The following little ditty was written for this bonnie Irish lass by me favorite bonnie Irish lass (& co-conspirator) Olga/MikesMaddie. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have!
IRISH/ITALIAN LOVE CHARMS
You have two men,
One is the eagle of the Celts,
The other the bagel of the Italian den.
The Irish mick goes by the name Mike,
The Italian treat is called as Tony,
Either one could well lighten up your night,
And wrap you up in love's glory.
However, you have no idea of who to choose,
Because they are both cut of a cloth of jewels,
It's neither of them you want to lose,
But with only one you can live the rules.
So, who is it to be for this bonnie lass?
The Mediterranean honey or the Celtic lord?
From both, you will receive love's pass,
To only find that your heart may lose to the sword.
Still, do you really need to on one just settle?
Of both, you greatly admire,
And to be the light of both is no less your mettle,
Therefore, let them both richly light your fire.
A warning before you read this--here is when you need the tissues...I'm still wiping up the tears!
Mike Logan was in no hurry to vacate the booth in the bar. The bar of "The Blue Wall" was a popular hangout for the 2-7 crowd & on ths particular night, Mike needed solace. He wasn't really interested in a quick fumble about in the sheets & nor did he want to catch the latest diamond plays of his beloved Yankees. Instead, he wanted to take in the lilting strains of the Celtic music floating about his head & immerse himself in a good, stout and frothy beer.
If he had had to make a mental inventory of this week, Mike would truly tell you that it had been good. Sure, some of the cases were bitches from hell but that's the sort of lumps you took as a detective of the streets. Besides, Mike had it a lot better than his father, the beat cop who died too young for his time. Francis Logan was the talk of his precinct, the 3-2. Anyone who was anyone tooted on about his heroic escapades as he made numerous street apprehensions of criminals.
When you grew up with that sort of notoriety, you wondered if your chosen career path would take you in the same glorious direction. A thought that sure nagged Mike from time to time but then, he was his own man. A loner, emotionally, Mike would have given anything just to have his dad stop being a hero for one damn second and pay some attention to him & his other siblings. It would have offset the cruel, punishing regard his mother had for her brood.
Mike grew up knowing what the sound of a hand making harsh contact with the face felt like. Numerous times he had been on the receiving end of it & it was never a time that he could get through without some anger. To cry in front of Colleen Logan was the greatest sin, indeed, as it showed just too much of your weakness. You stood there, were brave about it, & let her beat the tar out of you if she was so inclined to do. And Mike knew all too well about that.
One particular time, he had come home from parochial school late and that was only because Father Shaughnessy did insist on drilling the vespers into the students' heads. Mike was supposed to have been home for 4:00 p.m. as he was to look after his younger sister, Mary. However, one Johnny O'Sullivan decided to be a rabblerouser & picked a fight with Brandon Meara. Father Shaughnessy was so riled up about that, that he caned the two & kept the rest of the group in well after the 3:45 stopping time. In fact, Mike did not arrive home until well near 4:45 p.m.
As he scurried home, Mike was working over in his mind what exactly to tell his mother. However he knew that no matter what, the truth would never satisfy her. It never did. Colleen Logan was an embittered woman who felt completely neglected by a father that had abandoned her when she was young & that left her with so many feelings of resentment & misery. She was no more equipped to be a mother than her father had been to be a father to her, at the time he took off away from her and her mother. But the relationship with Colleen's mother was always of the best. And one secret that really kept it bonded was that they both kept the truth of the existence of Colleen's children away from Colleen's father, Brendan. But, nevertheless, the past always caught Colleen in a bind & her own children would be the ones she would untangle the knots upon.
So, on this particular day, Mike would be the unlucky recipient of his mother's wrath. That day, up until that point, had been moving along quite nicely. Most of the children were out of the house. Mike & Frank were at school & Brendan was working over at the rec centre. Which left Mary at home with her mother. Mary was a wise child beyond her years & knew enough to stay out of the sight of her mother. Nevertheless, Mary felt so alone & needed her "pillar", Mike, to support her. But she didn't make a peep to it as she didn't want to be next on her mother's 'hit list'.
