the carpeted floor until it was directly in front of the dresser. As she climbed onto the seat of the chair she realized that she wasn’t high enough. Carefully, with her hands holding the top of the dresser, she balanced herself on the arms of the chair. So many times she had watch- ed her mother... Show morethe carpeted floor until it was directly in front of the dresser. As she climbed onto the seat of the chair she realized that she wasn’t high enough. Carefully, with her hands holding the top of the dresser, she balanced herself on the arms of the chair. So many times she had watch- ed her mother, standing in front of this mirror, putting on make-up so skillfully. Eva knew that if she could try it she could be beautiful like her mother. She had reached for the lipstick and, doing exactly as she had seen her mother do, she applied it. First on her lower lip, then across her upper lip. Then, pursing her lips together, she looked into the mirror. The image she saw was not beautiful at all but reminded her of clowns she had seen at the circus. The dark red lipstick had smeared over onto her face. "Eva!" Startled, Eva turned toward the door. As she turned she felt her feet start to slip from under her. She tried grasping the top of the dresser, but the doily caused her hands to slip across and fly into the air. She fell to the floor just to the right of the chair. Looking up at her mother, knowing that any minute the yelling would start, Eva began to cry. The laughter started slowly at first. It began to build and in a few seconds her mother was standing there looking down at her and laughing hysterically. She wasn’t supposed to laugh. Why was she laughing? Eva’s mother, still laughing, turned and walked out of the room. The roar of laughter followed her down the hall. It seemed to ring in Eva’s ears. Dragging her sleeve across her nose, Eva stood up and walked over to the night stand. She pulled out a klcenex and wiped it across her mouth. Looking back down the hall and then to the darkness under the bed, she dropped to her knees, lay down, and slid under the bed. There in the dark, dusty space below the bed, once again Eva began to cry. Show less
THE GLOW OF AFTER-LIFE By Trudy Stechmann The dark brown carved pipe, It was your birthday gift that summer in Garmisch. The crumpled package of Danish tobacco, brandy flavored, The match box upon the wooden shelf, Wait for your return. Never again will your slender fingers fill that wooden bowl,... Show moreTHE GLOW OF AFTER-LIFE By Trudy Stechmann The dark brown carved pipe, It was your birthday gift that summer in Garmisch. The crumpled package of Danish tobacco, brandy flavored, The match box upon the wooden shelf, Wait for your return. Never again will your slender fingers fill that wooden bowl, So carefully tamp down that tobacco, Shield the lighted match. Your gift from Garmisch sits on the closet shelf. I reach up for it and smell the ash. I cannot bring myself to smooth the bowl. Show less
GREAT-G RAN DMOTH E R By Kellie Shoemaker My Munner liked to let me do things play her piano, read all day, cut the roses she had trained to climb the wooden gate. One hot August day she let me pick blackberries in my new summer shorts. I cried when she ran the cool garden hose over my red... Show moreGREAT-G RAN DMOTH E R By Kellie Shoemaker My Munner liked to let me do things play her piano, read all day, cut the roses she had trained to climb the wooden gate. One hot August day she let me pick blackberries in my new summer shorts. I cried when she ran the cool garden hose over my red-streaked legs and I dropped the bucket in the dirt. She let me cry until I wanted to stop. When I was older I was too busy to visit her. That’s all right, she said on the phone, but the television spoke louder than she did. They are fighting over her things now, even though her eyes hold their clear blueness and her head holds steady when she walks. How can they count her I cry as she breathes soft mist on their mirror. They don‘t know how many blackberries we picked for a pie. _]6_ Show less
that the table top was about level with my parents' chins when they sat down. The table served its purpose, and that was what mattered. We had living room furniture. too: one massive green vinyl chair that cost five dollars and seated all of us comfortably at once. My father would sit on the... Show morethat the table top was about level with my parents' chins when they sat down. The table served its purpose, and that was what mattered. We had living room furniture. too: one massive green vinyl chair that cost five dollars and seated all of us comfortably at once. My father would sit on the cushion and my mother and I would each sit on one of the wide arms on either side. For a long time my parents scrimped and saved all their extra pennies at the end of