I like this idea- are all stories to be found in the one book?

Hi Yl Li : I love short stories. I usually have an anthology of short stories around during holidays as it is hard to find time to read whole novels etc. I have been reading my current nonfiction for more than a month and still not finished because of interruptions. I also buy a Mystery magazine published under Agatha Christies name with short stories in it.It is a quarterly so I miss some issues. I pass this on to our book exchange here in the Park I live in. Most of my paperbacks are exchanges with other park neighbors. Faith

Yes, YiLi - The 21 short stories listed in the table up top make up the collection. In addition, the papa of the short story, O. Henry, wrote Gift of the Magi, and this can be accessed on-line. That one is not long at all!! Hope you and FaithP will join us. Charlie

This is going to be fun! A sort of light reading in keeping with the Holiday season! I, too, like short stories, and I've always been fond of O. Henry's famed surprise endings!

Lorrie

Charlie,

I am really looking forward to it. I found the collection at the library and I will be able to renew it a couple of times. Perhaps I will even buy it later. In any case, I await with book in hand.

I'm in!

In fact I might even consider purchasing this book, heading over to Powell's.

I'm in this group; own the book. Just got my new Audio Editions catalog, and they HAVE IT already! Phooey; I like to read tapes while walking. Well, I have the written pages and so be it.

Welcome YiLi and Phyll and MaryPage. And PARDON ME MaryPage. I just happened to check your "personal information" and I see this: "My first name is Mary-Page, and I do not like to be called "Mary"." WHOOPS!! Not a half hour ago I called you Mary in another discussion!! I probably won't forget again!! (and what is a half a grandchild??) Charlie

Half a grandchild is when your granddaughter is expecting this coming April! Hey, Charlie, What year did YOU get out of school?

1967, MP. Although I pretended to go back in 1970 - but that's another story!
C

Would like to join. Is the book available in paperback ? It was edited by Doctorov, wasn't it, and there was a woman coeditor, I believe.

T

Yes, Traude. It is available in a trade paperback in almost every bookstore around. The BEST AMERICAN Series. E.L. Doctorow Editor, Kathrina Kenison Series Editor. BEST AMERICAN SHORT STORIES . 2000. Bright BRIGHT orange cover.

Ritchueare, MaryPage. Katrina Kenison and other of the Houghton Mifflin editors live here locally so I invited them all to join us. So far they're ignoring my invite!!
Charlie

Charlie- where's here locally?

Isn't one story in that collection by ... (gosh what a difficult name, see whether I can get it right ... Jhumpa Lahiri ? She was awarded the Pulizer, I think, earlier this year (April ?) for INTERPRETER OF MALADIES. That is next on my wishlist.

Traude

Yes Traude- read that way back- did not make the connection like you did though.

I was pleased to see subject of the discussion. I usually read the series every year (from the library), but I may buy it this time.

Our city just got its first Barnes & Noble, and they are running a 20% off sale until Dec. 10. (In addition to regular discounts on best sellers). Not to be left behind, our Books a Million which is right across from B & N, are having a special discount this Sat. Good for bookworms like me. Does anyone else still use that term?

When I got the computer, some people said I would probably not read as much. Not true - nothing like a comfortable chair and a good book. It's much easier than reading the monitor, at least for these after- cataract eyes!

Marilyn

Hello, there, Marilyn:

Good to see you in here, and I sure hope you stay with us when we start discussing some of the short stories on Dec. 1. I think by that time some "lighter" discussions are in order, amidst all the hustle and bustle of the Holidays.

It sounds like you have an excellent source of books where you are! Yes, I bought a paperback version of this book at B & N and it was quite reasonable. Don't worry if you don't see Gift of the Magi in the book. That one is online also, as you can see by the link above.

Yes, I still call myself a bookworm! Anyone else?

Lorrie

Hi Marilyn Baker... Just to give you comfort this cold night.. It was 20° this morning and is 32° right now and going back down tonight.

I like short story collections.. Easy to read when you spend time waiting for people, kids, doctors or whoever.

Welcome Marilyn!!! We are so glad that you've joined us. I like short stories too (as a rule).

Welcome in our midst, Marilyn ! You join us at just the right time :

when we give thanks for all kinds of blessings, and friends arehigh on the list !

Traude

Yi Li (Post #14) - "Locally" is Harvard, MA about 30 miles West of Boston (soon to be Newton - about 15 miles West of Boston).

Right, Traude - Jhumpa Lahiri is represented in this collection with The Third and Final Continent, which first appeared in The New Yorker. In fact, that's the one I'd like to have us discuss for the third week (12/189-12/24). She had another (again) big article in The Boston Globe recently. Her background reminds me in a way of Zadie Smith's - at least at first glance. It was interesting to note that she is being married later next year (I think) in a traditional Bengali ceremony in India.

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mjbaker - I'd like to add my welcome also. I'm especially glad that you'll be joining us as you are a devotee of this particular series. I hope you'll share with us your thoughts as we read some of this year's entries.

Please note that the schedule is forming (see above). The first selection (which we'll begin discussing on December 1st) is The Fix, by Percival Everett. See you then!


Charlie

Hi been catching up on the posts here. I do like short stories. Will be checking in and talkin' atcha. Faithp

Big Announcement!!

We now have 6 of our Books & Literature SeniorNetters who are featured in the current issue of Sonata Magazine, Lorrie, Robby, Idris O'Neill, Patrick Bruyere, Faith Pyle and Malryn, and we are going to take one story a day the week before Christmas, a FIRST here for our Books and enjoy reading them and talking with each author about the ideas, background and anything else you'd like to talk about.