Mike got home & silently prayed to the heavens & crossed himself for good measure. "Oh, man. Let's hope this one doesn't take too long," Mike thought to himself. When he walked in through the front door & saw the small frame of his mother looking large in her fury, he knew that he would be in for a long haul of this. Knowing this by heart, Mike dutifully dropped his schoolbag & walked calmly & surely over to his mother. never mind that his insides were shaking like the leaves but you never showed your fear to Colleen Logan. That was your end if you did.
"Now where have you been, young man?" Colleen boomed at her young son. It didn't help that she was holding her hands on her hips. A surefire indication that she would soon be using those hands, in torturous ways, upon Mike. Mike looked up directly at his mother & with that still pre-adolescent squeaky voice of his uttered, "I was late from school because Johnny & Brandon got into a punch up & Father Shaughnessy gave them a belting & kept the rest of us in after school. I did explain to him that I had to be home to take care of Mary but he would'nt listen to me." That was all Colleen was going to listen to because right afterwards, she squarely belted Mike across the face.
Mike, being the brave boy he was, let her him him. The pain in those hazelly gray eyes of his was masked by his rigid compliance to this. He stood determinedly on his ground and let his mother strike him again & again & again until the blood was making a clear & messy trickle down along his face, his school uniform & onto the floor.Colleen had no care of it ruining her floor. All she wanted was to ruin Mike for disobeying her & with each strike out, she managed to push him closer & closer to that precipice.
Meanwhile, little Mary was atop the landing taking in this latest scene of horror. She knew that her big brother Mikey was getting all beaten up because he wasn't home in time to take care of her. Mary, being of the independent Logan nature, knew that she didn't need anyone to take care of her physical needs but it sure helped to have a link there for when times got really rough. Mike was her hook. Brendan & Frank were too wrapped up in their own lives to even notice but Mikey wasn't. he was always around & looking out for her. He was even taking all of this abuse from their mother for her. What she really wanted to do was run down & pull her mother off of Mikey but she knew that if she did, Mikey would get it the worse & might even end up dead for it. So, she sat & cringed in horror at the sound of harsh hands making vicious contact with skin. And all those tears hat sue used to cry so fervently at night were now gone. They were replaced by an unshakeable wellspring of hatred & anger towards her mother & absolute sorrow for Mikey.
This session of abuse was over, for the time being. No doubt, Colleen would have something else to wail upon Mikey for, later on but Francis was coming home sono & the place had to be respectable for him. So, off Mikey was ordered to change & clean up the mess he had caused to appear on the floor.
Mike ran up the stairs as surely & as quickly as his legs could carry him. He stopped in complete shock & horror when he saw the determined look on his little sister's face. "You know, one day she will kill you & I'm going to be alone. Whatever will I do without you?" Mary silently whispered to her brother. Mike was stunned into silence by the absolute stark hatred in those eyes of his sister's. Even he couldn't feel that much all consuming anger toward his mother because a part of him still naively believed that she would work herself out of this.
But Mike had no answer for his sister. He looked at those eyes, a dark, violet shade, not unlike Elizabeth Taylor's. they were magnified even more by the intense rage blatantly shown in them. it was almost like a staring contest of the wills where Mike & Mary were concerned. Now the power struggle had transferred from Mike & his mother to Mike & his little sister.
A loud & booming voice broke off any further discussion over this: "Michael Francis Logan, your father will be home before we know it & I want this floor to be spick span clean for him. NOW!!!" Particulary emphasis was placed upon the word 'now'. If Mike didn't get to cleaning up the mess 'now', there may just not be a 'later' for him. So, without any more thought over it, Mike scurried down the hall & left Mary to her own malevolent thoughts.
Thirty years ago that awful memory had been created for Mike. A ten year old kid getting hit for something he hadn't even caused. Every other kid on the block would rush home in happiness to show their parents their latest school accomplishment. Not any of the Logan kids (especially Mike) did, though. The longer any of them could stay away from the house, the greater their chance for life survival increased.
