T0 STRANGERS By David Hsiao He saw her on the other side of the footpath, which was about fifteen feet wide and darkened by an earlier rainstorm. She was walking slowly, with a grimace that deepened the crowsfeet around her eyes. He remembered his mother telling him about the nasty ache she was... Show moreT0 STRANGERS By David Hsiao He saw her on the other side of the footpath, which was about fifteen feet wide and darkened by an earlier rainstorm. She was walking slowly, with a grimace that deepened the crowsfeet around her eyes. He remembered his mother telling him about the nasty ache she was having in her thigh. But then she was always complaining about some pain or another. She would probably be dead if all that pain were true. His mother was moving closer toward him, walking in the same man- ner; her body in a slouch, her feet kind of pulling the rest of her forward, slowly and carefully. Her eyes were staring straight out and he thought that she hadn’t moved them in years. She rocked her left arm and kept her right one wrapped around her purse. She had lost her wedding band a while back, but the dark crease on her finger made it seem like she was wearing one anyway. Her hair was dry, and a frizzle of it stuck out through her hairpin. He remembered how she used to comb her newly washed hair over her face, and like a masked woman, chase after him, growling and flapping her arms in the air. When she caught up with him, and she always did, she would lift him up and rub her still-wet hair onto his face, still laughing and growling and laughing. But now her hair was dry. She passed him by. Her eyes had not seen him on the other side of the path. For the first time, he noticed that his mother was not a good look- ing woman. He stopped and turned around, wanting to call out, or run to her. But he just stared. Stared until he couldn‘t make out the designs on her jacket. He turned and walked home. For a moment, he wished he was someone else, and was walking to another home; to a company of strangers. _9_ Show less
Cynthia Johnson BABY LOVE l have a hmtheti his name is Baby Love and he lives in Brooklyn He doesn't know me He's too cool, I don't hang out with him or carry a .25 automatic. And he wouldn't say hi not on the street. He spends his days rollng Joints on the steps of his building sticks them... Show moreCynthia Johnson BABY LOVE l have a hmtheti his name is Baby Love and he lives in Brooklyn He doesn't know me He's too cool, I don't hang out with him or carry a .25 automatic. And he wouldn't say hi not on the street. He spends his days rollng Joints on the steps of his building sticks them behind his ear and gets high with Shilo, He's almost always stoned hut then he's l4. plays basketball or Space Invaders all day hecause that's all there is to do Cynthia Johnson MISSISSIPPI NOON On lunch hour he stands restlessly tearing juniper hrancha apart throwing them to the river telling me he wants to hop a harge ro Mardi Crass He mainstreams adve iture but his eyes keep searching the hotrom for agatcs, Show less
Kate Angier THERE ARE WORSE THINGS My father was one strange man. That’s what my friends told me. and I believed them. For instance. he used to piclt things out of the trash bin behind the Super Valu and bring them home for us to eat‘ "Geez, I didn't ltnow you were that poor!" they'd say, We... Show moreKate Angier THERE ARE WORSE THINGS My father was one strange man. That’s what my friends told me. and I believed them. For instance. he used to piclt things out of the trash bin behind the Super Valu and bring them home for us to eat‘ "Geez, I didn't ltnow you were that poor!" they'd say, We weren't. Dad was acting on the principle that perfectly good food should not he wasted. This principle is held world-Wide; the action was carried out because our lifestyle pennitted it. My father had become an advocate of an "alternative lifestyle." where people live in a different way from the usual middlrclnss family; and yes. salvaging slightly damaged cans of food and barely brown lettuce was one rather extreme example of behaVIor in that life. I can accept this concept now. because I understand it and its importance. but there was a time when I resented my father for being so different. and for making me different by association .3 well as in practice Our Journey into practical homesteading began when we bought a fifteen acre farm \\ ith no house. This purchase was followed by two major changes in my family's life: first. my father quit his job to become a real estate agent. and second. we moved from my hometown to live on the farm. A number of things initiated Dad's deciSIon to change our lifestyle. He had been a salesman for a mining eqmpment company in Hihbing. but was dissatisfied with the rather secure. boring job that ltcpt him away from home for weeks at a time. Assuming responSIbilities at an early age. when his father died. developed in him qualities of independence and creativuy which had no outlet in such a Job. Also. his forestry major in college made him sensitive to environmental issues that were just being l’CCOflIIZ‘d. like land conservation and energy'efficient housing Show less