Please turn out and support this first ever venture, who knows, maybe it can become a regular feature!

Happy Thanksgiving!

ginny

Mal: It is great to see you in this discussion group! Pat

It's great to see you, Pat, and isn't it exciting that the work of Sonata writers is going to be discussed?

Mal

OK, Malryn was kind enough to send me the order she, as Editor of Sonata, thinks would be good to follow for our week preceeding Christmas reading:

All these may be found in Sonata

December 18: Christmas, 1944 by Patrick Bruyere. This is in the Christmas section after the Thanksgiving and Chanukah sections.

December 19: Ahriman by Idris O'Neill. This also is in the Christmas section.

December 20: Giving Thanks by Lorrie Gorg. This is in the Thanksgiving section.

December 21: What is a Disability? by Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca. Thanksgiving section.

December 22: A Holiday Gift for Children by Faith Pyle Christmas section

December 23: My Next Song by Marilyn Freeman Christmas section.

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Let's all turn out and support this first ever endeavour, a holiday gift to ourselves!

ginny

Mal's MY NEXT SONG is a hoot!

It looks like you have a great choich of selections to choose from. The mystery of the TBAs means even more will soon appear. Right now I am interested in the Our own SN Writers in Sonata Magazine ! Lorrie, Robby, Idris O'Neill, Patrick Bruyere, Faith Pyle and Malryn and O'Henry's Gift of the Magi discussions.

Ginny Ann, yes, I think this will be very exciting and I hope all hands will tune in on deck on Friday as we start out. This first story is a strange one, and the author lives in CA which is the site of our 2002 Books Gathering so we may well want to see if we like him enough to meet with him, too , when we're out there.

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I think that short and strange story #1 says a lot about us today and I can't WAIT to see what you all think!!

See you Friday, and of course we look forward to our December 17 week in which we are excited to feature our own authors, one a day, and hope that will be a regular feature here in the Books!

ginny

Is there another volume where I can find story #1. There is only one book SS 2000 in our entire library system and I am down on the list for reserves- hmm does anyone know where the story was originally published, perhaps I can locate a copy in a literary magazine.

YiLi Yin: Are you referring to "The Fix," by Percival Everett?

All I could find was that the story was taken from the mag "New York Stories", but doesn't say which issue.

New York Stories
English Dept.
LaGuardia community College
31-10 Thompson Ave.
Long Island City, N.Y. 11101

They didn't list an email address.

Lorrie

Does any one of you nice people have a scanner? Would it be possible for someone to scan the first scheduled story "The Fix" and then email it to YiLin? It really isn't that long, and she's been having trouble getting the proper book.

Lorrie

YiLiLin, will you write me? I can copy it for you but I need your mailing address???

ginny

I have written Dr. Everett of the University of Southern California and hopefully have not driven him screaming away, in hopes he might have time to look in here and possibly comment or even answer a question or two on his...what I think is the best short story in the book, "The Fix," which we begin discussing tomorrow.

Have a good bit to do to the heading yet, so stay tuned, but just wanted you to know that we may, hopefully, have company!

ginny

Oh, Ginny, that's wonderful!! Boy, what a week this is going to be!

Lorrie

I DID drive him screaming away! hahahaa, No he says he's not comfortable discussing his own works, which I can understand and that he's not internet savvy enough anyway, but he does appreciate our discussing it, and seems like a wonderful person, which you can tell from the story; so he can't make it, but he knows we're discussing it, anyway.

And this will STILL be a wonderful week, but it WOULD have been good to have him, too.

ginny

Maybe, Ginny, if you gave him the link, he will be curious enough to come and read what is being posted.

Yeah- Ginny- I e-mailed you.

Having an opportunity to chat with Dr. Everett on writing in general would be great fun. I'm strongly in favor of not asking a writer to analyze his own work, however. He's already grappled. Now it's our turn.

Good morning, and Welcome to our December session of the Book Club Online!

Welcome, Essay Fox,

That's a cute name! Hope you enjoy this discussion and all the others we have here. Actually we have a tradition, starting with the late Teresa Bloomingdale, of reading a work with an author. I don't know how they stand it, myself, I couldn't bear it. We have two BIG ones coming up in the winter; I certainly could not bear to have somebody look at something I had written, but that's the beauty of our Book Clubs here, we can say "hated it" with such style and grace nobody gets offended.

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A warm welcome to you all here on our first day of discussing these wonderful examples of the short story! I was so excited about this I couldn't wait to get in here, for several reasons, the first of which is the lead off story itself.

OH gosh. They say it's very hard to look intensively at a short story and here we have alloted 10 days for this one but I'll tell you sincerely, it's all I can do not to pull all 300 of my queries and thoughts about this thing out here on the first day!! I can't wait to hear what you all have to say.

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If you have not had opportunity to read both the Introduction and the Foreword, I wish you would, as it's tremendously exciting to be able to take up the short story itself as a genre once again and to look at it.

I'm excited to learn there IS no "proprietary critic" of the short story (Introduction) and thus we can form our own ideas.

Aren't you intrigued by the title of Frank O'Conner's book on the art of the short story, The Lonely Voice? I am, and hope to come back to it later.

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OK to begin with, (check out the stirring topics in the heading, as well!) can you see why this story was included in the Best American Short Stories of 2000 or not? Did it make an impression on you and if so, what was it? What do you think the author is saying here? Does the story itself remind you of any other short story?

Reminding everybody that we'll also read The Gift of the Magi Christmas week, and 6 short stories of our own SeniorNet Books authors the week before Christmas, one a day.