Now, as Mike looked into the dregs of his beer, he took some time to take stock of what life had made for him. There was his little sister Mary, now a nun at the St. Peter's parish & even to this day, there was still the races of the intense anger for what their mother did to Mikey. Mary got off a lot luckier than her brothers because her brothers would take the hits meant for her. They wouldn't allow their mother to raise a hand to Mary. And while Mary was ever so grateful for it, the image of her brothers making the sacrifice for her was just something that she was never able to wrap her head around.
Frank was the writer of the family. No one ever stopped to think that Frank would ever take an interest in the written word but then, there were so many facets to Frank that no one would ever be able to get at the root of them. These days, Frank wrote a column for the NEW YORK TIMES. The column was usually on community events & every time there was a fundraiser for abused children taking place in some prt of the city, the tone of Frank's writing changed. No longer was the upbeat & wry sense of humour present. That was replaced by a bitterness that only Mike could detect because he knew well of it.
Brendan, like Mary, took the religious route & became a priest. He, too, was serving his God at St. Peter's. He felt safe & protected there & was able to look out for Mary. Brendan was the happiest of the bunch. Despite getting slapped around by Colleen, he found solace in the bible & prayed fervently each night that all of his life would be the better for him. It just took time & a lot of honest faith.
Colleen Logan was now dead herself. She hung herself about five years after her husband died but she was a hellion until the very end. Her children dutifully attended her funeral but it wasn't with true sorrow. More, it was a great & abiding sense of relief that the Logan children viewed their mother's death as.
All the Logan children had their paths to follow & while memories of the past may cloud their travels from time to time, they were content in the knowledge that they were living out their destinies. That is what held them together & kept life moving for them.
Nevertheless, on this night, Mike was feeling restless. There was a nagging sensation he felt in his soul & he couldn't shake it. Even the drink couldn't calm him enough to ignore it. But he didn't know what else he could turn to. Mike was not the sort of man who readily spilled his guts to anyone who would listen. He didn't even, half the time, acknowledge to himself what was going on in his head. But tonight, there was an impetus within him to find out what was going on with him & to do something to totally alleviate it.
But nothing seemed to be forthcoming in his mind. If he were the type to bay raucously at the moon, things might make an improvement for him but as he was, he was closed within himself & it was a might frightening feeling to be looking in on himself. Or should he think, he, out of his own body, looking down upon who he was.
Mike brushed back a lock of that glossy raven hair that always was falling in his eyes. All of his partners had ribbed him over that & told him that it was an obvious little boy indicator to the women. Max would tell him that it would tell ladies that he needed to be led down the right way. So, if that lock of hair could be tamed to stay off of his forehead, then the rest would be sure to follow. Thinking of that particular piece of advice made Mike smile wistfully. How much he missed Max Greevey & it was really at this point that he wished that Max were sitting across from him, waving the finger in his face & with that gentle twinkle in his eyes, good naturedly give him what for.
In different ways, both Phil & Lennie touched Mike, too. Phil was "Big Daddy" to Mike & he always would be. While Max had Mike summed up in his head & every so often, corralled Mike in, Phil let Mike have his space. Sure, Phil was there with the advice but it was with the implicit understanding that it was really up to Mike to decide his own course. But for all of the space, Mike really treasured that Phil silently was his 'bridge'. Phil took in all the anger & rage from Mike & bottled it up as his own. No weight was too great for "Big Daddy's" shoulders.
Lastly, there was Lennie. Lennie was the best of the wiseacres when he chose to be. There was always a big band song upon his lips & a carefree swing in his step. Of the three partners, Lennie was probably the most laidback & probably also the one who was really comfortable as a friend for Mike. Many a time Lennie & Mike would hit the baseball diamond or the basketball court. They ate out & hung around after work. And in his own way, Lennie helped Mike out. He didn't ride his tail like Max did & he didn't silently absorb all of Mike's hurts like Phil did but he shot the truth from his hip pocket to Mike in his own street smart way. Many of Lennie's analogies to Mike had something to do with his two ex-wives. Nevertheless, all joking aside, Lennie was there for Mike whenever Mike needed him.
It was the connection that makes police partner shine together. And Mike had been truly blessed to have found three different facets of that with three incredible partners.
