Banshee Who Helped Fight Crime

 

Harbingers of death, the Banshee is both feared and dreaded. Feared, because of the unknown, dreaded, because to hear one keening outside your window, means a loved one is doomed to die within the fortnight. However, have Banshees been given a bad rap? One woman, from the village of Carlingford believes so.

Ena O’Brien’s husband, Alphin had been bravely fighting prostate cancer for the last two years. After having just undergone his second round of chemotherapy, Alphin had been severely weakened, his health was deteriorating fast. Doctors warned Ena, that her husband’s time on this earth was short. It was decided then that Ena would stay home, and nurse her husband in his last days. Fifty years ago, when Ena stood before her family and God, she promised to love Alphin through sickness and in health, until death parted them. Those words were just as true today, as the day she had first spoken them.

Many nights, Ena and Alphin would sit beside each other in the living room, next to the fireplace. Sometimes they looked at old photo albums, remembering days past. Those photos always brought a bittersweet lump to Ena’s throat. They had been young and free; the whole world lay before them. Now the curtain was about to be drawn closed on this part of Ena’s life forever, she was deeply saddened. Tonight Alphin sat in his easy chair, while Ena read to him from his favorite book ‘Finnegan’s Wake’ by James Joyce.

It was hard for Ena, to see her once robust husband, reduced now to a shell of his former self. Alphin rested his eyes, taking slow shallow breaths. In some ways, Ena had begun to accept the inevitable. Alphin suffered day by day, as Ena watched on helpless. More than anything she wanted his pain to go away, for him to know peace once again. There came a wailing sound outside the window. It made the hair on the back of Ena’s neck stand up. That cry, went down into the very depths of her soul.

“Love, “said Alphin opening one eye, and peering at her “what’s the matter?”

“You didn’t hear that wailing noise just now?” Ena asked unnerved.

“No dear, ”Alphin replied snuggling down deeper into his easy chair “Can you continue reading, your voice relaxes me,” he said sleepily.

Ena tried to continue reading, it was tough, the wailing had started up again outside. She could take no more, Ena got up from the loveseat and pulled back the curtain to look outside. There was nothing, and still she had the pricking sensation of being watched. Ena went and sat back down, and tried to continue reading.

The sound of glass smashing in the dining room had Ena on her feet again. Her heart was racing as she peered around the corner, into the next room. A man in black was trying to climb through the window he had just smashed. Ena ran into the living room, and picked up the phone, calling the police as fast as she could. There came a yelp from the dining room and then silence.

“What’s going on?” Alphin asked, sitting up in his chair, alert.

Ena held her finger to her lips “I think we are being burgled,” she whispered.

The police showed up on the scene within minutes. They searched the premises, while Ena and Alphin sat in the living room sipping tea, trying to calm their nerves. A little while later, the police returned from their patrol of the area. An interesting turn of events, the police actually caught the men who had tried to break into the O’Brien’s house! One man had been found hiding in the bushes at the edge of the O’Brien’s property.

It was an odd statement he gave the police. He claimed that just as we was about to enter into the O’Brien’s house, something grabbed his shoulder. Thinking it was his partner; he turned to tell him to stop messing around, and keep watch for the police. It was not his partner he saw behind him.

There stood a tall woman; she wore a white flowing gown, her hair was wild and unkempt. Angry black eyes stared out at him; her mouth was open in an eternal wail. In her hand she carried a bag, which dripped a substance, blood. The would be thief backed slowly away from the house. Then the creature let out an unearthly cry, and charged. Running for dear life, the man jumped into the bushes, and waited there until the police found him. Needless to say, he was quite shaken.

Alphin died that Sunday. There were days that Ena hoped would never end and now would never be again. Through the pain of her loss however, she knew there was someone watching out or her. When it was her time to part this earth, Ena hoped to great death as a friend.

The Adventure of Two Would Be Photographers

    The day was beautiful, clear skies as far as the eye could see, not a cloud marred the perfect tranquil blue. I had gotten the idea in my head the night before, that I wanted to take pictures, and this was the perfect day for it. Shae called at nine, to see if our photography session was still the plan for the day. I was so excited, I sprang out of bed! Birds flew in through my window to dress me, and I hummed a lovely tune………WAIT! WAIT!…… hold on just a darn minute, that sounds like Cinderella. Oh yeah, that’s right. Ok, so then let’s rewind a bit. Shae called me at nine, and asked me if we were still going to be taking photos today. I was excited! However I didn’t spring out of bed, per say. It was more like I drug one leg at a time, out of bed, and then stumbled to Keurig, and inserted a coffee IV.

