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@grant-tracy-blog
"Hey, Gramps." Scott's been hiding in one of the old barns for a while. He didn't think anyone would come in here, but it's Gramps' farm after all. "You hiding too?"
Grant sure as hell wasn't expecting to find anyone else in the barn. This is his 'thinking barn,' where many a problem has been pondered. He smiles and laughs-it's a warm rumble. "I ain't hidin' so much as thinkin', son," he says. "Got a lot to wonder upon. What're you doin' in here?"
"Jeff, I..." For one of only a handful of times in his life, Grant Tracy is lost for words. So instead of talking, he reaches out to gather his son in for a hug.
Jeff can’t help himself, he leans into the hug, “Thanks Dad. It means a lot. Your support for this project means more than you can ever know…”
“It’s a lot of work I’m not going to lie. But I know this is the right thing to do. It’s what Luce would have wanted…”
"I know it is, son," Grant says, patting his son on the back. "I can't be much practical use, but if I live long enough for these machines to be finished, you got to promise me you'll let me see 'em."
"How's my biggest grandson holding up?" Grant asks. "I keep meaning to catch up with you, but sometimes it feels like all I'm doin' is corrallin' my sons and grandsons into eatin' your grandma's cookin'."
“Hey, gramps.” Scott’s not avoiding going inside, he’s just…savoring some peace and quiet down by the brook whilst everyone else is busy. He’s got so much to think about he’s not even halfway through all the stuff he needs to think about before he makes any real decisions about anything.
“Wanna sit?” Scott rests a hand on the bank of the brook in invitation. It’s been a long hot summer and the earth is bone dry. The brook’s lower that Scott can ever remember but it still makes a nice noise as it trickles and gurgles.
“I’ve been thinking about stuff.” Scott says by way of explanation. He’s also hiding from said cooking but gramps already knows that. “My mom died and my dad disappears and one day he comes home with a briefcase full of secrets he won’t talk to me about. And he says we’re moving to an island far away from everyone we love and it turns out it’s all because of some crazy idea he’s got.”
Scott works a little pebble free from the dirt and throws it into the brook, trying to hit a big blueish colored rock on the other side. “Do you think dad’s crazy? Would I be crazy if I abandoned a career in the air force for someone else’s dream?”
All at once, Grant is struck by how mature his oldest grandbaby is. Sure, he knew Scott always had his head screwed firmly on, and he'd never met a more determined kid. Young man, he corrects himself. Scott ain't no little boy no more. Grant lowers himself into the bank, his joints protesting more than he would care to admit. He watches as Scott picks a pebble from the bank, then launches it across the brook. He listens as Scott talks. When Scott asks the question, Grant knows it's time for answers. "I don't think your dad is crazy," he says. He copies his grandson and works another pebble free. "Don't get me wrong, your dad has done some crazy things, and I admit this plan sounds crazy. But, in a weird way, I think it's the most logical thing he could do." Grant's face darkens a little as he launches his pebble. "Now, I'm not sure I agree with his uprootin' y'all to some island without tellin' you why exactly until after the fact," he says. "But I think your dad is doing something that'll help not just him, but also all the other Jeff Tracys in the world. All the other men and women who've lost their loved ones." Grant's smile returns and he huff's a laugh. "My pop was just like me. Corn on the brain, and a wheat sheaf to wrap it up. Jeff - I mean, your dad - isn't like me. He's got more brains than I ever could hope for. His head was always up in the clouds. "And you know what? I'm proud of him, not just because he's doin' this rescue thing, but because he had the conviction to do what he wanted. It wasn't easy for him to tell me he wouldn't be carrying on the family tradition, an' it wasn't easy for me to hear, neither." Grant shakes his head a little. "But it was the right thing to do, an' I think this plan of his is the right thing, too." He takes a long look at Scott, and reflects on his last question. Would I be crazy if I abandoned a career in the air force for someone else’s dream? "Now, I want y'all to listen to me for a minute, son. I might be way off the mark here, but I think I hear what you're sayin'. You need to be like Jeff. You need to have the conviction to do what you want. Persue your dreams before anything else. You go and be the best damn cadet you can be. And then you make your decision about your dad's dream. But you come first." Grant hopes he hasn't missed the mark - like he's missed the bank with his pebble.
