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... o , J tCt, ~ dId,/ IfJ'-ss THE CREEP~ Courtney Cox A WATERCOLOR: MAGDALA/ Deb Seare 5 9 THE STONE HOUSES/ Amy Ceader 11 WHERE'S YOUR IMAGINATION/ Jennifer Kelly 12 PEGASUS/ Charlene Cusick 19 IRVING'S BIG ADVENT~ Courtney Cox 20 IVORY AND THE CHILD/ Charlene Cuaick 22 HAIKU/ Drew Appleby 24 I CLOSING NIGHT/ Charlene Cusick 25 UNTITLED/ 26 TOil Fout HAIKU/ Drew Appleby 27 OCTOBEij SKETCH/ Deb Sears 28 SMOK~ 29 Charlene Cusick CARMEN'S CHRISTMAS/ Yvonne Stanifer Daniel 31 HAIKU" Drew Appl eby 39 COVE~ Terence Hanley pp. 4, 8, 10, 18, 21/ Terence Hanley pp. 30, 38/ Sister Stella LETTERING/ Sister Stella Debbie Sears Kent Daniels Sister Stella ~.6T~ ---- Debbie Sears Michael Dugan Terence Hanley Sister M. Stella Gampfer, OSF - -. -- . ..,.:r-,,--.. ",.,,'-- ~i%~by Courtney Cox Let's talk, you and I. Let's talk about fear. Few ever experience it in its true, raw form. Sure, many may recall those horrible moments of wondering if the car will start, but that's not what we're discussing here. Fear causes one to go clammy, to stop thinking, 1:0 wish for death. I know what fear is. So does Brian, my brother, though he won't speak of it. Somehow, s~ ply calling up those memories to talk about, makes the body cold to the bone again stiff slimy with sweat As small children, we loved visiting Nana and Grandad at the farm. There was a large rolling velvet orchard in front, edged with rows of silent cows (and one terribly fascinating bull). The big woods across the creek was full of old, gnarly trees, thick rugs of; moss, and flitting fairies. So, because there, were so' many diversions out there on the farm, we found endless excuses for not playing in the old barn, a huge, ageless, well-preserved structure which promised unconditional death to us. "Why don't you ever swing on the tire that (}randad hung in the barn just for you?" Nana would plead with us. Our replies ranged from the sun being too bright to the playhouse needing redecoration, but we always had one. Always. We,' d f el t i t ever since we were tiny, when once Grandad took us into the barn to show off his new Gurnsey, Aunt Millie. Immediately after ehtering the gloom, we both stopped dead. Some~ thing in the 10ft wanted us. Pressing waves of hatred pushed through the floorboards from above, penetrating and freezing U8. Grandad, mystified and concerned, hurried us out into the usunshine 5 when he saw our suddenly pasty faces. Years later, when we were told the legend of the Creeper, out eyes met and we nodded, understanding finally. The old story claimed that her name before death had been Hattie. She was a darling, pretty little 'thing, but partially retarded, thus thought to be "possessed." Her family, the respectable Starns, had moved clear across the country to the new farm to escape the shame. They decided that something had to be done with Hattie to avoid that same disgrace in their new home. That "something" ended in Hattie's being chained to the hayloft, neat the tiny high window in the barn. She remained there her entire life, looking out the grimy window, her mind filled with burning hatred. She died on her thirty-first birthday, lonely and bitter, hoping desperately to find the company in death that she'd been unable to have in life. She'd been creeping about the 10ft ever since, looking for that company, as she would for all eternity Knowing the source of our fear somehow didn't deplete it. Rather, we both made silent resolutions never to allow ourselves to pooh-pooh the legend as we grew older, nor to everlook the horrid significance of our first encounter with the Creeper. So when we moved to the farm when Nana and Grandad died, the year after Brian became a teenager, we simply skirted the barn at all cost, questions unnecessary. It had become second nature, being comparable only to placing a hand on a red-hot stove burner--once--and never, ever doing it again. Thus, it was without a second's hesitation that we shook our heads silently and solidly when Bret, the hulking fool next door, proposed one thick evening that we spend the night in our 10ft to "pay our respects to the Creeper." Our adamant refusals only heightened his insistend whining. After exhausting every juvenile persuasive tactic that his tiny mind could conceive, he leaped from his yard chair and lumbered toward the barn. Brian and I looked long at one another, eyes bulging with fear in the rapidly fading dusk. We couldn't allow it to happen--not even to Bret. We sprinted after his figure, catching up only seconds before he bent to enter the easy-access door. He shook off our tackles and disappeared into the black hole before we could gain our feet again. Standing slowly, we looked up into Hattie's tiny window. We felt her grinning down at us from its blackness. Then our attention turned again to Bret, who could be heard hauling himself clumsily up the steep 10ft stairs as he laughed .and dared us to follow. He reached the summit and we heard him scuffling about a bit and then a thud followed by dead, thick silence. Swallowing our terror, we dove through the doorway, then raced to the 10ft stairs, taking them three at a leap. At the top, realizing where we were, we stopped, clinging to one another in the dark. A sound of thick, wet breathing was approaching us from the direction of Hattie's window. Chests contricting, we stumbled forward, then fell hard on the dusty floor boards. Groping in the darkness, we discovered that we'd been tripped by a large, rather flabby body. Bret. We clutched the hulk and began dragging him frantically toward the stairs. Looking up briefly, I saw outlined against the dull moonlight in the window, a head of matted, snarled hair and gnarled shoulders. 7 And then it was gone, followed by a deep chuckle. Knowing that the flab and hay would cushion the fall, we rolled Bret down the steep flight, then tumbled over one another, clutching the rail, fleeing the horror behind. Tugging and pushing Bret's form toward the door, we looked up one last time. She was standing in a white slash of moonlight, arms at her sides, head thrown back, mouth agape, whining her eternal lonely rage. In our terror, we gave Bret a final shove and popped him through the small door, tumbling out onto him. He began to grunt as he came to. Bret later told us that he'd knocked himself out on a low beam--but he couldn't imagine how he had gotten such large, nasty bruises on his ribs and arms. We didn't tell him out part of the tale. We never even discussed it privately. What could possibily be said? /" 1 ---_ ..- -:::--- -. 8 -- ...--,-.... -.. .~ "",.,,'-- ;r'ue!4 a., ~4Jf~n/ ,

... PtJ ./s, 1/ () ~ f!..1t1L ~; ioye,iti fioretti MARIAN COLLEGE Indianapolis, Indiana LITERARY ANTHOLOGY VOLUME 42 NO. / /983 - ,rtf THE LIGHTS OF GODSEND/ Deb Sears 15 DUSTY SANDALS/ Lisa Bernhard YOU'VE GOT ITl USE IT II Richard Peak 1.6 THE POEM IN ROOM 2(b/ Kent Daniels 21 MR. JOHN/ Lauren Emst 22' AMERICAN HIGHWAY/ Hichae 1 Dugan 28 HAIK.U/ Drew Appleby 29 ONE THAT GOT AWAY/ 30 Terence Hanley ARRP1AL AT GRANNY'S/ Deb Sears 33 HAPPy BIRTHDAY--2oo3/ Audrey 35 Pearson PROFESSOR OF CHEMISTRY/ Deb Sears 39 5:00 A.M./ Thomas O'Brien 40 COVER/ Jill Thompson pp. )~, ~, 38/ Ellen Petrai1iB p. 21/ Jeanne Byrnes LETTERING/ Sister Stella 2ifIll!!&-Debbie Sears Kent Daniels Sister Stella Debbie Sears Michae 1 Dugan Terence Hanley c!lijjd"p~ Sister H. Stella Gampf'er, OSF 1( 675 0 -" .... '" " \~. ~. ,central plains edge of a city: Godsend anno Domini 2375 . She stood before the threshold stone, trembling with cold and fatigue. Dry grass and dead cornstalks rustled in the garden behind her; a spring breeze pressed against tarpaper and shrunken boards. Slowly, out of little more than habit, she touched the' stone in homage and greeting, and crossed it. Finally she was home again. But as she paused and scanned the sunlit room, she felt uncomfortable. The washbasin and cot had both been recently used. The rough-hewn table had been moved to the room's center. On it, a handful of flowers drank from a glass of water. A new morning fire burned on the small hearth. Someone else was living here. She coughed, turned and climbed the narrow staircase which led to an open 10ft. After several months of vacancy, a house could be claimed by any transient or pauper; that was the custom of Godsend, and she would not contest it. With her mission finished, she had no reason to try to stay. But she would see thelab--or whatever remained of it. Little remained. The electronic equipment, the glassware, and the testing reagents lay smashed and scattered in .tumbled heaps across the 10ft ' floor; and as she 'looked at the ashes of her notes, watching fragments of paper quiver in the cold draft, she felt a thin stirring in her soul. Notebooks, watchglasses, eyedroppers, and reagent stocks--these had been her sacred relics, parts 5 of her soul. The inland people of Godsend had their stone altars, holy writ, and songprayers. But for the strength and comfort of her soul, she had had her tools, a mission, and her friend. Now she had nothing, only fragments and memories. With the toe of her boot, she pushed aside a pile of colored glass and stepped toward the 10ft window. Her own reflection:moved in those panes--a small woman clothed in dark jeans and a soft rabbitpelt jacket. The loose sleeves were barely long enough to conceal her new scars; beneath her hood, new strands of grey hid among the brown curls. She grasped the window ledge, trying to see herself more clearly, but the reflection slid away. On the ground below her, she instead saw a tall woman walking rapidly from the garden toward the house. The woman's identity and the memories of her became instantly, painfully clear ~ They are standing together in the shed, . she and the tall inlander, surrounded by a metric tori "of chemicals, a shipment brought with caution and secrecy from the Coast up the river to Godsend. If the people of Godsend knew of the arrival, they would call the organometallic compounds an anarchist's poison. Centuries of ignorance and toxic waste have poisoned their minds against any help from the Coast. Yet, this one inlander--a clerk in the city's hierarchy~-has been a helper and guide, a good and faithful friend through all the months of research and preparation. But you a idn't tell me about this, Annora, the inlander says, bending down to inspect a bag. She pulls away the soft cloth tie-ropes, r olls back the burlap, finds strong metal cc)nisters. Why so well sealed? It's ~ vesicant, she explains reluctantly, uneasily. Dangerous to the skin. And ~ potent sensitizer: ~ single over-exposure would be bad; a second one could be fatal. The inlander hastily pulls back the cloth and stands. And, she says quietly, you're going to break open the storage drums ~ the site. Don't worry, she answers. There'll be no mistake. This compound--she gestures to the reagent bags--these, in the presence of light, will form the new bonds which will draw the toXicantS out of the earth. Theseepriii" wastes will cease to poison your people, and mine. She nods and tugs at a strand of blond hair. Will eye-light be enough? she asks after a moment. Eye-light? Again, she is startled by the inlander's wealth of misinformation and medieval notions. Yes, the light of our eyes. At night, when you pour these chemicals ~ the open barrels, will eye-light be enough? Or must ~ wait for the dawn? Yes, the dawn, she answers. It's a reaction which req~es the presence of li~ -Daylight. The inlander shakes her head. A secret shipment of poisons . Breaking ~ the storage site . . And you didn't tell ~-Yes, but for ~ purpose. Trust me, Lucia . .!. know what I'm doing. And Godsend's authorities must not know. They'll!!:l. to prevent me from completing what I've begun. No one else must know. ----The inlander gazes steadily at her and nods. I know. I know . Annora pushed herself away from the window--away from Godsend and its people and their ~self-imposed medieval ignorance-and hurried down the stairs, seeking to avoid a confrontation. But when she reached the bottom step, the doorway was already blocked: the tall woman had crossed the yard and was bowing in reverence to the threshold stone. The inlamder could not be avoided, nor anymore forgotten. They met. "You," Lucia whispered. She, the friend and traitor, stood in the doorway motionless and pale, her brown eyes wide and staring. Annora looked away and said nothing. "What do you want from me?" "Want?" Annora asked. "What could I possibly want of you?" "You're here. You didn't come back for nothing." Lucia's voice became steely, harsh, defensive. "If you've come to punish me--" "No." She glanced up to Lucia, gathered together more words, and turned away again. Her gaze settled on the things of the house--the table, the fireplace, the windows; and a cold, hollow, helpless feeling sank into her soul. "This was my home once." A long, uncomfortable silence came between them before Lucia spoke again, this time softly, without undertones of suspicion or fear. "This house holds many memories for you," she agreed. "I moved in after the deacons told me you had escaped. I knew that the house would call you back to it." She went to the center table, pulled a chair around, but didn't sit. "What brought you back, Annora?" "The lab." . "And what else?" Annora shook her head. Since her escape from Godsend, she had felt little but a gnawing ~eed to return. Other than that, she had only excuses-:-the same she had given her doctors at the Coast hospital. "I thought I had left something unfinished. I wanted to , inspect the site--" "You've been there?" Lucia asked sharply. "This morning, yes." "Then," Lucia said quietly, "you already know the good news." She reached across the table and raised a single white flower from the glass. "Bloodroot. These flowers were growing at the site, on the land my people called 'condemned.' Your mission brought new life to dead land, Annora. You were right." "Forget it," Annora said harshly, trying to avert the words which she could already hear in Lucia's throat. "I should have trusted you. Instead--" The flower fell from Lucia's fist--a hand shaped by condemnation and self-hatred. "Lucia, don't." Annora coughed and reached for the chair. "Let's just forget." But the memory had already begun to fill Annora's mind, light through a shattered pane-The orange rays of morning. The towers of Godsend gleam, silvery bridges shimmer with the river's reflection. Sunlight penetrates the boarded fence and spread across the toxic waste storage site. Standing at a safe distance, she removes her gloves and mask, and draws her breath in exhaustion and excitement: success! The old and seeping drums lie open now, spilling their poisons freely to the light. The festering - sore in the earth is lanced and draining; the sunlight and coastal compounds are absorbing the black pus. Now groundwater from this site will cease to slowly poison the river which flows to the Coast. But ~ hundred other sites remain, all carefully protected by the laws and customs of Godsend. She watches for a few more moments, then returns to her horse-drawn wagon and begins tying down its canvas cover. The empty canisters, the bags and ropes--some of them contaminated by contact with the vesicant--and all the tools have been loaded. Beneath the cover they will be hidden; the wagons will be inconspicuous among the trucks, carts and tolleys of Godsend's streets. _ A city frozen in time. It has been hard for her to understand this place where technology has not changed in centuries, and is not allowed to change. In the people too, there is a stubborn changelessness which has annoyed and baffled her. They are content with their small and limited knowledge, asking nothing of the world, exploring nothing beyond their borders. Only with Lucia has she sensed any real courage, enough to base a friendship on. Only with Lucia has she felt safe. As she ties the last strap, the horses suddenly raise their heads. They nicker softly. She follows their gaze, sees nothing, tries to dismiss their behavior, can not, and looks up again. She is surrounded by police. They say nothing, and for a while no one moves. Their guns are steadily aimed, and though they often glance uneasily toward the site, they are alert and inescapable. Then the deacons arrive with grim, dark faces and a crowd of councilmen. One flings off the canvas cover and, finding the evidence he wants, passes a silent judgement. He picks up a rop~ conveniently near, and hands it tQ a guard, nodding toward the surrounded Coastlander. At first she is defiant and ready to struggle. But she sees a woman standing in the crowd-Luc ia; shamefaced, regretful, unprotesting. Lucia knew Annor~'s plan, the where and when; and now she is standing with the captors. Lucia has lead them he re. Annora's bravery crumbles into shock. She lets herself be bound with ropes and pushed i through the crowd toward a waiting truck. She can feel Lucia's gaze upon her, but she does not look up, does not turn to look at her again. The treachery burns within her mind .. ~ Lucia pushed a cup across the table toward her. "Sassafras," she said, gazing curiously at 10 Annora. "I dug the roots myself. Drink, it'll help you feel better." Annora stared at the warm misty vapors of the cup, steadying herself against the memories and weariness. She shook her head and tugged at the sleeves of her jacket. "I'm not staying," she murmured. "I hope not," Lucia said. "I know your mission is important. But right now it's simply too dangerous. Even seeing the good that you've done, my people would still arrest you, any Coastlander. Maybe in a few more months, after the next election, they'll calm down. Then you can start again." "It's over," Annora answered. "The mission? Finished?" She nodded. "But what about the other sites? The other poisons? There still is work to do here." "I can't do it. I'm sensitized now." Annora looked up and saw Lucia's reaction--a pallor which settled over the warry lines already present. "Other missioners will be sent," Annora added. "Sensi tized! But how--" Lucia's protest faded ' into silence, as her gaze fell upon Annora's arms. Slowly, she reached toward the sleeves, and after glancing to Annora, she folded them back. She saw the pale and twisted scars. "The ropes," Lucia whispered. "They must have been coated with chemicals. And now another over-exposure " "That's why the Godsend mission is over for",me. I can't work with the necessary (', compounds anymore." Annora took the cup in her hands and tried to smile. "Don't think about it, Lucia. The sores were properly treated when I reached the Coast. My people took good care of me." "My people hate traitors. And they censured II me for not betraying you sooner than I did." "After all those months why did you do it?" Lucia shivered slightly. "You told me that you wanted to make the stoI'lage sites safe. Then, when you told me that you were going to destroy the storage drums, I began to wonder and doubt--" "But I explained that to you several times. The barrels were already damaged; they had to be opened up, just like an infected wound. And there had to be light for the reaction." "That's what you said. But you underestimate the power of our customs in Godsend. You never could quite understand. We're afraid of the storage sites. They are like idols, ancient demons we can't master; our fear is our worship. And the laws to protect them--really, to protect ourselves from them--the laws aren't superficial. Fear is engrained. In our religion, government, dtalect,minds I wanted to help you end the fear,and make the idols fall. But then you h~gan to say and do things I didn't understand. I ':'")0 became afraid." She looked toward Annora' s sca:r:-n. "And my' fear caused this." "A contaminated rope caused this," Annora answered uneasily. "If only I had trusted." "I didn't suffer," she insisted, though she could vividly remember the gnawing pain, the desperate journey, the weeks of bitter sickness. "Stop denying the past, Annora. Every moment that you were away from me you suffered." Annora looked away, through the doorway toward the heart ~f Godsend. Hardy dandelions nestled in the dead weeds. Sparrows chattered on brown tree braaches. In the distance, Godsend's towers rose slim and tall. Deny the past? She meant only to deny an unnecessary apology. All the bitterness which had sickened her soul, all the brooding hatred IL and blame, all the anger was gone now, carefully counselled away by her doctors on the Coast. She wanted no apology and no remembrance. But Lucia went on. "Your soul suffered. I betrayed you. I sinned against friendship and against you. Now I ask for pardon, though I know you think I'm unforgivable." Annora felt a sudden pain; the congestion in her lungs was suddenly tighter than before: she'd tried to breathe too deeply and too sharply, reacting to Lucia's words. "I never condemned you," Annora said, still unwilling to meet Lucia's gaze. "No, I know your judgement." "What judgement?" Disconcerted now, off-balance, and sensing failure, Annora paused. She searched her memories and frustration hardened in her mind. "When? I said nothing to you that day." "When you were being led away you did," Lucia "answered. "1 was there, trying to see you. I knew that if you looked at me--if you really looked~~you'd see and understand that I was ' sorry. That I regretted what I'd done; that I had tried, but couldn't stop the arrest. That I hated myself for it. I knew I'd see something in your eye-light, maybe mercy .. But you turned away from me." Lucia's voice was cool now, toneless, like a prayer without meaning. "Your gesture spoke a judgement. It's speaking now." Annora closed her eyes and her soul surged and trembled, ~illed at last with memories-how she'd felt after those first moments of shock; and th~ feelings of bitterness and anger came alive again, echoes, ghost images. The flesh wounds had healed, but the self-inflicted inner wounds remained. And there, trapped in her own darkness, she couldn't escape what she saw: a treachery 13 worse than that of Lucia. It was not Lucia's apology she'd sought to deny; it was her own. For she had withheld mercy, and still could not forgive. "I don't deserve mercy," Lucia said. "You do." "Then-;hy don't you look at me now?" Annora stared at the blackness. "I looked away. I wanted to hurted you, wanted hate." She slipped into a silence of guilt, helpless, lost. Lucia too was silent for a while. Then she grasped Annora's hand. "You'll have to face me eventually." Her voice was new and powerful. "You can't stay in Godsend, and you're far too tired and ill to travel alone. I know it's a long journey and that I'll be ~ foreigner among your people, but Annora, I'm going to take you home. To your home." Startled, Annora glanced to Lucia; and before she could turn away again, Lucia's gaze caught her. Faintly, like muffled lightening on the horizon, imperfect, a reflection; then like stark and .brilliant flashes, forgiveness and mercy passed between them. And wordlessly remained. "Now I think you ought tio rest," Lucia said, smiling; her brdwn eyes part of an expression full of compassion and concern. A cool spring breeze slipped through the doorway, bringing odors of earth and flowers. Sunlight fell from the room's high windows. With Lucia's help, - Annora went to the cot and in the Godsend light, she rested . . . .-.. . --"". '--'". . ~,~' '.... . .J.rl~jf1tt_._ -_ ._ . ... .- /4- ....... . . ~ /~ a t?K, ~X5JdU/fK~. . ~ /na;d/u.." l4 db:u/Ly4 I?~ 4fE ~d~ fiead/~d~k~~ ~K ~~n *et~U/n,J JJE~~i~ /hah~ U /h ~pd~a/~ J~~~x~ t?