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I hope you will enjoy this exploration of all the new voices we will come to meet in this month's discussion of the Book Club Online, and please remember, we are here to express our own opinions about the story and hopefully learn from each other and the story itself. Each and every opinion expressed here is valid.

Now, what did you think?

Let's hear from you on any of the above or your own thoughts?

Welcome!

ginny

Where in the world is our fearless leader, Ginny?

We were posting together, Andrea, the heading is giving me FITS and delayed my appearance here, I need a FIXER!!

See post 41?

ginny

Wow! My first thought, on reading this enigmatic story was "Oboy, wouldn't it be nice to have somebody like this around all the time?" But after reading some passages again, I don't think that would be so appealing, after all.

No, I don't think this story is humorous. I think the author is telling us something profound here, but I haven't yet figured out what it is.

More about this later.

Lorrie

Sorry, I did not like this story. It is what I term "a downer." I am willing to read history, biography, autobiography, essays and opinion, and get depressed. I am just not into reading fiction for this purpose. I like to be amused or wind up thinking: "How clever!" or perhaps: "Interesting twist!"

This story is bleak. Very well written, the author obviously being a star student of the minimalist school, it left me disturbed and just Not wanting to have been there. It does underline truths about the psyche of the human species, but these are truths I encounter every day of my life and do not require further instruction in.

Thumbs down, with a last thought which represents my overwhelming sentiment: i.e. WHAT kind of mind dwells in those ethers and feels compelled to delineate this landscape?

Thanks Ginny, waiting for my "story" but did want to comment on your banner- it is a fiction in which society is surmised as the darkness around the narrative circle of light. In other words, the scale of the short story predisposed it to the isolation of the self.

I find that a compelling statement and has me rethink almost every short story I've ever read. I think it is a valid statement, because unlike the novel, the short story often presents its characters in a vignette, isolated moments in time or chugging along one-track series of events. We see the characters and their situations out of the context of a whole life.

Thinking about it like that, I see Mary Page's comment about downers and recall the darkness of most short stories (even those couched in humor)- but my ever optimistic spirit says, hmm, I'd rather imagine these vignettes are aberrations, detours on an otherwise delightful journey.

This is great, thank you all so much, don't go away, Mary Page, we have lots more to say.

Lorrie, you see no humor, I laughed out loud at some of the things. Isn't it wonderful how different we all are, isn't this fun, THIS one story may teach us all something before it's over.

Now, Mary Page, you see this as a downer, so what is the message you see the author telling us then? Is there a message? Or are you just relating to the events as stated, some of which are truly bleak?

Or can this possibly be part of the entire human condition, can he have at once captured the absurdity of human expectation and the consequences of...I thought it was hilarious in places, I really did.

I hate that I now have to leave for Atlanta but will be back on Sunday and hope to see more of your thoughts.

IS this dark and unpleasant and WHAT IS the author saying, if you think it's so, don't be shy, whether you "liked it" or "hated it" makes no difference, maybe we can come out together at the end knowing more about ourselves and the work, too?

AND we might even write the author a question if we can't solve it all ourselves, for instance, what on earth is meant by the quote in the heading?

(By the way, I do aplogize for the long loading time of the heading, there is a lot of code in it, if you can hang on until Sunday I will try to get some of it out).

Lorrie will ably carry the ball here till my return.

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YiLiLin, don't you love that statement? It changed a lot of things for me, too.

In this story, for intstance, I wonder who the isolated soul might be: is it Sherman, for instance?

Or is it Douglas?

Which one do you feel sorrier for, Sherman or Douglas?

OH boy I could talk about this one all year. Now do not be discouraged, there's a LOT to this one, even IF you hated it, and if you LOVED it, maybe you can point out some of the stuff!

See you Sunday!

ginny

I loved this story and admire the author for the appropriateness of the title. The Fix. I understand and commiserate with this poor man who is pulled in every direction by those in his surroundings. Everyone is looking for a "fix" in this life. Who amongst us doesn't look to rectify or adjust something? Who doesn't seek a "fixative" for one thing or another. Be honest and think about it. We see counselors, we call the children, we have "hen parties." We are forever looking for someone to change, amend or alter one situation or another, for us. We seek profesional help to "fix" us. We call repair men, mechanics- anyone or everyone to restore our damged goods and souls. Some might believe that this man was blessed, he wasn't, he was cursed!! Imagine being a plethoric superbeing!!! What happens to a vessel that is constantly drained or over burdened? It becomes dry, totally consumed and empty. How often can one feel this burden without repercussions?

I think the story says GREED is the prime motivation in most human beings and it KILLS altruism.

I dunno -- I thought we were into a Jesus meets George Bailey kind of a world.

Mary Page: I'm sorry you didn't like the story. I thought YiLi Lin's post was quite eloquent: Thinking about it like that, I see Mary Page's comment about downers and recall the darkness of most short stories (even those couched in humor)- but my ever optimistic spirit says, hmm, I'd rather imagine these vignettes are aberrations, detours on an otherwise delightful journey.

Alf, I'm inclined to agree. Who among us has not yearned for someone or something to come along and "fix" whatever is wrong with us. I wonder if this parable is the author's way of showing us how modern society has turned its back on personal responsibility---how we are all looking for someone to blame?

essay fox: In what way does the story remind you of "It's a Wonderful Life?"

Lorrie

I read this story last week and had the same or similar thoughts as Andy.

But you don't fill the 'empty sea' by running away or jumping off a bridge. There are lots of ways to fill that sea.. A vacation, a change of job, escape to a book, computer, message board, seniornet.com, quiet music, loud music ... whatever turns you 'on'.