...And On That Bombshell
Once dishes have been cleared away, Jeff slowly gets to his feet.
“Well…after recent events,” He glances uncomfortably at the faces in the room. “It’s become clear to me that, while as you can appreciate some secrets are necessary, perhaps I’ve been keeping one too many from those closest to me.”
He’s resting his knuckles on the table, almost like he’s in a boardroom. “I’ve decided that you have a right to know what’s going on. However, you cannot tell anybody that isn’t in this room. If you can’t promise that, then I’ll give you an opportunity to leave now.”
He pauses for a few uncomfortable seconds.
“My wife – your Mommy, your daughter-in-law, your sister-in-law – died in an avalanche. An avalanche on that scale was a once-in-a-lifetime event, not just in that region but in the world. She wasn’t the only casualty. She died because the machinery…the drill…had to be brought from 30 miles away, because it couldn’t drill fast enough, because the pile it was creating by trying was causing more instability they couldn’t afford. Lucy wasn’t the only one. Those skiers that hung from the rail, that couldn’t be saved because the chopper couldn’t get close enough. The climbers that have still not been found because the heat technology was on the scene too late.”
Jeff pauses again. It’s strange, but it’s easier for him to talk about when it’s broken down like this. “I couldn’t save her, the mountain rescue team couldn’t save her…nobody could save her.”
“Her story isn’t unique. Just last week a fire broke out in central Madrid and quickly spread to the neighbouring buildings. They had plenty of willing and able firefighters, but they couldn’t get enough trucks down the narrow streets. The tunnel that collapsed in Tokyo – they had to call the GDF to come and lift some of the heavier pieces, but their aircraft is not built for that.”
“Maybe you think I’m crazy for what I’m about to say, but…” His attention is on his sons now. “The trauma that we’ve been through. The truth is that we are not alone. Hundreds of families are struggling, just like us, to get over losing someone important. And that’s why I moved you all to a remote island. I know I’ve given the wrong impression: I’m not running away from the memory your Mom at all. I’m running towards her. This is all in her honour.”
He stands up, back straight. Maybe they’ll think him crazy, maybe they won’t. At least they’ll have answers. “I’m setting up a rescue organisation, International Rescue. Highly specialised equipment that can be quickly dispatched to anywhere in the world, to cope with extreme scenarios that local emergency services can’t deal with. There will be a reconnaissance jet, a large craft for heavy lifting and transport, a rocket for astronauts in danger, a deep-sea submersible, and a communications satellite. The technology Brains and I are putting together is – is remarkable. And that’s why it needs to be kept secret, and to be kept safe. In five years’ time I’ll start recruiting operatives – and in seven, we’ll be ready to launch.”
“I hope my intentions make more sense to you now.”
{{ RP Starter…is gonna branch out now XDDD please tag #AndOnThatBombshell }}
[ @flyboytracy @rocketboytracy @sonatanotwo @gordoncoopertracy @always-a-situation @grant-tracy @theoldwayworkstoo @firefighter-tracy ]
Stunned is not the word. Amazed is not the word. Grant doesn't have any words for what his son has just said. Grant scans the crowd of faces, seeing the reactions of his family. He also delves into his memories, thinking of things he never wanted to think of again. The day of the avalanche was one of the worst in his life. He lost his beautiful gem of a daughter-in-law, the wonderful woman who gave him five strapping grandsons. The day he had never felt such horrific emotions. The day he had felt truly impotent. And now, his son - his wonderful son - is here, telling them all of this tribute to his late wife. Grant has never felt such a conflict of emotion in his life. He's proud, but frightened. Eventually, he finds himself able to speak. "Jeff, son," he says, his voice thick. "Are...are you sure this is what you want to do? Because if it is, I've never been prouder of you now than I've been in my whole life."
@flyboytracy @always-a-situation @sonatanotwo @gordoncoopertracy @rocketboytracy @colonel-jeff-tracy @firefighter-tracy @grant-tracy
A house full of boys. That surely makes things more lively than usual, even back when her boys were tiny.
And as they were all busy doing their thing, they all forgot who was in the kitchen today.
“Boys! Dinner’s ready!!”
