Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Three Word Wednesday- Third Eye



Three Word Wednesday- Third Eye

Heave; verb: [With object] lift or haul (a heavy thing) with great effort; [with object] produce (a sigh); [no object] rise and fall rhythmically or spasmodically; noun: An act of heaving, especially a strong pull.
Ponder; verb: Think about (something) carefully, esp. before making a decision or reaching a conclusion.
Valid; adjective: (Of an argument or point) having a sound basis in logic or fact; reasonable or cogent; legally binding due to having been executed in compliance with the law; legally or officially acceptable.

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This is a WIP I'm working on, a book it is tentatively called  Wake
                                      
                                                                                        Third Eye

      My name is Mary Katherine Kendall, but I and others call myself Kiki, just don’t do it in my grandmother’s presence. I live with grandmother and my mother on the banks of the Thames in the city of London, Ontario, Canada. My father is deceased-we think- but that is a story I will tell you another day.  Like most young women I have led a sheltered life but living with Grandmother Yarborough has made it even more so.
Harriet Yarborough, my grandmother is the epitome of upper crust, still lived in a world of long ago where women dressed a certain way. Women acted a certain way; were sweet, demure, and coddled men. Women were brought up to be the wife of a man, to encourage, enrich and make him the perfect life partner. Daughters and granddaughters married well and enriched the family coffers, so Grandmother felt that made her vision valid.

     Grandmother Yarborough felt that at twenty three, I had let the family down, all because I had graduated from Western University. Women did not seek higher education except to find a spouse. I felt like she compared me and all other women to ornamental pieces on a chest board, chattel for the families to sell to the highest bidder.
Her garden parties and her constant set-ups with her friends' sons were getting more and more common. I couldn’t turn around without bumping into this one or that one's son. My mother’s disgust that said a first class education hadn’t netted me a man befitting our station.

      What decade did the woman live in? It was eighteen eighty two, not eighteen hundred and nine the year she was born. My life altered a year ago and not for the better. The day everything changed and my family treated me as if I were glass. If only the accident hadn't happened. I’m sure a number of people in the city said that.
It was the Queen’s birthday, May twenty fourth, eighteen eighty one, a day that will forever be engraved in Londoners' minds. Grandmother surprised us all by saying that would have a picnic in Springbank Park. Mother had taken to her bed with a cold; however,so we went without her. We arrived in the park, and I watched as others too enjoyed the warm day. The servants unpacked a feast fit for the Queen. We celebrated.

We had our picnic, and it grew late the servants were packing up the fine linen and the china dishes and goblets when Grandfather Kendall suddenly appeared.

     “Good day to you, ladies. Our sovereign is sixty-two years old today. Happy birthday to her, and God save our Queen.”
     “It is so vulgar that we know Queen Victoria’s age.  If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t mention it,” Grandmother responded.
     “If all ladies look as good at sixty-two and had all those children, we would all be lucky men.”
    “Disgusting, you are a repulsive old man,” Grandmother had replied angrily.
    “I hope that’s not what you tell all your gentlemen callers, Essie,” he had quipped.
    “You, as my gentlemen caller? Never again, Kendall, will I fall for your foolish talk,” she had said dismissively turning her head.
   “Aw, Essie, you know you like me,” he had said, his eyes twinkling, a ready smile on his lips. “The Victoria has a boat tour down the river .Come with us, dear lady.” He had asked, holding up three tickets, one for him, one for me, and one for Grandmother.
   “My name is Esther, not Essie and I did not give you leave to call me by my first name. I do not like the water, Benjamin. If you knew me at all you would remember that,” Grandmother had responded.
    “Aw, Essie, if you tried it. You would like it. Just because your brother held you under the water once…”he began.
   “This discussion has ended. By all rights, I should forbid you to take my granddaughter on this foolish trip down the river. She cannot swim,” Grandmother had responded angrily.
   “Oh my dear Esther, I have taught her to swim when she was young,” Grandfather replied, laughing.
   “You did what? Do you know how seemly that was a young lady swam in the river? What contagions might be in there?” Grandmother asked.