I guess that's why when I go on a trip, I seriously consider defecting.. but by the end of the trip, I'm ready to resume job, responsibilities, and life

Don’t you think that this particular time of year – the “holidays” – is the time for the “fixers” of this world? Aren’t mother’s “fixers”? Just ruminating here…

The expectations of others can be a heavy burden, though. It is always interesting to know exactly what prompts a writer to compose a particular piece. It is usually easier to identify in a short story. In the Contributor’s Notes, Everett says he wrote this story during a period in which he “experienced a rash of expectations from other people.”

Douglas Langley’s wife Sheila’s reaction to Sherman Olney is telling, I think. She evidences some of what MaryPage calls greed when she sees that this fixer may have something of value for her. It’s what he can provide for her comfort and well being that makes him palatable as a human being (to her). Give ‘em an inch and they’ll take a mile it is said. Sherman starts with a simple refrigerator repair and soon expands his fixing to things other people bring in to the sandwich shop. Then he’s fixing their personal problems. Finally, he actually brings a woman back to life – the ultimate fix.

“Fixing things is easy,” Sherman says – “You just have to know how things work.” We really believe that don’t we? There is a solution for everything – just as long as we understand the problem, what caused it, what action we can take to solve it. This is a particularly 20th Century concept, is it not? Personally, I believe this is a damaging self-deception. Not all problems can be solved. There is no fix for all the ills of the world. We do so like to – want to – believe though, that it is so. What frequently happens though, is that one fix, results in another problem. Sometimes a worse, or more serious one. Much of what we have invented to make our lives “easier” has resulted in consequences far beyond our imaginations. There are examples of this too numerous to mention.

Like Sherman says to Douglas: the fixing of things is a tricky business – “You have to be careful about what you fix…If you irrigate a desert, you might empty a sea.” At the end, Sherman himself does seem drained. “I am the empty sea.” Andrea has captured the essence of this, I think.

Charlie

Charlie, that was wonderful! It's really amazing, isn't it? For such a short story, this author has packed in a veritable treasure of thought-provoking ideas, and you all seem to get the essence of it immediately.

Something struck me. I read this and some other things that Percival Everett has written, and it wasn't until I saw his picture that I realized he was black. Not that it matters, but it intrigues me that I was surprised. Perhaps because I've fallen into that old trap of expecting black writers to write "black?"

Lorrie

I confess. My reaction was the same. When I saw that Ginny had posted his bio with picture - I was surprised also. Curious reaction....

I loved it when Douglas offered our "fixer" a sandwich and cold milk after his traumatic beating. Isn't that in essence a way we attempt to "fix" things. "Here, eat, you'll feel better." Terminally ill people are encouraged to "just take one more bite, just a sip!"

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Why didn't he have a place to live? What is the author trying to convey here, that he didn't have a life?

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Mary Page:  I agree that greed does kill altruism but didn't everyone ask  for only what was important to  them ,  Did you feel that they asked for what was more than reasonable?

Essayfox:  There is a ring of "Jesus meets..." to this story isn't there?  Maybe that's why the author didn't give the man a stable environment.  He also remarks that Douglas saw the night "dotted with yellow-orange" reflections.  (Was it in the East?)

Pat:  There are times when people are at the end of their rope.  They saw at either end "thousands of people waiting," shouting fix us!  The peaceful river was a safe haven, an asylum.
I agree!  I'd much prefer the solace of classical music  or a good book for my santuary but Sherman had "no where else" to retreat.

Chas:  If the author was experiencing  a rash of expectations from others, I wonder in what manner did he find solace.  Perhaps it was in writing this short story.

Lorrie:  As always, your observations are vital to any discussion I've shared with you.

I "see" that I'm dropping in right in the middle of things and I haven't even had a chance to read the story yet. I ordered my book yesterday from B&N and will have to wait to read some of the stories. This must, indeed, be a thought-provoking story. In my experience a story that creates so many different reactions is one that causes the reader remember something from his/her own experience--the story becomes personal.

Wynona

Oh wynona: We are so happy to see you here amongst us. Ginny will be back tomorrow and will be delighted to see your post. Jump in at any time.

I'm here and reading what everyone has to say. I had to take the Short Story collection back to the library---couldn't renew it yet again! The word is that we are to have 6 inches of snow here tonight and tomorrow. In N.C. that means everything comes to a halt. As soon as the weather lets me I will get back to the library for the book. Until then---I will just lurk for awhile.

Just read all your thoughtful posts. One gathered response to them and the book > this Christmas holiday season gets to be seen as a "fix". This gift or that will "make" them happy. We can't "fix" or "make" others. Or the amount of alcohol that will "fix" this seasonal unreal expectation that nags many people. And spurs them into the hurry scurry of buying.

And I agree with Chas. There are some problems that can't or aren't meant to be fixed but to be lived in and lived thru.

I am thinking too, about people who want to "fix" you real quick if you want to discuss something they are uncomfortable with. "It will work out." "It is God's will". Etc.

He crafted that story so well. I knew Sherman was going in the direction of being drained.

~Marj

Alf: I have seen and heard relatives of terminally ill people, in their very last day(s) saying those very exact words above. Trying desparately to "fix". ~Marj

Phyll: Perhaps you remember a little bit about the story from when you did have the book? If not, lurk away!! You are always welcome in any discussion, you know that!

Wynona, are you a new reader? Either way, welcome to this discussion!

MargV: Yes, remember when we were kids and would run to Daddy or Mama to "fix" a broken toy or doll? Old habits die hard.

Alf: I like your theory about the "orange dots blinking,in the east?" Especially this time of the year.