If you ask him, Jensen will swear that he has not heard his mother’s call. Which is why his window is currently open, and the ladder that he had kept in his cupboard already when he was a kid is slowly being brought down to the ground.
Jensen has always thought it was a blessing that his bedroom’s window is on the back of the house. That way, he can escape without anyone noticing.
Alan had just about opened the back door into the kitchen when he heard his Grandma’s call for dinner. He hadn’t had the opportunity to eat as much of her food as his brothers, at least he couldn’t remember eating much of it, but the horror stories he’d been told were enough to make him weary.
Instead he quickly backed away and around the corner to the back of the house, making his way along the wall to the other corner where he could dash out into the fields for an hour or so and claim he hadn’t heard her.
Instead though, he was caught off guard by a ladder that appeared out of nowhere. He watched as a figure crawled out of one of the upper windows and made their way down.
“You running away from dinner too?” Alan cocked his head at his uncle.
Damn! Why is there always one of Jeff’s boys to ruin his escape plans?
Ah, and it’s the youngest, too. The one that Jensen absolutely cannot corrupt in any way.
He sighs. There goes his plans for a TeX Mex dinner.
He puts on his best fake smile. “Haha, of course I am not running away, boy! I would never do this! I was only using a shortcut to get to dinner more quickly! Come on, if we hurry, we can be the first to taste all these delicious dishes.”
As he says that, he dies a little inside, and prays that his dad has ordered takeaway.
Grant can’t quite stop the broad smile spreading in his face at the sight of his youngest son and youngest grandson at the rear of the house, with a ladder “All good here, boys?” he asks. “That’s a mighty strange way of comin’ downstairs for dinner.”
Scott’s watching everything from the roof of a barn where he entirely intends to stay until dinner’s over.
What a shame nobody could hear him yelling for help from all the way up there.
Alan moped. Not only did his uncle catch him, but his grandpa did too. He kicked at the dirt a little, but looked up at his grandpa to try and at least hide his intentions a little. “No, I didn’t use the ladder! Scott said jumping out of windows was dangerous, so I wouldn’t do that.” Alan shook his head.
As he did, he thought he saw some movement up on the barn, but it was too far away to tell what it had been. “I uhh, I better go see if I can find the others! Tell them that dinner is ready too!”
“Hey dad,” Jensen says, waving. He blushes slightly. Even at over 40, he still hates that feeling of being caught in the act. “I was just… showing Alan my ladder. You know, in case he wants to become a firefighter too…”
As Alan moves to leave, he puts himself in his path. “Don’t worry, young man. Go have dinner with grandpa - I’ll find the rest of your brothers.”
He knows where to start - there is a place where he and his brothers went to hide when their mother went on a cooking frenzy.
"Is that so?" Grant says. He eyes his son suspiciously. "Well, I'm going to mosey on into the kitchen and show my beautiful wife how much I appreciate all the effort she's gone to." He turns and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans. Whatever the boys want to do is up to them. This old farmer lost his taste buds a long time ago.
@flyboytracy @always-a-situation @sonatanotwo @gordoncoopertracy @rocketboytracy @colonel-jeff-tracy @firefighter-tracy @grant-tracy
A house full of boys. That surely makes things more lively than usual, even back when her boys were tiny.
And as they were all busy doing their thing, they all forgot who was in the kitchen today.
“Boys! Dinner’s ready!!”
If you ask him, Jensen will swear that he has not heard his mother’s call. Which is why his window is currently open, and the ladder that he had kept in his cupboard already when he was a kid is slowly being brought down to the ground.
Jensen has always thought it was a blessing that his bedroom’s window is on the back of the house. That way, he can escape without anyone noticing.
Alan had just about opened the back door into the kitchen when he heard his Grandma’s call for dinner. He hadn’t had the opportunity to eat as much of her food as his brothers, at least he couldn’t remember eating much of it, but the horror stories he’d been told were enough to make him weary.
Instead he quickly backed away and around the corner to the back of the house, making his way along the wall to the other corner where he could dash out into the fields for an hour or so and claim he hadn’t heard her.
Instead though, he was caught off guard by a ladder that appeared out of nowhere. He watched as a figure crawled out of one of the upper windows and made their way down.