~ /d/'~ q/LL~ Ck ~U~n-- . pt///Hdt; V ~y ~ &ye... J &:a: ~r/~~ ~~Zd"-u~~ . ' LV~Yh~~ ..; kk iPddL~ Hf'y hbZdtU~. ....fh4P& ~~ dHe C'ZJ~/~HC: . C#/UC ~e ~~4 4~ff~Lf -. /?'t:?a/A. ~H~ de~~4! y:J ~l! 4dHd /!he ~a~d'r.ur( . .L;:..,a..,~~ /5 I was a senior at John Brawn High School when David Johnson moved into our school distr1ct. I really didn I t know how to act toward him since I had never met anyone like him. I s " "11 remember the first time I met David. He was ':sll--approximately six-foot-four and very lanky, but he was also the first black kid ever enrolled in our small private high school. David was also a senior, so I knew sooner or 18tar I would meet him. Mrs. Adams, the homeroom teacher, introduced him to all of us. The entire time that she spoke ot him, he never once looked up. I wondered if he was teeling bad about being here or about being different. Did he think we I d look down on him or call him names? What could be going through his head? What did he think of us because we were white? MY ,questions were erased, and I was brought back to oonsciousness b,y one word--basketballl Mrs. Adams spoke of David I s many achievements in basketball. From that point on I knew that David and I would somehow become triends. Basketball--that was all I ever thought about since the accident. It was lunch time and I had built up my nerve to sit and talk with David. As I walked into the lounge, I looked around for him. Where was he, I wondered. There in a back corner all by himselt, he was sitting. Slowly I maneuvered my.eIt toward him. "Is there someone else sitting here?" I asked. He shook h1a head. "Then do you mind if I sit here?' He looked up at me then and motioned tor me to sit down. Once I was seated, I tried to encourage a conversation, but it was one sided--all me. Finally, David got up, picked up his garbage, arnd proceeded to walk out ot the lounge. I noticed that he was very sh7J he very seldon even looked up. I knew lid just have to keep trying until he opened up. Each day for about three weeks straight, lid sit and talk to him at lunch. Slowly he opened up and began joking with me 0 I began looking forward to a long and lasting friendship. I always talked about basketball, and he knew everything about the game. It was amazing! I told him that he would be super for our team, that he was just what we needed. He just smiled and then laughed. One day after school, David and I were walking home. Just to start a conversation, I asked him why he had transferred to John Brown. He gave me a strange, serious look and began to tell me of his ordeal at the last school he had attended--an inner-city public school. When he finished he asked me how I got rrty' limp. I told him how my leg was crushed in a car accident. I told him that I was lucky but that my mom hadn't been so luckY. He looked at me with sympathy and expressed his apologies. We walked in silence tor wt~t seemed a long time~then I finally broke the ice. "Yeah, rrry dad, he took it pretty hard, but he survived. We've even got a maid now." I asked David if he wanted to coma over for dinner. He said he couldn't today, but he'd ask his parents if . he could tomorrow. It That .would be great, II I answered. We finally reached the split in our trail. We paused then separated, heading hane. He lived about a mile from rrry house. As months passed, David and I became very close. Weld often stay at each other's house. His little brothers were a "crack," always wrestling with each other. His man had a hard time keeping up with them, but I could tall she loved 17 every minute ot it. David's dad worked as a janitor at the power plant. Held always spend "a "Ii ttle time with us, shooting basketball or just bull. This was something I missed because nq father either had to work late or was too tired to do anything else. David's family was alm.ost an ideal familYJ they were very close. lid otten think of my mother when lid see Mrs. Johnson. I knew that if she had lived she would love me as David's mom loved her family. Basketball season opened in November, and David was quickly the team IS star. I was certain that he was good enough to be elected on the AllState team, but he would always laugh and say how crazy I was. During the course of t he season, David had several thirty-point games, an average of ten rebounds a game, and some fantastic slam dunks. He was a superstar in every aspect of the game. When the season was over, he was elected "Mr. Basketball," and he was also chosen first . team All-knerican. He began practicing with the All-8tate team "every day after school, so I vary " rarely saw hini. One day while we were in class, an announce" ment came over the intercom, telling of an explosion at the power plant. I remember seeing David jump up . and run out the door. The teacher motioned to him, but he didn't even see her. I explained to her that David Ie father was a janitor at the plant. She looked at me with understanding and thanked me. That school day seemed to last forever. I was 80 anxious to hear s orne news of David IS father that I gouldn't concentrate on what was going on in class. ' When the bell announcing the end of the school day finally rang, I made a dead sprint dawn the hallway, weaving in and out, trying to avoid knocking anyone dawn. I reached the ex!t and burst out onto the open road. My short leg was aching as I tried to keep up ~ exhausting /~ pace. Block after block I passed until I stood before David's house. I paused wondering if I should knock, but I soon put aside this moment ot insecurity. David answered the door, but he just stood there. His brown eyes were tullot tears, and his normally thin face looked thick and pufty. I didn 1 t know what to do or say as I could hear sounds of sobbing fran inside the house. tlDavid, I--Ilm sorry. If there's anything I can do, please call me." He thanked me and moved back into the house and shut the door. I knew what David was going through, and I also knew that hie life at home would never be the same. Two days had passed after the funeral, and I hadn't seen or heard anything fran David. On my way home trom school, I decided to drop by his house. I knocked several times before Mrs. Johnson answered. "Hello, Tim, II she said in her usual ple~ ant tone. lilt you're looking tor David, Hets not here. I don" t know where he is; he just gets ' up and leaves. He seldom speaks, never answers any otmy questions. Tim, I'm afraid he's gonna quit school." "What?" I screamed. "Not it I have anything to do with it." I hurried away, remembering one place that David would probably goo It was an old, beat up basketball court, located at the end of a dead end street. As I approached, I heard a basketball bouncing. "Hey, David," I yelled. He did not answer. Again I yelled, "David." He looked at me and then turned ' toward the goal and shot a thirty tooter--nothing but nets. "David, why haven It you been going to school?" I asked. "I quit!" "You can't quit. What about basketball, /9 the All-Star game?" His tone changed from uninterested to disturbed. liTo hell with it, to hell with all of it. I can't play basketball. I've got to get a job and help my mom." "What do you mean 'get a job'? There's your job right there in your hands--basketball. That will be your paycheck. David, I've watched you play. live watched every game I could possibly wawh on TV and live, both college and professional, and youlre just as good or even better." "C'mon, Tim, give it to me straight. lim not that good," he responded. I screamed, "David, you are' You have the moves, the quickness, the height, and everything to go with it. Did you know that there will be college and professional scouts -at that All-Star game? David, it's right in the palm of your hand, don't let it slip away." He looked at me in amazement. I was getting through to him. "DaVid, do you know how much the pros make? That was your father's dream} he wanted you to be the best basketball player in the world. He wanted you to be a pro. lt With a detennined look, he screamed, "Tim, you're right. I can do it, I canl" The horn sounded, and I was brought back to reality. Halftime was over, and my story had lasted the entire thirty minutes. I looked at Bill. He was asleep. I guess I must have bored him with my story. The _ Nuggets were back on the court. There was David. He already had twenty pointe, and I was sure he would get twenty more. There's the tip. "Clmon, David, let'. go'" ../~ee rhea/E7U~e 4/~d7r ,hd~~ /k1 xad J1,fi~ ../l~u/N- ,ua/.,4 aefth~ .k"K~X~ .. dNa U/4U aifdCU A-d/Qh; r#ea 4Ukafi~ ~/k~ k k~h% #U/~-rA~?-~~~E4J ~dP'~ tZkd?~ /,/ e~ 7K& de~4 ,d .. .uHe/ ,d/dNdL~ ~~c IN, ~K~ m~"jbemj . ./}UZ~ :T/U~~ find dH4eJld: r4JrU Jj4~~/v j/Uc.hd~,d PL~U/4 "'~" J.i:r ~kda/ de w;~~ ~Efe7Hdeuftf t~~4;~x;4 dzd ~ au ~ L1~.. ';;'/4 u/;HLpu/~?/U.Qd IN ~m~ ,4aN~, $mtH;t4~ 71?4y '~~ka/ahef:J~ Hc~ /he ~~ ~ e~bEd L~. J~~ay' a'H~yerfi4?Ha; h/4e 4dUHd' h4J~d~ J/.fe7d/e ",fa. ~ rM ~ JbV",~c. ~?d ~~;Yanan W CQllege :LI 1 0 6'7 5 8 Library Indianapolis, lnd" ~~,1;l,_ ~- - - ..y ~OLC-H.t'r "Well, they've finally reinstated the draft. Mandatory for all boys age 18 and up," the man declared loudly to his friend in the neighborhood drugstore. Glancing at the paper's headlines, his friend agreed. "Good thing, too. It's high time those kids showed some bravery and respect for their country. They'll learn." I opened ~y mouth, about to disagree with these strangers, then shut it again. 1I1aybe these men just hadn't been lucky enough to see the other side of the coin. I paid for my purchase, and as I walked to the car, I thought back to high school years, and to Mr. John. Though he had never intentionally taught me anything, I had learned so much from him. Mr. John -- the old janitor at my high school - I . can still remember, from the first . time I met him I had been helping other band members fix up the music room at school. Some were painting, others filing music, and I was cleaning out the dingy instrument lockers. Glancing at one locker, empty except for a crinkled piece of sheet music, I realized I would have to find a screwdriver to fix a loose hinge. So off I went to find Mr. John. I hunted the halls, checked his small office at the far end of the building, and finally found him in the broiler room located in the basement. After knocking, then yelling, I prodded across the dusty yet organized room to where he was standing. "Wh.y do they have an old geezer like this working here? Probably was here when the school opened," I thought to myself. He glanced up at me like a professor interrupted in his studies. "I did knock," I defended myself mentally, feeling like an intruder. "What?" Mr. John asked, looking more than slightly perturbed. Explaining my mission, I glanced at his two hands. Aged and wrinkled, they still looked as though they could be firm and disciplining. Now, though, they gently repaired a broken chair. Mr. John mumbled something about being disturbed and young kids borrowing things and never returning them, but he walked directly to his limrk area. It was neat and in order, with every imaginable size nail, screw, and bolt labeled in jars. Towards one end of the table there stood a small picture frame, old yet sturdy, containing a photo of a young man in an army uniform. From the style of the .man's uniform, I guessed it had been taken around i-lorld War II . Glancing back at Mr. John, I thought of my grandfather, clad in old cotton pants and a striped shirt. Only my grandfather wouldn't have looked disapprovingly at my faded jeans and T-shirt. "He probably thinks girls should wear dresses and leave the 'hard work' to guys," I thought~ . This was confirmed when he handed me the screliJdriver and asked if I needed help. "No, but thanks," I mumbled quickly to the grey-haired figure. Then feeling him staring at me, I turned and hurried out the door. That was when I realized that although everyone around sohool knew Mr. John, no one ' knew anything about his family, friends, or home. And who was that man in the pioture? Later, I found out it was r~r. John himself. "Oh well," I dismissed him from my mind. I had to get that looker fixed and return that screwdriver. After that I did get to know Mr. John better. Because it was my junior year, I decided to get a job to earn money for college. And, coincidence or not, I was hired as a part-time assistant under Mr. John. I really don't think he took to having a girl working under him at all. At first, in fact, he would only speak to me when necessary. I had begun to l'lOnder if he even knew my name. And I didn't speak much in return. We worked together for about a year, but we kept our thoughts to ourselves. Then one day the silence was broken. Mr. John and I were fixing some damaged desks. It was a quiet afternoon when I heard a small, grunted "O:u.ch." I looked up to see the elderly man holding his finger; somehow he had cut it. "Here, let me see! " I excla,i med. After I gave my unwanted help to Mr. John and bandaged his finger, I offered to get us cokes. Surprisingly, he agreed. When I returned fifteen minutes later, after fighting with a malfunctioning coke machine, I caught him gazing at the photo on his ~~rk desk. I had a feeling he was miles away. Figuring this was as good a time as any, I questioned him about the photograph. He told me he had been in 'florld ~lar II when that picture was taken. I learned that he had sent the picture to his girlfriend for Christmas one year. After the war he had married Elizabeth, thet girl. They had raised a family of two girls and one boy. He told me about the girls, how they were married now and had families of their own. He looked a little alone as he told his story, yet when he spoke of his grandchildren, a light came back into his eye. Now his wife was dead, and , he lived with his dog, Toby. During the whole conversation I noticed he never mentioned his son. Though I received an I-don't-want-to-talk-aboutit look, I asked about him anyway. Glancing back at his photo, Mr. John stated he no long'e r knevl his son, Michael. Since my name is Michelle, I couldn't help adding a comment that our names were alike. The glare I received shut me up. After that, we became friends. We would talk as we worked and would often end up in heated discussions l-lhen our views on sports, politics, and ways to fix things seemed to disagree. Although I often gave in, Mr. John would never actually admit to being wrong. But in our conversation, I learned not to mention 1-Iichael, for if I did, my friend would sto.p talking ' and leave to do work elsewhere. And I really had learned to like Mr. John and enjoy his company, although I find that hard to admit. I learned about Michael from Helen, Mr. John's youngest daughter. Stopping to talk to Helen one day, I learned that Michael was not dead, as I v-ras beginning to think. There had been a family fight during the Vietnam War. Michael had felt it was wrong to fight and had gone to Canada. His dad had never forgiven Mi9hael f'or being a "deserter" and told him never to come back. Helen suspected her father had felt that Michael was disgraoing him for not being brave and following his father's example in ,World War II. Spring came. I graduated yet continued to work the summer with Mr. John. Then came " July 4th. It was the Bicentennial year, so patriotism and pride in the country ran high among people. 19761 -- Our country was 200 . years old! But I don't remember Independence D~y that year as much as I remember July 1st. I was walking home one Saturday and saw a lonely figure standing on Mr. John's lawn. For some strange reason, I quickened my pace. As I walked up to Mr. John, I noticed him staring at a crumpled white envelope in one hand. I can still remember a return address from Chicago, Illinois, written clearly in one corner and a cancelled Bicentennial 13~ stamp in the other. Among the small pile of junk mail and bills, that letter had stood out, and I knew it was the reason for my friend's confused expression. Mr. John walked to the front steps and I followed quietly. "Tha.t's from Michael, isn't it?" I asked, not needing an answer. He started to look angrily at me, but I continued on before he could speak. "Just ' wait. Don't get mad at me. I'm not going to run away and hide. So hear me out. I know about Michael. Why don't you wri te him? You knOl-l, if you're lonely from now on, it's your own fault. He's forgiven you and tried to start anew. Even though he doesn't agree with your ideas and views, he still accepts you. And l-lho says his ideas are so bad anyw~y? " I continued. "~1aybe, just maybe, Michael's code of bravery -leaving friends and losing a family -- was har der than go ing to war to fi gh t. " I looked at Mr. John and saw the wondering look still on his face. Getting up to leave him alone, I felt a hand clasp mine, just for a moment. Then I walked away slowly, \vondering if I had lost a friend or if, maybe, Michael M h ad regained Alth r. John had d' a father. oummer, ough>:eI we 1ed him late r that year. harked >lith knew never rest of that u y until I results of th out that da;y for Mr. John' 0 arne h orne a fro t 00 nversati I day. s funeral. m college that in Aft It was a d w1nter ~erer th~ talkedt~~ high SCherlthe funeral M the to recall backo~o or sports or reary, oold I went back SO::8,memories. unlocked ( SUdden~y"aic~), he~d:~i~h carne t some event I ad to get o~ . to the Jo~ra~fternoon probably f F1nding Mr. owards the b wa,ys ~:~a.Bui~~~~O~~;eIe~:~~~~e!~i~:: J~::::;~~:e~~; boiler / friend as I picked u ly whereth s work bes.d ',I noticed p the phot ey used to 1 e lt 0 another hOOf mv d of n the f . p otogr J ear a man with ront th aph lying name and a d a t ea __ beard and on erethebaok was a pict ' ureone ael, Septemb Just ?~;;Z;zzg::= ~ =tr '~ioh -=- - ==--- - - - - - - --====- er,1976." J'~ t:!dN',uh, d'uaf u~etl!d /P~'/h b/dd.adbL ""~a PtY..b~ 4!d/;/e ftdH /he Ada~ ?4dAf~~ Lf~~ AJ~.. ~Y~;n r/a/ax5uL h~~Pf4 4b!th~ d~f!9 ~hfEH/~ a;d Ua~Kf /he~.,dd'L~d~~ ha/ $~~" Zke, Mnxe u-a;U- c14~ dn4f~~.v?d~ . PauddHdj;ku/~ m&ed~~~~ d~ ~K~~/;k ~dt~Ny ~r/e /kh~~~ tf~WAl-'f~ ,d/ed-,k;/,IE~ NU!JMH~.- dt'~~Ha~ ~,~ eaI:~~eJ' ~$~~ rk du4:b/,dTA0/4Y:' e~'J tM/~~~ If, hd~ 4d~#' 7mi!h~~ ~ dde::z tHe U/ed'eb aNd Kxft-L/U. .- Jr4iL. duuL a/UL~farM ~ /,upuUJ 6?XdU6 aeHU?~xf cAc Pa#MuP 4 /k~-ILe ~apud ~Hf .dLH~' e~~ ~Kf ..JH~e ~.trL. At che hd~)~n tAe .daN- t1~ 6f.td~~ "ddU/de tZ/{$~~~~~ 6y:7eteNce~ Twelve-year-old Jackie woke up early and dressed quickly and quiet~. He put on his boots, light trousers, a white cotton shirt, and a baseball cap. He dropped a two-day-old newspaper and LEAVES OF GRASS into~ cloth bag and listened at his door tor a moment. There wasn't a sound in the house. He opened the door and stole through the house, pausing only to listen at the doorway . that led into the room in which the two slept. In the kitchen he sliced sections of meat and cheese and bread, and wrapped each in waxed paper. He tilled an old Wine bottle with water and picked out two apples. He dropped these things into the bag and turned toward the door. Just then he heard a noise dawn the hall. He didn't turn to see what it was. He bolted out the back door, letting it slam, and ran across the yard, jumped the fenee, and ran ttr.ough a fallow field, disappearing in a stand of trees. He must have run far a mile before stopping to test. He sat dawn under a tree and read the box scores and stantlings tor the fifth time. Then he was up and walking again . It was a warm morning. It was only seven 0' clock, but it was already warm. As Jackie walked, the gradual slope of the groung became steeper until it dropped oft into the hollow. At the bottom of the hollow lay the pond. A breeze blew across the face of the pond and into the trees, dying there in the thick growth. It was dark and still in the hollOW. Jackie could srne 11 the fishy, muddy, organic decay along the banks ot the pond, and he knew he was near it though he couldn't see it. He hurried his step and ran the last few yards to the edge of the pond. He quick~ shed his clothes and dived into the water. Its coolness was a re- freshing shock. He stayed under for half' a minute, letting the water as he imagined it seep through his pores, and cleanse his skin and veins and organs of the foulness he felt in him and on him. It was the house that caused it, the house and the two. Being there was enough to befoul him, though some times were worse than others. The previous night was one of those times, one of those violent times. There was violence in the drinking and the shouting and the cursing and even in the silence. After that was over, there was the disgustingly sweet time of understanding and reconciliation and loving, and even in the loving there was something impure and violent. Just thinking of it made the blood pound in his head and the fury pound in his heart. He just wanted to get away. He had run away brfore. He had been brought back every time, or worse yet, he had come back of his own accord, which firet made him hate himself as much as he hated the two. He didn't. want to think of himself in that way, so he just swam. After a time he crawled onto shore and let the sun dry him out. He put on his clothes and ate an apple. He read a poem, but after reading it, he coUldn't remember what it was about, so he read it again. He put the book baok into the bag and slung the bag over his shoulder. He walked along the edge of the pond and was half way round when he saw a man fishing. For a moment he felt threatened. He felt like running, but he didn't. "He1lo there," the man said. "Catch anything?" "Yep. Got one, on a stringer. Got him just before the sun broke out. No sooner cast rrry line than he grabbed it. It's a largemouth. Caught him with a worm. I cast and it seemed like he struck as soon as it hit the water. Haven't got noth~r. else. 1I "I know where there's a good place to look. II "Yeah, where?" 31 "You mow where those stone buildings are?" "Stone buildings?" "Yeah, right down the way a bit.' Follow me." Jackie led the way and the man followed. He waa little man but old. He had close-cropped hair and a round, wrinkled face. He hadn't shaved in a day or two. He wore loose, neat clothes. It I lve watched the fish there," Jackie said as they walked. "You even see them moving around in the grass out there, looking for food or something." ''Wonder what those buildings were for?" ttl don't know. Looks like they've been there for a long time," the boy said. ttyou can cast right from here out into that grass." ttl'd sure like to catch a big one. I I d throw that other one back if I could get a big one like those live seen rollin' on top of the water out ,. there. They're too tar out though. If I had a boat, I could get a good one. I know I could. It I had a boat, I'd get one tor sure. I'd go out there and let him bite and run. He'd think he was a tough and wiley one. He'd think he could get away and lid let him run. But right when held start to think he was free and loose, I'd give him a good. jerk. He'd sure tight, but I'd get him. lid bring him in and he wouldnlt know what happened to him o " The old man smiled at the thought of bringing in a big fish. Jackie just squinted his eyes and ground his teeth. ItWhy' don't you shut up," he sud quietly. "What, boy?" "I said, ldly' don't you shut up, old man. 11 ''What's eatin I at you, boy?" ~y should you go out there in a boat and bring in a fish who's perfectly happy bein' out there? What makes you think he needs you for anything? Fish don't need anything--just a plaoe to swim around and be free. They don't need anybody." "Boy, are you screwy or somethin'? Fish are just dumb animals. You're doin' 'em a favor when you catch 'em." Jackie didn't say anything; he just turned and ran up the hill. He got to the top and stopped. He yelled dovn to the man. "Nob~'8 goin' to catch me, old man. I'm a smary fish and I don't need anybody." Then he turned and ran and just kept running. . The old man spat and scratched his head and said, "That boy must be screwy or somethin,.n Then he cast his line and started to whistle .8/4d'u~ lUa7NUU L~ !/..I-d?/d, ~41;,j'1!dU .4~~;~ ~KC' aNd "'~90 Ji,~~~ ..~ h~PKddy.4 tfdf kKEL& & MNn. ~ 4zU 4Kd 4edd/de /AdeJ; ./eeb~ ~/tft1a/4" /,~*/~a/4 u/~Nbu41~ ~dtNaJ' '!/' ~~~ed4U" $hUe, 4t ~ ~H&dUA:f ? ..$Ut,,~C~ # ~X 4&9' . ~eu p,,# 4g/~~ '!Pen .. $Jundd ~~e i~, 33 ~4bn a/U &~U ad~~ tuu dfed~ diU,-ex, ~~dmb da~ ,tIr4Hd H/~~/~ a""p4U eI.'~~ be;a~ rhe b~ /d~ ee~~~44 ~n ~haLU~ ~~. ~.,;~ /~dL? ~t:~.4 ~/uKd4fi// &;kfidkufOY4- Jnl! 7#dax/;&X ~4d4 ~4k4/d~ ~~ . vi; ~Q ~aI;,/dka Id~ a;, t!.tq .' H/~UHQ ~ ~u, #tJiad ?/duff ~hEd,ep ~J/ed~ .. qeu,./de 4a9:/ dL~e~ HeaL Ckd ~ndHghf, ~t?~-AlLr~ ed~u 9 de. ~~ aNd. -: tAe h/URy ~d~d t!/!hd~ory:' r4;f;~6 ~;X.f UJ t:~. I press the "finish" bar on the phone terminal and smile contentedly. So! With Kim's plans in place to come, the whole family will be here for Dad's ninetieth birthday party. We haven't been together since Christmas 2001, and it will be good to see everyone asain. Let's see: that adds four more meals over the weekend, and I'll need to have Clara make up the guest room. I go to the computer terminal and turn it on. I identify myself by passing the tip of my right index finger across a small beam of light. The micro-chip just beneath the epidermis of my finger is one of the glorious freedoms of modern life. I love -it! It means no more credit cards to clutter up my wallet. In fact, no more wallet: the micro-chip even takes the place of cash! What freedom not to have to carry a purse everywhere I go! Thi~ little chip in my finger contains my personal identification code, my date of birth, address, phone nt,lmber, physical description, bank account number, allergies, medical problems, and next-of-kin. What a wonder! In our new car with its computerized starter, it even eliminates my need for a car key! The computer comes instantly to life. "Good morning, Audrey. Today is Thursday, April 21, 2003. How may I help you?" "Good morning, Master 3. I need to order groceries. Please show me the Kroger specials for this week." The items on sale appear on the screen, and I scan over them. Nothing worthwhile catches my eye. "Thank you, Master 3. I'll just type in my order, since it's a rather long one. But first, please show me my grocery list as it presently reads." "Certainly, Audrey. Searching . searching . found." The list I've entered one item at a time 35 during the week appears on the screen: Tang, cat food, laundry detergent, tissues, flour. To the list I add the items I need for the upcoming weekend. When I'm finished, I add the delivery information: "Deliver on Friday, April 22, 2003, at 10 a.m." Then I punch in the Kroger code and hit "send." There. The grocery shopping is out of the way. Next I go upstairs to the hall closet and open the door. Clara is standing at the ready. I program the computer on her mid-section for "guest bedroom," and stand back. Clara doesn't talk, as Master 3 does, and I almost like the silence better, I think. Of course, the newer robots do talk, 50 I may have to get used to it on my next model. Clara hums out of the closet, makes a 90-degree turn to her left, and heads into the guest room. I follow her to the door and watch in awe as she begins to change the bed. As often as I've seen her, I still am amazed at the capabilities of this cleaning wonder. The room will be as neat as if I'd done it myself in 30 minutes. She even puts herself back in the closet and turns herself off! But, of course, she doesn't do windows. That chore is still mine. The phone rings, and I step to a wall-mounted box and press the "start" bar. "Hello?" I say to the room-at-large. "Mrs. Pearson?" "Yes?" "This is Henry at Long's Bakery. The birthday cake you ordered is ready. Do you want to take a look at it before we send it out?" "Oh, yes, please! I'm on my way to my terminal now. >,' I connect the computer to the phone-receive circuit, and the image of a huge cake appears on the screen. It consists of three tiers: the frosting is white, with red frosting garlands festooning each tier, groups of red sugar roses with green sugar leaves arranged artistically here and there, and crowned with a beautiful, shimmering, red numeral 90. "Oh, Henry! It's lovely! I think it will be just right in the center of the table on Saturday afternoon. But I really don't have anywhere to hide it here. Can you deliver it Saturday morning around eleven?" "Certainly, Mrs. Pearson. We'll have it there without any trouble." "Great! Thanks for calling. Good-bye." "Good-bye." I've just pressed the "finish" bar when the phone rings again. I take the call at the terminal. "Hello?" I say, as my husband's image appears on the screen. "Hi! Did you hear from Kim?" "Yes. They're coming. They'll be here for dinner tomorrow night." "Good! Would you like to go out to eat tonight for a little tranquility before the big weekend begins?" "Sure! I'd love to! Where do you want to go?" "Let's go someplace old-fashioned. How about Bob Evans?" "That sounds good. I have everything taken care of except the present. I'll finish monograming the weights for Dad at craft class this afternoon. Can you come by on your way home and pick them up? I don't want to risk sending this gift through regular delivery channels. Anyway, the paint may not be dry by the time I leave." "Sure! I'll pick them up. And I'll see you at home after school. Gotta run now. My next class is ready to start. Bye." "Bye." As I ~hange to go to craft class, I think about how surprised Dad is going to be when he sees his new weight set. I didn't cast them myself: the instructor took care of that. But I did design them! Having the bust of a different family member on the ends of each barbell in the set was an inspiration! And the monograming 37 makes them so personal! Even though Dad says he isn't going to lift in competition anymore, he'll still enjoy working out with these. And to think that he didn't even start to lift weights until he was 7S! He's done very well. As I start downstairs, I notice that Clara has finished in the guest room and put herself back in the hall closet. I close the door on her and head for the kitchen. I'm short on time, so I grab a Nutra-wafer from the container on the counter. I'll eat it in the car on my way to class. , At the back door, I pass my right index finger-tip across the beam of light in the computerized door lock to let myself out, then close the door and lock it, using the same method. I unplug the car from the outlet in the garage and put the power-booster unit on the shelf. I get in, slide under the wheel, and pass my microchipped finger across the starter beam. The batt~ries whir to life. As I start down the driveway, my thoughts turn to the &fternoon ahead of me. Gold paint, I ~hink, for the accent color on the monograms. I smile contentedly to myself. It's going to be a terrific weekend. , ...~r~)f}1i . . ....-.. ......... - -- "---.. . . - - ............ v.:.-.. ::.......:.~-::.-..:.-........~..-- .. ..... . - .. ... _ . ........ . . :-- ........... _- ~##;J?Ii4~L~ .Diad bazift:/o/ ~~dV~ fiy!&-a~7n~ .

