella and Paige to them. Lottie seemed to have a smugness about her – probably owing to the fact that she was one of the only people to have gotten out of Crescent City while all the rest of her classmates seemed to have stagnated and remained in the same place.

            Stella wondered what would become of her if she stayed in this place for too long. She liked it in Putnam County, but would she end up like Lottie’s friends? On the way home, she asked Lottie that very question:

            “Lottie, would you think less of me if I stayed in Putnam County indefinitely?”

            “I would probably be sad for you.”

            “Why?”

            “There aren’t a lot of opportunities here. People just stagnate. There’s no way to grow, really.”

            “Well, what about Rhodes?”

            “Rhodes is the exception, not the rule. And Rhodes has a lot of money. Also, I don’t even think Rhodes is very happy. In his own way, he’s stagnating too.”

            “But I like it here, Lottie. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful.”

            “I like all those things about it too, really, I do. In a lot of ways I love where I’m from. I’m proud of where I’m from. But there’s very little here for someone like me.”

            “But why do you look down on all your friends who are still here?”

            “They make me sad because they were never brave enough to try anything different. At least for you, this is something different. You aren’t staying in your comfort zone. Moving here. Living on your own. Having 2 jobs. Moving here without even having a job. All of that is brave. They made me sad because they lack courage. They don’t even seem to wonder. I wonder about everything.”

            “Do you really think this place will turn on me?”

            “I don’t know. It seems like it’s treating you well for now. You seem to have fallen in with a decent crowd – although I wouldn’t trust Rhodes and Selena any further than I could throw them.”

            “Why?”

            “Rhodes is a cad and there’s something catty about Selena. And she looks at Buckley too much.

            This would have been something for Stella to think about – all of these things would have been things for her to think about, were it not for what happened when they got back to Palatka that night. Stella, Paige, and Lottie went to bed in her apartment after drinking some wine and listening to some records. The next morning, they drove back to Crescent City for the Catfish Festival. The arrived at around 10:30 and meandered through the car show before finding a decent spot from which to watch the parade. Like the night before, Buckley was supposed to meet them there. However, the parade, with all of its Shriners, Marching Bands, and Homecoming Queens came and went and there was still no sign of Buckley.

            The girls made their way to the park in order to partake of the food the festival had to offer – specifically “swamp cabbage” which Lottie’s mother described as being “So good it’ll make your tongue slap your brains out!” There was also gator tail, frog legs, quail, strawberry shortcake, and of course catfish to be had.

            By the time 3 o’clock rolled around and Buckley still hadn’t arrived Stella thought that they should head back toward Palatka. The festival was winding down and she was worried about where Buckley might be. It wasn’t like him to stand her up.

            She decided to swing by Buckley’s trailer on the way to her apartment.

            She saw the smoke from over a mile away.

            At first she thought he must have been having a bonfire – burning some limbs or something, but as she got closer, she saw that the trailer was nothing but a burned out shell. She leapt out of the car and ran to the fire fighter closest to her.

            “Where is he?” she asked frantically.

            “Who are you, ma’am?”

            “I’m his girlfriend. Where is he? Where is Buckley?”

            “They’ve already taken him to Shands in Gainesville.”

            “What happened?”

            “I’m not at liberty to say.”

            “I’ll tell you what happened,” said Leland coming out from around one of the fire trucks. “His mama set the damn house on fire with them candles of hers and those newspapers she wouldn’t get rid of.”

            “How do you know?”

            “He told me as he was gettin’ loaded into the ambulance.”

            “How’d you get here so quick?”

            “Seen the smoke, rushed over.”

            Stella turned to her friends with tears in her eyes. “We have to go to him.”

            “I’ll call my parents when we get there. I’m sure they’ll let us crash at their house. We can leave from there to go back to UWF in the morning.”

            “I can’t believe this is happening,” she turned to Leland. “What happened to Buckley’s mama?”

            Leland just sighed and shook his head.

            At this, Stella broke down and fell to the ground sobbing. Leland went and knelt beside her and held her heaving shoulders. “What can I do?”
            “Call – School – Donovan -?”

            “You want me to call your school and Father Donovan?”

            She shook her head.

            “You got it. And I’ll be over to the hospital tonight, okay?”

            She shook her head again.

            Leland motioned for her friends to come and get her to the car. He handed her keys to Paige. “You drive.”