the month and eventually they were able to buy our combination record player and coffee table. People barely noticed the dingy wall paint and peeling linoleum floor when they saw it. It was grand. Better yet, we didn’t have any problems with cockroaches racing about or rats in the toilet like our neighbors. We had nothing to be embarassed about. We even had the only yard fence on the block. It was white and the en- vy of all the neighbors in the village. In the summer, the three of us would stand out in our fenced in yard and try to set frisbee records by counting the number of consecutive catches we could make. It was challenging and I'd squeal every time I would catch it and successfully throw it to the next person. Sometimes one of us would accidentally throw the frisbee up on the roof and I'd have to climb up onto my father’s shoulders to reach it. My legs used to tingle with fear when I had to do it. Once l‘d retrieved it, my father would help me forget my fright by tossing me up in the air several times and catching me until l'd cheer- fully squeal all over again. As my parents became more financially secure. they invested in a huge. gas-guzzling Chevrolet. It was old and painted a dull blue. The upholstery was worn thin. But that didn‘t matter, because it ran well and had a mirror on the passenger's visor. My parents had never seen such a mirror before. They considered it quite a luxury. The car soon became a part of the family and was christened “Onkel Ludwig," named after my father’s uncle who was known in his district in Norway for his unusually long feet. We often hopped into Onkel Ludwig on Sunday afternoons to explore some new nook we hadn’t taken in before. Onkel Ludwig was a steadfast vehicle and took us to many memorable places. but the day in— evitably came when Onkel Ludwig expired and had to be traded in. My mother was particularly sad the night after we drove Onkel Ludwig for the last time on the way to the used car dealer. It was hard to part with this cherished member of the family. Sharing in my mother’s grief. my father returned to the used car lot late that night. He sneaked past the security guard and crawled up to the car. In great haste, he removed the revered visor mirror from the passenger‘s side and stole away home. Onkel Ludwig was returned to the family. at least in part. ‘4 mm. m a “as—AWL, b.-. l Show less
HAIRCUTS By Karen Miorud Dad used to give me haircuts in his barber shop at night after everyone had gone home. He lifted me up on a board that he’d laid across the arms of his big black and silver barber chair, then pumped it up with heaving bounces— the best part of all. Dad gave me rides on... Show moreHAIRCUTS By Karen Miorud Dad used to give me haircuts in his barber shop at night after everyone had gone home. He lifted me up on a board that he’d laid across the arms of his big black and silver barber chair, then pumped it up with heaving bounces— the best part of all. Dad gave me rides on his motor-scooter down Water Street to the post office and back. He took me swimming at French Lake, where he floated on his back with his hands behind his head and his toes sticking up. He always sang a funny song— “I love to go swimmin’ with bow-legged women and swim between their knees!” One time, when I was fourteen. dad gave me ten dollars for a haircut and a permanent at the beauty shop. When I got home I cried because it was frizzy. Dad said he’d fix it, and he did. _6_ Show less
“Au; After living in the village for nearly four years, the entire village was finally condemned and scheduled for disbandment and demolition. We and all our neighbors no longer had a choice in staying. For us, like many others, the prodded exit forced us to actively seek better quality housing.... Show more“Au; After living in the village for nearly four years, the entire village was finally condemned and scheduled for disbandment and demolition. We and all our neighbors no longer had a choice in staying. For us, like many others, the prodded exit forced us to actively seek better quality housing. Although superficially appealing, the move was a difficult one. When the day came for us to pack all our belongings in the rented U-Haul and drive away to our rented brick home in an all-American neighborhood, my parents were reminded of the first time they’d arrived in the States. Again there we stood: My father, his wife and his daughter—oh yes, and seven dollars. DISPLACED OBJECT By Daniel Erickson To see, and wonder at the closet; to think and never answer why; to breathe the air, yet muddle in despair; to be free to touch, but want only to strike; to speak, yet utter only insults; to fly so high in a sky ringing with sighs full of half-lies and unspeakable bye-byes, and drop—value dies into sighs full of half-lies. _13_ Show less