Lorrie

Hi, Lorrie,

I'm a "new reader" as far as SeniorNet is concerned and I've spent the last two days reading and deciding what groups to join. You all make it difficult to choose! I'm very impressed with all that I have read. I love to read and read and read. There never seems to be enough time to read all the books that I find. I'm really looking forward to being part of this discussion group.

Wynona

ALF: I was seeing Sherman as personifying altruism, and assuming he committed suicide because the unending crowds wanted too much of him, I felt the greed of the crowds killed Sherman, i.e., altruism.

yes, Mary Page. You are absolutely correct! Great point that you made, I didn't even look at it that way. Wouldn't it be a much better world if there were more altruism and benevolence abounding?

Wynona: We are all delighted to see you in our group here, and of course we can all agree that this is absolutly the best site to join on the whole internet! Here we have it all! We go from the ridiculous to the sublime, and the choice of books to talk about is extremely varied. You will love it here!

Be sure to keep checking in--we'll be looking for you!

Mary Page: A good point. Yes, I can see where you see Sherman as long-suffering, and ready to throw it all in. As Charlie says, there is no way we can "fix" everybody's problems, and I'm sure the sheer hopelessness of it all must have gotten to him.

Lorrie

Good word, Lorrie. It has just illuminated for me the reason I so dislike this story and all similar tales. HOPELESSNESS. That reeks of despair and depression and all the dark things that pull and drag the spirit into the dismal and spidery basements of the soul.

There are “fixers” in the world though, aren’t there? Ones who feel that they should try and fix everything? On the other hand there are “users” or “takers” in the world also. The fixers and the users always seem to find each other. Don’t see this as a tale of hopelessness at all. Maybe a warning to each of us: Leave something for yourself. If you only give and give and give…well, you’ll end up losing yourself.

There is some humor in this story, as Ginny has pointed out. I laughed out loud at:

“I don’t know first aid, but I can make a sandwich.”

Doesn’t this story feel like an old Alfred Hitchcock Presents?

More like something out of "The Twilight Zone," wouldn't you say?

Lorrie

Many of you may have already read this essay by Professor Everett. If not, please do, I think you will find it quite remarkable. I especially like the part about when he gave an address in North Carolina, and mentioned the Confederate flag. It's a very thought-provoking article!

THIS REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED, from THE HUNGRY MIND REVIEW

Lorrie

I loved the unicorn analogy in the article by Everett. That’s an interesting way to think of racial differences (if they existed…). Everett wrote:

“But when I wake up on my farm with my wife and take out the dogs, make my oat bran, feed the goats, donkeys, and everybody else, I do not think about white people. And I certainly don't contemplate my existence as nonwhite.”

Exactly. One feels an instant bond with the man with statement. I note that he also talks about “the easy course, the non-challenging course” – certainly a thread (at least as some of us perceived it) in his short story.

He also mentions, Ginny, that he has “so far avoided” the Internet – one of his examples of the easy course. I’d respectfully disagree here. I have run into this reaction before – oddly enough (or perhaps not so) from the academic community. An old friend of mine, a professor of history and technology, pretty much dismisses the Internet as a useful communications tool. For some it is the only practical way to discuss issues in a wider community, and as such, it is a magical and empowering part of the lives of many. In academia, an insular community and one where conventions, papers, meetings are the order f the day – the Internet is not a necessary tool for the purposes many of us use it. Peek outside the ivory tower and notice the value it offers (along with the necessary dross).

Thanks for the link, Lorrie.

Thank YOU Charlie for the comment below. i have said much the same thing to several people I know. They can't grasp what I am saying.

For some it is the only practical way to discuss issues in a wider community, and as such, it is a magical and empowering part of the lives of many.

That sure has happened for me - especially getting involved with the book discussions here.

~Marj

Everett sure did write the wife as a "user". Probably as a composite of those we know who live that way.

~Marj

Thank YOU Charlie for the comment below. i have said much the same thing to several people I know. They can't grasp what I am saying.

For some it is the only practical way to discuss issues in a wider community, and as such, it is a magical and empowering part of the lives of many.

That sure has happened for me - especially getting involved with the book discussions here.

~Marj

I finished my first reading of The Fix last night. I enjoyed the story, and I would like to read more works by Percival Everett.

Sherman's suicide did not depress me. I feel like he found relief in the only way possible to him. I wish he could have found a way to "fix" his own life, but I feel he had exhausted himself helping others. His diagnosis would be called burn out. No one can continue to fix and fix and fix without going completely nuts.

I think when we are the ones who need help we forget about the helpers. We become completely selfish, and we don't relize we are "emptying someone elses sea." We don't do this on purpose. We are just so helpless that it is impossible to think of someone else.

All the signs were there that Sherman had burnt out. He never smiled, but no one noticed. I think Douglas cared and had a lot of humane characteristics. I don't understand why he did not try to stop Sherman from jumping off the bridge.

HATS

So far I've read half these short-stories, The Fix being my fave. But let me 'splain that, before some of you "tune me out" here.

As I started reading these 21 stories, I noted an irritating common denominator: Each story lacked resolution. I first blamed this on all these being selected by just TWO people: E.L.Doctorow, and Katrina Kenison.

But I realized that these two are in their own area of expertise. So I decided my own approach to enjoying these short stories needed to be re-examined.

I needed to remember that short stories need to be one episode, one small slice of time (often this will be protagonist's last one). And that most happy "human interest" tales just don't sell in newspapers and stories. It's the negative, horror, macabre, and crime-related tales that we readers pay to read (deep sigh).

Back to Everett's The Fix. I thought it had more "resolution" than most stories in this book. A final (And then Sherman jumped) resolution wasn't needed here, natch.

I thought Everett built up suspense well, and that his use of narrative to advance plot was effective (as were his occasional segues into 3rd-person narrative).