Donna Stewart THE A'I'I‘IC Looking through decaying boxes In the attic in mother's house. we find old pictures. snapshots of mother when she was a girl And father. a handsome young man in his dad: pinstripe suit. The two of them in a wedding photograph He. dashing and sure of himself She, eyelids... Show moreDonna Stewart THE A'I'I‘IC Looking through decaying boxes In the attic in mother's house. we find old pictures. snapshots of mother when she was a girl And father. a handsome young man in his dad: pinstripe suit. The two of them in a wedding photograph He. dashing and sure of himself She, eyelids dropped. in a shy sdiool-girl smile Seventy years ago! Fourteen grandchildrai. ten greargnndchildren. and four great-great grandchildren The young, handsome man. gone now The shy young woman. hands twisted hv arthritis The same eyes. hidden behind wnnlilu ol the once smooth lace Memorim of courting. marriage and children hright in mother's clear mind Her mother and father Aunts Edith and Effie Uncld Emory and Con Cousms and friends Seven and eight decades past Revived like yesterday. every detail rememhered The dark blue dress. dai5ies, licorice candy The house on Hope Street. the farm in Milaca. the attic All gone today Only a handful of memories left now And the old photographs. Show less
Katherine Dmltsel She toolr them off at the traffic light speckled With dirt and dust Wiped as she blinked about her, The license plate ahead couldn't be denphered store fronts blended together, People on the comers were beautiful eyes were attractive dark sockets blemishes invmble —- hlurred... Show moreKatherine Dmltsel She toolr them off at the traffic light speckled With dirt and dust Wiped as she blinked about her, The license plate ahead couldn't be denphered store fronts blended together, People on the comers were beautiful eyes were attractive dark sockets blemishes invmble —- hlurred over With flesh A horn Jerked her to a start she didn't see the light change on she drove enjoying her new sense of V|Sl0n She enjoyed the absence of road signs the absence of rust on cars She enjoyed the car that turned into her — and diminished all llCl' Slfllt to her ultimate satisfaction Show less
23 Richard Nelson ON THE EFFICACY OF PRAYER The coach asked ill would Pray at th: pnrgamc breakfast. “Absolutely not." I thought. But what I said was, "Ya." Sister Antoinettc once said That one should pray humth And Fathcr always wamedi "Never pray for Victory." And latcrl read a poem Scratchzd... Show more23 Richard Nelson ON THE EFFICACY OF PRAYER The coach asked ill would Pray at th: pnrgamc breakfast. “Absolutely not." I thought. But what I said was, "Ya." Sister Antoinettc once said That one should pray humth And Fathcr always wamedi "Never pray for Victory." And latcrl read a poem Scratchzd in an allied trench: “Gun on]: England. God savc the King; 'My God,' said God. 'I can't do everything,' " And I guessed Fathcr was right, Sol thought thos: thoughts And on Saturday morning I prayed this prayer: "Father. on rhis clay we have No petitions to place helm: you. Rather, thankful for all you Have given us. wc place som: Special gills before you: Strength to replace our fear, Swiltncss to replace our fatigue. Resolve to replace our doubts " Everyone had bowed his licad And afterwards sonic said. "Good Job." "Nice praycr,” "Thanks," I said "But it's the Kiss of Di:th for sure," I thought. And l went home to worlr on Monday's class and watch Football on the who Show less
25 Mary M. Deering DESIRING MEN WHO ARE LESS THAN PERFECT As I helped a man with wasted minclu Put his jacket on. Reaching up through the sleeve With my hand and arm for his. Which having no muscle or tone, First bent backwards, then sideways And finally came with a sweet laclt of raistitnce.... Show more25 Mary M. Deering DESIRING MEN WHO ARE LESS THAN PERFECT As I helped a man with wasted minclu Put his jacket on. Reaching up through the sleeve With my hand and arm for his. Which having no muscle or tone, First bent backwards, then sideways And finally came with a sweet laclt of raistitnce. With such a perfect Willingness To be grasped and pulled into And through the sleeve, My breath snagged. When he leaned forward, Odd weightlss weight against my breast And I smoothed the jacket Down over his back M) heart was beating in the palm of my hand ll As I watched a palsied man Crossmg the street, Walking towards me. Walking upon his toes. Propelled by the same sort Of precarious force that moves a toddler. His arms conducting a wild orchutration of balance. Red sweater open, Flapping in time. "Here," I wanted to say. "Wait, lean on longing to feel the tension of his effort Against my thigh And in my mouth Show less
