Once upon a time I was a black dog...

I was chained
then she appeared
with her sleek black hair
she released my clip
magic hair
I followed her home
all night I was scared
she held me
I whimpered
she held me
all night
then I was found
and became her
black dog

Oh, Seventeen ...

I remember sometime around the age of seventeen being confronted by my drunken mother and brother-in-law, who were asking me, "what are you going to DO WITH THE REST OF YOUR LIFE?"

I think this is an insane question to ask of a 17-year-old in the first place. I felt pinned like a butterfly to a board, and I had no answers, only fear and anger. It seemed for years that question was written in blood on the bathroom mirror.

Robyn got me out of there and away, thank you forEVER Rob. It is REALLY REALLY hard to be 17, then and now. We must rebel in order to become our truest self; we cannot take others' advice, because they have their own lives and views. We must make mistakes, because that is how we learn what is not right for us.

Let us remember how it felt to be an adult on the outside and a child on the inside ... let us recall how painful it was to be facing the world and not knowing which direction to take. Let us remember that we do not know the best for others, and that the inner promptings, for right or wrong, are what we all have to follow.

photo booth dream book

here's a flash from the past...

O'Muireadhaigh-O'Flaithfhileadh

our very own hyphenated name.

Sisters: charcoal rendition of photo booth picture

Gangsta & the Nun

Botz in 1977

I believe this is the photo I worked from to do the painting below. According to the note in my scrapbook, it is from the summer of 1977. Botz looks her beatiful, intense self, with her halo of hair surrounded by the lovely soft white of the bathroom curtains. MMMMMM...

summer's end

dear 918 sisters...

here is the end of summer and another turn of the wheel. autumn often meant sadness for mom, with the end of visitors and family reunions and the busyness and commotion of family. back-to-school days for her children and up came the memories of deep depression, and loneliness, the harsh wisconsin winters ahead...the party is over...big sigh.

for dad i think it was a deeply rewarding time, the end of busyness and the coming of quiet, going inward, pulling out the old sweaters and rakes and cherry blend tobacco and pipe. i remember him smiling to the skies in the back yard with his red knit sweater on and the sweet smell from the pipe blending with the autumn leaves and fresh air is with me in the fall.

well, 918, i might not be able to participate as fully for a couple of months because the computer will not be as available to me, but i have to say what a pleasure it has been to read your posts and see your pictures...immensely enjoyable. i wish poet would share more of her wonderful self in this blog, and i wish S enjoyed being a part of this but...all is perfect in the way of it...as is.

this is a painting of enjah's of botz in 1975 when i joined her in portland. beautiful isn't it?

love, b

the artist in nyc

botz's drawing of enjah in manhattan at a cafe near MOMA, the year of the great move to NYC.

robyn reading

during one of our many journeys back home, i found a quiet moment to draw robyn reading.

bb's self portrait

here's a pen & ink drawing from the monroe st. times on christmas day, 1974.

robyn's drawing

robyn drew this of botz in 1973. beautiful shadows and light.

enjah's portrait of botz

here is a portion of the original painting by enjah of botz painted somewhere in the mid to late 1970's in portland. soon i will take a photo of this scrumptious painting and post it in it's entirety. the pinks below, presently unseen, are delicious.

Dream of Betsy

Many years ago, I dreamed of Betsy standing under a gingko tree, with the shadows of the leaves on her hair, dress and skin. I even did a painting, but I have no idea where it went (typical of me).

Mackinac Island family history

I have wanted to see Mackinac island. Our family linage, David Earle, Pvt and Martha Earle had a farm on the Island. On August 4 of 1814 there was a battle between the British and Americans on the Earley Farm (now the Wawashkamo Golf links) during the war of 1812.
David and Martha's son (our great great grandfather) Michael Earley married Mary O'Malley. My linage information states that Mary O'Malley may have been buried on the Island.
I invite anyone else to add more information.
Rob

Three Flashes from the Past

These images are consecutive in my sketchbook from 1977. I went to Green Bay to visit my children and parents, was there with Robyn and Botz, then we drove a "Drive-Away" car, a Mercedes Benz, out on I-90, through Madison, to Portland. My recollection is that on the way we climbed that Mound and saw those flares or whatever they were.