... / FlORET t;;;[, 41 . dId,z /1~L-S3 THE WHITE DOV~ Sally Lorenz 4 I;'IND MEl Lynn McGugan 7 FATHl:R'S DAY/ Nancy Horan 9 SUBTBRFUGF/ Terrence Hanley 17 THE HIVEH'S EDG~ Kent Daniels 21 ~IHAT' S IN A NAt1~ Tom Cl egg 22 UN'rITLW/ Sister nary Paul Larson ~}!;RIMENT 28 32: INSl'IHA'rION/ DISTILLATION Deb Sears 29 HAIKU/ Drew Appleby 30 CIVIL WAR V~~ERAN/ Julie Voglewede 31 HAlKU/ Drew Appleby 39 COVEH/ Patrice \vill P. 1/ Lynn ~1cGugan p. 11/ r1indy Davis" p. 20/ Terrence Hanley np. 30, 39/ Bobbie Jackson p. 34/ Rebecca Schrader . LETTEHING/ Sister M. Stella Gampfer, OSF Deb Sears Kent Daniels Mike Dugan ----Lynn McGugan Deb Sears Mike Dugan Sister M. Stella Gampfer, OSF by Sally Lorenz I slumped down in the big black vinyl chair in the den, relieved to see the end of the day. The kids were sound asleep after I had been coaxed into reading "Humpty Dumpty" to them three times. My Christmas shopping was finished, and all the bills had been paid. I finally graded my first grade math papers that had been sitting on my desk for the past week. I felt tired but content. I glanced toward the mantle piece where my mother and father's picture was. "That's what I'll do," I thought to myself, "I'll write Mom a letter." I took the stationery decorated with yellow daisies out of the drawe~ in the table next to the chair I was sitting in. I began to write: ''Dear Mom " I stopped suddenly and looked up at the picture. She was dear to me, but I could remember a time when . she wasn't. 11: was during my junior high school years. We were constantly bickering about something, and I'd always end up crying. Mom wouldn't let me go to parties or events at school. I could not play softball in the summertime or be in the Christmas play in the winter. And she never gave an explanation for her actions. We barely spoke to each other. And when we did, it would be only at meals. As time went on, our frequent arguments got worse. I continued to write: "How have you been? I've gotten all my Christmas shopping done for the kids and Mike. My first graders are getting restless as vacation time gets closer ..... My thoughts 'returned to the days when I was in seventh grade. Those times had been rough for me. Everyone at school seemed to be competing against (aach other somehow. It was either boy~ or clothes. I wasn't accepted by very many people because I didn't dress like they did, and I refused to be part of a clique. 1 remember running home after school one day, crying because no one had chosen me to be on a spelling team. 1 quickly picked up my pen, aggravated because 1 could think of only small talk to write. " 1 received a letter from Wilma Sharp today. She's still having a great time teaching junior high PE." My mind wandered again as 1 though of Miss Sharp's gym class. She had really helped me out with my problems. We had spent much time after school discussing sports, school activities, and my family life. She was very empa. thetic towards my problems with Mom. She had helped me to understand why Mother was so overprotective of me. 1 came to realize that she had never completely gotten over the loss of her first child. 1 had been puzzled at finding her up late at night, just staring into space. My parents had not planned to tell me 1 had had a sister until _I questioned them about some pictures 1 had found in a photograph album tucked away in our den closet. Mom had looked happy in the pictures, but she had not been when she told me about the Crib Death of her first baby. Afterwards she told me that she didn't ever want to discuss it again. 1 was not being very successful at keeping my mind on this letter. I felt restlss, so I put my pen ~d stationery aside, and 1 headed toward the kitchen for a cup of coffee. As I walked down the hallway, 1 noticed the figurine of a white dove that sat on the coffee table. My hands were shaking as 1 picked it up. 1 had almost given it to my mother as a Christmas 5 present when I was in seventh grade. But we had been fighting sO" terribly then that I had just kept it for myself and had not given her anything. I took my coffee back to the den and sat again in the big chair. As I did so. I spied the sports page lying open on the couch, and my thoughts returned to Miss Sharp. She had once told me that I looked like a sorry sight in my faded gym suit and K-Mart tennis shoes a8 I first walked into her class. But my performance soon made up for my appearance. She worked me harder than anyone else, and that somehow boosted my confidence. People around school gradually came to recognize me as an excellent basketball player, and most of my feelings of isolation disappeared. Because of her continued interest and guidance. I went on to play successfully in high school and in college. I looked down at my stationery. Only six lines had been written. I began to write: "Hike will start his vacation from work next .week, and he'll have three weeks off for Christmas . W4!'ll all enjoy the time together ..... I put down my pen and sighed, wishing it had been that way when I was younger. Those junior high years had been the hardest for me. But after Miss Sharp had helped me to understand my mother and her feelings, Mom and I had worked out our differences. I was glad to be reunited with her because I had really loved her underneath all the hate and confusion I had once felt. Now she was my best friend. And for some reason I was missing her now more than ever. I turned the flowered stationery over and wrote: "Mom, I'm sorry we can't come to see you on Christmas, but the plane tickets are just too expensive for the four of us." My heart began to beat faster. "I'll give you a b call. I hope you and Dad have a beautiful holiday. I'll take pictures of the kids and send them. I'll be thinking of you both." I paused and wrote the last few lines. It Remember I love you very much. Sara. It My eyes were blurry as I signed my name. There had been a time when I couldn't say those words to my mother. Now I was grateful that I could. ," I addressed the envelope, hoping that I was writing straight. I put a stamp on the envelope and walked down the hall. Once in the kitchen, I reached into the junk drawer for scissors, tape, and brown mailing paper. Then I walked down the h~~lway and gently picked up the white china dove .:7/D Yf'! ~ (!,.u&L. find Tn, .. ~rAe, d~~ ~akd: ~~e - a ~'y.4c4L "a/L ~~ and e'd~-M bqL"7z ~fi/t:-dyd,~/.dLXL'ea~r a/aJ'"., d4~/:n' , ~J?d L0~t?C6 - - d., ~~g.o/eaud ./duoa ~~~/~~fEald (~oKt'cL. on 'YLe.v.t pa.ge..) 7 ~~/,n, ;C d/4d- btd ndC frZ6 . J'fi~~ :T/A/LJ /Ifc, ! ~ e.-ud. fi:ndrn&" ~~~~&~ -a~ 6~U~a~$, J'h!/.dLd~.4 and ~...YU4 ~;L~& ~/U02U~ 'bar;uc ~ U/dAf ~ .t#~u~ - t:lhd ~aL? U/ho ~DcU,d a, 4L~~ ~e/~L!C edNLe~~4~ a.~J'. b t!ke..Y'0LL~ OXE- a, h~m da/~ _ fyJ#OL'e4t::~~ c9'adclj .00/ by Nancy Horan It was a bright, early, summer day. I walked out the front door and noticed a small bike on the ground in front of the car. ' '''Tommy, you had better move your bike before I decide to back-up right over it!" I shouted back towards the house. Tommy was nine years old, and he knew what he was responsible for. He ran out of the house and quickly moved the bike out of the way. "Dad, are you doing anything on Sunday?" he asked as he walked his bike towards the garage. "Well, I really don't know. What do you have in mind,son?" I asked. "Is something special going on?" "Dad, Sunday is Father's Day! I know you couldn't have forgotten!" he giggled. "There is a father-son baseball game at the ball park. Coach wants to know if you'll be there." "I'll see" Tom, but I can't promise you anything." I slowly got into the car, pulled out of the drive-way, and headed for work. The truth was that I had forgotten about Father's Day. It's just another Sunday! I figured. I seriously didn't know 1f I was in good enough shape for a baseball game. I had been pretty busy lately, too. I neared the factory and pulled into the entrance. As I walked through the main doors, I thought back to the days when ' I was on a baseball team. I was the pitcher of our county I , league not too bad a batting aver~ge either. It just took ,up too much of my time. I guess I didn't like it well enough to stick with it. Marge was at her desk, so I picked up my messages and checked my schedule. She had been over-worked lately, and we decided to hire someone to help her out. I had to interview someone for the job at 9:00, which gave me half an hour to prepare for the interview. I wenttD my office and got out the manilla folder which held Diana Lee's resuml. She seemed to .be very qualified for the job, but I still had to meet her. I was never one to take brains .or brass into consideration until I met the person on display. She would have to leave a good . impression on me or she wouldn't have a chance. Just then there was a knock on the door. I looked up and saw a pretty young lady standing in the doorway. I couldn't help but smile as I looked around my office one walls covered with comic strips, my desk covered with papers, and my coat still draped over one of the remaining two chairs. I stood up and invited her in. "Hello, I'm James Charleston but call me Jim I've never quite felt like a James before. Well have a seat, and make yourself at home. As you can see, I sure do." As I continued to study her references, I wondered what she had thought of me. She was glancing around my office, and I guess my family portrait caught her eye because she picked it up and started examining it. "Do you, mind if I smoke?" I asked as I took out my pipe . "No, go right ahead. There aren't too many men around who still smoke pipes today. I bet that's a habit you inherited from your father." "Well," I said, "he did actually um give me the pipe." I didn't know how to tell her this, but I did inherit it from my father the pipe, that is not the habit. "Miss Lee," I said, trying to regain a business-like setting, "you certainly do have a good backround." As I talked, I noticed she ' was still admiring the portrait. Business would have to wait. "That "s my family," I told her, "two girls and a boy. My boy is the oides 1. " (Cbrat(:L. OVi /0 p. ,~) ~.. /1 "He looks just .. like you!" she said. "How old is he?" "Tommy? Oh, he's nine years old I think. I'm almost losing track. They grow up so fast. He's old enough to play baseball. He's on the pee-wee league. He pitches I think that's what I did when I was his age." "You played baseball too?" "Well, for a few years but well, I guess I had better things to do." "Oh, that's too bad. I bet your father was rather disappointed when you stopped playing. Wasn't he?" "My father? Oh I suppose! I don't really know but. um " Before I could figure out what to say, I was interrupted. "I bet he really enjoys seeing his grandson play!" she said. Just then Champ walked in. "You about ready for lunch, Jim? Oh, e)(cuse me, miss. I didn't realize you were still here! I'm Tim Champer . Call me Champ. SQrry for the interruption." "That's okay," she said looking at the clock. "I didn't really know it was so late l have to be going." She quickly got her things together. I walked her out to the main desk, and she left. Champ and I had lunch, and soon the work day was at its end. I got into my car and started home. As I pulled into the driveway, I saw the same blue bike that had been in my way that morning. I impatiently honked the horn, and Tommy quickly ran out and moved the bike. "Tommy," I said as I got out of the car, "if you don't start taking care of your belongings, you're going to have to give them up." "Okay, Dad. I'm sorry. Have you thought about the game yet?" "Tommy, I've been very busy lately, and I really don't know if I'll be able to make it." Tommy's head lowered and he slowly walked into /:& the house letting the door slam behind him. "Oh well, maybe next time," I thought. I walked into the house and looked over towa,r ds the fireplace. The wall looked so empty. I really needed to get something to hang there. I just couldn't handle putting his picture back up. I guess I still missed him too m~~h. I went to the kitchen where Jean, my wife, was making supper. "Aren't you going to Tom's game tonight?" she asked. "I doubt it. I have lots of work to catch up on." "Jim, this is his last game, and if you don't start really being his father, it won't be work you'll be worrying about catching up on!" Supper that night was quiet as was the rest of the evening. I looked in on Tommy before I went to bed, and as I watched him sleep I wondered where all the years had gone. I didn't even I know who had taught him how to play baseball. It wasn't me! What had I been missing? On my way to work the next day, I thought about what Jean had said. She was the only one who really knew my feelings, and she was the one who could get through to me. I walked into my office. I was so glad it was Friday. Now I would have a week-end to catch up on everything. Maybe I'd have time for the game Sunday. I would have to see. I took my pipe out of my desk drawer. It had been my ' father's and I knew I would never forget that. My thoughts were interrupted when Champ walked in. We had been buddies since high school and now we ' even worked for the same company. He took a seat directly in front of my desk and nervously twittled his thumbs. His face was pale and his eyes red from anger . or tears maybe. "I lost my father this morning," he said. 13 I was in a state of. confusion and I didn't know what to say, so I kept quiet~ "You know," he continued, "he had a bad heart. and well, this morning it failed him. The ambulance got caught up in traffic. They didn't get there in time to save him, so I lost him. Before I really got to know him before my little boy got to know him he's gone!" Still dazed, I just sat there and stared at him. He got up from his chair and left the room. The door slowly closed. "I'm sorry," I whispered, but I knew what he was feeling. I got up, grabbed my jacket and left. I was my own boss. I'd just have to get caught up some other time. I pulled into the driveway and went into the',house. I walked to ~ den and just sat there at my desk. I was so shocked. I had never seen such a scared look on Champ's face. I pulled open my desk drawer, and I noticed the edge of a picture frame stuffed under a large stack of papers. I moved the papers off it and picked up the pi~ture. It was my father. His largem~scular body stood casually in front of our ~ld h6use. He had his mitt and baseball in hand, and he had that same familiar smile on his face. As my eyes scanned the scene, I felt the pain come rushing back. My father had been killed in an automobile accident when I was only 13. I remember being mad at him when he left for work the morning of the accident. He was very strict and sinc~ I hadn't been doing well in school, he wouldn't allow me to play baseball for a month. At 5;00 that evening I heard a knock on the door~ I figured it was Dad just being a clown (as usual). I went to the door expecting to be greet by my father. I decided we would sit down and discuss the baseball incident. Soon ev.erything would be resolved and we would be buddies again. Instead Ralph Lewis,  the police chief, was there when I opened the door. "Is your mother here?" he asked. I yelled to Mom and headed back to my room, but as I started up the stairs, I heard him telling my mother the news. I'll never forget her voice. "Is he dead?" She sounded so sad. "I'm sorry!" was all he could say. I couldn't believe it. How would I ever be able to go on without telling Dad I still loved him? I knew he only wanted the best for me. I understood about the baseball, and now I'd never be able to tell him. The funeral passed quickly, and I was back on my regular schedule soon. I quit the baseball team. It just wasn't as fun without Dad in the crowd. Every time I walked into the house and saw his picture hanging on the wall, I felt a lump forming in my throat. "Why did it happen to him?" I'd always ask myself. I never realized how much I was like my father until I grew older. I suddenly started liking his rules. They all started making sense, especially when I had three children of my own. But I still hadn't been able to look at his picture without feeling guilty. I had done everything for him. I even made straight A's in high school, just hoping he could look down from wherever it is that we go when we're through on earth and be proud of me. I never did quite feel that our fight was resolved. Now I : kept looking at his pic~ure. Even though it hurt, I couldn't put it down. ~ just kept staring at his face, and in his eyes I found the uncfe.rstanding I had been looking for all those years. I felt tears forming in my eyes, but instead of holding them back as I had so many times before, I let them fall. I was crying for Champ ~ for his loss, but most of all I was crying for me. I cried for all the /:!J years I had spent trying to live up to my father's dreams. "Today I'll be me," I said to myself. I'll start living for my own dreams. I finally knew why I had been avoiding the chance to let go. I took one last look at his picture. "Goodbye, Dad," , I whispered. Even his eyes were smiling. Sunday morning I woke up and for some reason I felt really calm inside. I got dressed and went to the kitchen. Tommy sat at the 'table with a sober look on his face. "What time is our game today, buddy?" I asked him. "Dad are you going to play? You are He's going to play!" he yelled, running around the room. "Dad, we'd better hurry and get ready. It starts at 10:00 we don't want to be late!" We got ready and made it to the ball park just in time. It was Father's Day, and I was finally being a father. The sons beat out their fathers, but it was worth the battle, because I still was awinner~ When we arrived back at the house, Tommy ran iri ahead of me to tell everyone about the game. I walked into my den and saw the picture ~itting on my desk. I decided it was about time to fill up , that empty space on thelwall. I found my hammer and a nail and went out to the living room. As I finished hammering, Tommy ran into the room. , "Dad, what is that?" he asked. I picked up my. ,pipe and 1 it it as I looked at the picture. "That,my boy," I said slowly, "is yourgrandpal" "Grandpa?" he questioned. As I felt myself finally letting go, I heard my little boy mumble. "WelL What do you know Hello, Grandpa!" 110 dduif1 t1f Terrence Hanley The grating cry of the gulls that persistently followed the ship greeted Captain Montgomery Folsom as he emerged on the deck of his command. a splendid frigate. the HMS Zephyr. The crew of the ship Was hard at work as he surveyed them. He inhaled deeply; in so doing, he incorporated into his body the salty spray--the spirit of the sea--without which he felt he could not live. In this gre~t and good world, he concluded, there is nothing more wonderful than the life at sea. "Good morning, Captain," said the First Hate. "That it is. t-1r. Cambridge. Our position?" inquired the Captain. "11525' west, 3515' south, Sir," replied Cambridge. "Thank y~u. Anything out of the ordinary to report?" . . "hell yes, Sir. 'The men pulled a cask from the sea. It--it contained a message." "You've managed to pique my interest, Mr. Cambridge. Let's have a look." "Yes, Sir." The First Mate handed the Captain a musty, torn parchment. 'The Captain unrolled it and found a short passage written in thin, barely discernable ink. "It seems an odd thing~ Captain. Doubtless, this is the account of a madman. In any case, it is a bit disturbing." The Captain motioned for silence and read from the parchment aloud: "You may think me insane for what you read here, but read all of this, I beg of you, for your own sake. If there is anything our explorations have taught us, it 17 is that there is more to the universe than we suspect--and much more than we realize in our most horrific nightmares. "I was commissioned on the HH!.i South !leas, which, as you may know, was wrecked some months ago. I. escaped the tempest that sank her and swam ashore to a deserted island. whether it has been mapped, I know not. No matter, . in these months of exile, I have not seen a human. Nor have I seen any evidence that humans exist. Perhaps they don't, perhaps--no, I must hope beyond hope for the salvation of all that we hold precious. "Today, July 17, 1837, as I was gathering wood, I SBW the footprints--those that were to lead me into haunts of horror that no human has experienced before. 'fhe prints were small and three-toed--like nothing I had ever seen before or that I hope to see again. They led from the high water mark on the sand--that of six hours befora--into one of the many caves on the island. There were a multitude of prints, indicating much activi.ty in the hours while I slept. I decided to investigate. "I fashioned a torch and carefully entered the cave. I descended slowly into the bowels of the earth; daylight disappeared. As I walke~ I heard--or perhaps felt--a resonant hum that grew more intense as I proceeded until, as I reached a large chamber, it forced my own thoughts from my head. Then I came upon a horrendous thing: the ceremony that was to shake me to the soul. There below me was a primitive stone a1 tar upon which sat .. a travesty of life as we know it; it was indescribable. It was squat and ringed with tentacles, and it had but one eye and a slobbering oriface for a mouth. Surrounding this creature were numerous, mockingly human-like forma. One of the man-things ste~ped forward with a steel knife, and the IS tentacled thing screamed a hideous scream as the man-thing sliced open its torso. A sickening, yellowish ichor spilled from the wound, and a fetid odor filled the chamber. I reeled with sickness and shock as the man-thing plunged its hand into the wound and extracted a greenish, pulsating blob. The hum that I mentioned then became a strange, buzzing voice. It was as if the thoughts of the things were so powerful that they invaded my own mind. The voice said, 'May our assembly, with the power of this organ, extend its hegemony to include this world and its inhabitants ' "Then it became too much for me. I screamed without knowing it; I screamed and screamed. I had gone mad as the entire consciousness of the things flooded into my brai~ They mean--good God, save us--to take over the entire world and cast all of humanity into a vast, evil chasm of darkness and horror and despair. They have come from some other plane of exiatence, and they mean to subjugate us to their own b~asphemous rule. II'.oJ i thou t knowing it, I f1 ed upward toward the light of day, if there was any. I stumbled out of the cave into a cold, grey mist that had covered the island. The creatures pursued, but my instincts led me into hiding. They searched for me in vain. Presently, they came together, and then I witnessed from my hiding place the completeness, the diabolical inQtrument of their scheme. They distilled a liquid from the organ they had removed from the creature, and from this liquid d~ank three of the man-things. Bear with me now; what followed was a bizarre transformation that with it carries terrifying implications: The three were transformed into gulls. The gull-things took to wing and beRan to search the island for me. I realized then that I had to warn the world, so I fled to my hut and be- It! gan to write thiJ account. I was soon startled by a man, a British sailor who said he had come to rescue me. For a momentlwaa elated and relieved at the prospect of being rescued, but I realized suddenly that this was no man; It was one of the man-things in the guise of a man. I struck out with my knife and all but decapitated the thing. Its body fell and slowly transformed into its true shape. "Now as I write this, I am on the beach. I know there is no hope for me, but I can deliver this message to humanity and hope and pray to God--if there is a God--that someone finds it before it is too late. For you see, with this method of transformation in their hands, these creatures can assume any identity--heads of state and religions--and in so doing, they can eventually lead humanity into ruin without being suspected. Beware, you must--" The passage broke off abruptly_ A light breeze blew across the deck of the Zephyr, but . a trickle of perspiration ran from Captain Folsom's brow. He looked up and saw three gulls circl~ng innocently around the masts of the shi~ --------.,. :r--- - --.:... . --~- . " .' ' J , I ... ~ . .' / '. ' '/' 2,0 ' '. . ~e.EZ/&fA Ie. didt1~~p/fl/d U t:U tvaxdUd//UE.; fl~-~a/k~ hz~~ ~~ .... ~~dir/Lo/ . ~.Fd~ ~a4U ~7/LKf 4~eZPuL; ::Y~~ ~~.rL.4~eb a#;f~ah~ p~ JuyLx.ar;~n ~ the k4AL axd ,d~ yd AL'vU:4J~ due .b~ h/~ ea/Lda#:,dLdn., .. dlL'X~rh~4Jt!..