    After I was satisfactorily functional, I started to get ready. I don’t normally have too many places that I go, where I can get really dressed up, so it is quite a treat to be able to do this, and I relished it. I curled and primped my hair and blah, blah, blah, blah blah…….you guys really don’t want to hear all of that, do you? After I had gotten ready, I wandered over to Shae’s house, where she was outside killing bees. We each have our own way of getting our artistic juices flowing, and killing bees is the way she does it…ok? You got a problem with that?

   Shae’s little boy Toccoa went with us. I don’t know if I have said this before, and if you have heard me say it before, then I guess you will just have to hear me say it again. Toccoa, is the coolest little kid to walk the earth, no doubt, hands down. He was excited to be coming with. I would like to think, that it was because Toccoa was looking forward to an adventure of his own, really I think it was because he knew he was going to get to watch two apparently “grown up” women, goof around, taking pictures. Toccoa was down with the plan.

   We drove to a side road, not far from where we live. The road is not normally busy, today however, everyone and their brother were driving on this road. On our way to our destination, we passed an Umbrella Girl. Shae and I conspicuously looked ahead, not wanting to make eye contact. The whole time driving, I would ask:

“Do you think I’ve gone far enough? Should I pull over?”

Shae replied, “No go a bit further.”

Me, “How about now?”

Shae, “I don’t know.”

  Finally, I just pulled over, and we hopped out. We had a plan, we had a goal, we had the vision, nothing could stand in our way…..expect for the cars that kept speeding by us. We farted around, by the side of the road for about 20 minutes. Shae got a call from her husband. He suggested that we backtrack, and go down a less busy road. This sounded like a good enough idea to us, and so we were off once again. The whole thing started once more:

“Do you think I’ve gone far enough? Should I pull over?”

Shae, “There is nothing really here to take photos by.”

Me, “How about now?”

Shae, “I don’t know.”

Me, “Hey look there is a cool little farm with iron gates, let’s go there.”

Shae, “Ok.”

  Once again, we got out of the car. Ready to model and prance before the camera. We approached the gates, all was quiet. Until we were just inside the gates. Then we heard growling just feet from the gates. A large German Shepard, started to run towards us. I pretty sure what happened next went down like this:

Me, “Oh Fuck!”

Shae, “Oh Shit!”

Me, “Cheese it!”

Shae, “I’m getting the fuck out of here!”

  We took off fast, I could have sworn, that Shae was right behind me. Until I was halfway to the car. I turned and saw the stroller had gotten stuck on a rock. It was then we noticed, that the dog was on a chain. A deep sigh of relief. And Toccoa you ask? It didn’t even faze him, see what I mean? Coolest kid ever. By this time we had decided, we had enough of our artistic venture. Plans were discussed to take pictures the following week in Motta. So ends our story, of the two would be photographers. And they ate lunch happily ever after.

Mysteries Of The Liffey River

   Mythology, mystery, and magic deep, what riddles do they keep? These three words call into question what you know, what is reality. Let’s be honest, anyone who thinks they have experienced everything this world has to offer, is deceiving themselves, they are well and truly naive. One man alone cannot claim to have touched the deepest parts of the ocean floor, or visited the very top of the sky. Nor can they claim, to have traveled every square inch of the earth, and turned over every rock and stone, to see what lay beneath.

   It was 1901. Young Callum Lynch was excited; he skipped and let out a joyful “Whoop”. After weeks of persistently asking to be taken fishing, his father finally relented at last. Skies were calm and clear. The Liffey was as smooth as ice, not one ripple on the surface. Seagulls flew overhead, squawking. Street vendors peddled their goods. Horse’s hooves clopped gently on the cobbles, as they pulled wagons behind them. It was a fine day, filled with hustle and bustle.

   As father and son approached the banks of the Liffey, Callum ran ahead, picking up stones, attempting to skip them on the clear water. His father called, “Now Son, you don’t want to be doing that, you’ll chase off all the good fish. Come here then, and help me get these poles ready, there’s a good lad.”

  “Do you think we will catch anything big?” asked Callum excited, as he ran back to where his father stood, putting bait and tackle on the fishing poles. “I want to catch a shark,” he announced bravely, sticking out his chest.

  “Well now,” said his father, smiling down at him “That remains to be seen. A shark you say?” he asked Callum. “There are more things in heaven and earth,” he said winking.

   Callum’s father spent half an hour teaching him how to cast his line, and then reel it back in. A gentle breeze made its way up the Liffey, gently tossing Callum’s hair. “This is nice, “thought Callum. He greatly admired his Da; he was the bravest, strongest person he knew. Callum felt certain, that if his Da were to fight a lion, that his Da would win.

