Eulogy (Orig Pub April 18, 2019)

Julie lifted her head up so that the microphone would catch her words well. She didn’t know most of the people in the audience. Mostly she recognized family, and a few friends. “Most of you knew James as a lawyer, a gay rights proponent, and a rabble-rousing activist. For me, he was just Uncle Jamie. When I was adopted by my parents, I thought it was a trick. No one had kept me before, just sent me back to the orphanage. I was too quiet. Too strange. A mix-breed with issues. I hoarded food in my room. I didn’t speak English well.

“Mom and Dad though, they kept me. And then, they gifted me with the best present, my Uncle Jamie. Jamie was my own personal dragon. He breathed hellfire down on any bully that picked on my eyes. He sued the school when their dress code said I couldn’t wear my favorite shirt anymore because the sleeves were too short. I was eleven. I don’t think the principal of the school could look Uncle Jamie in the eye.

“I don’t know how Uncle Jamie was related to the family. Every time I asked, I got a different story. My mom said that he was her brother of course — look at how similar their eyes were. My dad said that Jamie was his brother. Will’m said that they’d found Jamie under a rock and brought him home from a beach trip. And Jamie? Jamie said he was a fairy, so of course he was my godfather and that’s all I needed to know.

“When I had screaming fights with my mother, Jamie stepped between us and just stared her down until she stopped yelling and started listening. He never once thought that wanting to be a house-spouse was a negative life-path. He never once tried to tell me that I should be a fighter, a crusader, an activist, or a lawyer. He didn’t try to make me into a math genius or a musical prodigy. He played chess with me when I wanted and helped me create dresses for my dolls when that passion grabbed me. .

“He wasn’t perfect. No one is. He drank too much and snuck cigarettes on the back porch when my mom wasn’t looking. He had screaming fights with Uncle Will’m and with Uncle Liam. He was vicious when cornered, but never to me.

“When my parents were killed, he stepped in as my parent and I resented it. No one could replace my Mom and Dad. How dare he try? Jamie didn’t have to replace them though it took me at least a year to figure that out. He’d been there from the beginning. And when things were darkest, he stood between me and the world — telling me that it was okay to be angry, to be sad, and to yearn to turn back time. It was okay to regret words said in anger. And it was okay to rage against a world that took my parents away. And I want to give that gift to you.

“It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to regret the arguments that were never resolved or the love that wasn’t expressed. It’s okay to be nostalgic for conversations that will never happen or memories that you only shared with him. And it’s okay to cry or laugh or share stories with anyone who will listen. I’m going to miss my Uncle Jamie, but I’m not the only one. I’m not alone and neither are you.”

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Failure (Orig Pub April 17, 2019)

Jamie looked down at the crumpled body at his feet. It was an old man with white streaking through his dark brown hair. His face had the vestiges of a beard that was half-shaved. The bathroom sink still had foam in it.

“Hey, kiddo,” a gentle voice said, “time to go.”

Jamie’s head swung around. “Will’m?” He wrapped the older man in a hug that might have been a shade too tight. The patted the back of Jamie’s head. “Liam told me a bomb took you.”

William huffed a laugh at that. “Liam, huh?”

“Figured me and Julie deserved to know the truth, even if no one officially told us. And we were friends, of a sort.” Jamie eased out of the hug. Liam had held him when he cried that night and offered him whiskey when he finally sat up. They’d never been at each other’s throats the way the rest of the crew had thought they were. They fought in courthouses and newspapers, but at the end of the day, they’d known each other too long to hate each other.

William felt real and whole, and warm. He looked exactly the same as he had the day he’d disappeared. “I never blamed you for leaving,” Jamie pressed. It was almost a compulsion to spill it out. “I know that losing Sean and Red broke your heart. You needed time.”

“I didn’t mean to break your heart.” William’s voice was low and gruff from the smoke inhalation he’d suffered as a child. He ran a rough padded thumb over Jamie’s cheek.

“Julie’s got a grand-daughter now. Cute thing. Makes me remember the day she whispered into my ear that all she wanted from life was to be a mother. Like she was telling me something wrong or dirty. Like I was going to be disappointed in her.” Jamie sniffled. “I feel like we failed her, Will’m. She didn’t know that all we was fighting for was for her to be free to do what she wanted. When I told her it was between her and her lover she ended up crying on my lap. That broke my heart. That she thought me, and you, and Sean, and Red, that we’d hate her for not being a fighter. For knowing when the war was over and it was time to start making a life.” Jamie wiped at his tears with the palm of his hand.