            When Stella got to the hospital it was hours before they let her in to even see Buckley. Not being a member of his family, or his wife it was hard for her to get any answers as to the status of his condition. Leland, Father Donovan, Rhodes, and Selena arrived long before there was any word about his prognosis. Lottie and Paige waited with Stella and took turns sitting with Stella and trying to keep her calm while the other got the story from Leland about what had happened. Together they were able to piece together the following:

            The night before Buckley had arrived home to find his mama once again burning candles in her bedroom only this time she had fallen asleep with every one of them aflame. He went around blowing them out and in so doing ended up knocking over one of the stacks of newspapers she had stacked in her room. This knocked over a candle and caught on fire and before he knew what was happening, the whole room was on fire. Buckley’s mama woke up, but for reasons no one could understand, she didn’t really seem to understand what was going on. He managed to get her out of the house just before it went up in flames.

That was when Leland showed up. He had been driving home from Herlin Hall late that night and seen the flames from the road. Knowing that it was Buckley’s house, he stopped by to see if there was anything he could do to help. It was while Buckley was explaining the first part of the story to Leland that the old lady disappeared back into the fire. No one will ever know what treasure was worth losing her life over, but as soon as Buckley realized what his mother had done, he dove head first into the fire after her.

Not long after Buckley disappeared into the house after her, the fire department showed up and began trying to put out the flames.

“There’s a man and woman still in there!” Leland had cried, but the fire fighters were convinced that with the flames raging as they were there was no way anyone could still be alive. But Buckley wasn’t just anyone and after a few moments, he stumbled out of the trailer carrying his mother’s lifeless body.

The firefighters and EMTs immediately began administering CPR and loaded him into the ambulance for Shands. As they were loading him into the ambulance he called weakly to Leland and told him to wait at the house for Stella when she came the next day. He knew she would come looking for him. In hindsight it might have been more merciful to have sent Leland to tell her rather than having her view the burned out shell of the trailer, but Buckley wasn’t thinking very clearly having been nearly burned to death.

           

At around 8 PM a doctor finally came into the waiting room and told the group that they could see Buckley.

“He’s going to look a little shocking though – he’s sustained some pretty extensive burns.”

“Is he going to be okay though?” asked Leland.

“Time will tell. He seems like a fighter, but the burns and the smoke inhalation are pretty extensive. He’s been asking for Stella. I think it best if only she sees him for tonight. We wouldn’t want to overwhelm him”

Stella looked at Paige and Lottie. “I don’t know if I can do this alone,” she said, he voice cracking.

“You can do this. Think about who you’re doing it for.” Paige said, squeezing her hand.

Stella then followed the doctor down the hall to where Buckley was. The doctor wasn’t lying, he looked terrible. His skin was burned off completely in places. Everything was slick with medicine and salves, and he looked like he was in so much pain. She wanted nothing more than to hold him, but she knew that she couldn’t touch him.

“Hey, Buckley,” she said softly.

            “Stella,” he said in a rasping voice.

            She went over and sat in a chair next to his bed. “I’m here.”

            “Stella. I killed my mama.”

            “No you didn’t.”

            “I did. I’m being punished. It hurts so bad.”

            Stella was near the point of sobbing again, but she was using every bit of willpower she had to keep her composure for his sake.
            “That is not true. This was an accident. A terrible accident. But you’re going to get better, and we’re going to get on with our lives. We are going to get married and raise children together. We are going to be happy.”

            “You would marry me now, looking like this?”

            “Of course. I love you. What a silly question.”

            Buckley felt in his heart that he wasn’t going to make it out of the hospital. He could feel the life slipping away from him ever so slowly. He might have days or weeks, but he wasn’t going to recover. The fact that she still loved him and still wanted to marry him was enough to make him wish he had just asked her to do it when he’d had the chance. With his mama dead, he would have no one to leave his not altogether modest estate to. But he said nothing of this. He didn’t want to cause a scene in the hospital by asking her to marry him then and there.

            “I love you Stella.”

            “Oh Buckley. I wish I could kiss you.”

            Buckley smiled a little. It hurt, but he did it anyway. “I’d like that, but I don’t think you’d want to get this medicine on your lips.”

            “Would it hurt?”

            “It would be worth it.”

            “Don’t say that.”

            “Kissing you is always worth it.”

            “I wouldn’t want to impede the healing process, Buckley.”

            He sighed. “Promise me that the next time I ask you to kiss me, you will.”