Drinking up the last of his beer, Mike plunked some money down on the counter & signaled over to Casey, the owner of "The Blue Wall" that his bill was paid up. Then that Logan swagger, which was a little less spirited than normal (due to the thoughts churning around in his head), took Mike down past the bar stools, through the door, & out onto the ever unique streets of New York City. And with no other aim in mind, Mike started to walk to whevever he needed to go. He had no clue as to where that would be but he would know it when he fell across it.
The streets were where Mike felt the safest. All the insecurities he bottled up inside of him got completely buried when he put his foot to the pavement. New York City was the city where you could burrow yourself into the atmosphere. It was so crowded that there was almost no chance that your true heart or soul would ever glean through. Nobody had time for such 'distractions' in a city like this & for the mindset of Mike; it was the perfect thing.
The Logan swagger became more pronounced as Mike started to gather more steam cruising along the streets. Thoughts kept jumbling around in his head but the sights & the sounds around him kept such nagging bits at bay for him. But also, as he walked, a song took flight in his head. And the words were just spinning around him urging him to look farther ahead of him into the dark night:
"You belong to the city You belong to the night Living in a river of darkness Beneath the neon light
You were born in the city Concrete under your feet It's in your blood It's in your moves
You're a man of the street."
(excerpt from "You Belong to the City", sung by Glenn Frey)
Yes, indeed, Mike was a man of the those mean streets. He had seen so many miseries & atrocities to just about have done him in for a lifetime but then, he was a cop. This was in his blood. It finally was past the point where he was in this profession just to follow along in his father's footsteps. At this time, Mike was taking care of the crime on the streets because it was his life's destiny. This was what he was meant to do. But lately, those niggling memories of the past came rushing back to just about kick him flat on his keister.
What started out as a walk around the New York streets soon transformed itself into a full blown trot 'foot exorcism'. That song kept playing over & over in his head willing him to climb out of the 'river of darkness' & find the sunlight. He knew what that meant but damned if he knew how to go about it.
But alas, the answer, unknowingly to Mike, came in a split second of sudden clarity. The place he needed to go was the one place where all the anger could be tossed out of him. All he had to do was point himself in the right direction & have his feet carry him there. But only if his soul were as god willing as his feet, he might actually make it (in more ways than one).
Turning right around, Mike traversed those streets that he knew like the back of his hand. They were his compass to his 'rebirth'. If he could get to where he needed to be, then all the knots that his parents tied him up in would be fastly loosened & he could finally be able to move about in his own skin. It was only time & distance that separated Mike from his true discovery of all this.
Street by street passed & Mike was caring less about the niceties of walking. He was on a mission & come hell or highwater he was going to take its full course. It was just plain bad luck if any pedestrian was fool enough to get in his way or hold him back. And while Mike was scurrying along, another memory came back to him. This memory, unlike the previous one was one of happiness & innocence.
Sitting under a maple tree near the basketball court where he & his brothers hacked out b-ball games with the rest of the neighbourhood kids, Mike experienced his first kiss. The girl's name was Tonia Boyd Shelly. She was a girl of light brown hair & the eyes of a blue periwinkle egg shell. Unlike most of the girls hovering around Mike, Tonia was of a bubbly & friendly personality. So many of the other girls were just too standoffish & too much into the mind games but with Tonia, what you saw was what you got. And lord, how Mike needed someone to be straight with him.
Mike, despite the exaggerated swagger he put on with the girls, was so tired of such vulnerable needs. He really needed a balm of kindness & empathy in his life & he could well sense that of Tonia. But he wasn't sure of how to best express himself of this because his mother had well taught him that emotions were not the safest route over which to travel. It was better to be hard & cold & let the world fall where it may. Mike needn't have worried that he was going to jinx it with Toni, thought. She knew of his soul quite well & very fondly.
While Mike was looking over at the court & seeing the little tykes, tykes full of the wonder that had been robbed of him, he was suddenly swept into a feather soft dream of a kiss by Tonia. He hadn't expected to be taken off guard like that but it was such a gift to have someone take the reins & led him on to something quite magical. And what a thrill of a kiss it was. A 'stolen kiss' you could well say of it. The little Mikey boy was soon turning himself into the young man who would forever have his heart lost to this particular lass. Unfortunately, he would also lose her because his family situation would be too much of an albatross for them to shackle off but for this time, the world was one of peace for Mike & one of giddy joy for Tonia.