THE VIRGIN WOODS By Nancy Wood The virgin woods, touched by the sun were left undiscovered, all but for one who completely explored the mysteries there— but he missed the regions hidden inside the center’s thick brush where the wood nymphs abide The virgin woods, touched by the moon were found by... Show moreTHE VIRGIN WOODS By Nancy Wood The virgin woods, touched by the sun were left undiscovered, all but for one who completely explored the mysteries there— but he missed the regions hidden inside the center’s thick brush where the wood nymphs abide The virgin woods, touched by the moon were found by another surprisingly soon who quite understood the mysteries there— but he missed the regions hidden inside the center’s thick brush where wood nymphs abide. The virgin woods, pierced by the blow of ravaging drives—an unending flow of lovers ignoring the mysteries there— exposing the regions hidden inside the center’s thick brush where wood nymphs abide. _24_ Show less
HELL IN HEAVEN by Justin Kisaska Mea Culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa . . . These are words worth saying in this town. Tell me what I should listen to—cheers from uptown or screams from downtown? Bloody rain pours on the town Bringing cheers to vampires and screams to others. Then appears this... Show moreHELL IN HEAVEN by Justin Kisaska Mea Culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa . . . These are words worth saying in this town. Tell me what I should listen to—cheers from uptown or screams from downtown? Bloody rain pours on the town Bringing cheers to vampires and screams to others. Then appears this colorful rainbow in the skies Bringing hope to some and desperation to others. Tell me what I should listen to—cheers from uptown or screams from downtown? In this town babies buy their tombs at birth For the only world they‘ll ever know is the mothers’ wombs. If only sympathy could match apathy in this town The night owl wouldn’t be crying anymore. Tell me what I should listen to—cheers from uptown or screams from downtown? This town used to be a heaven for everyone Where the sun never went down and darkness was never seen. There’s darkness across town today Darker than the doomsday and thicker than the Berlin wall. This is the apocalypse long awaited by some. This is the Carnival eagerly awaited by others. Tell me what I should listen to—cheers from uptown or screams from downtown? That day is coming When the sunshine will never end again And the reality of the ghost town will appear Like a vision. That day is coming When the blue skies will drop tears of love And the martyrs of this town will rise from the dead. That day is coming When the pass between uptown and downtown will be history And that creature called equality will be Strolling across town like a dream in motion. Someone should please tell me what I should listen to—cheers from uptown Or screams from downtown? _3]._ Show less
When I was married and had two little girls, dad gave them haircuts in his barber shop at night. He gave them rides in his motor-boat on French Lake, and bread to feed the fish off the end of the white dock. When they got older and liked their hair cut at the beauty shop, dad would ask why, and I... Show moreWhen I was married and had two little girls, dad gave them haircuts in his barber shop at night. He gave them rides in his motor-boat on French Lake, and bread to feed the fish off the end of the white dock. When they got older and liked their hair cut at the beauty shop, dad would ask why, and I’d explain about this phase they were in. Last week I cut my dad’s hair while he sat on a kitchen chair with a dish-towel around his neck. I trimmed the white hair from his ears and his nose, too, and he asked how I learned to give haircuts. _7._ Show less
Annie waits on a gurney For X-Rays. Emma said She’s crazy because once Annie said, “What did I do, that I don’t know What I’m doing?” The staff is waiting For the shift to end And I am counting time Watching urine colored drops Dripping from a plastic bladder. Waiting for the bag to empty. SO... Show moreAnnie waits on a gurney For X-Rays. Emma said She’s crazy because once Annie said, “What did I do, that I don’t know What I’m doing?” The staff is waiting For the shift to end And I am counting time Watching urine colored drops Dripping from a plastic bladder. Waiting for the bag to empty. SO MUCH IN SO LITTLE By Amy Spence Small hands Of a young child (Such inquisitive minds) Grasping life with tiny fingers Hold Tight Show less