“You running away from dinner too?” Alan cocked his head at his uncle.
Damn! Why is there always one of Jeff’s boys to ruin his escape plans?
Ah, and it’s the youngest, too. The one that Jensen absolutely cannot corrupt in any way.
He sighs. There goes his plans for a TeX Mex dinner.
He puts on his best fake smile. “Haha, of course I am not running away, boy! I would never do this! I was only using a shortcut to get to dinner more quickly! Come on, if we hurry, we can be the first to taste all these delicious dishes.”
As he says that, he dies a little inside, and prays that his dad has ordered takeaway.
Grant can't quite stop the broad smile spreading in his face at the sight of his youngest son and youngest grandson at the rear of the house, with a ladder "All good here, boys?" he asks. "That's a mighty strange way of comin' downstairs for dinner."
"Kids are all in bed," Smiles Jeff. "Or at least pretending to be. "Fancy a beer on the veranda?"
“Hoo-ee, ver-annnnn-da,” Grant says, a wicked smile on his face. “Boy, you been outta Kansas too long. What we have here is a good old-fashioned porch.”
He claps a hand on his oldest boy’s shoulder and squeezes.
“I am always up for a beer with my first-born.”
Jeff laughs. For better or for worse he’s never pretended to have any of his father’s interest for agriculture. Corn belongs on the ground, and Jeff belongs in the skies.
“I guess it has been a while, huh?”
He grabs two beers from the cooler and pulls them open. “Here you go, Dad.”
The porch light has been left on, so Jeff collapses into one of the chairs. “So how are you things? How’s your health?”
Grant accepts the beer gratefully as he settles into the chair beside his son. "Oh, as best as you can expect for someone starting the long descent to 80," Grant says. He takes a swing of the cool beer and sighs. "Nothin' new to report. 'Cept it's gettin' mighty hard to swing my ass up onto the back of a horse." He casts a sidelong glance at his son. "How have things been with you?" He asks. "I think that's a more important question."
🍔 - Favorite food. 👋 - How they greet someone. 🙋 - How they call other people. 🤓 - Their hobby.
"Well, I have to say, my favourite food is steak, hands down. Rare. Maybe even blue."Grant chuckles."As for my hobby? This man ain't had a lot of time for hobbies over the course of the years. Taking care of farm and family has been my main concern. But I gotta admit, I love taking care of my horses, too, and gettin' out for a long amble when I can. S'not as easy now I'm older, but when you're on the back of one of those majestic beats, you just feel young again."{{Other two answered already ^^}}
👋 - How they greet someone & 🙋 - How they call other people
“If I’m wearin’ a hat, it’s gotta come off when I greet someone. ‘Specially if it’s a lady. Now, I know folk are gonna say that’s sexist -- I’ve been hearin’ that all my life. But I don’t think it is. It’s courteous.” Grant laughs. “‘Course, if the person I’m greetin’ is no friend of mine, you can be damn sure that hat’s gonna stay on!
“On the subject of calling other folks, I guess it depends on who I’m callin’. If it’s a friend, I might say ‘buddy’ or ‘bud.’ If it’s someone I don’t know, I’ll probably say ‘friend.’ Weird, huh?”
(firefighter-tracy) 🏔: long drives or long walks?
“Aww, it’s gotta be a long, long drive,” Grant says. “Mostly I don’t care where I end up, so long as when I get there, I feel better than I did when I left.”
"Kids are all in bed," Smiles Jeff. "Or at least pretending to be. "Fancy a beer on the veranda?"
“Hoo-ee, ver-annnnn-da,” Grant says, a wicked smile on his face. “Boy, you been outta Kansas too long. What we have here is a good old-fashioned porch.”
He claps a hand on his oldest boy’s shoulder and squeezes.
“I am always up for a beer with my first-born.”
🏗: what's your preferred method of dealing with stress?
“Oh, I dunno,” Grant says, spreading his hands wide. The span of his fingers is immense. “I can’t say I get stressed all that often, now. I’m lucky that way. But one thing I used to do was get up on my ol’ 2020 John Deere and just roll off across the fields. It’s hard to stay stressed when you’re surrounded by fields of wheat and the beauty of nature.”
Preferences asks!