   There came a sharp tug on Callum’s line. “I got one, I got one!” he yelled jumping excitedly. Looking out at where his line was located, something large shifted, just below the water. “It’s a shark, it’s a shark,” Callum cried madly as he tried to yank his line in. His father reached out and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, in an attempt to quiet him down.

“Be still,” said his father in a low voice, pointing out at the water.

   What Callum saw, stayed with him until the day he died. It came out of the water slowly, they saw the top of the head first. It had a mop of stringy black hair, just below were two piercing grey blue eyes, as slash for where the mouth should’ve been. On the side of its head were gills. A webbed hand reached out of the water, grasping desperately, trying to loosen the hook that had gotten stuck in one of its gills. Its skin was covered in grey scales that shimmered in the light .

“Whoa,” shouted Callum.

  The creature looked up sharply. With a flash, it darted back under the surface. The fishing line pulled taught and Callum let out a yelp. He came mere inches from almost falling face first into the water. At the last moment, his father just was able to reach out and grab him by the suspenders. Callum turned to looked at his father. He was as white as a sheet.

“Da,” Callum asked timidly “What was that?

His father didn’t reply

“Da,” Callum said more insistently “What was that?”

“I don’t know son,” said his father weakly.

   That was the last and only time, Callum’s Da had discussed what had happened. That day was thrust into the annals of family lore, never to be spoken of again. It was as if they believed by avoiding the topic all together, they could make what they saw vanish from their memories.

Borp Chronicles

So, I am sure the first thing to run across your mind is: What the hell is a Borp. A Borp is my brother Jordan. This has been his nickname since he was very small. So what is a Borp? You can’t find it in the dictionary, because there is no definition. However I can explain, to the best of my ability, what a Borp, my brother Jordan, really is.

  Jordan is the closest sibling to me, in that he is just a year younger. Growing up, he was a mild, easy going child. The door to his bedroom, entered directly into mine. Saturday mornings were filled with him, coming into my room, in his white long johns, and saying  “Kaye, do you want to play Barbie’s?” I can’t say that I was always the nicest sister, and at times would be very irritable towards him, and yell at him to get out of my room, and he would scamper off, because his feelings had been hurt.

   We always joked, and said that Jordan had inherited “The Haggerty Dingy Gene.” Which now looking back, I am pretty certain that each one of us children inherited that gene; Jordan just got a double dose. Up until Jordan hit puberty, he had a very high voice, and when he would get upset he would say things in a very high pitched tone. This is funny, when you know that Jordan’s voice didn’t start to change, until he was well over six feet. Equally funny, was when Jordan’s voice started to get deeper, I had endless hours of amusement, imitating his voice.

   As a small child, Jordan loved to jam rocks, sticks, and cat food, up his nose, and ears. My Mom would only be able to tell, because he would have a trickle of blood coming out of his nose or ears. Mom would have to go and get the tweezers, and then have to physically catch Jordan, because when he knew what was coming, he took off running. She would have to restrain Jordan on her lap, while she did this, the whole time he flailed his arms and legs.

    Jordan loved to chase cats when he was little. He loved grabbing their tails. Cats however didn’t like Jordan as much, and would take off in different directions when he showed up on the scene. There was one time, my brother Joseph, was supposed to have been watching Jordan. Joseph turned his back for one second and Jordan was off chasing a cat. Not always being coordinated, Jordan was prone to many accidents, however, when he didn’t want to be caught; he could give you a run for your money. This was the case with Joseph, and he had to exert quite a bit of energy, into catching Jordan.

   One day my Mom got a call from the school. They told her that Jordan had been hurt and she needed to come at once. Mom got to the school, to find Jordan sitting in the nurse’s office, holding a tissue to his nose. My Mom wanted to know what happened. The hall monitor told my Mom, that he had found Jordan lying face down, in the hallway, crying. Jordan claimed that someone had pushed him. When they got home, Jordan confessed the real story. He had been walking in the hallway, when he had tripped over his shoe laces. Rather than get up, he just laid there crying until the hall monitor helped him up.

   Pork and Beans were the way to Jordan’s heart. If you wanted him to do anything, all you had to do was tell him you would give him Pork and Beans, and he would do whatever you wanted. I remember him sitting in his highchair, in an old sailor hat, grinning from ear to ear, covered in Pork and Beans.

   There was one time; my Mom was walking with Jordan and my little sister Amanda, to Little Grandpa’s. Jordan started to trip. Rather than drop his Pork and Beans, Jordan elected to fall face first.

  If you looked up the word gullible in the dictionary, you would see Jordan’s face. My sister Beth took advantage of this. Oranges were a huge treat for us growing up. Beth had convinced Jordan, that rather than eating the actual orange itself, that the peels, were the best. So, while Beth demolished off the orange in two bites, Jordan sat there chewing on orange peels, making a sour face.