~e~~ . . . aZi:L!dr,n.; "'~ U/aUv~~ ~/~J~ edLd 4Xd 6L'U:.6 JI U/L.nd-U/~4rt!/d ti~e, ~ ~dhndd j'/LeJu;'n-: . U/~ ~ ~ epu 4d~KL .. .... LPAar ALZ/u.,~? ,21 by Tom Clegg Teenagers are stranfe cr eatures. They strive hard to be accepted and yet they are so afraid to t el l you who they really are or how they really feel. Charlie was no different. However, r didn't realize this until it was almost too late. r had known Charlie scarcely a week, and if r am to be totally honest, r hadn't given myself fully to him as r had once promised to do. r guess the problem was that r had met him at such a bad time. I remember our introduction at r~~rs. Sandstone's office, and the circumstances were less than happy. I was there to complain about Jeannie, an addict who had been taken from the halfway house; Charlie was there to find a friend. He was sarcastic and I was angry. I didn't like him too much that first day, in fact that whole first week was touchy. I had been working at the house for two years, and in that time I had come into contact with over fifty teenagers. each one hurt by, tired of, bored with, or angry at the world. Most of them r felt I had reached in some way. It's a satisfying job most of the time, but it also has a lot of pains. Charlie is a good example of that. Our first conflict began on the way back from the welfare office. "How long have you worked a:t the Hous e , Mr Salem?" Charlie .. asked. .d "You can call me Jack, I sa~, "1 don't like last names." "1 don't either," replied Charlie in an effort to keep the conversation going. "Why? 'lihat's yours?" "Don't have one," he replied in a cocky voice. 1 wasn't ready for a battle of wills at that time. 1 was still very angry with Mrs. Sandstone for ~aking Jeannie away from me. I was t~red and frustrated. "C'mon, Charlie, let's quit playing games. What's your last name?" "Lay offl I'll tell you when I'm ready. " Normally I would have taken that as a good sign. Anytime a kid doesn't . flat out refuse to talk, the chance that he'll open up is really good. But like I said, this wasn't a normal day. Instead of passing the conversation with trivial talk, I let out my frustrations. Unfortunately, Charlie had to pay for it. "What's wrong with you kids today?" I snapped, "Yqu come here seeking helpJ holding out your hands, but your'e afraid to let anyone grab them. I can't help you if you don't at least tell me the essentials. Is your damn name all that private a matter? Do you think I can read minds? Am I supposed to know who you are and what all your problems are? You think I have all solutions? Well, I don'tl And if you don't want to tell me, then to hell with you. I don't really carel" Charlie sat there. A bit stunned, perhaps, that I had been so hard on him. I realized my mistake when he didn't talk the rest of the way back to the house. Instead of getting a closed kid to open, I took an open kid and closed him. All teenagers have pressures, but those of a runaway are even greater . Runaways don't have to worry about who they're going out with on the weekend or whether or not they should try pot or how to get rid of their acne; they worry about whether or not they'll have to steal to eat, if they'll have a place to sleep at night, or if they'll get mugged for the thirtyfive cents they have hidden in their sock. It's amazing that any of them survive. Charlie was closed. However, as ~he week progressed he tried desp~rat ely to open up. Somehow, for some reason, I refused to let him. His first few days were uneventful. He got along well with the other kids. He even smiled a lot. However, he smiled alone; I refused to be a part of his world. The first few ~ays weren't bad, but Friday was different. Friday had to be the worst day in my life. Charlie came into my office at his usual 10 1 30 A.M. time. I was on the phone talking with Mrs. Sandstone. "I realize I misunderstood what you were saying, Mrs. Sandstone, but I saw her out on the street again last night. ~She needs a place where people care about her. can't you see that?" "You have someone in her place, don't you? Uh Charlie, how's he doing?" Realizing the hopelessness of the conversation, I slammed the receiver down. Looking up at Charlie, I stated, "If it weren't for you, Jeannie would still be here." "Listen," he replied, "You don't need me, and I sure as hell don't need youl I don't need anyone I I came here looking for help, and you know What I found out? No one cares! No onel" "Charlie, waitS" I said following him out the door. It was too late. He was already up the stairs and down the hall. Charlie wasn't really hard to understand. He needed a friend and I refused to be there. I couldn't be there. How could I be a part of the person who took Jeannie awa.y from me? Especially Charlie. he didn't even need me. His head was on stai~hter than most kids I dealt with. He didri't need mel not like Jeannie didl The minutes passed and he didn't come back. I went up to find him. I knocked on his door. no answer. "He's in the bathroom, Jack," said Billy, one of the other residents. I went ~ to the door and knocked. "Charlie, can we talk? Listen, I'm sorry. Corne on out, and we '11 finish our session." No response. "Charlie Charlie, are you okay?" Minutes passed and still no answer. I (~r1-1'd. Dt'l t1~J{t 25 pa.,e..) My legs were trembling as I kicked in the door. "Ch my Godl!" Charlie was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, his hand still clinging to the double edged razor. "Call a.n ambulance'" I shouted down the hall to anyone who was listening. What have I done, I thought as I began making a tourniquet to stop the bleeding." "Is he alive?" someone asked. He was; but I was too numb to respond. All I could think about was all that I could have done for him. I could have helped him if I hadn't been so da.mned selfish. The ambulance arrived. Two medics worked for about five minutes on the motionless body before they were ready to transport. "Where are they taking him?" I asked one of the half dozen police officers who were standing .around the area. "He'll be going to Wishard, ,. he replied, "but I'll need to ask you a few questions." "You'll have to wait," I said as I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. My mind wandered as I drove to the hospital. Ny God, how will I ever be able to face him? What if he doesn't live? How could I be so insensitive? How could I just sit back and kill. him? For a brief moment I even thought about what Mrs. Sandstone would say when she read about it in his files. The hospital was just a few blocks away., and I arrived. shortly after the amb~lance. "They just brought a young boy in I stammered to the receptionist, "How is he?" "Are you his father?" "His guardian. I'm Jack Salem. I run the halfway housel he's a ward of the state. Is he okay?" "The doctors will let you know as soon as they can. I need to ask you a few questions. What's the boy's name?" "Uh Charlie," I said as my mind drifted back to her questions. I looked down the hall. I needed to see him. Even if it was just to see him wheeled from one room to another' I needed to see that he was alive. "Last name, please." Last name? I thought. I don't even know his last name. My God, I know nothing about this kid. He needed me and I totally ignored him. I thought back to the sessions we had before the accident. He tried so hard to get me to like him, to even aknowled~e him. How could I be so unresponsive? I began thinking about signs " he mie:ht have shown. He seemed pretty much together. He seemed happy. How could he be so alone? "Mr. Salem, I need a last name." "He doesn't have one or at least we don't have record of it. I couldn't believe I didn't know his last name. '," "Can I see him now?" I asked, half pleading. It must have worked. She made a ohone call and then said, "He's still in emergency. He'll be in room 412 when he gets out. You can wait for him there. I cllmbhere.~ ed the stairs to the fourth floor, found room 412, and waited. Two orderlies wheeled him in a few minutes later. He was still unconscious, would be for about an hour I was informed. I waited by his bed, holding his tips of his fin gers, the only part of his arm not covered with inches of gauze. l\!y mind began to wander. Vlill he know me? Will he even care? I have to help him. He needs me r need him. I've already lost Jeannie. I can't lose him too. My God, Charlie , forgive me. r sat st a rine a t him, " ~ y God, he's just aboy." A smile was on his face. He awoke after an hour- or so. A bit groggy, he looked about the room. I choked bacle my tears. "Charlie , I'm .sorry," I said as the tears started strea.m ing down my face. r couldn' t ' control them. He didn't say anything , just turned his heaJ. "Charlie, I want to help. r need you." He t urned his head back. Slowly, cautiously, he be gan to smile. I smiled back. "Charlie, I'm sorry." "It's okay, tJack," he said, "But c a ll . me ~ r. Eenet." $~~. &e dzy~dav~'p6f ;54!L~ dnd, ~4~L~ ~ 6~nu:. kE.LL/-- S.,4{,P ~nu /haLf/,uz!Ud ~! ,7/:6{ ~/Ld.,-~~ ~Eed ~Hduue" aNd ~9d~ dk ~aLrk~~t- a ~~ Liad~~uL a~f~~ z:, be, JdM. JJd~ ~-~---'- --"-"--.~---'---'---'- . ,..."..;------ ,.-...-.....-- f .r $&h/~ dU~~ LX~ &e tfcun~ ddad4 eL77//t:, & /ndd7Z-  by Julie Voglewe.e The motorcycle ca~e to a screeching halt at the foot of the driveway. The rider flipped up the face shield in an attempt to see better, but the ~yclist still was unable to make heads nor tails out of the notice that had been nailed to the telephone pole \-rhich stood next to the drive. The rider dismounted the bike for a closer look. As the cyclist removed the helmet, gray locks of hair trere visible. The small structure was clad in a black leather jacket and fringed Levi's. A strine of be:tds \fleiGhted dOl-.n by a metallic peace sien hung around the figure's neck. The rider was approaching the sign but was haul ted by an interruption. "Georgia, Georrria!" shouted a small boy. He "yaswildly ,ravine his arms to get her attention, as if the loud cries were not enoueh. "1 have a new baby brother!" "Uh.y Joey, that's just dandy," replied the l-lOmnn. "Have you seen him yet?" she asked as she stooped to the child's eye-level. "No, but Dad said he's a real trooper. Mom han to work only two hours to get him." "14~ybe your rna could talk some sense into my daur,hter's thick skull." "What's a skull 1" "Oh, just never mind, I' sighed the old woman. "What's your little brother's name?" "Jeremiah Joseph Cleaver," sang Joey. "Since I'm alr eady seven, Vad said I have to feed 'em his bottle." As Georeia stood up, her glance again caucht sieht of the notice. "What's this all about?" she asked the freckled-faced, strawberry blond, who was by this time sitting on :3/ her motorcycle. "mmm , I donno, errr " approached the sign and read: Georgia NOTICE Effective as of the first day of June, 1982, all property owners must evacuate their property. The area \-lest of Forty-second Street and east of Twenty-nin.t h Street has been chosen as the site for the new Interstate 30 bypass. The state government will purchase all real estate at the present market value and \-Till make adequate amends for housing ltWh.v, this is an eviction notice. How dare they force me out of my home like some sort of pack-rat! Ny granddaddy stood his grounds during the Civi 1 ~{ar and would not let any Yank take away his farm,1t exclaimed Georgia waving her finger in the air. "No Yanke"e hotshot is goin' to make me leave my homel" . As if preparing for a battle, she marched over to her motorcycle, strapped her helmet into place, straddled the seat, and headed do\-mtOlVn to fight ci ty hall. A backfire followed by a squeB. 1 and Georeia. 'Nas off Joey bare ly scampered off the motorcycle in time and wa.s left citting bewildered on the curb. At the courthouse she was pushed from one room to the next. The response ' . . as always the saMe: "I'm sorry ma'am, but we cannot help you here." No one seemed to care. After a while the game became monotonous, but before leaving, you bet she let her'- opinion be knol--m. She rattled on to the poor receptionist, creating such a scene that the receptionist had to have her sense of balance repositioned. The furious old woman spun around and left. She hastily pulled a Sr.1a.ll photo(~ctph out of her pocket and rou t t ered , "Don't '-1orry ,Ash ley. There will be other wa.ys." Georcia sped into the drivew~y. Before she had a chance to pull the hand break, she plol1ed smack-dab into the side of the garage. She bounced sliehtly backwards but mana~ed to cet back on the right course again. She proceeded as if nothine happened and parked the vehicle in the ~araITe. A stylishly dressed woman rushed out the front door. "l-tother, you've left your door unlocked acain," the young woman scolded. ttl trust my neighbors," snapped the wiry woman. "!,lhere have you been? Mother, you have got to start acting your " "Joey has a new baby brother. I love babies. Don't you?" Georgia interrupted as she carefully placed the photograph on the antique table. "Your father says he likeFt babies too." The picture ,,,,as of a rather handsome man \learing a sailor uniform. The photo dated back -to at least 1930. It seemed to be set in a place of honor, for a vase of wild fioKers had been placed next to it. "That's another thing, )7other. Father is no long~r with us. Remember, he left us ten years aao," stated the daup,'hter knowing it \,'as of no use. "Mother, what I'm really here for is to nsk you to come live with Don and me. I hea.rd about wha.t they are planning to dry to your neiGhborhood. Besides, we're planning an addition to our home, and we could use your he lp~ ." "Ashley, can you believe it - Scarlet and Don are building on again," -murmured Gcor~ia as she dusted around the picture with her handkerchief. (conl'd.. 0)1 pa.qe 35) 33 "Oh, Mother, I'll talk to you Bome other time tlhen you're "Ii lline to liste1')." Scarlet fumbled through her puroe for the car keys. "I'll be back," she called as she unlocked the door to her lIercedes. "lJo hurry," snickered the petite woman wavine from the porch. A few days passed with lhe talk of the neiehborhood buzzing of the upcoming crisis. The hiehway was to invade in only months. The hiehw~ meant that most of the homes would be flattened by that monster, the bulldozer, and replaced by several high-rise apartment complexes which were to accomodate the homeless. The families of the nei,",hborhood gathered in the park pavilion to discuss a plan of action. A petition was sent from home to home, but Georeia "10uld not sign it. She refused to \Olri te her narne next to any "darky." Hhen Georeia and her husband moved to the North years 2ogO,during the depression in search of employment, only. white folk had lived in the neighborhood. flow only a few white families remai~ed. The stubborn old woman refused to coopera. te and "ras determined to do things sinele-handedly. Her first plan of attack brewed in her mind, but she \o1Ould need Joey's help. The plot entailed barricading the entrance of their street. Georgia's garage contained just the thincs they would need. Between the tl.'O of them, they dragged a. conelomeration of miscellaneous items to the street's entrance: a lealess couch, three tattered chairs, four tlooden crates, 'a bicyc Ie without handlebars, a tricycle r.tinus one ",hee I, and several twoby-fours. The old photoeraph of ' Ashley placed next to a Confederate flag added the final stability to the fortress. The construction workers looked on in disbelief a.t the crazy 35 pair armed with brooms as they manned their fort. After a few short conversations on the CE, the men left only to crumble a neighboring block. . "Ne did i tl" cried Joey, jumping in the air. tt~\fe sure did," sant along Georgia. The trouble is they'll be back. This calls for phase II." The follm-ving d~y Georgia and Joey were waiting, but the construction workers did not come. HONever, the third day they did, and the I~two-some tt "las ready. Each t-TaS s ta tioned at a,n attack uni t. Georgia ",.ras posi ilioned behind a card __tq.R:te _._. _ _l~s~_oppc?"'~ ~ te her and across the street "'Tas Joey behind a large evergreen bush. Both were armed with stones, pine cones, and sticks. Metal mixing bOl-Tls served as helmets. On Georgia's command of "fire," they bombarded the workmen. At first the workers retreated. Real i zing l-That was going on, they took to the protection of their trucks arid paraded right throu~h the shelling with closed windows and grins. The two realized that they would never defeat the iron '\Tecking cre~J . It ~..ould be only weeks before the Jackson and Cleaver residences "Tould fall. "Get back here," hollered the old woman chasing the trucks. She panted as she walked back to where Joey was standing. "We'll just have to try something else." "Georgia, how corne .you don't go to any of the rallies in . the park?," Joey asked. "Why don't you. work with the rest of the people?" "f.le, stoop to the level of Uncle Tom's people," exclaimed Georgia, appalled by the thought. "You knoN, Gec-reia, we're not an.v better than they are," replied Joey in an earnest voice. "A lot of m,Y friends at school ain't the same color as me, but we still have a blast, just the saDe, playing tricks bn girls. The teacher tells us that God made all of us. Just put more ~ye in some than others, that's all." That afternoon, as Geor~ia l~y on her bed, she thoueht about what Joey had said. She \las getting nOl',here in trying to stop the hiffhway from comine by herself. The past several d~ys' excitement also proved to be a little too much; for she felt a little tired, but nothing a short nap would not cure. l:lhi Ie deep asleep, Georgia had nightmares of beine chased by bulldozers and watching her home crumble to the &round. She awoke in a s"'re~ t. Joey's words sounded in her head' " ",e're not any better, just more dye " With that she decided it would not hurt to attend just one meeting. Besides, if she diseuised herself, no one would even recoenize her. She prornptly started on her costume. There lias no time, to waste. She rummaged through .her closet until she found a floppy brimmed hat, a brunette wig, a trench coat, and the usual dark glasses. Before leaving, she paused by Ashley's picture. "Don't worry, dear. Just this once won't hurt," she assured the young man. Georgia sat in the back of the room, sntisf.vinrr herself \-Ii th just being able to listen and liatch. To her surprise, the white ~nd bl~ck familiee worked side by side without nny resentment. A distinguished black man, dressed in a suit, even took time out to explain some leeal terms to her. She decided to go back the follo\-ring evening. This time the old woman dressed incocnito and sat in the middle of the room. A woman asked Georgia to be on n petition committee, but she politely 37 told her no. Georgia absorbed all the business, as Hell as the cooperation tha,t was taking place. By the end of the meeting, Georgia had made up her mind to help on the committee. As the elderly "Toman rose out of her seat, she 'JIm,s overcome "d th dizziness and co llapsed to the floor, clutching her purse. The photograph of the sailor had slipped from the handbag and lay beside her with its glass shattered. What happened after that was unclear to Georgia. She awoke the next morning to the sound of "paging Doctor Grannon Doctor Grannon, wanted in O.B." Her daughter sat sound asleep in the chair next to her bed. "I'm the one that should be sleeping, not you," a 'Heal: voice uttered. "Mother, you're OK," breathed Scarlet in a sigh of relief. "Hhat happened?" At that moment, a doctor walked in the room. "Doc tor ' Grannon, ,,10U 1 d you 1ike to te 11 my 'mother 'Vlha t happened." "You allo'Vled yourself to become so 'vorn dovm that you fainted from pure exhaustion," confirmed the doctor. "Mrs. Jackson,I'll make YO'1 a deal. If you promise to ",.ratch your lifestyle a little more closely, I can G'Uc.r;:).n tee you ma,ny happy years "Ti th your granclchi ld. It wJi th my ""hat?" "You mean you hctve not told her?" The doctor looked confusingly at Scarlet. '~othe ~ , thnt's what I tried to tell you earlier this week, but you would not listen. Donald and I I;ant you to come and live \-lith us. T iJith a baby on the ,my, I could use your help. ~!ha t do you say?" "I say I'd rove to," beamed the proud crandmother-to-be. "It's settled then. '/Je can have all your thincs moved in by the Fourth. It means so much to be able to spend the holiday together." Georcia still attended the neiRhborhood rallies twice a week. A chair of honor was now reserved for her in the front row. Georgia even cru~e up with the name for the neighborhood orcanization, "Operation SON and dauchter." It stp.od for the Operation to Save Our NeiGhborhood. As for the \-yord "daughter," it was added by Georgia just eo little girls would not feel left out. The group failed to lceep the hichway from invading; hot-rever, it did mnnn.ee to set hieh quality bui lding standards for the apartments and to lnndscape a park for the children to play in. As for Georr,ja, she is somewhere in a suburban home, bouncin~ a baby boy on her knee. ,rA~'---I-... ,I'*' '-/ .I If'VJ " I~I .._...,{,...... ., ~f~._~.~" .,/~/~./ __..--F/--..f~ I ... ~ . .. ~ (!liKL lI ' ""I (7 y~ d'/acJ ~ .... . ifenaLky _U/~-rh /he U/e#U~k~ /ke, b/d~kL ~/~fhz~e, .LJ~~~~y :Jr  ...