Everett's The Fix in some ways reminds me of Shirley Jackson's earlier classic horror short-story, The Lottery. And that's...high praise, IMHO.

P.S. - I'll "SECOND" most of HAT's earlier warm thoughts, posted earlier here.

Well, I'll tell you one thing, this is an ELECTRIC discussion, I thought I'd just drop in and make a comment and leave, and you all have raised such ISSUES, that I need to print them out and study them further, I spent 3 hours Friday night arguing over Essay Fox's idea that this was a Jesus meets George Bailey theme...all the way down to Atlanta, and was vaguely disappointed just now when I ran in and saw only one new post. OH! Disappointment, I thought, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

It's a glitch in the software and there is a veritable TREASURE CHEST of things here, it's marvelous. I started putting fabulous thoughts in the heading and soon found that they are ALL fabulous, so stopped with Andrea's gee WHIZ you guys, this is fine!

Let me say Welcome Wynona!!! Yes!!!

Welcome, All!! Welcome Phyll, MarjV, Charlie, Jim VA!, to the splendid assemblage already here, you have given me lots to think about and I need to read Dr. Everette's essay, too.

I was surprised by his photo, too, that's why I put it there, but not for the same reasons, that's a fine looking man, I thought, like that Jeff Shaprio who wrote Renato's Luck or that Dubuss who wrote House of Sand and Fog. Why do we assume that authors are pug ugly? Obviously some of them are fine looking.

Back tomorrow, I feel as if somebody lit the Christmas tree, you can put one up but when everybody adds the lights and plugs it IN, THEN you have something and that's what we have here.

You all take my breath away.

ginny

I just finished "The Fix." Poor Sherman could fix everything but himself, the fixer. He knew how to fix and he couldn't help fixing if someone asked, and he got beaten up just before the story begins because whoever was asking him to fix things before we met him wanted him to fix something that he knew he shouldn't.

The story reminds me of one scene in Jesus Christ, Superstar, where the crowd is pushing in upon him, singing in chorus, "Help me Christ, I can hardly see........." until he flees the crowd and takes refuge with his disciples. It comes, I think, just before Mary Magdelene sings, "Come let me soothe you, comfort and anoint you...." Anyway, the story took me back to the musical.

And there is a miracle in the story, when Sherman restores life to the woman who was hit by a car.

~Maryal

I am new to the group. There seem to be a lot of women here with my name so I ended up with a very long one. However, I usually go by Marge.

I thought Percival Everett is a gifted story-teller. I found it told in a humorous way. I was laughing out loud at sentences like "The next day Sherman fixed a chainsaw and a laptop computer and thirty-two parking tickets."

I think, as others have said, that this book is about the "fixers" of the world. I used to call them martyrs sometimes. I see some of myself here--and others I have known. Many of us want to fix everything for our families, friends, the community, the country, etc. Many of us are actually able to do a lot of fixing! I think this was a parable about how people will seek out and rely on those who can and will fix. But then who fixes the fixers?

Sherman never smiles. And he ends up drained "like the empty sea." He has to jump off the bridge to escape the demands of others. Douglas asked "Why did you fix all of those things?" and Sherman says "Because I can. Because I was asked." Maybe the story tells us that we all also have a responsibility to take care of ourselves too, not just "fix" things because we are asked.

I am looking forward to the rest of the stories scheduled for December. Marge

Hi, there, MarjorieElaine! Wow! We're going to have to shorten that somehow! Welcome to the group! I'm so glad you joined us, now stick around because we've got some real treats in store for everybody! So glad you like "The Fix."

Lorrie

I have to agree with MarjorieElaine. I found a lot of humor in The Fix. I laughed out loud when Sheila changed her mind about Sherman. She's ready to throw him out but changes her mind just because he fixes her foot massager!

Well, I guess you can say Sheila is a easy person to please, or maybe foot massagers are more important than I know. In a way, I do understand Sheila. My feet are always cold, and cold feet are miserable. Maybe I need to think about buying a foot massager.

HATS

Welcome to the group, Maryal! Marge! and HATS

We are delighted to see you all here and to hear your thoughts!

Let's take some of the issues you all have raised and see how they fit into our understanding of what happened in this story.

---

First off, who says Sherman jumped? Did he? I love the way the author leaves that hanging just like he left a lot of the other stuff hanging. I love his technique, right from the first you don't know what's going on, do you? This strange guy, no place to stay, no luggage, being beaten to a pulp?

Huh?

OK here again, Andrea, let me stop? "Fixes" him a sandwich? Now I'm not a nurse, and Andrea is, so let's find out. If you had been methodically punched in the stomach till you sounded like a typewriter, would you want to eat? I lay this at Andrea's polished feet?

OK Essay Fox, I hope your ears were burning Friday night. I guess I am the only person on earth who has not seen "It's a Wonderful Life," but I got to argue the aspects of Jesus meets George Bailey almost 3 hours Friday.

Now what do you make of ....do you say here that Sherman, having raised the dead, then, is Jesus? And having asked that no one be told of the miracle, as well? That's true to form, but didn't (Maryal will know this) some of the disciples and saints likewise raise the dead?

OK and then...suicide? And then Maryal mentions another show I have not seen, Jesus Christ, Superstar. Once again, tho, did Jesus commit suicide?

Likewise, apparently George Bailey saved the life of the man jumping off the bridge, right? IN the movie? So I have been told? So here is the author perhaps standing with the reader in trembling anticipation? Will Douglas jump in and save him, doesn't look like it?