When the kiss was over, neither Mike nor Tonia knew of what to say. A shadow had been torn away from them to reveal a presence of stable emotion. But as wise as they were of that, they were too battened down by their youthfulness to even begin to contemplate it.
They took each other by the hand & walked to a place where their young lives could be opened up to each other & the times around them. And for a while, it would be complete whoelness for them both, as far as they were concerned.
Hurtling back to the present, Mike was at his appointed 'destiny place': the graveyard. It was at this graveyard that his first partner, Max, was buried. This was who Mike needed to make things all clear to him. And even though Max was not going to be standing in front of him, his 'backup aura' was all around Mike & it was more than enough, as far as Mike was concerned.
Walking of a slow gait to the graveyard, Mike looked up at the sky. The shade of it was periwinkle blue. Was this supposed to be a sign of something? He hardly knew of that but he did know that what lay before him was the release he needed & craved. As soon as he entered through the stone walled gate, Mike was washed over by an intense feeling of serenity. Many a time he had spent in graveyards with the various passing ons of Logans & Duffys (his mother's maiden name) & of course, for all his police cronies, especially Max. And while graveyards held sad memories for most people, for Mike, it was a shelter because it was here that he felt safe from the darkness.
As he was gazing around him, yet another song came to being in his mind:
"Midnight, not a sound from the pavement, Has the moon lost her memory, She is smiling again. In the lamplight, The withered leaves collect at my feet, And the wind begins to moan."
(excerpt from "Memory", sung by Barbra Streisand & later on Michael Crawford)
Ah, yes, it was the 'memory' that was his mantra. He held onto it just as tightly as he kept his Irish mick toughness atop of him. And this whole night had been a living memory but one that he hoped wold be broken of its hateful spell.
The leaves of the cool & crisp autumn evening crunched softly under Mike's feet & the air was touched with the slight bite of winter. It was still early fall in New York but even at this time, winter was just going to be skipping around from the corner before anyone knew about it. Paths were made through the leaves & the grass by Mike's carefully treading feet. He knew by heart, both this graveyard & the site to which he was paying a visit. Now, at last, he was at his 'true destination': Max Greevey's gravestone.
Taking in the sight of the gravestone filled Mike with such a feelling of reminiscent happiness. Here lay his first partner, Maxwell Sean Greevey. This was the man who broke Mikey in & sensed that there would be the makings of a great cop in him. Sure, they had their verbal tussles but when their backs were pressed to the wall, they were each other's safety net & that would not have changed except for the horrible twist of fate causing Mike to lose Max. How cruel life had been then but before Max left him, a few days earlier, he told Mike something of great significance: "Keep you head grounded & your heart unpounded". At the time, it didn't make a lot of sense to Mike but tonight, on this night, it had all the meaning in the world to him.
Mike stood & looked at the gravestone for many minutes. He was working over in his mind what to say to Max & he knew nothing less that the truth would be adqeuate but he just was not sure as to how to perfectly verbalize it. But then, Max was never a stickler for correct pronunciation & speech patterns as others would have been. he was of a more heartfelt type. So, Mike, the ever shier away from matters of the heart, was going to have a hell of a task lying ahead of him. Nevertheless, Mike had come this far & there was no turning back now.
"So, Max, I been hittin' the streets a bit & just found my feet comin' here," Mike started as a way of explanation. The wind picked up a little in its chilliness but suddenly, there was a warmth creeping back into Mike. His heart & soul were expanding & there was room for hope there, now. Still, he was a long way from true 'release' & he knew he had to press on about his business. And that he did. He laid his hand upon the cold stone & knew that the man who lay underneat was anything but that. He recalled the discussions around the table at "The Blue Wall" & the witty exchanges in the 2-7 halls. But what Mike remembered the most was the day he heard the shots, over the phone (during a phone call to Max's wife, Marie), being barrelled into Max. That ws the most gruesome day of his life. This man, Maxwell Sean Greevey, had marched along the battle lines with him, holding him up & letting him take flight. When it came down to it, Max had been his saviour on more than one occassion.