THE AMERICAN DREAM By Tove Dahl His wife, his daughter and a letter promising to pay for all his expenses at the University of Minnesota. That’s what my father had in hand in 1962 when he arrived in the United States, prepared to take on the American Dream. Giddy at the prospect of becoming a... Show moreTHE AMERICAN DREAM By Tove Dahl His wife, his daughter and a letter promising to pay for all his expenses at the University of Minnesota. That’s what my father had in hand in 1962 when he arrived in the United States, prepared to take on the American Dream. Giddy at the prospect of becoming a part of it all, the first thing my father set out to do was go to collect his promised money and housing assignment. Unfortunately, the first thing my father was told by the office that handled such financial matters was that due to a misunderstanding he hadn’t been granted the money promised after all. So there he was with his wife, his daughter and no prospects. Oh yes, and seven dollars in his pocket. My mother immediately began looking for work while my father began classes in the School of Economics. Unable to afford much more than meager amounts of food, my father deferred the cost of books by locating all the bookstores with the texts he needed for his classes and frequenting them all intermittantly to read his assignments. When he wasn’t in class or reading, he spent time in the housing office. After weeks of my father's daily visits, the housing officers finally found an opening for us in one of their housing units. We were placed in a Quonset hut in the University village on Como Avenue near highway 280. The hut we moved into, like all the other huts, was made from corrugated aluminum and little else. We occupied one end of the hut, and another family occupied the other. Only a paper thin wall with a boarded over hole separated us from our neighbors. Our red gingham curtains hung straight down from the rounded walls. But who could argue with three rooms and an oven? The Quonset was gradually furnished with decrepid but functional furniture that came from garage sales and helpful neighbors. My parents felt increasingly better about their situation. We lived there for two years until our Quonset hut was condemned for the second and final time since 1945. It was made into a chicken coop, so we were forced to move to the barracks on the next block. We stayed there as long as we could until they, too, were condemned. My parents felt no embarassment at their lot, however, nor did they need to. So what if a woman had come to appraise our house for a farm shed and left mumbling that it wasn’t good enough. It didn‘t matter. We were quite content. We had a kitchen table with enough folding chairs to seat plen- ty. It didn‘t matter that the table was so tall (or else the chairs so low) Show less
Murphy Square 1984 Editor Richard Liedholm Assistant Editor Wanda Hemphill Layout Editor Elizabeth Burow Faculty Advisor John Mitchell Cover Art Phil Thompson Literary Board Barbara Anderson Paul Burow Elizabeth Bura w Wanda Hemp/it'll Richard Liedholm James N0 wack Ed Sabella Linda Wagner... Show moreMurphy Square 1984 Editor Richard Liedholm Assistant Editor Wanda Hemphill Layout Editor Elizabeth Burow Faculty Advisor John Mitchell Cover Art Phil Thompson Literary Board Barbara Anderson Paul Burow Elizabeth Bura w Wanda Hemp/it'll Richard Liedholm James N0 wack Ed Sabella Linda Wagner Acknowledgements This edition of Murphy Square is made possible through the combined efforts of many people. who not only supplied time. but ideas as well. I wish to thank the Literary Board for their work in the difficult process of selecting works for this magazine and to John Mitchell and Elizabeth Burow, who were always there to help. A special thanks to Marit Sten- shoel, who gave time and support and to Bob Jensen and the others at Tandem Press, who went above and beyond to make this magazine a possibility. Most of all, a heartfelt thanks [0 Wanda Hemphill. who worked so hard in getting things right. Richard Liedholm All selections were judged anvnytnuus/y by lh? Llll‘rull Humtl Printed at Tandem Plus, 77/6 Cal/us Are. Str, th/l/It'lrl, \l\ t i l Show less
“At a Woody Allen movie?” said Bill. “He’s too cerebral for them. He’s too cerebral for me.” The smoke in the lobby stung Clint’s eyes. He blinked especially hard to set his contacts floating. Upon entering the darkened theater, he stopped two steps down the aisle to wait for his vision to adjust.... Show more“At a Woody Allen movie?” said Bill. “He’s too cerebral for them. He’s too cerebral for me.” The smoke in the lobby stung Clint’s eyes. He blinked especially hard to set his contacts floating. Upon entering the darkened theater, he stopped two steps down the aisle to wait for his vision to adjust. Bill stepped squarely on the back of Clint’s left heel, sending him a few steps further down the aisle. “Sorry,” Bill said, and then, “That is you, isn’t it?” “Yes,” Clint said. “Come on.” Barely able to make out the shapes of heads above the tops of the seats, Clint walked down to the third row from the front. “Do we have to sit this close?” Bill asked, looking back at the