Grandmother angrily threw back her shoulders her breath heaving, she stamped her foot in frustration. If I hadn’t known before, I would have pondered that conversation, but I knew that long ago they had dated. Grandmother had broken off the relationship with my paternal grandfather and married Henry Yarborough, making my parent’s relationship like Romeo and Juliet. When Grandmother found out she forbid the relationship and encouraged an engagement to a Howard Cleveland. Of course mother eloped with father and grandmother was less than pleased.

  I realized the conversation had gone on without me, and I hurried to acknowledge my part in it.

   “It was years ago Grandmother that Grandfather taught me to swim,” I responded, trying to mollify her.
  “You, young woman, should not keep things from me. I have told you before your grandfather is an foolish old man, who does not think before he acts; so therefore you must think first before following him,” Grandmother insisted.
  “She was safe, Essie. I would guard her with my life. Our granddaughter is always my top priority,” Grandfather had responded with great seriousness.
  “Very well, then.” Grandmother had agreed.

   It was the last run of the day for the boat. We boarded near the first of the throng that boarded the boat. A never ending stream of people began to board the boat. I was surprised at the great number of people who chose this ride. The boat pulled away from the shore and I became uneasy. This boat had a double deck, but it seemed like too many people to me for such a small boat. Grandfather too looked worried.
   “I want to go talk to the captain. Come with me Mary Katherine,” he had demanded.

    I followed as we pushed our way through the crowds. There were far too many people. What were they thinking to sell so many tickets?

   I wouldn’t be surprised if we were taking on water,” Grandfather stated as he tried to push through the thick crowd of people.
  “But if we take on water won’t we sink?” I asked, frightened.
  “Not if my friend, Captain Rankin, notices how many people there. He is a wonderful captain and can pilot a boat with ease. He’ll take us to shore,” Grandfather reassured me. “Oh, see, he’s turned the boat. I believe he’s headed back to shore. No worries, my dear child.”
  “We’re very close to that bridge,” I had commented, worried that even with Grandfather’s valid argument we were in danger.
  “That’s Cove Bridge, my dear. This won’t take long we will be back on shore before you know it,” Grandfather responded. “I think he’s going for the sandbar at the park there.”
   Just then, I heard a cry go up as the crowd shouted, “Look at the rowers racing, and there is the Louise. The Louise isn’t as fine a boat as this one.”

The crowd raced to the other side of the boat even as Grandfather yelled, “No, don’t you’ll tip the boat. Run to the other side before we tip.”
  “Look out Mary Katherine look out.” he yelled.

The deck crumbled beneath my feet, and the upper deck that we were standing on smashed into the lower one. Thrown violently into the water rushing below, I felt something hit my head and knew no more.

© Sheilagh Lee February 20,2013


On May 24 , 1881 the Victoria, a  steamer overcrowded, capsized shortly after passing some rowers on the Thames.Witnesses said the crowd rushed to one side of the boat to see the rower's race and the boat was swamped. Over six hundred people were on board though the captain had told them to evict some, few however disembarked before the boat left the shore. When the boat capsized an estimated two hundred, to   two hundred and fifteen people died. Most families in London,Ontario, Canada lost one or more members.
cc. http://images.maritimehistoryofthegreatlakes.ca/59596/data

10 comments:

  1. yes it was. I've often thought of those people wondered about them since I saw their memorial plaque when I was young.

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  2. This is such a sad story. I hate to see her drown like that. Does she regain consciousness in time to save herself or does someone save her? What of her grandfather? You aren't ending it here, are you?

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  3. She didn't drown though something happens that makes them treat her like glass. I'll post a little more of the story next week.

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  4. I love the set-up, lady! Glad to hear this isn't a ghost telling the story, too.

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  5. Another tragedy must also be that an educated woman was seen as a failure - i hope that is changing..another diverse and interesting tale..

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  6. What a tragedy. Your narration kept me hooked till the end. Great narration!

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  7. thank you Susan.
    It was a tragedy Jae Rose how in the eighteen hundreds some families did not value educated women.That has certainly changed but there are still pockets in the world as we all know that try to keep women uneducated.

    Thank you Panchali

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  8. Amazing narration...almost feels like you have seen it...

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