Mike continued to look down at the gravestone & suddenly a torrent of words spilled from him. They were words of rage, anger, confusion, frustration, agony, & despair. The little boy was fully coming to the surface & taking his life back. The man who was uttering these words of 'confession' was finally breaking free of the past & stepping towards a steadier future for himself. When he had finished his vigorous monologue, there was ultimate peace. The wind died down & there was silence. Absolute quiet & tranquil silence. Then, just as quickly as that came, there was something else. A flock of pigeons flew overhead. Mike knew that there was an elderly man nearby who had homing piegons & Max used to delight in watching them. Max likened his life to the destiny of those birds.
That was the sign of Mike's catharsis. Those pigeons held for him the sanctity of life & the certainty of courage. No more running from the raging wars that shaped him so. He would take them on with the spirit & fire of ten thousand marching soldiers. It was his chance to make the past better for his future. All these memories were a springboard to his shedding away of the agonizing misery he had allowed himself to go through. He could grieve & celebrate almost in the one breath.
Mike still had his hand on the gravesite & his eyes tightly closed. He bent his head down & took in deep & calming breaths. He was okay. It was going to be a better thing for him from now on.
"Well, Max, pal, you saved my bacon again. Thanks. I owe you one," Mike quietly said to the spirit of his dead partner. Max knew of this & gave Mike a silent "you're welcome". The message came through loud & clear for Mike, who lifted his head, opened his eyes & found that the boy & man had fused himself together to become an individual who would embrace life with certain victory.
The moon was bright at this point & Mike smiled at it. He could see the reflection of so many dear faces in it & they offered such comfort, love, & strength & it was all touched by the sparkle in Max's joyous twinkling eyes. Never a lovelier sight was to be seen, or so Mike thought.
Gathering himself & turning around, Mike walked back towards the entrance gates of the graveyeard. Just as he was about to leave one portal & walk unawares into another, his true grace was there, standing before him.
Yes, she had come back for him. There was Tonia, wearing the Logan tartan scarf that Mike had given her when she was eleven & he was twelve. The sight of that scarf around her neck just moved Mike to complete pieces. This woman had waited for him & was even more beautiful than before.
"Hello, Mike. I came back here fore you," Tonia softly spoke. As she did, the tears welled up in her eyes & the security of love filled up Mike's. She was the one who would 'lead him the right way', as Max put it. So, when Tonia walked over & brushed back that beautiful raven lock of hair that was always falling coyishly into his eyes, they both knew that they would follow what the rest of their destinies had planned for them.
They sealed this with a tender, loving, & lovely kiss that would never be 'stolen' away from them again.
Just to let you know, I can't take credit for either of the above masterpieces. They were both sent to me by Olga, also known as MadAboutPlaid/MikesMaddie/MadLady of Nothville/Lady of the Dance. Please sign the guestbook & let me know what you think about these. Part 2 of "Bagel Man's Day in Center Court" is here--finally! Please read it & let me know your honest opinions. Following is yet aNOTHer writing by one of our resident authoress, Olga. This was written as a birthday present--very creative, if you ask me! NO BIRTHDAY BUPKES FOR YOU!!! April 5th is the day that Alison Piazza turned a year older But what she really wanted was not to feel in years higher No, what she wanted was to be warmed up with the love Of a certain plaid detective's true desire However, he was not around in person On her wall he sat & in her heart he remained Al was soon almost turning to cursin' When her fellow incorrigibles ordained That what Al needed was no bupkes nor 'mea culpas' Instead she was to be blessd with the warmth & bonds From her merry incorrigible pals who were full o'lovelas* To make her special day a wonder of leather bounds Sooner than she knew, the spirit o'Noth had absconded With Al & her shimmering heart to a special place And twas' it was only because we incorrigibles hounded For her saving grace Now Al's big day is complete with joy Never has such a birthday been full of fun But with her Logan boy toy Would she ever want to have the games be done? *I know this word doesn't exist but it was the best fit I could make, you know? Hee hee.