... t;;;t, 41 dfd,/ Itj?L-S3 SHALL 17/ LJDD MaGuaaD 'l'HE J:PIPIW OF GD>lOE ANDREW'S PATRIOTISH/ Sarah Kuper 5 '1'HlJNDEH CHILD/ Michael Dagan 10 SWDl DiS'lIHY/ Do.rot~ LebMnn 12 EVEmWf/ 15 Sarah Kuper S~ER8/ Carol H. A MOHDf! III 16 Bat. ftIIIV Dorothr LebMna 18 IIAIIU/ Dr. Appleb, 19 AVADMDIJ/ let DaDiela 20 lIPOJI A Dt'lDED 1WIN1S8/ Debbie Sean 23 WHAt A D~CIV Sal11 Lor.. 28 IWKU/ Dr_ ApplebJ 29 HI1.!/ .Ruatl Cl;pa 30 SELl' Pill:IPfiON/ Doroth7 ybMDD '1 UNTITLm/ Debbie SeaN 32 :wiT! Jlut, '3 LOVES Cl,.. DPU:TA~I(Jf AIm AllBIVAL/ Felice KDarr 34 A IWf MAY SElIaI Peter CoDDalloa 35 LEl'TERS/ 35 Debbie BeaN REBIRTH/ Sister M. Stella GUlpter 36 HAIKU/ Drew Appleb1 '7 SUMMER RDmmRANCE! Sister MarJ Paul Larson 38 MoRALE! Michael DuSaD coVEB/ Lynn McGugu pp. 1, pp. 14,21,34,38,:59/ 9, 22, Zl, ItO/ LE'rlERING/ '7 LJDIl "cOusa Patrice W111 Sister M. Stella Gapt... , 081' DorothJ Lah_nn Suaie Lewis Lynn McGugan Debbie Sears LJDD McGU88D Doroth1 LabpnD Debbie Seare ~E'!-~ Sister M. Stella Gaanpter, OSF S~/tt'U Jl'e~4KL a&fe 4'~';' Of~ /e~ ba:1~ /he. etd44U? . . c:f"~if7'~efl~ ~ ~a//~e? ,,, _ ,?~d~ . ~~dd, 4'ynMe.4qe:., ~ ~vaka/e? v a.e~~o/~h. &e ~~ ~&d ~u~.,d 4~Vn~/~~~ ~ U-i;I!~ .LL;V~ ? . andftUr/a.Ad~ h'f./'e4ee ? flep'~ &~/aC~~ .tZN.d /ee de daC4aeL:::Ad~n /de, 4a/~, ", If ~vK~ ~6)~~ ~e~uU1f :P~~pe . 4.1"St~~ George Amrew am I met in our junior high days. He was a new boy in town ans was initially a great source of curiosity since he CaDle from back East and, in particular, froll Pennsylvania. I don't want to dwell on the details of our childhood because in youth the days seem to blend together. But, George Andrew wasn't of the regular JIlix. He came from a strict Dutch Reform origin, and this set him apart from the rest of us whose first priority on Sundays was to get out o{ the church as quickly as possible. Perhaps this was the source of the dilema he experienced in his early manhood which is my best remeJllbrance of George Andrew. By the time we reached the age of eighteen, George Andrew and I had shared many adventures. I remember in particular one which the rest of the gang remembered for a long time. In one day we learned a lot about George Andrew's convictions. -In our sixteenth year, Chuck Judson's constant suggestions of a hunting trip for "the boys" got the better of us' all. Consequently, a date was set for 'the tenth of November and doe pe:mits were purchased juSt in 'case we didn't happen to bag a buck. Gene, Chuck, Tommy, George Andrew, and I prepared for the big event. -Guns were cleaned, warm clothing was assembled, food was packed, ani to lend an air of authenticity, we grew the best sort of beard we .eould which 1n a few cases wasn't much. All of us were veteran deer hunters, that is, all except George Andrew. On the JIlorning deSignated for departure, George Andrew rose at two o'clock. I'm sure he hadn't slept a wink anyway, because he was so nervous and excited. We met at Chuck's house at two-thirty. He lived just outside of town and it was only a two mile walk to what Chuck termed "the place to get a buck." It was four o'clock when we finished setting up the blind in a large, comfort- 5 able tree. The weather was unseasonably warm and by five o'clock we were all dozing peacefully. The snap of a twig brought us to our senses quickly and we caught our breath as a ten~palnt buck picked its way carefully into the clearing. According to our draw of lots, George Andrew was to have the first shot. Slowly he raised the gun but didn't seem to realize it was in his hands. The buck was alerted and raised his head. The animal seemed to stare right through George Andrew with its great liqid-brown eyes. The gun : lowered slowly and the safety catch clicked back to the reset position. But, the gaze still held. In the next mo~ent a crack of thunder reverberated through the woods as the great beast sank with a hollow thud to the forest floor. Chuck had brought down the biggest buck I had ever seen. But, ofter the gutting and hearty rough of congratulations, I looked around and saw that George Andrew had wandered oft. He was sitting some twenty feet away on an ancient tree stump. When I walk~ over and sat beside him, he continued his vacant gaze. At first I figured he was just " 'being sqeamisha but, a closer look revealed the Fifth Commandment written allover his face. George Andrew never hunted with the gang again. But, I can't remember if it was out of choice or a lack of invitation. In May of our eighteenth year, we all graduated froll the J.ocal high school. It was a momentous OC~ cas ion for lis. We were finally released froJll the gripe of compulsory education. However, when the dean seated himself after his words of wisdom concerning the future, girls were weeping into damp tissues and all I could think of was where I could get the money to go to college and hopefully avoid going to war. World War I, the dean had made clear, was the responsibility of all able-bodied American boys to clean up. Well, after the pomp and circumstance had wound dowo to a close, the gang met at Chuck's parents house. 111e general concensus wasl Four-"l-don't-want-to die's," and one "1 con't shoot someone." Needless to say, the latter co_ent came from George Andrew. When the fourth of July rolled around, the heat in our conversations about the war had settled to a lukewarm interest. At the annual Independence Day Parade, we sheepishly stood to salute the flag as it passed. 1 suppose the guilt of our cowardice was brought home at this moment for us. For George Andrew, it was a turning point I a seed of conviction was sown. The spark of national pride and duty began to kindle the ultimate fire. George Andrew never was a truly passive person. On tm contrary, he was, in all actuality, the possessor of stronger convictions than anyone I have met since. I wondered at the decisions this man made during the following months. The academic year at Michigan State began in late August. Our entrance tests had come back with high marks and our mothers behaved in the usual senti'm ental way to our departure. The shadow of the war faded to grey as we embarked on our first indepel)dent adventures. Even George Andrew, who had of late become slightly withdrawn, joined in the fun flirting with the girls. He had. the luck of becondng attached to a very strong-willed woman by the name of 11llian from a village close to ours. We all figured she mu.~t be a bit on the interesting side because a majority of George Andrew' s waking hours were spent with her. And, so it was that with joyfully reckless spirits we arrived home at Thanksgiving only for some of us to find letters awaiting us from the United States Army setting dates for physicals. Only George Andrew and Tommy were excluded. The rest of us were devastated. How could life change so quickly? My family sat around the feast table unable to choke down the turkey dinner. Mother sobbed cea.c;elessly while my father sat stiffly with a grave look '7 upon his face and useless words upon his lips. I certainly didn't want to die in battle and death was what everygne feared the most. The scene was similar a Chuck's and Gene's homes. Their lives were paramount on their families' minds. But, there was no crying or tight-lipped silence in George Andrew's home. Only tired looks of failure and disbelief were passed between family members while George Andrew sat strong and erect in his chair. They ate little. The fresh venison steaks which were a gift from friends lay coldly in their red drippings. The seed of George Andrew's patriotism which was sown in the heat of summer and tended by introspection had come to the harvest. George Andrew had informed his faa11y of his intent to join the United States Array. The horror of it was evident but controlled. His decision to kill for his country would never be accepted J but since it was his decision. it was respected. The light-hearted homecoming was replaced by an undesirable extension of our vacation. Only Timmy returned to the dormitory as scheduled. Gene, Chuck, and I met a few times downtown. Somehow we tried to escape the emmanent spectre of war. George Andrew settled down in a routine of wood cutting and long walks. I joined him for one of these the day before our physicals. We walked out past Chuck's but he waan't home. We set off across the cornfields full of stUbble and rested in a copse of trees. Evening drew nigh and the cows ubled toward us and fed on the fallen corn. Out of the corner of our eyes we saw the first few deer bound lightly to the herd of cows. Within a quarter of an hour, at least twenty were intermingling with the passive cows and side by side they_grazed. I didn't see George Andrew again until the next evening after our physicals were over. We had just taken an uncomfortable seat in the dingy waiting room with several others when an impersonal looking sergeant ma.rched into the room and began barking out names and results. An eternity passed begore he shouted out an affirmation of my nightmare. George Andrew had to wait for the end. but, he seemed not in the least impatient. He anticipated only a positive answer. I was sitting in a dull silence when the verdict came. The words echoed in my head as the sergeant mouthed the words, "Wright, George Andrew. Reject." I jumped out ot my chair. One of us at least had come out ahead~ George Andrew's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Rejected," was all he said. In June, nearly three years later, I returned from battle to continue life where it had been cut off so suddenly. George Andrew and Tommy had grad.., uated from Michigan State and were living in the fast-paced world with a booming war economy. Tommy was in the process of acquiring his father's business. George Andrew, the only true patriot in the gang, had found employment with the federal government working in the post office censoring letters.Although George Andrew didn't go to .ar, his family and what was left of our gang wever lost their respect for his decision-the epiphany of George Andrew's patriotism. ?/ku ~~,unf~&.aoe, ~a~fo//da/~L;;,,{eu, t:Jb'pA~/~ a/4Jd; ~~7n u/~ .,Ja/a./LOa/Ld., _ ..f}1H,H-- ~ ht!4V~N b'ar 4.N, lx/aJd ~d~ ~y~ ~"p4UM. ~ ~/~~;,~ ~ ~ ~ r'~;.'e., L7d~~~4~" ~~U;'a4 baL- Hocfo~~~ /ke, aL.U~ /~.eL~ . $~ n,~~u/ ~~~ Kd 4~~~ $ ~b /he,fUeAle1'tCi!, ~'JD/~~4.M.. ~~ ~~~ ~k,n~ aNd bvx~ " ,4~n ~ d'..u~ ~ped ~ ~/ a'J~d'~ ~ ~~~ ~U 14 t14/AU;, rkt!!~ !/ ~~~~dd# ~~,f;. ~~ ae ~n~ ~~ ~ k4. 4Jrd n4~ du~;'n., ,an~ ~m, H4 ~~x, ~~ .Bar.7k~,r3c-UAf/iY/W A:, WL~~ ~ ~~~;N:Y, Lf, rh,,,~ ~ ~kH, q/b~e, &t! ~2~e $ ~4J/e de ~kMy /Ph~~ ~~4'. 10 p~" Pfl kR5e, ILHL ~~a/~ ;f'P.i UI,,-t/d ui ~ ~Ke, ~ dfPn ~ 4huf/Pd/.U Me/L ~ ~~ ~~ gc$.a/.a:, ~.K.d'~n~ ae ~/~ . ~Yk ~u tZJd tf~d~ foe. ~4J~~ aHd ~'M ~.?'-".rUM.. $ei~ ~ 6f~~~ dd~~4 de a/LY/ 7rh~~ ~HLd-t.~U/~ Hez/~~ ~-"He< :kJ ~~~ /k~ e~hNed ~.4dre ~ 4e~~~j4- &eft/L~!/ ~.e-~ ~ /~e ~ ~~ HLeAe ~~YL $;ie./'~.4Af;4L~aU ~/he d/UuL~ft~~Hr- ..Bo:t .?kaH~~",hL~ku-d, wke,- ??U /Uh~~ 0 ~d u';kx..;, /~d~~ U/~~e &e. ~~~e, ~ ~ve /h~ .tp~k/ke .. ~LfoU/A" @/~~ If, &e %HxLe6 1f'~UL'., ~L 4'~7NeHr6e4:, /AUI!! 4A~ Ck"'~ :;kd H4r/.e Hd A~L ~~ &f~a Lf,JKd--L.-Ma/d.. II Jd/~d...o~I/Kf.. . & ~~./a~nr4~ Th. raiD apliah-aplaahed on the pay_ent for.iag pools aDd running iD riYers iDtO the sutter. Th. sutter, how I could relate to it. the dark, cold steDch of it, the v.ate. Dight w.. black. The Dark clouds blanketed th. ek" hidiag the aoOD and it ercenariea. I wasn't afraid aDd followed the back &11.1W81S. Ther. v. . DO f.eliDg iDaide .e aJI1IIOr., 001, a dull ach. that ate at Q boD_. Th. re- alizatioD that this ti.e I vouldD't walk it off clUUS to .e. D_th-I ka_ hi. vell. H. bad clai.ed the li yea of thos. I held d.reet & rq .other vh_ I . w.. barel7 thirtMD I II,J father wb_ I was tVeDtll and now just ODe lear later, To.. It wun't fair, but d_th nner 18. TOIl aDd I ".r. to be .arried iD June. He w.. .ix-foot-two vi th blOM hair aDd blue 8188 I so people said w. could have bea brother and sister. .'loll " . . rq brother, "'1 siater, rq father, 81 trienell he Md. all the hurt somehow tad. into nothingneea and replaced it vith utter elation_ IV pace sloved slightlJ vith each step; vas beginning to get drovsy_ /L I It V88 the simplest solution. No relatiYe8, no f8JIfi,., 001,. on. fried, but she wouldn't _ind IlUch. After all, she was the one who had given lie the pills. "-1- be Sherr,. had guessed what the,. were for, but thaD she dicln' t mow To. W88 dead. What.... I wuted, Sherr,. was always willing to obliS Good old ShelT1, sh. bad stuck b,. . throUSh thick and thiD. kindergarten. We had kDown each other sinc. We had a strange friendship with absolutel,. nothing in common. Sherr,J s.aked aDd drank and loved a good part,.. I preferred to ' st.,. home. W88 She W88 tall and well-built, while I short and skiDDY. -sh,.. She W&8 so outspoke, We were both onl,.-children and in need of companionship, so we sOllehow 80t thrown togwther. Maybe it W88 Principal and Peters. because w. were both P'sDebbie Petera--look for her tomorrov in the obi tuart colWlll. really notice? Who would What difference did it make? Solie drunk cUle stUJIbling out of a bar across the street, singing boisterously. ttI'y. got the joy, jo,.. joy, joy down d.ep ill WI1 heart. II There was a day vhen I could have said the sue, several days. Like the ti.e To. and I vent to Chicago vi th To.. ' s parente tor the weekend. All the bright lights and traffic were overvhel_ing. We at. at a really elegant res- taurant and drank champagne. 13 They were like a second tuil,. to .e. Ho.. they grieved at To.'11 death. to be killed. So young To. and a tDiend were out renting tuxedoe tor the wedding, and 1I000e guy pulled his car right out ill tront ot th_. 'lbe guy wu drunk just like the druak I saw down the street. w.. still V.riDS and singins. He I looked at hi and a .eething rage bubbled iD raJ yei08. But I was too tired to 10 with i t_uch too tired. The light wu red, but there was no ODe in sight, 110 I atuabled ott the pay..ent iDto th. street. .e. My legs were becolliDg like jello beneath It wouldn't b. long DOW. Sleep. peacetul ud sar and tor.yer. would cOIle ewitUy. , car elroy. by and slowed as it pu.ed. pulled to the curb and stopped. It I turned and looked through bald-closed 81_ at Sherry who w. . boppiDg out of the car . "I'y. been looking all oyer tor lOU. Ar. lOU crul. ro_ing the stre.ts at Dight alOD.'" I started to anawer. but . , tongue clung to the root o't rq lIOuth. I took ODe step tor- ward and tell IJI. d?~eA4 $he/a&eLaxd4 dn U/~ ,4?~eU?f, ~ Hhe-b. d in ~UJ4du/J #~ fla~~ dar ~Ne ;xeeh~ a- J'Nd~&-, ? dxe ~pn~ ~edX,Y a//du/ eKd~ Jl~e.,., :/he ..7h~ ~xp~dux, U ~Y/ed; ~'ya:Hd. . ' ~~~ 4dU Mt!JM ~ boa/ Jaffe ~a/ HULd k . . ., /M~x,- . e~ ~z' Mftc~e~? -Ba& N~ o/C dx~e 4.Nd he. ~dHreJ b~ 4d~~", ~~ he, 4~ 6Z~t! l' (Jd, Xd?'? JAe JaC~e#..J ... ., /i;a/ L!!4~. ~dX~ ~~ mA2~? $'~ d AU ~x.,,; ~ h~~ tf~~ /uHe ~~ r~i'P~_ 16 ~ he be,,fA:du/~ fkU/44I/? ;7@:'./'La5~~ b~e;J.dZNL?u/ .(P~yA', a.. HU-C c~a/~dh'l!4He eUe bd~~ Char ,dLlnr~dHe, &4t!!,/,d"cHe4 ~ ~a/ 42~ ~ bt! ~ M 4dn.? ..Bfd /~eke ~ h~r/~k~u ~e ~t!!, Ji'L Liedbme Iff, &&UN kd~UkIe ~~~L~ d*i. ~L~ ~k~eu ~-t;, ~r/i!J. Y//:' . hdAd & L}xi!e a I!!a/~ ,7?Ldxr~ -BeetUUe ~ f~u ~LJF~ ~ dxe ~el.K.dd,Nj L ~d~ '. ~J~#~e, /~c ,, ~efo rAe JaL~e.,. 1'1 JAdnz h4au g, hU~ ~ .JeLd~ ~4,~L~~~ tIl///L-/ ner/u, ,d~U/? ,....,~,...,"-'--"-~----'------- ~d4L/u'U/~~ed: Aa 9'H 4i?d~fi~ /~ . Au ~c .HY'Y b~L ~~~~~ /9 $d~/Xf ~/ALr/L~O~ ~/d~ ~ . ddT/!- dad~H4 /hue afjdud 8/; d{/aJ..IiK5 r-14Ln 48/~ a k.m and eA:ecUu ~6YZ ~ ~;{e ~ ~ ~~ft~~ 4~e/c4 afieLdA yd ~udhf~ a ~~ m, d{jfak~JQX4d,~ed tre&;'" 4d Z:hre:, /k tY/ex~ 4SOamfi Vndzl7ni!d ~u4 ffda//tf~t?E. ~~ . C!d~ edn/~L /he a/~Hd ~ Gat. ~//da//~ A1'ee, eM af~~ . /he hd.u-ty ~/ Nda/ ~edeeh. S~~~4o/~AL &lAd ~ /he ,dha~~ /Ld -(Dedicated t :r.4~ i/dJ y/eanL .. ~~hre ULa/.,Jcene. ~./dfd/d; ~4;/y~~~ ~did4d~ 0' , !dnz ad. (/L~ ~ "Pdf{ ,4~,Hn, '~6u~~? Mn: &-td~h . h44hr. '/7bdn t ,~e, .Hd/ &ea .4d~.; ~ab~ ~ /Laad/n. . 60 Siater Stella> i 1,1  ! \i I i I I ~~n a $z&td7t:u;~ DyLJdb/:e~ Llght poured be~ween the shranken vertioal boards 8Jld plowed el&l1ted bars aero the floor, bar. &8 on a prison 'W1adow. '!he a.eet odor of ha,. still olune to the air here, though oal7 & pair ot broken, disgarded balls .ere left. looking up into the barD'. old riba. I eaw that the dLlat had not ,..t se~tled. ~he horsea had stirred i~ up too .e 11. I had DOt known th , the7 .ere gone 1011& betore I bad come to play in the 0001 dI7 straw. In the diatanoe I oould hear the aouads ot the reunion. Blother' a faa1q had gathered onoe again, their &JU1U&1 event " not Iliae. ~a... the tirst tlae I had 008sent.4 to oo.e s1ao. that ~ when I was seven. I melt and aoyed ~ haad aero.s the old harneaa. the kind to whioh a t ... of plow hors.s ' oould be hitched. It was the on17 pl.oe ot equip.ent lett; the bera waa Pt7 otherwi.e. I oould V84JUel.7 r __ber a wagoa p.rhapa and aore ba:r when .I was aeyen. Muoh .ore hay eaouch to .taok AIld build and pl~ houae and-Daaa 8 I1DS- ~ orT oaus.4 a pair ot piceone to bur.t fro. their roost. But the bara ... oont t to w&1 t &ad liaten ail.ntl.7. So I went on. wWhy? Wh7 ae1ans.er osae and I ...n't expecting one. It was an exeroi in yanlt7. bQt one that ooul4D't hurt azq wor.e. .Wb7 ~,~ . ~he worda tell quiokly now wa. tear. would haYe, if I had had .ore tear. to ory. M,. l1.te'. po:rilOJl ot tears had drained .~ b;r the 010 ot rq fourteenth 7e~. i'heworda .OOD slowed, a. real tears do, _4 I star.d quietly at the floor streaked b7 the shadows ot noonda7 light. A da7 11k. thi8... the shado.. on the floor and his these too and a ohild playiDg in the barn a oh11d, a girl ot s.yen &Dd hill and playiDg house I wa. too dead ineide to oare an,yaore and the _der.4 ia 8Ild out \U10 ell8 ore cI and Ululpeak:!D&, l1pt in oo.parison M,. .0 ia.... .l3 to that burdeD of aileDoe I had kept until fourteen. I moyed to 8000p up a haDdtul of floor a8 proof that I had oome. I oould just see Pather Cain, the late.t in ~ line ot oOUDselors, saying "You.e done a good job, Vlotoria," aa he poured the anoient lI&Ilure acro8s his deak "Viotoria'- I troze, . , hand atill deep in the filt~ earih. Victoria," he said again and this time e ...e17 oell in m3 bo~ acreaaed. Reoognition, hatred, tear, anguish, horror. the7 all .ere there. be17 sound I'd eyer aade 8hook thro1l8h 87 boq but at suoh po.era the 8ore. . could onJ.7 be a silent one. He the one the couslDl I whirlecl or tried to, 108t rq balanoe, and ended on the floor, orouching 11ke a trapped animal. I -7 haye eyen had It1' teeth bare d. But he was oala, le&D1zag with hia back against the doorpoat, 'balanoing on one leg with the other drawn up 'beneath hla. He wasn't 100JdDg at .e. Bather he 100ke4 down the hill and aoross the field Where the reunion was. ae held a oigarette 1008e17. Je_, a dirt7 hwltiD& jacket a man taller thaD the one in 'a7 dre. .s. but with the aame 1U1kempt .' blond hair and 1811k7 proportiolUJ. Oood 01' Cl&7. so 800d with the Jdda He turBed his 0001 blue e7es on .e then t..edlate17 shitted th_ awa7 qain. You dOll't baYe to look at me like that, he .umble4. "I'. not . 80iDg to ' hurt 7ou." SOIlehow I felt I'd heard that promae betore. WZou ba8tardS" I 8orea.ed, not 8ilent17 tbis tt.e. "Oet out, Oet outS" ".TeelS, he sai4 in di8gust and pushed hiIIseIt into the Jaiddle ot the doorwa7. A.t that Iloment, panio stormed hoae' and nearq thru.st 'a7 Ilind oyer the edge. But then I sa. bi. baok was turned . toward .e. Se was learing. ~riUllph. I .onder no. how I reoognized it, I had been 80 lona depriyecl of its ta8te. But I bad won and I kne. It. "Wa! tl" I 001lllBllde4. "I haYe so.ething to sa7 to 70u." . ae 08ll1e to a full atop betore h. tliok.d the away and turn.d around. tlredl7 it d. "no you reae.ber?" I biaaed. s11thering up 010 to him. "You do r __b.r, don't you? Oh, I III sure you do. 'fhat that' 8 not .nough. I WIlDt you to know the other th1Dgs 70U'Y. Gone to .e. Because of 70u, I baYe .eyer 10Y.d a 1lSD. I hated and hated aad hated - I weat Oil sad 011, olrol..1q closer with eyery accusatioll. And when I ~ollcluded. 1 t was with, "And l.t.. aot torce" the oowuelora and-It An am lashed out at .e. but it _ a .oy. I had tore.eell ill all 1fT dre8118 &lad I leaped ...117 clgare~t. baok. "stop 1tS" he oried. "At lea.t ,.ou _d .!!l!!!SSometh1Dc ill hi. yolo. did JUk e .top. I. tact. I was atunned to allence. Anguish' Bad I heard It? I narrowed ~ gaze on his taoe, outtiDa out tor the first t1m. the bam, the dirt, the lIemoriea. It wasn't easy. thi. polish1Dc ot the glaas, but I tried. ADgu1ah? His eyes werestlll oold blue, but the liDe. ~UDd thea were deeper. like sashes. And DOW I could see that the dirtiness ot hi. hair w.. grayness. He was .uch older than hi. twenty-ellbt years. .y mother's yoice c8lle to me. Crawford Count,. men don' t ahow thair tee liD8I1. ~hat. ~ I went outside the county to m&r.r,J.The corner ot his aouth twitched and the moYement errupted into an earthquake ot hi. ,ton.7 tace. "Stop blaains meS" With his hands he oo.ered his tace 8Dd then stuabled down upon the old harness. I 8U~den17 realized that he w.. not crying either. Stop blam1128 hia' I bad onq bePD . . I had never seen him .ince thell. bd ,.et h. aau it sound as it Dl7 ailent hatred had atruck hill da117 ainoe then. I had never intended to oontrollt him. I had coae to the reunioa onl.7 when I was oertain that he w.. not 0081118. "Clay nev.r oo.e. anymore," Grandma had 8&1d. But I hadn'tatopped to thint wlQ". Who else knew of that daTI I had .eant for no Olle but Grandma and Mother to know, ~or wq 01fll shame. But what if 0, I 80re8lled at ayaelf . ' l2!! are the nct1m. He hurt IOu. You are the rtotim. But the8e he W&8, crumpled below me. DOW olellohing the harness as U 1 t were a roct in the mddle of stomins sea. 1 oou1dn't leaye, he sud without morins. Like 7011 did. 'fhe pain in his .oice struck me. Slowly I began to reaelDbar how much I had loved him, he, the oousin who thoqh 8tll1 a ohild hilDseH was a DIaD to me. ben tovteell-year-olds seem old to a ohlld ot 8eyen. He had taught me to ~ holdiDg ae oaretul17 In the creek below the barn untll I could ~loat b7 Il7seU. "I had to st~, he said 88a1D. Be shoot hiDuJelf, rolled oyer, and stared at the oei11118. 1 told them myself, Yiclq. Long 1;lae ago Remember the good times we had? It was all so good then. ADd then... Damn. Why? ~ me? Wlq, w~, w~ Bat I did tell thea ID1'selt, alone, eve17one. . "That, I breathed, -lRIst ~: have taken a lot ot oour8&e." "Like hell. It waa the on17 thing I could do to torget. . ADd then they wouldn't let .e forget. One uatake. I mew it was a 1li8take. !'he7 didn't have to tell me. ADd keep telling me Just as before a tide o-r horrifyiDg images had stormed ~ .tad, the ebb 8ide now attacked. Isolation, ' silenoe, abaae, guilt. They were familiar but not -:t own. I oouldn' t fight them . and I too .auk do1fll upon the barness, but not Dear hia. "I went north when I oould," he said. Work in Gilaonville now. Also, I'. married now, Vioky." His voice was hollow. "I've got a l1ttle girl. She's Beven DOW. She wonders wl\Y her Dadcq won't hug her. I didn't know what to sa7. I had heard the Z, " on17 thing I had hoped to hear, the adadssion ot wrong doing. Bot 8.Il apology, suoh a thing was unnecessary 8.Il4 would have been ridiculous ~a7. But what could he hope to hear trom 1 He went ODe Viclq, I ' . afraid to hug her.His voic. oracked aDd I . reached out reached out to the Cl~ who had taught .e how to 8wiJa and had shown the dittereao. betweeD Spicebush and BlaokSwallowta1la. -Don't be,- I 8aid. 810w17, paiatully, a tear tONed in ~ e7e and before lODg both were or71q, stariq through the brokeD boarcla, two at bq upon a tattered harness. w. {. ( . , 1/, '. ': I ' ., . i't' . J ,~ ~ ) ~I \ //1M a,1J~L~e (a, Llb~J ~~t!'pp/L. ;dMa/f oa r4e, ~~ v'fid ~~ nrf Aea-d ~V ed~ 4k~a/f,a,~g/ J:NN'd .!fbal/L be~ 4,~'--:' $/'ad ~ HLf 4YeA Nxded/4.~~ ~ [fAt!, fddd 4Kd /he bad '-1m Afa-te,~~ ~fl4a, $~ a U~H~~.!/dap~~e ~ ~4Y~ . ~'y~a ~4~ kHda/ ..//dr ~o/d'~ Me u/~ ~4~a/~ :raL4h;'~ . . J '~ ~~ .,J~-U-. ~"' r~~t'L ddd~ v/H~r/~''hr~~ . a/~~'- . 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... . , .. . I , ..: ... .*. lorettl :..... ': ..:. :: ..... . :~~:: : .. ....- .... .. . .... eo . .. .. .. .. ~ ........ , .. , .. .. ;: .. . ..... '. ' " ....... 0: ," ." .' . ..-.0 IfS'I-I'L, Jk l'"a~~;'~ ~ ..g,~~. U ~~l-~ ~ .Fe. ?n~H~~ d/ ~JU~ ~~ ~ J'()tJk. aN.H/IY/c."'~Y' tY AU tf~k.,--, LOVE IS LISTEN .1 Suzanne .1 Bingman Jean M. Garson UNTITLEDI Kent Danie 18 4 5 13 .1 ~n McGugan 13 ON GRAPH PAPFBI D. Sears III ARTIST 10/ Rusty C1yma 15 sm~SHINE AND SlAUGHTER/ Michael Dugan 16 HAlKU/ Drew Appleby 17 CASTLE BUILDERS/ Christy Cousino 18 FROM GREm TO GREY WITH LOVE/ Trish Losey 19 HAIKU/ Drew Appleby 26 THE IDYPTIAN SACRED SCARABI D. Sears 27 LOVE, DREAMS J REALITY/ D. Marshall 28 SUBURBAN COWBOYS/ John Boyle 29 THE ESCAPEI Dorothy Lahmann 36 A NIGH1}~~1 Lisa Casteel 37 UNTITLEDI Kent Daniels 31 CONTENTI Chris Reeves 38 ARTIST 131 Rusty C1yma 39 A GOOD-BYE "SIGHII1 Sr. Francesca Thompson 40 CARE COVER/ Sara Bozzell! p. 12/ Lynn McGugan pp. 11, 26/ Yoshisuke Sato LETTERING/ Sister Stella Gampfer, OSF Katrina Knarr Joan 11. Carson Lynn McGugan Sister Stella Gampfer, OSF /;;11& U . .. .J;Jt;jbt.ni'!f~ EHd--, eden. aj'~ IL~ .6~'I"~~ ~t/e IA ;Hded~~~7i~ btdi.z/U/b~ dL~Vtn~~. ~:!ud w~ Pfl~udU- 6u~ t(U ~eh't&1' M4d aI~rA, ~~/- cf1j;u,d~'t U~ d~ 41~~ a tiHte/e4tl uxd4.";j~ qte.,.- ~~ftdOuv 4-7'd~~~ .. . Bp fol6Q/,d S'e~ ~ ~ UlIJ~U~~. 6:~ nremtH:iu 6/'-atbV Ibltte~ Ue 6tUALW tf: tit/!-"jhWq z4;'Iaa~ d'~ tU~ _ft~l/~~ /'uU/L .. Wfdn e#I. t:4AAld7L Softly closing thesl~ding glass .door, Daniel put the hectic week behind him and stepped out into the warm and gentle Colorado evening. The starry sky winked its familiar greeting to him, and wit~ the aid of the moons brilliant beams, lured him toward the timeworn porch swing. Daniel seated himself comfortably upon it and basked in the serenity of the summer night. He formed a silent prayer of thanks that it was Friday and that he had managed to survive successfully another week of work. In celebration of the accomplisment, he reached for his Alvarez guitar and began to strum. While the rhythmic creak of the swing kept time with the music. it also helped him keep pace with the flow of disturbing thoughts flooding his mind. Daniel derived most of his relaxation from these infrequent opportunities in which he , was free to e~cape into his music. As with most dedicated artists, he had always felt the need to push his talents to the limit. Therefore, he longed to relive the summer after his highschool graduation because he had been able to spend it solely concentrating on his guitar techniques. This period of creativity gave birth to both his versatile style and newfounded confidence in his abilities. He had directed all of his efforts toward becoming a star guitarist. This dream had not materialized, however, because hie parents, especially his father, had scorned his ambition to become a professional musician. As he rocked back and forth remembering their disapproval, the swing squeaked its sympathy for his unfortunate situation. His dad insisted he pursue a more stable career. to appease him, he had majored 5 in medical technology at Colorado State, where he was currently a sophomore. He enjoyed school, but discovered it monopolized too much of the valuable time he needed to practice guitar. The soothing motion of the swing enabled him to sort .his priorities, and he realized that music was at the top of his list. Convincing his parents he must quit school to start establishing himself in the music field was proving to be an impossiblp. task because his father refused to listen to him. It had reached a point where his father would leave the room whenever Daniel started to play his guitar. He finished playing and looked up into the sky, searchin~ for a glimmer of hope or encouragement. As he inhaled deeply, the unclouded . ~rightness of the stars gave him the inspiration he needed. Swinging to a stop, he decided that something had to be done -- immediately The next morning Daniel's older brother Christopher stopped by for a game of one-onone basketball, as was his usual custom on Saturdays. This event took place on the halfcourt near the north end of the back patio, and Mr. Partlow was otten the lone spectator from the porch swing at the south end. A highly successful and hard-working accountant, he looked forward to these regular opportunities to watch his two athletic sons engage in sport. Critically eyeing their every move, he sat rigidly on the edge of the swing, serving as both coach and referee. Daniel always made aure that a transitor radio was placed on the picnic table near the swing to provide rhythmic atmosphere conducive to the game. Distracted by what he termed "that tribal music," Mr. Partlow frowned and turned the volume knob down unt il :the mus ic reached a barely audible level. Satisfied that he could now concentrate, he ignored toe disappointed lo~k on Daniel's face. As the game progressed, Mr. Partlow marveled at his two sons playing the same sport, but with such dissimilar techniques and attitudes. Daniel was only 5'10", but he had been a star member of his highschool's basketball team. In those days, he had seriously dedicated himself to the sport, but now he played mostly for personal enjoyment. During the game, Mr. Partlow noticed that Daniel's natural coordination made up for his lack of height. this coordination accounted tor the success and ease with which he shot, dribbled, and made fast breaks. For example, when he shot, he slowed down, extended his right foot slightly forward for balance, lined the baJl up evenly with the basket, and flipped it through with hi. wrist. This was accom- plished in one unbroken movement. When he dribbled, he was grace in motion. He maintained a smooth, steady rhythm the whole time he bounced . the ball. When making fast breaks, Daniel could sometimes dart under the arms . of Christopher. Christopher was 6'4" and had belonged on both a highschool and college intramural basketball team. He had graduated cum luade a month earlier with a degree in business, and he had already started working in a reputable business firm. He still practiced daily to keep 1n shape, but he played with keen, competitive spirit. Aa a result, he had gained a reputation for ~playlng tor blood" and for making ri8ky passes and outside shote. His coordination was not so.e -. thing with which he had b n born. He had developed it through hard work and devotion, and he had become quick and aggres8ive. When shooting the ball, his heighth plus coordination were an advantageous combination. 7 his shots swished the net with ease. He dribbled at varying rates' quickly one Dloment and more slowly the next. Both of Mr. Partlow's sons were good basketball players. They simply employed their skills in different fashions to produce the s ..e results - pointel However, because Daniel's attitude toward the game had become 80 easy-goin~, Chris ullually defeated him soundly. This tended to annoy Mr. Partlow because his youngest son's only ambitions anymore eee.ed to b. to develop a professional career in music. H. had tried to discourage Daniel trom pursuing thisfoolish dr... by ignoring his interest in the guitar and persuading h~ to go to college. Daniel had reluctantly enrOlled, but it waa obvious that ' his heart belonged to music. Mr. Partlow sighed with diamay as he observed a typical scen. on the court. LevelKeaded Christopher had etolen the ball trom Daniel who had been distracted by .a song on the radio. Crank 1t up. Dad That'. one ot lIlY f.vorit . .ong.. The gu1tar work 1s tremendous and began Daniel exr.itedly as he moved toward the radio. Por heaven's sake, Dan1el, pay attention to what you're doing. You should never have let Chris take the ball that easilyS interrupted Mr. Partlow, with disgust. But Dad that's one of the Eagle's greate.t songe' 'p rotested Daniel. -1 don't car. it it'. one of the Cardinal's gre.test songe. You should be paying closer attention. Wanting to &.01d an argUllent, Daniel turned away from hi. father and returned to the court. . . Is there any hope for that boy? Mr. Partlow muttered under his breath 8 Daniel declined an invitation to have dinner and to watch a televised baseball game at his brother's apartment. The rock guitarist Rick Weston was performing in town that evening, and Daniel had been eagerly anticipating the concert for months. Daniel's vast record collection included every album Weston had ever recorded, and he had listened to them so intently that he knew most every note of every song by heart. Unfortunately, he could' hot reproduce Weston's multifaceted style on his own guitar. He longed for the freedom Weston had to compose and perform the music pent up inside of him, but he couldn't break away from home with a clear conscience until his father had acknowledged his ability. It was important to Daniel that his father believed in or at least understand the type of future he wanted to pursue. The concert was held in a hall that seated only 500 people because Weston preferred to perform in intimate settings to make his music as personal as possible. Sitting in the third row from the front, Daniel faIt as " comfortable as if he were in his living room at home. Watching Weston on stage, Daniel decided that a major element of the musician'S success was his calm composure. He was usually casually posed, holding his guitar lightly with his eyes often closed. Daniel could relate to the relaxed manner that this star radiated. whenever he played his Alvarez, the music that poured forUh had a tranquilizing effect on him. Weston's dynamic guitar work and meaningful lyrics captivated the audience. His performance was a tidal wave of sound that ,z:eneratedhuman electricity. It was both sizzling and sp.nsltive at the same time, and Daniel savored every moment of it. Toward the end of the concert, Weston said that he ." wished he could play a duet written by one of hi8 favorite musicians. But his usual partner for the song was ill. The song was entitled "Father and Son", and because it was a selection on one of Weston's albums, Daniel knew it well. "I don't suppose anyone out there would care to join me?" he kidded the audience. Amused laughter rippled through the audience, but Daniel took Weston seriously. Springing from hi, seat, he cried out, Yesl The ripple became a roar a8 the audience reacted with mirth at Daniel's enthusiasm. Heck, kid, come on upl Embarrassed, Daniel started to sit down, but the audience cheered encouragement to him, . and so he dumfoundedly made his way up on the small, s 'p otlit stage. "Make yourself at home," Weston said, offering him a stool and a guitar. "You know the Bong Father and Son' I take it? Daniel nodded shyly and accepted the instrument with awe. He aeated himself beside the -professional musician and fingered the shiny guitar timidly. By the time he had finished tuning it, he adjusted to the sound and feel ot it, and he relaxed. "Ready, kid?" challenged Weston. Yeah, as ready as I think I'll ever bel" replied Daniel with a confident smile. And so side by side, note by note. the amateur and the professional performed their duet. Daniel was overwhelmed by this opportunity to ahare his intense love for music with such a renowned guitarist. As a result, he performed flawlessly. As his clear, strong voice sang out the part of the son, he realized that, ironically, he was singing the lyrics to his life. Just as the father in the song was concerned about his son's future, he knew that his father was It) was worried about the lifestyle he sought. Both fathers were offering what they considered to be sound advice, but without being aware of their sons' real needs. How long would Daniel have to ~o on trying to convince his dad that he wouldn't be happier in a white lab coat in "General Hospital- or in a suit and tie on Wall Street? Music was his life, and everytime his father failed to acknowledge his ability on guitar. he negated Daniel's very existence. . When the song was over, he thrilled to the audience's appreciative response and thanked Weston warmly. -Heck, kid, thank you' It would have been hard to perform a duet by myself. You play well. We'll have to get together ~ld do it again eo ti , - chuckled Weston. Exhilarated, Daniel returned to his seat. His only regret at that moment was that his father had not been there to experience the meaning ot the song he had' ' played. , One of the three friends he had gone to the concert with greeted him with a surprise when he loeached his seat. "I got it all on tape Danny-boy'- he whispered ecstatically. revealing the miniature rpcorder hidden in his camera case. "You can't tape concertsl That's against the lawl- , Dart whispered back. "Well, I've taped every concert I've ever attended, and I haven't been arrested yet. But, gosh it you think it's unlawful, I'd be more than willing to erase it " he teased Daniel. "I'd never speak to you again if you did," Daniel threatened jokingly. -Hey, can I borrow that tape later tonight?" II "Borrow it? Consider it a gift. Just don't forget me when you make it to the top of the song charts I " When he returned home from the concert, Daniel found his father seated quietly in the porch swing. --"Hey, Dad, listen to this. You'll never believe it I" Dan swithced on the minirecorder, and the first strains of "Father and Son" gently nudged the silence of the evening aside. . "Not now, Dan. I'm tired, and you know . how that noise disturbs me " began his father wearily. "Please, Dad. Just this once- listenl" "Ia it really that important that I listen to it tonight? Maybe tomorrow. if I have time " "That may be too late, Dad. By tomorrow, I may be gone. " Daniel switched the music off. "Now I1stenhere, young man " "No Dad. It's your turn to listen I" Placing the tape recorder on the picnic table, Dan ie I walked off the pat 10 and ' disappeared into the darkness. /:0 ~"- eyu a~ /he mEtUafL: d// aivt5ea4' pld4d aJh~faLX!- iN, tl/iI!/.aL#l;t~~~.J wtLdt! aJ/,ii, ~Jf"/tU,dtdn It, ~ /6u" ftt.ffL - Jhc ~~eJd/e 4ML~ //ud.?~~ttlU&oHc1 ~. ?/fa/~ bad in~~Ht4~ k.,.ae:~ ~/~~ tE.tVt/a/ l/t2;;ua'ut ~ ~/le o/dd6. ~, JJt:UU'd4 ,-.Jte~ '. ' aNd yd hatd ~~/' ,-..., dU od 6y bL~ . . 0/.?AkL~ aNd &~tZ ,- tA"~M tftU~NRd '7"'~e~o/ ~ ~~etd I'U ~& ~CU&--./ '-fJt ~~ ~c-_ JUdt ~tn !f~U~ nftUi:ct /3 ", 0/6. I lJh, cUiJin~ Ic~e,., l{~ j/~tWl:6~ t;,fJu,r the~14~ te, "plax ~~ l:f,4att#d~ 1h~1!~J 6GtL .4~~ l!A:a~-iftut.~ e4.at4I.'~ e.tt.tetyt u/ II dpu I~ &J1J~d ~ ~W/~l I#t . .:tkt~-~.-d(1M-1 :7Ae ?Uut' ~l/au~~ tuk pLtad tk ()t{f/~ .ttd. ~ -/MENI;:JiVU/e-dJ;'~:' &Ku! .~hd tD..m~ tU.L '11J~ ~ ..' ~~~~ mt-~ /td gu" PfJdx, tAl ,It it cvr.ry :'f, often. " I decllJed that the only ,nJ.y I' d ~Qt her eyo,; ttl leave the door \':D:_~ t,,) ~~) int() ;.omfJthinl; really deep. :ell, ']'(;n1, I've bonn through three very "d. .r fcrent marriage!;, :.'.nd I've never been happy for very long tn D.ny 0 r them. 1l0\'1 do you uo If. it?" A flu:;h of ninlt came over Toni, but it Goon faded. Hereyec sparkled ac oho thought abou t Chri 0. "Ghri:-; i~ wonderful. I'm very lucky." "l:ach of MY hu:;bunda otarted out "/ondcrful,too, but fiomcwhere alung the line they rncnr;cd up." II Do you Itnow that I admire you? I .al waye; have. II " .'i hy?" "You have so much strength and a will to GO on, . even after whiit you've boen through. '.!h~l~ever you want, you go after and get it. You're like Chris." "~';ell, J've alwD.yc he.ted you. You're GO damn happy all the time." "I I m hVP1>Y with Chri c. 1 really don't "IDnt anythin~ elr:;c. {,'or o\Vhile I \'Ianted chilc1ren, but Chrin helped me to get over that nfter the tioctor told me I couldn't have any.1I I "ID.:j puzzl ed becaUf:i8 Toni' 6 eYCH darlt- :::;ho stood up anu Gccmed in a utupor au :ihc \'mlkcd tlJ th 0 dl)(Jr. A policeman hud jUGt come in. T coult.ln't hear what they :;ald, but the loolt on the policolRan' n foce V/UCi that ( ) f :. . ad. nervoU:.i!lC:::iG. 'l",)ni \'laG t(Jtally cxproGG~" lnl(!:-:: ; . :;he :. .h(. \'/etl no emotion ut \'Jho.t Ghc riD!, bp.in~ tr)ld. If :-;ho Wil ~;n't etDnclinc up, cne(~. :.:hc c~)ul(: 'If:V<, 1Hl:jf.jp.,,1 r;r U~D.J. 'jill (; )Il'j rning i.1a,) .:T r'c'_J "Chri.: ~ t' l 1)11 cr I'iD:. t cr, ;, l'/l) 1'1 tl l-;:n ,,'::n l.~, ~'::Il.;r in cri tic ~Al cl)l}lllt.L,_,n f(JL1()\'rlnL~ coll1;;L'jn. 1I 'L'he: urtLcle ':icrlt un t;~: e:qJlain hC)l'! tlLi. :~ rlli.: ;ho.p uccurrC i,. Iii . CDr rIDS run 0 ff the r~)Dr! unCi over ill} uriio&nkment by a red pickur. 1;.'Il(~ llriver uf the ~)icl~up \'Io.;.~ being chDrged rr1th driving ul1(;er till: Influence. Chrt:-;' :.: c()nlli t:i.i)n VJD!~ \'}Clr::u thLln it Goundcd. II e had a broken neck anu had r:lippcd into a coma shortly after thf) cr'l~..: h. Une week pa::>r;ed since the accident. 'Poni had left the hospi tal only once during thl:; ti me. ~I'hat war.; to cet :;ome clothes from hume. Ij,)st1y 'lldni r.:p~nt her time in the hOGP1 t~,-l rot/TIl \'lith Chrir:. 110 one could drag her ;J\'Iay. (lnce I walked in on her, crying and begging Ghric to \'/al{e up. There wa3 a great difference between the hu~:pital and 'lloni' fairytule home. I hated leaving the beautiful tranquility for the \,/hi te ::iteril e \'JaIl :.) 0 f the hOGpi tole r1any friend!.~ and relatives cmno to vi!::it. 'roni \'lould come out to uee them, but the minute they' left Gha \'Ia!..~ ric.;;ht bac1-: at Ghri:;' s :..;j.d2. ljever for D. moment uid the (jId glcrua PU!:;fj over her eycG.. . I t had been three VlecIt:::> :.; ince the accident. . I \'U~s told car1ter that there v/cre no brain \'laver:" hoY/ever I \'/a:: nu t prepared for what the doctor had to 'Cay. He tulJ me that 'roni had ei ven him permi~:::;j.()n for the re r:j.lirator and the other mDchine!~ to be turnc(i off. Chris was now dead in botly o.~ well c.::; in mind. I expected to see 'roni torn apart. Instead, I was met by a cool, composed thlrtyyear old woman \'lholooked every minute of her age. The youthfulnesu l'ti ~een le~~ than a month earlier was replaccJ by D. :.ic:H~ but determined look. l. I waG amazed over the next two day~~ a!~ Ttmi efficiently made all of the funeral nrrnnGcment:~;. lIer ~;chedule boggle~ my mind, bu t ::;he whipped rlgh t throu~h it. Chrir; ,'/uuld have been aGtourl:lied at his wife' G prof :i.ciency. Un the morning 0 f . the funeral a "li'or 0D.le" r;ign went up among the many treer;. I run dO\'1n to the : . ;e\'1in~ room to nee Toni Gtaring out the \rindow. ':Jith every ~~ound of the mnll ct hi ttin[r, tho Gign, I could f;ee Toni's heart drop lo\'/or in her body. I knew she didn't hear me come in, but Dhe didn't act at all GurpriGcd to Hee me. Her face waG blank, but buried deep in her eyen, I could ::iee profound anguiGh. ~he scemed to be in a trance. "You can't Gell this place! It means GO much to you." "I can't live here now. I may as well let nomeone cIne find the joy that is now loct to me." "But you can still enjoy it if you try. II "I don't want to try. I can't take anymor~ pain. 11y way 0 f Ii fe died with Chris. I intend to carryon for him, not for me." ~:Ie ascended the Gtep~ slowly yet reriolutely. I knew that she waH serious about fol16wing in Chris's footn~eps. I silently wi;.~hed her luck. I wasn't ready to go to my own to be alone, F~ I followed her into her bedroom. The lively flowered wallpaper stood out in a upot above her drenner. There must have hung a picture there earlier, because just one ::;quare floction was brigh ter and untouched by the nun. The rest had faded to a duller color. Au Toni walked to her cloBet Ehe aaid that ~hc didn't want to wear black. ChriG had hDted thnt co10r on h0r. Inctcad ohc pulled out a dDrk- Groy \'/001 !'";ui t to \'lear to th c funerD1. .dXXh~ /n- rAe: ha-J~ In ~t!ntOu 4a~ U tWc ~ Chc:. /?/,/w_ J)4~m~~~r -.... . .- , . . - . - f. 'Ii .' y..-' At - i4 ~~, ; ~ : . Y;~'jJ~ad.f'~ (Iz/d ttJaaui ~lf!ltt tVtdHh 6~b if iEf',tf4~;ded lhe~"d td/M /t:d/ha!, cA~ 4a~ tU/al:fAf. t~e. hdPeJU) ShE, Iatku ~d-4 &E-/~-a~ v6uL t?aLE.~~u -/d ~ ~d~- $~fJk/~7te/lu:d.J k;~ U AVudt:J:71N4L~. SAE. ~44ft U dH, u/E. dL~e UHdLa~ (..&JuL~ '1~du 0/Eau'A~ 9~E~n.J ~ ?t'~c hu., b/d~ aGu Nt?& dL~MfL. . . :7~/u~ ~He ~C/a4& a/c deA~J ~d~ ~l/adF:H~&P~H.u" . ~ ,<,/FE-- ~,tfo~'~ Au~'n . . tZHdbHd,1 Efh/~ IhtdJ hU ~~tuu fa/~ IfU aJ,~~uL . .::; Abt,~ 4fd~Lt!C-! {ed~ ~ dUe JAfHl- thid"~ aE. 4UX ~ m~?} JJ,S4:/M . ck'~tUt ~UI~A ~#!h~ J)I!J!/k, I I 11 never forr.;et . the Ti'rct tlmc I Jilet ni cki 8 .' jcali 0e. I Wa[3' beginning my frc:=;hmun Y8 n r at :.;ain t Ed ward '~3 Uni verci ty in Austin, Texas. PrevioUG to that time I had never been that far away from my home in Indianapolir.;. I didn't know anyone at .saint r!dward's and wand ered horJ di f fi cuI t i t v/oul d be to muke Game fri end:-;. Somehow or another I met a guy from Victoria, Texas named Jim Jureka. We neemed to get Dlong great immediately. One day I went durm to his room at the dorm to see if he wanted to ;,hoot a few gamer: of pool. The door to hit] room V/rU; open so I ju~~t walked in. Jim waGn ' t there but E~omeone elGe was. Upon entering, I dir;covered Dn athletic-looking fellow with blond curly hair and a bronze tan dOing pushUPG on the floor and sweating profusely. "IIi," I fjaid. "Is Jim around?" "No," replied a gravelly voice. "He'll be back in a minu te, GO have a r-;eat." ~omcthing about that guy rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the fact that it was 102 dcr;ree:3, the roomn VJeren' t air-condi tioned, D.nd yet the jerk war; r:;till Vlorking out. I guef3G he wa[~ afraid hir:; musclee \'fQuld gl) D.way if he didn't work out Geveral hourr.:; a day. I imagined further that he probably fiat under a f~:un lDrn!) at night in order to keep up hiG tan. rrhe next inr:tv.nt Jim walked in and cuid, "Dee you've mGt my rooming buddy." "\";el1, kind of," I Gaid. "Chuck Phin, meet Dickie ScaliGe," came the introduction from Jim. ~'/e said hello and r:hook han(),::>, but in the back of my mind I wn::; thinklng--Boy, \'/hat a jerk and "Dickie," what kind 0 f ridiculouf: name i:::; that?--I hDdn' t known the GUy f J r fi ve minuter~ Dnti I ulready b;yteu hir- ~ut~~. l\ fC!\I ~JOek:: ; "p.:a~~ : ~ed ;..:.nd a.ll ~:le(;rnl~d tJ be cuing rlc:l1. One lic.lY ','Ihun 1 ':J'..; nt to pick up nly lllLd.l, 1 tii::covcrcu ~n invi ti.lticln. rL'hu in- vlt:'ttion \'JiAU t(J {.l ru~-;h (i~rty itl i.m(: of the friltcrni tie~. 