            “Alright. I will.”

            They sat together for quite a while just staring at one another – that was the most touching they could do. She so badly wanted to do anything to soothe his pain, but she was powerless to help him. All she could do now was love him. She found the impotence to be a terrible feeling.

            After what seemed like no time at all a nurse came in and told Stella that visiting hours were over.

            “Goodbye, Buckley. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            “Stella,” he said. “before you go, I want to ask you something.”

            “What is it?”

            “Do you think there’s any way that I would be able to meet Hope?”

            Stella was filled with all sorts of emotions at once. One part of her wanted nothing more than to be able to share their daughter with him. He was obviously very upset and scared and he wanted to make sure that there was some part of him out there in the world. But there was the sensible part of her that realized the way he looked would be entirely too much for a child of Hope’s age to understand.

            “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “Get some rest. I love you.”

           

            As soon as she got to Paige’s parents’ house, Stella got on the phone with Montgomery to tell her what had happened.

            “He wants to meet Hope. What should I do?”

            “I’ll talk to the Campbells and see what I can do. How soon do you think it needs to be?”

            “Oh God, Montgomery! I don’t know! The doctor didn’t seem to be very certain whether or not Buckley was even going to make it. Soon?”

            That was all the guidance that Montgomery needed to set to work. She called back the following afternoon.

            “They said they could be there tomorrow afternoon.”          

            “What? Are you serious?”

            “Yes.”

            “What did you tell them?”

            “Everything you told me.”

            “And they were okay with bringing a four year old to visit a stranger in the burn unit?”

            “Apparently, they visit hospitals and nursing homes with her on the regular and this isn’t something out of the ordinary for her.”

            “Well, how lucky.”

            “I thought so. Listen, I’m going to drive up there too. I know all your friends are leaving tonight and I don’t want you to be alone.”

            “Thanks. How are mom and dad?”

            “Still not speaking your name.”

            “I guess they’d be thrilled if they knew what was going on.”

            “I don’t think so. They do love you, they just love being right more.”

           

            That Monday afternoon Montgomery and The Campbells arrived at the hospital within minutes of one another. Stella was in the waiting room, waiting for Buckley’s bandages to be changed.

            When Hope walked in, she stood up and nearly opened her arms up to the little girl, but then she remembered herself. Hope was wearing a green plaid dress that made her hair and eyes stand out against her pale skin in the same way green did on Stella. Instead of focusing her attention on the little girl, Stella held out her hand to Mr. and Mrs. Campbell.
            “Hello, I’m Stella. Thank you so much for coming.”

            “It’s our pleasure. You know, we would have loved to have had a relationship with you and Buckley after the adoption, but your parents were adamantly against it.”

            “Yes, they would have been. But my parents and I aren’t speaking anymore, so we may do as we please.”

            Mr. and Mrs. Campbell looked shocked at this response, but Stella didn’t care. She was too tired to care. She had been spending all of her waking hours at the hospital keeping vigil over Buckley, praying with Father Donovan, and doing whatever small tasks she could that made her feel as though she were making some sort of a difference in his recovery. Each day he seemed a little stronger, but there was a chance that was her wishful thinking. All the doctors would say was “He’s not out of the woods yet.” What did that even mean? What woods?

            Stella and the Campbell family waited together for the nurse to admit them into Buckley’s room. Stella didn’t say much; instead she watched her daughter and thought about what it would be like if she had been allowed to be her mother. While she was certain that things would be very different and perhaps even better for everyone involved, there was no way to be sure that they wouldn’t all still be sitting in this waiting room, or worse yet, be in the burn ward with Buckley.

Maybe it had been for the best that things had gone the way they had between her and Buckley all those years ago. While she would have given anything to have been able to raise her daughter with the great love of her life, she would not have put her daughter in a house with Buckley’s mother which is likely what would have happened. Buckley’s mother was destined to be his undoing it seemed.

Finally, the nurse came out and said that Buckley could entertain visitors. The Campbells said that they would stay outside if Stella wanted to take Hope by herself. Stella found this to be a strange offer considering the nature of the visit, but she also didn’t want to have to deal with them anymore than she had to. They were nice people, but she couldn’t even deal with nice at the moment.

Stella took the Hope by the hand and walked her through the burn unit to where Buckley lay in the bed covered in salve and bandages.

“This is Buckley, Hope. He has heard a lot about you and he wanted to meet you.”

“How does he know about me?”