   Summers were filled with vacations. One summer we visited my Aunt Molly in Albuquerque, New Mexico. My Aunt, Grandpa, Grandma, Jordan and myself had taken a trip to a nature trail. While the rest of the group took off, Jordan and I hung back. I started picking on Jordan. Getting annoyed Jordan decided to join the rest of the group, and took off running. He ran up behind Grandma yelling “Grandma, Grandma, Grandma,” in an attempt to get her attention. Just as he got right behind her, Grandma decided to pass gas. Jordan’s face went white, and he faintly said “Ughhhh Grandma.”

  My Aunt Marcie and my brother Jordan were two peas in a pod. Every family function, you could find the two of them hanging out in the basement, we fondly called them Cellar Dwellers, and Family Guy Disciples. They would hang out and play video games, or invent list of songs no one would ever listen to, or invent products that no one would ever buy. Marcie made it a ritual to call Jordan once a week, to which I dubbed the name ‘The Fireside Chats.’

  On January 23, 2008, that all changed forever. My Aunt Marcie was involved in a pedestrian automobile accident. Here is the link:
http://www.winonapost.com/stock/functions/VDG_Pub/detail.php?choice=22892&home_page=&archives=1

  Jordan lost his best friend that day, no his other half. My heart ached equally at the loss of Marcie as for Jordan. A part of him died that day. Many days I have wished I could go back in time and change what happened. My heart still aches for Jordan.

  I wanted to write this to let Jordan know how much I love him. I am happy to have him in my life. I am proud to call him my brother, I am proud to call him my friend.

Memories Of An Extraordinary Woman

    "Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body. But rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, wine in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming “WOO HOO what a ride!"

    They say the best stories come from real life. The other night I had an idea. Thinking back on my 24 years, I remembered people who had made a marked difference in my life. Who helped to mold me into the person that I am today. After all without this person I would not exist. Allow me to share with you my memories of my Great-Grandma Mary B. Blahnik.

    I always felt very privileged to share the same birthday as my Great-Grandma (April 28). GG, had a way of making you feel special, which was saying a lot, at her passing, the number of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren was well over fifty. So yes, I come from a very large family.

    GG, lived in the rural countryside, near Spring Valley Minnesota. She owned a very large and very old farm. Going there was like taking a giant step back in time. The house in which she lived was big and white, surrounded by large red barns and deep woods. About a mile or so from her house was a limestone quarry, where we would walk and collect agates. When summer rolled around we would go to the A&W Root beer stand. If you brought your own jugs, they would fill them up from the tap. This was quite a treat.

    In the spring, GG's yard was smothered in Blue Bells (which my brother Jordan would always try to "transplant" somewhere else in GG's yard, as if she didn't have enough Blue Bells). Being the middle child, I had to continually be coming up with ways to entertain myself, and at GG's there was a plethora of things to do and get into. The woods that surrounded GG's house were thick with ferns. I remember taking them and weaving them and making "forts" which would always cave in on me.

    GG was as old as the hills, ever since I knew her. A very independent woman, even as she lost her eye sight. She always insisted on driving herself when she could, which understandably made my Grandma (whom raised me) nervous.

   There was one such incident that I remember. Grandma had mentioned that GG was going to come and visit, and looked worried because GG had decided to drive herself. We kept watch out for her. Sure enough sometime later, here came GG's big 1960's red and white beater creeping down the road, with GG peeking over the steering wheel. My Grandma was relieved and I at eight, was very impressed and in awe of GG making it all that way.

    I remember another time when GG had come to visit. She was helping my Grandma get dinner ready. In a corner of the kitchen she was peeling potatoes. My Grandma always listened to polkas when she was in the kitchen. I had gone in there dancing and prancing and shaking my butt to polkas, near GG's chair. All of a sudden she reach out and pinched my butt! I jumped and looked back and she was grinning.

   Well, this did not stand with me. So I waited until she got up and was washing her hands at the sink and then I pinched her butt. I'm pretty sure she did not swat me, simply because I had the nerve, and the cheek to return the pinch.

   GG passed away on July 17, 2005. There was not a dry eye in the church. She went out in a blaze of glory, living every day full, and treating each day as if it were her last, surrounded by friends and loved ones. At her funeral they played "The River" by Garth Brooks. That song embodies my GG in every way.

   About Two years ago my Great-Uncle Fred Blahnik, took all the stories that GG had written down about her life and put them together in a book called: "The Hardest Life I Could Ever Love." I know I am biased when I say this: It is a very good book and a read that I recommend.

  My love of writing is something that GG passed down to me. I owe so much to her. She had an everlasting effect on my life. Wherever she is, I hope that she can see me, and feel proud of the woman I have become.