Strangely Coincidental

As this sign states, there was a huge forest fire in the area of Black River Falls in late April, 1977, just a few months before we climbed Bell Mound. Bell Mound itself is mentioned as having burned in just a few minutes. Click on the picture to read the sign. I still wonder what those flares/UFOs were.

Little Women

I read this particular copy of Little Women several times. It is still in existence because I cannot bear to throw it out. The binding is mended with cellophane tape!

The paper is yellow and crumbling, the cheap binding is falling apart. The words are still alive and priceless.

1988 at 918

Happy would-be birthday!

HAPPY B-DAY PAPA!

Dad's 100th Birthday

I dreamed I had died and was on the other side last night.
I'm going release Dad's ashes for his birthday in 2008 when he turns 100.

Otter Lake

http://www.pbase.com/trwtrw/the_quinlan_family

check this website out. Wonderful family photos!

FAMILY LABELS

Every family tends to label it's family members...this is how i remember it!!



Poet the Responsible One



S-----the Comedian








Enjah the Genius








Robyn the Artist







Botz the Dreamer

peggy's birthday

June 8th at 918 always meant birthday cake...and
chocolate covered peanuts, and frosted glasses of beer,
lots of laughs and sassy jokes,
a card game somewhere,
a hot temper somewhere else,
but mostly a lively bunch on this yearly return.
our mother was born in 1916.
cheers to Peggy!

The Golden Age of Popsicles

During the 50s, there were popsicles that no one tastes any more ... sadly. Popsicles were also joined two to a pack. You had to split them apart, leaving a jagged edge with a different texture from the ultra smooth outer surfaces.

If you are an ancient one, you may remember:
Rootbeer
Blueberry
Banana
Lime

Maybe you even remember other flavors I have forgotten. Now I go to get a package of popsicles and it is Orange, Grape, and Cherry. I guess those were the most popular flavors. Now they have Tropical flavors, too, but that is not rootbeer!

My Nature Abused

A broken branch
I grew
like a river split
in two

I reach back
hold that child,
shield that baby,
heal my baby-girl
who is me

One river
one tree
a woman grown

A Family Christmas 1963

Apparently Sherry took this picture with her Polaroid, because she is not in the photo at all, nor is Mom. I guess someone said something amusing, because Dad is laughing, and everyone else is smiling. I am not amused, but I no longer remember what was going on inside this pouting teenage girl.

Seated, from left to right:
Peter, Anne, Dillis, Ellen
Standing, from left to right:
Botz, Robyn, Dad

918 reborn 1965

Sure feels good to have this site come back to life.

yup, it's #4

Boxing and Wrestling

Dad enjoyed watching boxing and wrestling on television in the 50s, and I would watch it with him. I slowly became more and more repulsed by the violence of boxing and the mock violence of wrestling. I remember seeing "Gorgeous George", a platinum blonde wrestler who used to throw his hairpins into the audience as mementoes. I saw Rocky Graziano and other fighters.

I am not sure why these activities are any better than dog fighting, cock fighting or bull baiting. I would not ban them, because these people are fighting voluntarily, but I find it repugnant in the extreme.

Whatever Happened to Peanuts and Carrots

Long ago, there were two little redheads who used to come to dinner. One or the other would arrive, announcing her name, since they were two members of apparent triplets who all lived in our household. The third one was Botz, who we know as our sister, but these others claimed not to be related to us in any way. The fact that they were identical in looks to Botz made us suspect otherwise.

Peanuts and Carrots both had the same food preferences as Botz, although I think they really loved the foods after which they were named, as well.

I have often wondered what happened to these little girls since then! Maybe Botz can enlighten us?

The Yellow Bus

Yeah, I admit it, this started out as a black and white 1955 Ford. But OH the memories when it is yellow!

The Quarry

All the teenagers in our area used to swim at THE QUARRY. It was a flooded limestone quarry, and it had a sexy aura ... When the kids swam there, I got the impression that it was a place for mating. I went once, found the water deep and cold and green. There were kids diving off the precipitous sides into the deep areas (picture Acapulco without waves). Rumor had it that some kid (or maybe more than one) had died there, probably having dived onto a hidden limestone shelf in the water.

I doubt there was a lifeguard ... I don't remember one. Sadly, when I got to be a high school student, no one seemed to want to go to The Quarry any more, but I still think of it as our town's Riviera.

918

wood housed memories
penny nails secured
wallpaper charged with mood
furniture rotated around rooms
family not comforted