“I knew you before you were born,” Buckley said.

“How did you know me before I was born?”

“I knew your mother.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Your mother was a very special lady.” Buckley paused. “So, can you tell me a little bit about yourself? What do you like?”
            “I like ballet, My Little Pony, Rainbow Brite, and Legos.”

“Very nice. Do you have any favorite stories?”

“I like the three little bears, and little red riding hood, and snow white.”

“Classics. I like that.”

“Why are you in the hospital Mr. Buckley?”

“I was in a fire.”

“Did it hurt?”

“It hurt a lot.”

“Does it still hurt?”
            “Yes.”

“Can I do anything to make it feel better?”

“Just sit here and talk to me, Hope. I want to learn all about you.”

And that is just what they did until the nurses told Stella that it was time for Buckley’s physical therapy session.

That night, Buckley stopped breathing.

The doctors and nurses tried their best, but they could not revive him.

Father Donovan was the one that had to tell Stella the news. She was distraught. Devastated beyond words.

            “Why Father? Why?” she sobbed.
            She felt as though she were dying. Her own life appeared to be over. She had lost her family, and now she had lost the only man she could ever love. She longed for death. She invited it. She wanted to be with Buckley, wherever he was now.

            “You can’t think like that, my child,” Father Donovan had said. But what did he know?

            After Buckley’s funeral, Stella returned to work at the school and at the diner, but her heart was not in her work. She was just trying to finish out the year before deciding what she was going to do with the rest of her life. Without Buckley, everything seemed dull and pointless.

            Just as the school year was winding to a close and Stella still had not decided whether she was going to return to teach in the fall she received a letter from a law firm in Gainesville. It requested her presence for the reading of Buckley’s will on the first of June. This development led her dread the end of school even more. She didn’t want anything of Buckley’s. She wanted Buckley.

           

            When the first of June arrived, Stella drove to Gainesville for the reading of the will. She was a little surprised to find that she was the only person there. The lawyer was very polite and invited her into his office, offering her a cup of coffee.

            “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Miss McCartney. I’ve heard so much about you.”

            Stella was confused by this, but she chose not to ask.  This situation was hard enough without questions.

            “Let’s get started, shall we? You are here today for the reading of the last will and testament of Mr. Buckley Wolf. Mr. Wolf had a rather unusual request for this will, but considering how little property he had to bequeath I allowed it. The will is as follows:

            ‘Dear Stella,

This is Buckley. If you are hearing this letter, then I have died. I am sorry to have done so. I tried my best to live for you, but I’m not as strong as you think I am sometimes. I am but a man. A very big man, but a man. Never the less, I am sorry that I can’t be here for you anymore. Just know that I have always and will always love you with my whole heart. You always were the only woman for me. There was never anyone else. There never could have been. I don’t know if there’s a heaven, but if there’s life after this one I’ll do my best to be with you somehow, watching over you in the best way I can.

That said, I have some things that I want to give you that may keep you safe in a more realistic sense. Namely, all of my money, except for a trust fund which I have discussed with the lawyer to be given to Hope when she is an adult. Hopefully it will get her through college and give her a good start in life. As for you, you will get all the property that belonged to my mother in South Florida, all of the money I inherited from her (which is considerable), and all of the money I have saved away, which is also not a small amount. With this you should be able to live comfortably and securely by doing whatever work you want for the rest of your life.

I also leave you the engagement ring that I never found the right time to give you. I wanted to ask you but the time never really seemed right. Now it’s too late. If you meet someone who makes you half as happy as you made me, please don’t wait like I did. Move when opportunity strikes. I don’t know what to tell you to do with the ring. Wear it. Sell it. Give it to Hope when she’s old enough to have it. I hope that when she’s older you’ll tell her about us. Tell her how much we loved each other and how much we would have loved being her parents.

I have to go now. I miss you already and you’ve only just gone for the night. I can’t imagine what death is going to be like without you. Whatever you do, you have to promise me that you won’t be in a hurry to join me. You promised me that when I asked you again, you would kiss me. I’m going to ask you again, but it’s just going to be a while. Until then, I love you.

Buckley.

           

Stella was sobbing by the time the lawyer finished reading the will. Buckley was still taking care of her from beyond the grave. The lawyer took out the ring and it was gorgeous. She slipped it onto her finger and there it would stay until Buckley asked her for a kiss.

Thus ends the story of Buckley, or Days of Our Gators.