Send me a symbol and i’ll tell you my muse’s preference.
🎥 - Favorite genre of movie. 🎧 - Favorite genre of music. 🍔 - Favorite food. 🍸 - Favorite drink. 🐕 - Favorite animal. 🌷 - Favorite flower. ☀ - Favorite weather. 🎨 - Favorite color. ⚽ - Favorite sports. 🎲 - Favorite genre of video games. 👚 - Favorite outfit. 💤 - Sleeping position. 🗨 - Speech manner. 👋 - How they greet someone. 🙋 - How they call other people. 🤓 - Their hobby.
send me a place emoji
🚢: does the idea of the sea provide you with a feeling of comfort or worry?
🎡: @ seven of your fave mutuals that you'd love to go to a fair with
🎢: what's the best ride you've ever been on?
🎠: if you had to describe your aesthetic, what would you describe it as?
🏗: what's your preferred method of dealing with stress?
🌁: what's your idea of horribleness?
🗼: what's one thing you've learned to take as a warning sign in any type of relationship?
🏭: would you consider yourself short tempered or even tempered?
⛲️: what's your ideal dream date?
🎑: city apartment or country house?
⛰: if you could go on a road trip with just one of your faves who would it be?
🏔: long drives or long walks?
🗻: what are your favourite genres of music?
🌋: what's something that pisses you off as soon as you hear even a mention of it?
🗾: a lone soldier? a social butterfly? or both?
🏕: if you were asked to go on a camping trip with whoever you want, would you?
⛺️: does being without wifi actually worry you?
🏞: what are your top six essentials you must carry with you at all times?
🌅: are you a morning bird or a night owl?
🌄: are you a planner or a improviser?
🏜: if deserted, what's one thing you'd want to be with you more than anything?
🏖: do you believe in mermaids?
🏝: how do you feel about islands?
🌇: what are your thoughts on 'city life'?
🌆: do you get homesick easily?
🏙: what's the capital city of the country you're from?
🌃: how does politics make you feel?
🌉: in your opinion, what's the biggest obstacle one can face?
🌌: how do you feel about god?
🌠: if you were allowed three wishes, what would they be?
🎇: if you could create a day to be celebrated e.g. christmas or eid, what would it be and what would it be celebrating?
🎆: do you admire spontaneity or does it annoy you?
🌈: what are your thoughts on 'love'?
🏘: if you could, would you change your upbringing?
🏰: to you, what's the most magical place on earth?
🏯: if you could move to any country of your choice, which would it be?
🏟: if you could erase one person from your memory, would you?
🗽: who's your role model? or what qualities do you think are looking-up-to worthy?
Scott’s usually the first one to reach the door of their grandparents’ farmhouse. He’s got legs longer than Alan is tall and he’s not afraid to take advantage when the last one there has to eat whatever Gramma baked that morning for them.
There are worse things in the world than Gramma’s cookies now. Scott’s seen some of them and he knows others are waiting for him when he gets accepted to the academy and gets sent to whatever conflict’s gonna be raging in the future.
Kansas feels a million billion miles away from all that. The fields of corn glow golden in the summer sunshine and every step Scott takes towards the farmhouse brings back memories of long hot summers ‘til all he can think about is how it felt to run through those fields with his arms outstretched like a plane. It’s been a long time since Scott ran for fun, for no other reason than he wanted to so he runs now just because he can.
If he’s really, really quick he might beat the others despite their massive head start.
Grant’s standing on the front porch of the farmhouse--freshly painted, partly by himself. He ain’t so old as to be unable to paint his own damn house...fully. Some of the young buck farmhands gave him a hand, or ten, for an extra wad of twenties in their hands.
But the house needed to be painted, because for the first time in the longest time, the Tracy clan was coming home to roost.
It wasn’t like he never heard from them. Shoot, he heard from one or more of his sons an’ grandsons every day, and the fridge door was filled with copies of acceptance letters, certificates, drawings and such. They might have lived far apart, but the Tracys were closer than close. It was important.
But there was something special about having all his boys together, for real, under one roof.
Grant shades his eyes against the bright sky as the figures of his family encroach, hulking cases and in some cases, each other.
“Pum’kin?” he calls to his wife. “It would seem we’re about to be overrun.”