half- empty rows behind them. “I mean, you do have your contacts in, right?" “If I‘m watching a big screen, I want it to be big," Clint said. He walked across the row, almost to the middle, stopping one seat short of a teenage girl who was sitting alone. The screen lit up, showing the American flag and some precision Air Force jets, as a shortened version of “The Star Spangled Banner” played. “This seat is saved,” the girl told Clint, stretching her arm across the empty seat between them. “Uh-huh,” Clint said. “She’ll be back in a minute,” the girl said. Her silver braces shone across her teeth in the light from the screen. “Fine,” he said. Following several advertisements for the concession, the film began. Both Clint and Bill pushed their seats back as far as they could, trying to adjust to the close perspective. Clint’s seat thudded against the knee of the person behind him. “Oh, sorry," Clint said, apologizing to the man he had bumped. "Cindy," shouted the girl with braces, in Clint’s direction. A girl walking slowly down the aisle stopped and turned toward the voice. Clint’s neighbor rose and pushed her way past him and Bill and on to the end of the row. “Not cerebral enough,” Clint said to Bill. The girl with braces returned down the row to her seat, followed close- ly by Cindy, who was much shorter than the first girl and at least a few years younger. “Sit,” said the older girl. “You haven't missed much.” “She’s missed as much as we have," Clint whispered to Bill. His con- tacts had dried out his eyes, and he rubbed them to produce tears. _27_ Show less
CLOSET SHOTS By Tammy l. Rider The shots weren’t painful. Every Saturday morning the nurse would call my name and I’d hold out my arm and watch the needle touch my skin, linger for a moment, then ooze through like a pin penetrating a plum. It was too fascinating to hurt. On Sunday, after church,... Show moreCLOSET SHOTS By Tammy l. Rider The shots weren’t painful. Every Saturday morning the nurse would call my name and I’d hold out my arm and watch the needle touch my skin, linger for a moment, then ooze through like a pin penetrating a plum. It was too fascinating to hurt. On Sunday, after church, Peterandjon would come over to my house, they were my best friends and I could never separate one from the other, and Peterandjon and I would go play in the closet while our mothers sat in the living room discussing matters of great importance and telling puns. One time, as I held the needle from my toy doctor's kit just ready to jab Jon with (or was it Peter?), we heard my Mom outside the closet door. “What are you kids doing in there?” she asked. Aiming the needle, with perfect precision, I answered, “Just playing doctor, Mom.” The needle never reached an arm and we were never allowed in the closet again. -23_ Show less
Contributors Gwynne J. Boeskool is a sophomore International Relations major from Adington, VA who's occupational objective is life-long learner and creator. Blaine Cross is 3 English major from Hinckley. MN. Tove Dahl is a senior English major from White Bear Lake. MN who moved to the U.S. from... Show moreContributors Gwynne J. Boeskool is a sophomore International Relations major from Adington, VA who's occupational objective is life-long learner and creator. Blaine Cross is 3 English major from Hinckley. MN. Tove Dahl is a senior English major from White Bear Lake. MN who moved to the U.S. from Norway in I962. Daniel Erickson is a student at Augsburg. Jerry Gerasimo is an instructor of Sociology at Augsburg. David Hsiao is a junior who is looking for personal negative space. Justin Kisaka is a sophomore from Kinshasa. Zaire who now lives in Minneapolis. Kathleen Kuross is a junior Psychology major. Richard Liedholm is a English/History major from Minneapolis, MN who is proud of his new niece. Heather Ashley Baker. John Mitchell is an instructor of English at Augsburg. Karen Mjord is a Augsburg student from Plymouth, MN. Richard C. Nelson is a professor of History at Augsburg from Beatrice, NE. Tammy Rider is a sophomore Psychology major from Minneapolis. MN who is the oldest of 41 children. Kellie Shoemaker is a junior English major from McPherson, KA. Amy Spence is a freshman Social Work major from Spring Valley, Wl who is involved in the drama department and Augsburg Youth Ministry. Trudy Slechmann is a 17-year member of Augsburg’s staff who lives in Golden Valley, MN. Myles Stenshoel is a professor of Political Science at Augsburg. Barbara Arveson Tawah is an English major from Brainerd. MN. Myles E. Weber is a Political Science major from Virginia, MN. Nancy Wood is an English / Theater major from Richfield, MN. Show less
PM (0H0 C? M% \1,lO This magazine is gratefully dedicated to the instructors at this college, who plant the seeds. Richard A. Liedholm Editor, Murphy Square 1984 156922