---

Hats, I agree, the "fixing" of traffic tickets was hilarious, did nobody whoop over the chewing gum? hahahaah This author is a man who, in my opinion, got a lot of angst out in this thing. hahahaha

Chewing gum and parking tickets. hahahahaa

But Hats, he said he did it because he "could," and because he was "asked," and lo and behold he asked himself, didn't he? Quite a few times he volunteered to fix things.

I can't decide who I feel sorrier for, Douglas, married to that shrew, (boy I'm telling you, I hope that's all imagination hahahaah) and why, by the way, did the wife fall under the "spell" just because her foot massager was fixed, that was eerie, as Lorrie said, Twilight Zone.

The whole beginning held you breathless, you did not know what was going on and here at the end, you don't either. You really don't.

To wit: I still don't know what he means by the "empty sea, " but a lot of you seem to, can you spell it out? An empty vessel, I can understand, but not an empty sea. Do we know what this means?

Which ONE is the "empty sea," really?

Which one of the three characters?

And what does that say?

More anon...

ginny

JimVA, YES~! The Lottery, exactly so, I kept thinking that myself, but why? What's the connection? In the one people have made a decision for the "good" of the whole, right? In this one, nobody has decided anything, least of all Sherman, the "Fixer" who apparently can't FIX the one situation which is overwhelming him, if he can raise the dead and he can counsel others then why can the physician not heal himself?

---

Lorrie, thank you for that very fine article on Dr. Everette's address to the South Carolina House. I know he was heartened to see the march this year on Columbia led by the white football coaches of the state on the subject of removal of the Confederate Battle Flag from the Capitol, it was a very fine statement to make by people in responsibility and showed a fine example to everybody concerned, because as Dr. Everett rightly pointed out, there were many different opinions from both sides involved as to whether or not the flag should come down.

I wish it were possible to discuss matters of race with Dr. Everett, it's a shame he does not like the Internet, we might learn something from him that would do us all good.

I would like to read some more of his writings I know that, he's wonderful and has a great way of expressing himself, and just think we might never have heard of him, had it not been for this collection!

---

Lorrie you said you thought it would be great to have somebody like Sherman around all the time and then you thought, it might not be so sppealing after all? Why not?

Why not have all your problems fixed, what would you do then?

---

JimVA, I did like your nice touches there, I had missed completely the shift to third person even though I have now read it 4 times, very fine sharp noticing, do the shifts portend anything?

I need to go look back.

I LOVED your point about "often this will be protagonists's last one" time on this earth, that gives the short story a whole new status, in my eyes, and as Mary Page said, the "minimalist approach" is used here and in Paley, and in Fitzgerald (Penelope) three authors I now admire since I don't suffer from it myself.

I read a lot of short stories, usually in the New Yorker, I don't find them particularly full of anything but verbiage. This one is different, and not just because it's dark, it's different because it's powerful, it SEEMS to be saying something that it may NOT be, and we all seem to think it says something different, at least that's the way I'm reading it.

---

For instance, MaryPage, who is the Greedy here? Is it Sherman who keeps on fixing? Is it Douglas who keeps him on even after everything is "fixed?" Is it Sheila? Is it the crowds or are they just as somebody said desperate to be healed? Fixed?

---

more....(I missed a lot going to Atlanta!)

Welcome MarjorieElaine---or Marge as I am going to think of you.

Ginny---Both Elijah and Elisha (Old Testament) brought boys back to life (under almost identical circumstances). I don't think any of the disciples did. Shakey ground here--but I think we are only told that the disciples did miracles in Jesus's name. Don't anyone trust me on this, but Elijah and Elisha are right.

And, no, it isn't a pure parallel. But there was something about the story that made me think about what if Christ were to visit us now instead of when he did. Would he be recognized? Would he be perceived as a "fixer"? Would he be drained of all energy? Sorry you missed Superstar. My kids made me memorize all the lyrics. And my oral surgeon has written a rock opera on Revelation, so it came to mind.

I thought parts of the story were really funny. It started for me with the gum. Sure, Sherman fiddled a little, made a wad of Juicy Fruit and then had that appliance humming as if it were new. And fixing the parking tickets! And the relationships! There's a good deal of absurdist humor in the story.

~Maryal

So what's actually FIXED in Douglas's life?

His wife, straight out of "The Fisherman's Wife" fairy tale? And IS this a parable?

Is it?

Of what?

We can't very well become Shermans? We don't usually meet Shermans in our lives so how can we learn from this, and what is the message if there is one?

---

Hats, I just read your post again, you said, "We become completely selfish, and we don't realize we are 'emptying someone else's sea.'"

Here again, I have to stop and wonder about this issue you raised, the neediness of the people overwhelming Sherman, but Sherman himself had a choice too, did he not?

I did like your take on why Sherman could not fix himself, he was burnt out, but several times again, he chose to ask to help fix something, do you think perhaps this neediness can exist on both sides? Because otherwise it makes no sense, to me. Listen if you can raise the DEAD you can avoid burnout?

You've all raised some great thoughts, I would have missed that one about the needy draining the helper, that's wonderful.

---

Marj, I agree with you on our books sections here, and so you see the wife as a "user?" Now that's interesting, too. I would have said ...hmmm. that's really interesting. How is she a user?

---

Charlie, yes I saw that now! hahaha That he was avoiding the internet, well as you say he's in good company, a lot of academics hate it (well, it IS a threat, after all) but just as many embrace it so I guess it's about equal.

And then Charlie took the opposite side of the coin, mentioning the FIXERS in our society, that was brilliant! I don't know when one short 14 page story has brought out so many comparisons (Alfred Hitchcock, Twilight Zone, Jesus Christ Superstar, It's a Wonderful Life) and so many reactions.