'I'he pi.lrty VJUS tD tiike l)lacc on the upcoming I"riday, unu I \'Jar; tickloll-to-death to be inviteu tu my firct college party. The next time I aaw Jim I askeu him if he'd received an invitation, and he caiel he had but that he wa8n't the least bit interested in attending. "Cume on, Jiml 'rhi~; in the firut party ue've ever been inviteu to Dince we got here. ~ie might meet gOOd-looking members of the oppor:ite cox if we go. \'1e can't afford nut to go," I said. "Nope, not for me," replied Jim. "I don't want to get mixed up with a bunch of frat rat~. They're nothing but a bunch of boozers and losera. Besides, I want to write a letter to Brenda Sue back home." I was dumbfounded. }Oly first chance to get into the campus action, but I would have to go alone .if I wanted to go at all. \'Je1l, F'riday "rolled around and I was debating on whether or not togo to the party. I decided. Alone or not, I was going. It was about 7:30 p.m. illld I \'laB ~till trying to decide whether or not I ohouldwearthe cowbuy hat I had recently purchased. b'veryone in 'l'exas wore a co\Vboy hat. That was one ot the first thinen I noticed. I couldn't decide if I Ghouldwear mine or not. Ju.ct then, I heard a knuclt at my door. I opened my doo~, only to see DiCkie ScaliGe, cowboy hat and all. "You gOing to the party tonight?" he asked. II\'Jell . yeah, I've "'been planning on it. Why? II . "Jim told me he thought you were gOing and said that he thought you might feel better "i t you bad someone to go wi. th ... . .3() It dawned on me what he was getting at nnd to be perfectly honest I would have preferred to go alone rather than go wi th Dickie ,scali0e. Ilowever, rath~r then be rude I told Dickie that I appreciated his stopping by and said that I'd be ready to go in jUGt ~ minute. "Hey, Dickie, does everybody always wear their hats when they go to these kinds of parties do\'m herc'1" "I don't knl)w. I've never been to a frat party before. I'm only a freshman too." "Yeah, but what about parties in general down here?" "I don't know," he said. "I'm from Chicago." The more I looked at Dickie and the more I thought about the situation, I finally decided against wearing my new hat. After all, it might have lool{ed funny if the only two guys from North of the Mason-Dixon line turned out to be the only ones there with cowboy hats on. BeGides that, I noticed one other thing. Our hats were identical. We left for the party and once we got there . VIe m-et~:;ome nice people and had a fantaHtic time. ' The drinking age in Texas VIas eighteen socoDsequently there was an abundance of beer. 1 wasn't uued to a lot of drinkin and from the looks of him neither was Dickie. It got pretty late and we decided we had better be getting back to the dorm. I'd discovered that when he was drunk, Dickie wasn't Guch a bad guy to be around. Ire vias relaxed, happy, and full of eoad jokes. \Ie had about a three block walk to ljet back to the dorm and Dickie kept me in stitches the whole way. The next day I woke up and felt mi~erable. My head ached like crazy and I didn't have one l nusy a[;pirin. I decided to go to Jim nnd 1)i cki c' c room to f~ee if th ey migh t have : :omc. lTir.t let me in ond :-:;aicl he'd heard that he'd mi~ 8 ed a pretty ~ild party. I told him that it h~d hpPl1 t f )() \'/ild for me Dnd ~l!.::ked if he 3/ had a couple of aspirin. In the meantime I'd noticed my cowboy hat's t\nn nitting on Dickie' l bed. "Where's your roommate?" I aDked. "He went out jogging." "Jogging? It's got to be 100 degreeG outside. What's with that guy?" "I don't know. I guess he just liken to keep in shape. Here's your aspirin." Jim seemed to be acting kind of cold towards me and Gaid that he had come studying to do. I went dO\V1l to my room, took the aspirin, and decided to lie dovm until my headache wan gone. At about the time I started to doze off I heard a quick knock at my door. I thought about not answering it yet the knock persisted 60 I got out of bed and went to the door. It was Dickie. He was in gym Ghorts and tennis Ghoen and waD dripping sweat allover the floor. "I've still got tV/o more miles to go and thought you might be interected." "You mUBtbe out of your mind," I naid . "It'c, steaming out there and besides, I feel lousy." . ItNothing better than jogging to D\'Ieat out a hangover. ~hat'n the matter? Afraid you can't keep up or afraid you jUGt can't go the di::;tance?" Dickie managed to strike a nerve. The next thing I knew I waG out on the track runninj with Mr. America. After the run I felt wor~e instead of better. Vickie offered to buy me a Coke and I immediately took him up on it. We talked for quite a bit during and after drinking our Cokes ond discovered \'Ie had a lut in common besides our cowboy hatG. :~i() \'lore both from the mid\'le~t, uere both pre-law maj~)rL~, and had both le.ft l~irl friend:'; back ot home. The latter of the thin{j~i we had In comm')n war; painful for both of u::; end tal)tin~ 3/b about it to each ot.her :;cctifJd to help. I\c the school year progresued my frienuGhip \'d. th tTim d\"linllled but in the meuntimc, Dickie and I ~ot cloGer . I don't know why Jim and I stopped hanging nrotlnd together. 1 GUppOGe it had Gomething to do wi th the fact that I hnd joined a fraternity. Dickie joined tou co that now aG well D.G beinG friendu, we ',ere Craterni ty brother~~~. One day Dickie came down to my room. IIi r; face wnc. ltind 0 f puffy and I could tell he waG un~et. ";:Jhat' G wrong?" I a~ked. "You look horrible. " "~~Iell, Carla's called it orr," he Bald wi th a breaking voice. "I loved her, Chuck." I didn't know what to cay. I knew how much he cared nbout Carla. lie wrote to her every other day and talked about her as much as I talked about Juanita. "It' G all right, Dickie. It'll work it:.::elf out," I said for lack of anything better to cay. 1\ cOUple 0 r monthu went hy and Dickie dill t.icem to begetting over Cnrla. The only trouble \'iao that ''10 were about to reach Christmas break and I ' k'n cw he'd cee her Gometime \'Ihile he \Vat; at home. I gave him uome brotherly advice an to how I woul d handl e the oi tuation along with a Chrir.tmas preocnt.that I said was not to be opened until Chri~tmaG day. It was a sunlamp \'a th a comical explanation of my [iret impresfiion 0 f him wri t ten on a cB.rd inside the box. I hoped it would help cheer him up. Dickie ' called me on Christmas trom Chicago t3 vlir.. h me a Nerry Chri:::;tman a,nd to thank me for the sunlamp. lie told me that he'd Geen Carla, talked Wi th her, and although they dicJn' t get back together, he nonethelesc fclt good. Jell, thir; time it \'U1::1 my turn to lay D. nob :.~tory on him. I told him how Juanita had ju~ ;t (iumped rne for romp. et1y who worked at 1':1! J,illy' r; Dnd drove D. Corvpt te. !Ie told me that i t \'I[\~.; all riljht and thL.'t it ~'Iould all rTorJ< itt~clr out. ~here had I heard that before? To lighten things up a ltttle he asked me what my parentfi thought of my cowboy hat and said that his laughed at him when he walked in the front door wearing it. That waG funny because mine had laughed too. The Spring semester began and I wal, glad to be back, away from home and the depression caufied by Juanita. Besides, it was a lot warmer in AustiD than it was in Indianapolis in January. It was great, fifty uegrees, chilly, but much warmer then ten below. I hadn t been in .y room a half hour when Dickie came ' walking in wearing sweatpants, a nweatshirt, and tennis shoes. '''Nell, let'Ei go," he said. "Jogging? It',s kind of cold out, isn't i t'1" "Nah, . this is the best weather in the world for running. Clears your head out if you know ' what I mean." Well~ here we go again, I thought. The second , semeater was off to a classic ntart. The second half of the school year was even mOre enjoyable than the first. We had made quite a few friends and were having party after party at the fraternitY ' clubhouse. Dickie and I were beginning to e::;tabliGh a reputation. We alwayt-1 wore our twin hat~~to the parties and both of us refused to drink booze. We had just as good a time not drinking as the others did. Becauue of our eccentrlcitlen, we bpcame known as Chuck Phin and Tom Sober, the Suburban Cowboy:... To be . pnrtectly honest, we loved the attention. ~hen we weren't gOing to parties, doubledating, or ctudy1ng, weld workout ,together. I was probably in the best chape of my life, thanks to Dickie. The Gemester flew by and when it was f1nally over lwa6n't reauy to go home. I wan having too .ucb run. The Gchool year did come to an end, much quicker thiJn J hiJrt hrpeci or anticipated. 1 t had been IJne 0 f the most enjoyable ye[Jr~3 I. remember ~vcr havinr.;. ' . To [lave money, 1 had found a ri.de a:.:; far aG Louisville. My p(lrent~~ would meet me there and drive us home to indy. Dicki c was c('ming wi ttl UG and hie dad in turn would drive to our hou:3e from Chicago to pick him up. Unce we got to our house, I talked my parents into lettin~ me drive Dickie home. ]e drove to Chicaeo and Dickie showed me the city and some of hiG old 8tomping grounds. Vinally, T said that I had better get going. ~e Baid our good-byes and talked about getting to~ether when the F'all semeGter began. AfterwardG, I f;tepped into my Vlhi te MUGtang, tipped my hat to Dickie, and mnde one of my uglier facer:. He laughed and tipped hie hat in re. spon::;e. ':Jhen the time came for the li'all 60meeter. to rer;'-\'me, I didn't return to Saint Ed' [i. I haven't seen or talked to Dickie since taking him home that time. I t1UppOGC \'Ie both got caught up in other things. :.itill, I'll never forget the good timeD we had toe;cther and the friendship that developed bet~ecn u~. Maybe Gomeday I'll get up to . Chicar;o and try to track him down. Maybe I nill. . cfeH/~~~4/dd AU/EX:, hla4~ a ~e.e ~ t!& J''''~u ~ e&A tl. tfq~mu~_ ~Otar;"n.- 4PU

... Marian / eot... library lorettl Indianapolis, Ind vIa./ Marian College Library Indianapolis, Incl. Jk ~d~'6dK,; ~J1/~~. u a~~ ~ JC-. $ttt~~dd t1/ ~4U~' ~f ~ J'(}tJ ck a~~/l/vtrtftU7" '!/' AU o~k-.J FOR FRIAR FRANCIS! Sister Francesca Thompson, OSF ~ A SEASON OF COLOR/ Joyce Lane 6 DISAPPEARANCFI Siater Mary Paul Larson, OSF 8 HAIKU! Drew Appleby 9 WHY WAIT IN LINE?! Jerry Landis 10 . NIGH'l'HAWK' S REASON! D. S. Sears 13 FAUL'l'Y CONCLUSIa.S! Richard Peak 14 16 LOVE MARRIAGE! Lynn McGugan 'DIE SPARKLE IN HIS EYES TELLS IT AJ..;L! Cathy Tempest 17 HAIKU! DreW Appleby 18 ANTICS VlTH A CHILD! Lisa Abner 19 ARTIST 6! Rusty Clyu. 20 CALLING! Sister Mary Paul Larson, OSF 21 SOMETIMES MUSIC! Lynn McGugan 22 DISCOVERY! Cyndi Fox 23 ARRIVAL,1981! Siater Mary Paul Larson, osr 25 I HAVE DREAMT OF PRINCESSES! Jim Elliott 26 A RDlEWED TRUST! Janet Padgett 27 SYMPATHIA! D. Sears 29 "ALMOST SUICIDE"/ C. Cousino 30 THE HOUSEKEEPERS/ Michelle Boven 32 OH, 34 MASTER/ D. Sears DAY/ Jeannie Carson 35 ARTIST 9/ Rusty Clyma 36 THE COLT/ Katrina Knarr 31 HAIKU/ Drew Appleby 40 COVER! Diana K. Solar pp. 9, 18, 40/ Yoshisuke Sato p. 22/ Lynn McGugan p. 39/ Sara ~Ezelli LETTERING/ Diana K. Solar Sister Stella Gampter, OST Katrina Knarr J eanni e Carson Lynn McGugan &f'dr/14dV~ Sister Stella Gampfer, OSF 101238 Everywhere you look, autumn is a season filled with many brieht colors. With warm days and cold nights, nature has taken out her paints and brushes, and suddenly overnight everything has taken on a new, bright look. The trees are one of the first artistic displays we notice. The distinctive three point.ed leaves of the maple have taken on a different color for each tree. Some trees are now a li~ht yellow with somH of summer's green still remainine. While other trees radiantly show off brieht reds and oranges, even others turn to a very deep red-purple. The dogwood tree, that in the spring was a symbol of new life, now quietly stands wjth its leaves of a light red and clusters of deep red berries, to help feed the birds through :the winter. The towering, mighty oak's leaves have now turned to glossy tans and rich brown~. Only the stately, 10nesom~ pine tree holds steadfast to its green color, a symbol of everlasting life. Not to be outdone by the trees, the flowers of autumn also have taken on new colors. The marigolds, that all summer put forth just a few blooms, now burst with a multitude of large, bright yellow and deep orange blooms. Even the smallest bloom has a touch of nature's brushes, proudly showing orange yellow blooms with deep purple stripes: they seem to be made of a rich velvet material. The true flower of autumn E the chrysanthemum, with plants the size of bushel baskets, mounds of golden yellow, pale lavender, burgandy red, even multicolored rusts skillfully di~plavpd. As ni~hts become colder, these b100~s hecome more plentiful with deeper, richer colors of nature's paints. Take a good look at your backyard gardena nature has been at work here, too. The pumpkins, large and orane;e, are ready to be picked, just in time to make steaming pies or to have faces carved into them to become the halloween jack-o-laterns that will soon light the way for trick-or-treaters. The tall sunflowers, that not too long ago held their faces upward to follow the sun across the sky, now have the ir heads droo'p ed toward the earth, heavily laden with grey and black striped seeds, that will soon become snacks for the family or winter food for the birds. If you are lucky, your crop of Indian corn will give you ears of deep red, while others will give you purple or yellow ears. If you are very fortunate, you will find an ear or two that holds all three colors like a chekerboard of color, all ready to' be made into Thanksgiving Day centerpj eces. . The farmer's fields, so richly ~reen during the summer, also have had a touch of nature's brushes. The stalks of corn, that Were so tender in the spring, now show a trio of colors' at the top the brown tassels wave in the soft cool breezes like an unruly head of hair, the leaves remain green, only to turn to a dull brown at the first sign of frost. Now look very closely; you may be able to see some of the shy golden yellow kernel peeking from the safety of their dull golden husk-covered ears. Soybeans, growing close to the earth with pale yellow leaves and fuzzy brown pods, are waiting to be harvested. A golden ocean of gentlewaves are the heads of the summer's wheat crop bowing their ripe heads to the cool autumn winds. (~d~. tIIH-p.~) Nature has been busy on the cold ni~hts of autumn with the multitude of radiant ~ colors on her artist's palate. These colors not only give us the beauty of warm autumn days; they serve as a reminder that the winter's cold icy winds will soon be here to make us long for the hot, muggy days of summer again. -- -~--.,-..- . -----------~ -JJ14a/,?ca:A.ClFl.~ c., ""e-u k ~/4U1x.-, PAu. ~rl'/~~,tfEdd"n.?~~? "'4Lj' ~~ ~~ 4/~Hd-- 6U., ~~ ,d~ 4/LE, my .7i~~ J'Ny ~yu dar ~pa~ 0'.. Z"A.. Jdj" .cS~~ 7~ axd~~ z1, ? aJA"-~X"U/4- a/Au,/ '&4V~'xJ 4 #~,4~-06f~ t!at,/r-d d'~~~4.-C~ ~~ ,4;td~ ~ U/aA:.h, a.xd denea./ /ke e~A.-- c51a.6.o~u- ~o/ ~uLcdu d,IG ~ ~M//~ t2f,t t::d ffa.-i:hf fd.n~.JJA4/~~/6y "The Grateful Dead are coming to Market Square Arena two weeks from today," announced the wife of my friend Jack. "What's a Grateful Dead," someone asked. "A rock group, silly--everyone's heard of them." "Not me,"one of the men replied. The group, who had gathered to watch the World Serie3, were soon divided into two opposing positions. The women were for going to the concert, the men opposed. The men were gaining the upper hand, arguing that good seats were impossible to obtain without standing for hours in extremely long lines. And there were no volunteers in this group to make such a sacrifice. Now seemed the opportune moment to display my cunning and resourcefulness. Jumping to my feet, I boastfully proclaimed that standing in line was for "dummies," and that I would obtain , the nec~ssary tickets. And since Jack 'had expressed some skepticism concerning my skills, I would further his education in this matter with some "on-the-job training." Calling Jack the evening before the tickets were to go on sale was a necessary beginning step for my master plan. "Look, Jack, I want you to take a pair of your scruftiest jeans along with a faded, torn shirt and throw them under your mattress. In the morning, don't shave or comb your hair, wear the clothes from under the mattress, and meet me at my house at seven o'clock. This is an hour and a half before the tickets go on sale Oh, stop complaining, Jack, I'll see you in the morning." ************** "Boy, Jack, do you look bad--I mean, just right. You drive. I'll explain the next step. I'll bet you are wondering about the way we're dressed. Well it's necessary to be identified as having been in line all night. We're accomplishing this by being unshaven and unkempt. By the way, Jack, stop at that donut shop in the next block. You're about to learn step two from the master. Here's the money, Jack, go buy a dozen donuts and six cups of coffee. I'd go, but I'm a little embarrassed at the way I look." ************** "Park the car at least a block from the arena. We don't want to be seen just yet. This looks like a good spot. Jack, don't eat those donuts; we're going to need them." ************** "Don't ~ walk beyond the end of the building. There's a good reason for this. Let me . just pee k around the --wow , what a line I That lin~ has to be five blocks longl Now let me take another quick look to verify my first findings. dOkay, Jack, this is important. I want you to look around the corner and try not to be seen. Do you see the scrufty group? They extend about three hundred feet from the seller's window, and following them will be the better dressed group. Well, I know it's hard to tell one group from the other. It takes practice to reach my level of expertise. See the guy in the buckskin outfit, the one that looks like he was caught in the middle of a herd of stampeding elephants? Okay, now hehind him is a gal in dark green slacks and a whi~e turtle-neck sweater. ' The guy has been there all night. The gal, oh, she probably arrived around four-thirty or five, and I can tell they're not together. Well, Jack, I just can. You can trust experience and good judgment. Now, our next move is to walk confidently up to and behind Buffalo Bill. You hand him a cup of coffee, offer him some donuts, and begin Rome non-stop conversation about what a 'bummer' it is having to stand in line so long. You might throw a few,'yea man's' and 'far out's' into the conversation. That always seems to help. The most difficult job will be handling the crowd behind our 'bison buddy' --an easy task for the master. Okay, let's go Jack. Stay close and remem ber--plenty of conversation. "Well, hello, ladies, it certainly has been a long night. I'm glad my friend Buff here saved our place in line. Here, have some coffee and donuts. Jack, you're doing just fine--keep up the converstaion. Yes, ladies,1 don't think I could have made it without my coffee. It was sure nice of Buff to save our s p ot. I hope these donuts are thanks, enough. ' Dig in, these donuts are . just what the doctor ordered. Jack, don't grab my shoulder like that. That really hurts. Ohl You're not Jackl Okay, buster, I don't care if you are as big as Paul Bunyan and talk like Dick the Bruiser, you'd better put Jack down. You say you're going to do what if I don't get to the end of the line? Oh yeah? "Jackl Jack, you cowardl Wait for me I "Jack, you should not have panicked. I had the situation in hand. Well, I don't care what he said. You know darn well he couldn't rip our faces off. Well, anyway, Jack, who needs this? I have a much better approach that always works. "Jackl Jackl Wait up, Jackl" __ /3-..1 It was four in the morning and Bill couldn't sleep. He had seen one of his friends steal some mon- ey out of his dad's wallet. The friend was Ivtike, and Mike's dad just happened to be Bill's father's boss. When the sun rose, so did Bill. an explosion. His bed resemblec His sheets twisted, his pillows were alJ over the bed, and his clothes were everywhere. His room mirrored his restless night. As the morning grew into the noon hour, steve, one of Bill's friends, appeared at the door. When Bill answered the, door, steve noticed a problem . . '''': hat's wrong with you? You look as if you have not slept aI1 nir,ht." ~o, 1 didn't. , II Steve looked at Jlill puzzled, "Can I help?" "Go away, don't get involved," Bill snalJped. With determination in his voice, Steve jumped back at Bill, "I want to help, so tell me what's wrong." Shattered by Steve's abrupt tone, he answered, "I saw someone steal money from my dad's wallet ... ''Did you contact the police?" "r f ve already thought of that, but I can't." "Why not?" ''Because it was Mike." Mike just happened to be steve's brother. steve, shaken by what Bill said, added, know how you feel. But we must do something. father would go berzerk if he found out. '~ow I My You know what he thinks of Mike." "I guess the best thing is to confront Mike and tell him I saw him steal the money." steve agreed. confront Mike. Bill and steve left together to They found Mike at home. steve called his brother, "r-1ike?" He answered while coming down the stairs, "Yeah, what do you want?" ''We want . to talk to you." "About \-t hat?"It's about your being over at Bill's yesterday." "Oh, hello, Bill. from your dad yet?" "What flowers?" Did your mom get the flowers "Yesteroay, your dad asked me to eo get tl'lenty dollars out of his wallet, and then go to the flower shop and get your mom some Mother's Day flowers." A pu7.zled look came over Bill's and steve's faces. ''What's wrong with you two?" "Oh, nothing really." Bill and steve hurried out the front door. "By the way, what d:id you guys want?" A scream came from halfway down the road, '~ever mind. " . " ,..0;,vc . ~auL~c:., 4r . ~;e a ehL"U ~eU;u~ t:, __ ae Ifl., .,dAdE-,. __ . ~he., .r~" ,d'6u~d L.e:/t:J~ /~dkU/ r~y~~ ~fi~~ t::7x~ dE~~~ "eKdl dXd CUld dEdUijaL tn~z.;'duaL dl!J4/..d. L.~C' ..% ~k /.H-~ &u JeL~ Jc~L---, ~y~y~~A(t- "Put that dog down!" she scr_ as he holds the small, humiliated poodle halfvay suspended in air b~ his tail. The dog is dropped vith a thud, and the hot dog being held in his left hand is ~ediatel~ offered as in apology. Three feet tall and thirt~-oDe pounds of energy describes this nineteen-month-old toddler vho can find more games to play than the Cincinnati Reds. The game of cleaning house is particularly fun. It can be played as IIIB.D1 tilles a day as you vish, and it goes like this: The mother picks things off the floor so the toddler can throw theta back down. InYariably the younger contender viDa. One day not so long ago, ve played "Find the Keye." Two houre of bathing, dressing, and gathering necessities are epent, and nov it ie time to leaye. Wehaye an appointment to keep, but the keye --"Where are the keye?" I uk. My eyes scan the room, falling first on the coffee table vhere they vere last seen and then on the fella vith the light brown hair and the innocent smiling ''Keye,'' he eaye as that familiar grin spreade acroes his face. The game is on. A couple of more hours pass, and the futile search has 8topped. The little one had falleD asleep, and I had carried him to his crib. Snuggled there, he looked so peaceful. In the meantime I had decided to continue the day by finding alternatiYe things to do. Before long I hear his sounde of awakening. I can hear hill playing and then--the rattle of keye. KEYS? He smiles as I ~un into hie room. Proudly be holds out his hand to lie and says,"KeyeR" In his eyea is that familiar eparkle, BQd I e.ile back as he holds up his arll8 to be rewarded. He has von again. And the sparkle in his eyes tells it all. fIY-. ~~~ zLk, A(fhuc M4H~~ a ~i'H..1t't:, //ad"bU ~g/~ aaCaHr-~ ,d~~;t'~& ke:y ~~~a/~Ph~t' , .... \ cJttdlu $tt~ a ~~~ ~LkILeJ{5~U/ With shirt sleeves rolled, teetering on a canary yellow kitchen stool, and having the time of his life, my fifteen-month-old son is helping me with the supper dishes. Using a paper thin cloth, he washes a Miracle Whip jar lid in the center of the sink with vigor. I wash a ten-inch gravy coated skillet in the extreme upper right hand corner. He slushes water and suds a foot down the counter. I try to catch them without twisting my back out. He is bursting with enthusiasm. I am merely smiling with astonishment. It never really registers until after I have started, but I do some comical, humiliating, and immature things to entertain my son. Doing supper dishes usually takes me ten minutes. with Nicholas' expert assistance it takes twenty-five. That's not including changing his clothes, squeegeeing the window above the sink, ' and wringing out the cat. Is there a reason for this work generating scene? Yes, it's the grin and squeal that tell me "Thanks, mom, for letting me help." Sitting at a stop light in ninety degree heat, with fifty degree icecream in the back seat, after spending thirty minutes dodging grocery carts, calculating unit prices, and removing jars of pickled cauliflower out of cookie covered hands, I wonder how do you tame a Tasmanian devil? Simple, you just sing the latest McDonald's commercial, rotate the steering wheel like you are turning ninety degree corners at one hundred miles per hour, and make faces like Bozo the clown. In the meantime you have tamed the devil, but the gentleman in the next car has popped two buttons on his vest' (~~#l. ~~.,u) I've done it again, made a total fool out of myself for guess who's enjoyment? Why such ludicrus behavior? It's for that extra special squeeze when you uncage the devil from his car seat. Have you ever picked through twenty balls to find one with stars on it, skipped down the etreet while neighbors do double takes, blown bubbles till ynur cheeks collapsed, or croaked like a frog? I have, and it wasn't in my childhood either. Why such regressive acts? It's for deep, big brown eyes on an angelic face that sa~ "Mommy, you're my best friend." All the prenatal books never told me I would do these humorous, embarrassing, and childish acts. Even if they did, I know in my heart I would have done them anyway_ ,--~~--~,...-------~--~ ftitjU4 d4.Ht:L ac~dtfA ~ ,draj' jJUJ/,,:Uilf &/d'f,d fIlAr ~ufot~ ~It/~ t4AIIE/~u ,449A... (~ .lltdu.~d 6~4.~4 tPE.N-- /a/L HtJ~"4It'y jllc,tJ A:~t!~/,//vt:, ~i1~d.,d ~~~~~..?laH/~ L~ ~k/ldkodd v8~Ed dEo/' LJ t:yt: .;;?Id-th~ ~Y,Iu",,~tCt'&L lCd ~~aln H,PdH, ~'6f h~ad. ~t- hf~cAuZ fod~ rke AIEW 6:uc-. ..;k' ~/Ed ~HU~ t7U~ cA .

