Our Missing History by F.E. Feeley Jr

Americans are fascinated by genealogy. We have multiple websites dedicated to researching a person’s history through this collection of documentation, pictures, letters, etc. that have all been collected in this huge database and shared for a nominal fee. A great deal of that is in part, due the fact that while we as a people and as a nation are very proud of our heritage and who we are as Americans, there is a bit of a feeling of something missing.

And when we look for where we come from, we look across the ocean to Britain, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales first as you are not only the resource of so many of us through mass immigration in the early years of this nation, but we draw so much ideologically of who we are based off of the great minds of England. People like Edmond Burke, John Locke, and many others. Our system of government mirrors yours. We share a common law. With the Magna Carta, England was the birth place of Constitutions. And most importantly, we share a language. There are echoes of you in us in important things like for instance, music.

Folk music moved through the United States with these immigrants who were largely uneducated and too poor to be able to go to school. So they passed their histories down through the years through song. Most of it simple chords and simple messages but so derived from the blood, sweat, and tears of lives well lived. They were memories of a home they could never return to and as the years passed on; these songs passed with them and changed the face of music forever as they were introduced into the main stream. Listen to American Country music, old rock and roll, and you’ll find my words are true. Remnants of Irish and Scottish folk music are alive and well in the chords of even the most recent songs.

A good friend of mine, who had the chance to travel abroad to the U.K, came home with pictures upon pictures of the places she had visited. The castles, pubs, moors, and churches and graveyards and places they had hired a tour guide to take them through, were all documented in her photographs.  Elizabeth the First is her favorite monarch (mine too, with Queen Victoria coming in a close second).  She knows everything there is to know about her reign, how she lived, etc. and when she went to Westminster Abbey, and was moved to tears just to be near someone who historically, meant so much to her. Now how long has it been since someone wept over the tomb of this woman? That may sound a bit strange, but for us, just to walk in the place where brilliant minds once trod, it’s quite emotional just to think about.

The effigy of Elizabeth I, in Westminster Abbey

For me, as the decendent of Irish/Scottish immigrants, whose blood still runs very hot in my veins, I feel a desire to return to a place I’ve never been on a level that’s difficult to describe. I love my country, I love being an American with all our faults and triumphs, but I love another country that I’ve never been to because I feel as if the U.K is in a way, our grandmother, who gave birth to a rambunctious child, who fought so hard to get away from her and strike out on its own the way adolescents do, who now have children that want to go visit. I know that may sound very simplistic, but it’s such an ingrained feeling that I fall short putting it into words that would make sense.

When Princess Diana died, America was taken aback. I remember watching the funeral and staying glued until it was done. She was beautiful, powerful, and charitable and as the children came marching down with the funeral procession, it was just staggering to realize that as well off as they were, as well as life will treat them given their station, here are two little kids who had just lost the most important person in the world. Later on, when William married, again, America tuned in to watch the wedding and oohed and ahhed just as if they’d had invitations themselves. The monarchy is foreign to us, but it’s because of this monarchy that we are as we are today, so there really isn’t that much distance between us. Hell, my husband can name every monarch that has ever reigned since 1066. As a child, he actually wrote a letter to the Queen and told her that she should give up her title as Defender of the Faith, since she was a protestant.  AND he got a letter back from one of her ladies. Of course it was very generic, and John’s mind has certainly changed since then, but still. He has that letter even today.

We hope one day to come and visit with anticipation. But also with trepidation, we feel that we may fall in love with you so much that we would want to stay. Maybe that would be a good thing, but that adventure is a great deal further down the road given the cost to travel. But I guess, we can always visit, as we have dozens of times before, with the help of the memories etched upon our hearts in the sweetest of our dreams.

God save the Queen and  God Bless the U.K

F.E. Feeley Jr

The Haunting of Timber Manor

Memoirs of the Human Wraiths 

While recovering from the recent loss of his parents, Daniel Donnelly receives a phone call from his estranged aunt, who turns over control of the family fortune and estate, Timber Manor. Though his father seemed guarded about the past, Daniel’s need for family and curiosity compel him to visit.

Located in a secluded area of the Northwest, Timber Manor has grown silent over the years. Her halls sit empty and a thin layer of dust adorns the sheet-covered furniture. When Daniel arrives to begin repairs, strange things happen. Nightmares haunt his dreams. Memories not his own disturb his waking hours. Alive with the tragedies of the past, Timber Manor threatens to tear Daniel apart.

Sheriff Hale Davis grew up working on the manor grounds. Seeing Daniel struggle, he vows protect the young man who captured his heart, and help him solve the mystery behind the haunting and confront the past—not only to save Daniel’s life, but to save his family, whose very souls hang in the balance.

Objects in the Rearview Mirror

Their new home on Frederick Street in Clay Center, Kansas, was supposed to give writer Jonathan David and his husband, clinical psychologist Dr. Eddie Dorman, an opportunity to enjoy married life. Jonathan has just released his first major bestseller, and he hopes to finally escape his traumatic past and find the quiet existence he has always craved. Eddie has taken a job at the Kansas State University psychology department, and they intend to begin anew.

They have barely settled in when the nightmare begins. Noises, disembodied voices, and mysterious apparitions make Jonathan’s life hell. Part of the house has decided to bare its teeth, show its jagged edges, and bring back the worst of Jonathan’s past. At first, Eddie cannot perceive the spectral events and fears for his husband’s sanity. When he’s also affected by the haunting, he’s unsure of what to do but refuses to be beaten.

Together, they seek a way to fight the forces trying to tear them apart. The world is a frightening place, but confronting their fears plunges Jonathan and Eddie into absolute horror.

Author Bio

F.E. Feeley Jr was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan and lived there for twenty years before joining the military. He is a veteran of the US Armed Services; having done a tour in support of Operation Iraq Freedom in 2002-2003, he turned college student, pursuing a degree in political science. He now lives in Southeast Texas where he is engaged to the love of his life, John, and where they raise their 1½ year old German shepherd, Kaiser.As a young man, reading took center stage in his life, especially those novels about ghosts, witches, goblins, and all the other things that went bump in the night. His favorite authors include such writers as Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Anne Rice, whose work allowed him to travel to far off places and meet fascinating and scary characters. As a gay man, he wishes to be able to write good fictional literature for those who love the genre and to write characters that readers can relate to. All in all, he is a cigarette smokin’, whiskey drinkin’, rock and roll lovin’, tattoo wearin’ dreamer of a man with a wonderful partner who puts up with his crap and lets him write his stories.

 

 

 

 

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