“But she did it and she came out right in the end. And you raised her and Billi up until they could take care of kids themselves. And they’re all happy now. You didn’t fail her. You stood by her even when she walked away from the business. When she told us she was getting married and having or adopting as many kids as she could afford. When she and Red had a screaming match about duty and responsibility, you were the one who walked between them and told Red to shove it. That there was nothing to fight for if people weren’t going to have families to benefit from it. You were the voice of reason between her and her parents. And when.” William stopped. “When we left her, you were the one that kept her.”

William reached out and gathered Jamie’s hand into his. “But it’s time to let her go.”

“No, I have to say goodbye. To finish the washing.” Jamie looked back at the crumpled figure. He made a half-step toward it, but William’s grip stopped him.

“It’s time to come home, Jamie. You done good, kid.”

“Will’m.”

“Come on. The battle’s done. It’s time to go home.”

As they walked away from the scene, they could hear the rest of the morning rush starting. Julie and Billi’s home was never empty. The coffee was brewing and Jamie looked wistfully over his shoulder as they passed out of the kitchen door and into the yard. Julie was fussing over the littlest kid in the pack. A four year old she’d just gotten the adoption papers signed for. She never looked up.

The sun swallowed them.

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8-4-2020

Well, it’s been awhile since I actually posted anything that wasn’t book related here. It’s been a wild ride and I’m still not sure what I want to say about anything happening out in the real world. I’ve been giving widely and supporting as many good causes as I can right now. I’ve signed petitions and tried to listen to diverse voices. I’ve been working to mix things up in my to read lists and disengaging from people who I cannot support any longer.

My boycott has grown to include Goya now. And I have OPINONS on some things which I will try to get out on paper at some point, but right now, I’m just confused and rage-filled and disheartened and sad about the state of the union.

So, my brain’s a bit of a mess, but I’ve been finding my creative voice has come back. That’s a positive. Actually writing and working on things again. “Getting the house in order” as it were.

To that end: I’m planning to move all of my writing from Wedschild’s Wanderings over here and deleting that blog completed. You’ll see a bit of a flood of flash fiction, which you’ve likely seen before, if you followed my works page at all.

Hand in hand with streamlining my online life, I’ve been continuing to downsize around the house with my good friends Ebay and Goodwill/ Local Charity Shops.

Ebay Sales : fish shaped lemon squeezer, VHS, rubber stamp.

Crafts finished: nothing, but I’ve made progress on both my scarf and my most recent diamond painting.

 

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Books to Read July 2020

Biased: Uncovering the Hidden Prejudice That Shapes What We See, Think, and Do – Jennifer L. Eberhardt

Good White People: The Problem with Middle-Class White Anti-Racism – Shannon Sullivan

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You – Jason Reynolds & Ibram X. Kendi

White Awareness: Handbook For Anti-Racism Training – Judith H. Katz

Sawkill Girls – Claire LeGrand

Freshwater – Akwaeke Emezi

The Broken Earth Trilogy – NK Jemisin

The Deep – Rivers Solomon

The Devil Came to St. Louis – Troy Taylor

Shatterday – Harlan Ellison

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Books Ready July 2020

Fiction

  • Dead Girl Blues – Lawrence Block

Non-Fiction

Short Stories

  • Second Acts in American Lives – Ryan Ridge & Mel Bosworth
  • The Burglar in Short Order – Lawrence Block

Comics

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Books to Read June 2020

The Killing Fog – Jeff Wheeler

The Devouring Gray Foundryside –Robert Jackson Bennett

People Who Eat Darkness – Richard Lloyd Parry

Japanese Tales of Mystery & Imagination – Edogawa Rampo & trans. James B. Harris

Cry to Heaven – Ann Rice

The Black Spider – Jeremias Gotthelf

Let the Right One In – John Ajvide Lindqvist

Black Tea and Other Tales – Samuel Marolla

The Hollow Girl –  Hillary Monahan

The Souls of Black Folk – W.E.B. Du Bois

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Books Read in June 2020

Fiction

  • The Face in the Frost – John Bellairs

Non-Fiction

  • From Here to Eternity – Caitlin Doughty

Short Stories

  • The Great American Songbook – Sam Allingham

Comics

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Books to Read May 2020

Monster, She Wrote – Lisa Kroger & Melanie Anderson

Wounds – Nathan Ballingrud

Pluto in Furs – ed. Scott Dwyer

Scared Sacred –ed. Rebecca Booth, Valeska Griffiths, & Erin Thompson

Grind Your Bones to Dust – Nicholas Day

The Night Weaver – Monique Snyman

Lullabies for Suffering – ed. Mark Matthews

The Boatman’s Daughter – Andy Davidson

Sixteenth Watch – Myke Cole

Carved from Stone and Dream – T. Frohock

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Books Read May 2020

Fiction

The Black Ice Score – Richard Stark
The Sour Lemon Score – Richard Stark
Sourcery – Terry Pratchett

Short Stories

Non-Fiction

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Sunday Night Music: Man with the Hex

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