... PN {P l iD ,C7 r{\ 1- Librai1f indionacolis, Ind. Passages/ Dot Lahmann 4 Welcome, Sister'/ Anonymous S The Best Darn Rifle for the Money/Kris Nuttall 6 Loose Change/ Dot Lahmann 8 Paradox/ Sister Mary Paul Larson 8 Autumn/October/peace/ Sister f.!.ary Paul Larson 9 To Ride on the Wings of an Eagle/Katrina Knarr 10 While at the Fork of LoveS/Sister Debbie Nelis 11 To Eric/ Jennifer Small 12 Tribu1ation/ Dot Lahmann 13 Dandelion/ Chris Reeves 14 Sky Lines/ Sister Mary Stella Gampfer IS One/ Kellie Shennan 16 Thespian Time/ Sister Francesca Thompson 18 Unicorn/Pebbles for Thought/ L.A. Edwards 19 Between my Distances/ Marta Hernandez 22 Indifference/ L.A. Edwards 23 Bored to Death/ Michael Pratt 24 NOH/Vlithin/ Sister Mary Paul Larson 26 Snow Child/ Sister Mary Ste11& Gampfer 27 Haiku/ Drew Appleby 28 Boys' Club Camp/ Katrina Knarr 30 The Final Wart Harold Oswald 31 Cover and pp. 20-21/ Joe Gampter, guest artist from Purdue- U. Drawing p. 29/ Diana K. Solar Japanese Ca1igraphy p. 28/ Keiko Powers IBttering of PoetryI Sister Mary Ste 11& Oampfer L.A. Edwards Katrina Knarr Dorothy Lahmann Sister Mary Stella Gampter Y~e,6 ::!d:md'fU4/ &e~u~ ~MLAU Ly ~~ ~ &e ~Ult A4xd6/a/c .?x- ~~ 4k~4 ~ dtbl'Ae--t, 4XM A-- # /3 bed ~ d. ~~ hd/e g/Ae;/e NyU o/~.4 .J!e,tee v4'.?~/d /Pt?-t/d 4W~~ ~..-pn- . ...Ed de c0t1d u/aLc ~~~~ ~y4 C9a{:;~aJ~ ~~tfAu aNd d~ C9t 6 bad ~~~~ en/pa~ ene ~ 4aC'' ~$ S~.(~ ;/ z:, fit! /Ae . ~a(. J4ne rAe e/,tC'/UU. ae ~e ~~ d'~ee ~/~~ b~/1Mr, SAe c?A~U a{,K4 a &/~~,J dJ&u ~ fi~A d ~~ bar A/Udl2~ H~a/. 6fizJ/ ~ddh~~d ? v?Jdc'l' ffd,t,x, ? ~d~knda/? . v!;a/ 4~a/ - -/Va/4~$'--%~a/4~a/, ~~ 6~-t4~a/ ae 4'ax. ,dA4d ~dfe .bff . tud/ ~;e dH~e. y4.;u a.r &e,JtVN .J('~pt. ..B~?-i.: .da~ heH/ ~~,4~ ~ea//4Le,lWU, ~~;t ~~~~9 /H~ A~d /~L #,d-,/~ '?*~ea~dNJ; aNd me~~ ~d4 e~.. . tJAo/. A1-ty.!/"ai?e.J'P//.,u/I'.,LM'.y'p,,4/~ ~~ $A~~~~ rAry /k~~e ~~ftd? !I!~ BdU q/L'//Lep~ ~~ 0/..4U&I.J ~ddrN./'dkd ~ddd~ ~~L/ /Kzd: "at- . ~m4.!l AdJ7e /d~&~d/ zb .cp~ JJaC~~ ~//y'Ha da-t/H~N~~t?at:~~ .JM4.!/~'y z:, /~eH~eJda- a7d~~ ...Bd~a~ dtV~ ~~~ytta Mpe ~9C.. . ...;'~PAdgd ck/ytt?d ~ge de ~dM'~ 4d.dj?~" .,.fft,/!.~ /pe~4'"q/e/Na dt;f!/fl"hl:p.u. "'4 'U;& zf, ~aI.e and aHduJ//LHd ~/;L'~!/~~ Vd !!He /H'?NNU/ a~ ~a" ~7dtfA4(, ../~?e ~~ kd/ zf:,~ dLa z:, Jfid 4'~' ~flI..,;J d~ Htf ,1H~KL 4MAUU e4,xr"lul ....;' ?,e~a v..&y~~fi~a4u/U/_ ...t~~qL fY'~~ dNa~a~e d~ tfu// v'/UR" s __ 5h lJul;tlun ./~ . /tt-t t%e c#t:mey~ ~/;, pJJa// This was going to be a very big day. This was going to be the day that Frank and Henry finally bag a bear. and there was no way they could fail. They had all the necessary equiptment for the woods: a first-aid kit, a bottle of bug juice, a portable EBR (Emergency Broadcast Radio), brightly colored clothing, two canteens of scotch, and a pair of the best darn rifles for the money. They both carried an ~~ 470, a rifle powerful enough to fell a grizzly yet weighing only four pounds, with an effective range of 5000 yards and an accurate range of 4000 yards, a rifle that could take the worst outdoor punishment and still look like new after one cleaning, and which had a written guarantee to last twenty years. Frank and Henry were stumbling along the trail after sipping a generous portion of their canteens when Frank saw a brown blur, raised his trusty AK 470, and fired .. I got him 1" yelled Frank. "Whooee!" exclaimed Henry. "I think it was a brownl" Frank said gleefully. At that time the portable EBR made its customary two warning beeps and proceeded with its message. "Attention all hunters. Be on the alert for a lost hiker named Charles J"ones. He is five feet eleven inches, 180 pounds, brown hair and beard, and is wearing a brown jacket. He was assisting in the search for a lost little girl when serarated from the main search party." Frank and Henry looked dumbly at each other , fdr a minute and then ran to where the brown blur had been. When they were five yards away from the carcass they heard a little voice pleading, "Flease wake up Mr. Jones, please. II "Oh my God. Henry wept out as he fell to his knees. In anguish Frank threw his AK 470, with electronic scope sights and built-in silencer as hard as he could against a tree, but the AK 470 merely bounced off without a scratch. There was no way that Frank could have broken the AK 470, since it was the best darn rifle for the money. tI ~t?-:f&~& &kt'~ /n ~e ~~~ eUx,l: e~a;rk/Xf .h,~x~~~ ~Oa-u. ui4//J UX~&~ aNAfI:~ ~b4,-b4~K:1.' 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' J / "tK~a/ Kdr q/~/eL, zj eA~~,J~ t?"f, tf~~~d ~~.4/, ~1:?N.:y ,CxhV ~c t/ftd aHd .!",r/x.-rA,,~eftU~4 $~~ 't:;i1~a4~6rPa/ 4~ a/e4 . ~&V .JI:? /Kan.4~ #" .Neg/, F1" RI../LdKf .y- ~ ",,,aL ;., 1!4~ .bt. de d~ uJ/. .,;:J4m //UfOexEd. 4.Hd ,Lf~4-CL'd fR- ~ ,C'hl:?a/NPC .-:v,lue. 61 db /P/~ rde /'he,,, II .!/~ 1/tt:U~...;J :'r/~ Y""' ~d, e /t~ed .Y~tU/ ~r/e,/ f/~~ i?4U~, j/tt7t:a cpa.e~; tt ,dLn;P'f.: /n?Ufr u~r /-14/ $4.rr d /f1f1q/ u J~dd-- J~ ~~ fit- O,?~'" t!/ ad, .5.LJF ~d t:PI'// /pad yt7dA:.- ~,fPJ/,5-u!, $~' f,,~tL C!~e .ki7H~~tf~ ~3t?at, &~aLv, aUv4~~-- t.J;'., 1.4 ltd'/' p~E/. ,ljpe, #JtX~ (sJIIUU ,fU ~/ m;! A~46tFJ~ ekU, *' .. .5/t1aJU4 4D~~'x?ft-ta, ~,.{U H4C4d/Q~ Sje rA.~, $a.a.u f~~ ~7t:. 4,f~JOLd~~ . ~eL c-A.eH2, fi,C/Ha?, --whdr? .. J2H.e,C-~~'./'/~d~~ f/~pU.4utr~ ~66Z~/' "z}:rJlti!!t"" .JA/uU l1't r/a ~d~,u~ Aal? .f~ ~r//4 ,Jd~ - ~ ~ 04,/ ..s;,~~~~ bdaHd/~ II Oet~ m~~ hUL~d ~~~~t'~, :::f}d/eH~ .7Ae -!/"Al ,I :B~ t~VN,J $Ae Aa:m~u." ~'/d:4 c#y -&J~ H/~Kf4 ~p;la./4'e~4C ~~Ht4N.u" /6 ~am ~foalU/ . I/"~ 4Kd PA.L:'~~ dJ/J/ ~~ M4H~ ~~y .4~'m~'/44/ Uc ~&U ..f 4;H a /fiJaJA:/ J~r ft,:K.f~~ ~ ,J/4!/i &/,~~d 4N~/A~a/~~aP/e ~H r/t',,:/ $4Y" . ~f;e /ttdz';NY- ~Ld~ V' al4/EA 4V~;f/4/,' /Nf hEN t!'~p,t~ ~&Rc44 U/k~ bead /4 . . ' . /p/& ..{ 4~ q/a/U. a. //dat.e~ . JUJ~ idK~~Af;1, A!)J &I'/~~ 4X/~ed/U4.6~ IX . ~PUf V /ee! t:P~ .. ,d&l gX~~/ r~ t'~f U/~~~alH,/ Afr4H~~ ,46 /44~ru u;k d 4:1~~Cd bdza ~a/4X" /~ ,., d9~U .~d_#4-o/~ - . ---;::t' d ~.c~a/ ~.,f9P ~nL~ ~~~ 67nad~Z-dG:T-td J?/?eKt',tfi~%~6dd ~ . dNd.~U~Lf4r/y gou~ ,d~k:6 axdJdey ~~ . ~ Ae5;r- wah ..P't'~..:1: d~ Md p,:pd J~.r# /~ Silhouetted in the evening sky as stars surround the single figure, the earth revolving round and round, swirling, whirling, spinning her round and round, she stood in-her defiance of the night. She, $trong willed, determined--almost to the point of no return. Cry out, said the voioes within her, ory out and make them see. Speak to them of things they know not. Scream to them the wrong they tell. Laugh, my child, laugh into the night unto the darkness. We await your choiceJ it is they or it is we. It oannot be both. Do not heed their words. Their words are flushed with evil, with wrong. Ours is the path. Come, my small one, oane. The moon steals high into the inferno of the evening hours. Yet, so stll she stood, so cool, so calm, -her eyes misty with dreams of the void where space conquers all, carrying her to where they cannot be. No, they will find me not. It is there where I go, and go they will not. Neither, neither road I take. It is not yet. Not here. Not now. No, am never will be. Yes, I will defy you. You, here lying inside of me. And them, ly'. ing outside . of me, trying to attain answers to what they know not. Yes, oh yes, I mow. And always will. Laughing madly, hysterically, I know. Carry If'f9' secret on the wind in a breeze for all to hear. Yet hear they cannot. No, I laugh until I cry and laugh and cry again. 1st them kneel and beg and cry again to me. Yell. Scream. Ache for words that will never be spoken. Came, it istima. The moon and the stars trickle off the sky while 'r ays from the Other Side invade our time, soon to be your time. Come with us, little one, come. We betray you not, the voices within her sing out. They beckon her to follow, to wander on with them. Come, they plead, come. . And as the first rosy fingers reach up to push away the night, the black, the bad, she stands. Oh, she stands, solemnly awaiting, struggling, ready for the light to come in, to push them out. To let her live. Yes, that is the way--life. Life is all. Life is good. let the light shine in. Bring on the dawn, she com1ft, I I' I mands. Yes, live I will. And the evening sky took on the amber glow of day, of good. But the stars had not all dimmed. Yes, they have light also. And they have life. They have power. It is they who win. It is rightly their turn. Day had her claim on the Other Side, not this one. Yes, this side was theirs, the night's, the world where black and gray and shadow prevail. Mystery and cautio!} and above all, fear is night. Yes, night equates these and many more with her. And this little one (mmph, ha), yes, she belongs with the shadows of voices, not the colors and blinding light of you, day. No, she is night nOK and forever, evennore. So day finished her climb and sparkled on the edge, awakening all things to a new beginning. Birds began their caroling, and butterflies flitted across the fields of gold and green and daffodils. And looking to the last whisp of night, I saw her there as if she were a cloud of mist, hovering, noating to the Other Side. Yes, she is no more. She is lost to them to follow. She is at peace within, without. She is everywhere. She is in all and beckons those now chosen to hear the voices. Those who yearn for the secret and wish to trail the rim of night. Turning 'round to face day in aJ.l her .glory, to 'Ufe, I perceive a figure, standing haloed by day. With reds and yellows, blues and greens radiating around her, through her. Rejoicing. Smiling. Singing. Cane day, work. Time we are losing. 17 II ~/~t1-t7L ~ 6m~ 4u &/Hb ~A.n ~ ~t ,cfUK4f 7t# Lt,:nfe~ ,JL~ ; 4.~~ ~r/U/ 'Ya~~ 6e; At!4~ ~ ~#e .;OA,,~JU~ U/,~ XePE~ &Ie ~~~e ~ $~(4J{d~ d;&J~a~x., a/L.~ /Pd $/tUdlH.4' ~7 44fY ;uC a, U/,,~, u;u~dt:~ar~U4 Ix d U~ a4 LL4 ~-b Jk ~e, Aeeded ;;G:JC ..Ed de, 7: ~~d4:o/Av f?",JII ~r'/d~ ,~ d) ~'?11\" ~t 7.: \ Jt \ A'~\> J . \1 c:i ( l~ 0 r", -t ~ ~ ~f:rt". '- ~ r~ ~t J94He;#e ~~~ +..16 ~1V~4:4 .:LJA4a//~ p~ ~~a,,~.~~ eKUK~~U ~4,,4d:HNh~~ ~ JJdU4U ~/4~~W4. f'~t'~ ~ S~1'u JUl4/ t'~r "~HA!., Smuu.~ ,4g1UL~4, ~cu ~ .4~~~~~~ ~~- . ~'U~:'~e4 4 hl,t,- P~f ~K die/~r/~~ rht; hW/X&4,J,,-- ~~~ ~ ~~/ ~~~ ~ ~ ,d~~ ;f'#d;a~ ~n;fA, r~~~A~ :TJt~!I'~ ~~fia4/~;H~ i.e44N.L~ 9,ua/~~/ ~/A:&~Hf~ ~/;.~4:e~ ~ /d~U~ ~/Id-tH, ~44~,u,a/'- .. S mdHy ~U~ vnuUXf P1iedL7y OJ ur/e, ~N4NU,4/ .nL~~ &:pe/ d.~NCa. MNd~ !I~ at;P4j'4 CAt! ~N.,JMard4~~a .5t'd!ld;""'" . ..!i"'/74 4." ~ 4Kd a/4N6~ d ..j'~J'/e, /h~~~.,- %Ad aJ~~ 4 44~ ~A~ ~zfre d~~U4.U .:14 'z'.?Ne.- JaJ-N.;flu, /Jt~~uu k;ye' ~~ .'lr. Chekov," Kirk commanded. "95,000 kilometers, and closing, Captain," Chekov answered. "Lock all phasers on the aft port side of the ship closest to us. Fire on my signal only," Kirk ordered. "Phasers locked on target, Captain," Chekov replied. "Nr. Sulu, slow to warp 6, keeping our aft section away from them." "Yes sir," acknowledged Sulu. "stand by on Phasers, Mr. Chekov. FIRE PHASERSl" ordered Kirk. The phasers workedl They hit squarely on the closest ship. Evidently, they didn't have their deflectors up: because when the phasers hit, the ship blew apart. The CONCORDE repeated . process orithe ship closest to it with the same results. But, Mr. Chekov was so excited about what had happened that he failed to notice an alarm flashing its deadly warning: The phaser coupling had briken. The phasers now did not function. When the Captain ordered the phasers to be fired again, nothing happened. "What happened, Chekov?" the Captain inquired. "The phaser coupling broke, Captain: the phasers are useless. I am now switching over to the photon torpedoes," answered Chekov. "Stand by on torpedo tubes 1 and 2," said Kirk. "Torpedoes awayl" he added. 38 "Torpedoes away," said Chekov. A moment later he added, "A direct hit, Captain, their new weapon is deactivated." Then Lt. Uhura announced, "Captain, the ship we just attacked is trying to contact us. Shall I put it on audio? 'I "Yes,Lieutenant," Kirk answered. The faces of the commanding officers appeared on the screen "ENTERPRISE and CONCORDE, we are willing to accept a cease-fire, since you have seemed to penetrate our new weapon. We cannot continue to wage a losing battle to your sophisticated ships. We wish to meet with you in the near future. We now cease hostilities on your Federation. Will you cease your hostiliti~ on us?" .. We are willing to draw up a cease fire on board the ENTERPRISE. Since you are violating Federation space, you will be required to be present on this ship," Kirk said. ***** Captain's Log-stardate 7908.89: A peace -a ccord has been drawn up between the KlingonRomulan Alliance and the Federation. The plans for -the new weapon have been distributed to all members of the Federation, which is what the Federation wanted. The Klingon/Romulan Alliance is to be broken up, and the Federation will offer help to restore peace to both parties involved. The Romulans accepted, but the Klingons refused, which didn't surprise us. They are -going their own way. The ENTERPRISE is now headed back to orbital drydock for repairs on our phasers. THE FINAL WAR is over, I hope that it remains that way. It probably won't, but then again, miracles do happen. Look at the 1969 Nets in the now defunct game of baseball. THE END-FOR NOW !kCK of cJ{cvteh II, - M !  ...