---

What would you say is the overwhelming message of this....is it a parable?....

Is this hopelesness as MaryPage said?

What's the lesson here? The message? And who was it supposed to affect more, Sherman or Douglas?

Or us?

---

Wynona thank you for your kind words, too, we appreciate that, and isn't this FUN!?!

---

Maryal, we're posting together, I'm trying to catch up, well those are two whom I did NOT know raised the dead, thank you for that, and I hope somebody will come to our rescue with the disciples and/or saints because I believe there were quite a few of them, actually.

Yes!! Absurdist humor, but not a theatre of the absurd, would you say?

Again, I'm in over my head with that question but I've got more questions than Sherman had "fixes."

Now why am I suddenly thinking of Waiting for Godot again? We had that in another discussion and it made about as much sense.

---

Marj, I really liked your seasonal references..."this Christmas holiday season gets to be seen as a 'fix.' This gift or that will 'make' them happy. We can't 'fix' or 'make' others...."

Now that is realy astute, to me, and probably accounts for the dread and depression a lot of people feel especially during the Christmas season, the pressure of unmet expectation. But who puts this pressure on and who could "fix it," and if you COULD have a "Fixer," would you use him?

Think of the people who hire out the decorating of their own houses? Have you ever been tempted to do the same?

And also that part about the people who want to FIX you, I totally agree.

And then of course, as Andrea mentioned there's the medical "fix," too, we are a Nation of Expectations when you think about it, we want it fixed, we sure do.

---

Phyll, I liked your rose among the thorns analogy, I can't decide who the rose is here, tho. Would you say the gift itself was the rose and then all the attendant grief became the thorns?

---

Wynona, your "the reader remembers something from his/her own experience--the story becomes personal..." was right on the money, and you can see that here, everybody is reacting differently.

---

Tell me this: if Sherman did not jump would the "moral" of the parable be positive?

---

Andrea, I'm not getting the "dotted with yellow orange reflections" meaning, could you explain what you think that means?

---

Charlie, I loved your "damaging self-deception...." "Not all problems can be solved. There is no fix for all the ills of the world."

Does it make a difference what type of person looks at that statement? Does the cure always cause a worse situation?

You know when you think of it, Sherman was not trying to fix all the ills of the world, he was just trying to brighten the corner where he was?

And he certainly got to suffer for that one. Is there no return from the bridge? I can't help thinking here that something is being said that I'm missing.

I thought your take on the wife was interesting, too, and I felt she was exaggerated, that is, nobody is as bad as she appears, right?

But as a vehicle for her comfort, Douglas and his sandwich shop are poor compensation. It appears she herself works there as well, why not somewhere else? She really told him off, I can't imagine any man being so hen pecked, I once again sense a risible element in this.

I think it's just those elements which elevate it out of the Horror/ Si Fi genre and put it somewhere else.

---

Pat W had an interesting comment, you don't fill the sea by jumping off a bridge, good point why didn't Sherman know that? Why didn't Douglas know that? What IS Douglas's role in this piece??

---

Andrea, that was a wonderful point about how dependent we are now as a society upon the service people, we want something fixed, we call the repairman, the doctor, the mechanic, the "hen parties," I loved this statement,

"We are forever looking for someone to change, amend or alter one situation or another, for us. We seek professional help to "fix us." We call repair men, mechanics-- anyone or everyone to restore our damaged goods and souls."

So you think Sherman was not blessed but cursed?

Well why is that worse than Douglas's own life? Is he blessed or cursed with that wife and that life?

Does Sherman make a difference in HIS life?

HER life?

Even in the little Fisherman's Wife Fairy Tale, the talking fish teaches the wife and the fisherman a lesson. MaryPage thinks she knows what the lesson here is, do the rest of you?

I don't. That's why I am so glad to have all of you to discuss this with?

What do you think???

ginny

This is interesting from Maryal: "story that made me think about what if Christ were to visit us now instead of when he did. Would he be recognized? Would he be perceived as a "fixer"? Would he be drained of all energy? "

That's a good question, what do you all think? Very good question!

---

And then of course as anybody knows who has had to go sit in a school desk, Juicy Fruit hardens, and probably the FIX it helped would just break again, no?

ginny

I've been waiting for someone else to make the obvious comparison: "The Fixer" by Bernard Malamud, and this particular story. Although the settings are vastly different, I see a distinct similarity between the hopelessness and disillusionment of that poor imprisoned Russian, and the way that Sherman must have felt when he heard the pleading crowd.

Lorrie

THANKYOU GINNY Was intrigued by Maryal's reference to JCsuperstar then read through all the following posts. My immediate reaction reading the first part of the story was as if Sherman were a symbolic "savior".

What I noticed early on though was how easily Sherman seemed to fix things- with no obvious skill- chewing gum for the fridge, fiddled under the car hood, etc. Was the message here that much of what we think needs to be fixed in life we are overwhelmed by and life according to Sherman says its really no big deal. Or, I also recall a friend fixing a lamp for me, he took the pieces apart and put them back together- that was it. I did not believe the lamp would work, I teased, "but you didn't do anything". He said that most things didn't need anything done to them, that just fiddling with what was there was all there was needed for the fix. We, of course, then got into heavy philosophical discussion about energy fields and "needs" of inanimate objects....hmmmmm.

Lorrie- I had thought of Malamud’s The Fixer – but read it so many years ago I couldn’t remember a thing about it…

You know…there’s a kind of balance in the world, isn’t there? There’s so much desert and so much sea…Only so much energy?…only so much joy and sorrow too, perhaps? In order to irrigate the desert, the sea is emptied. And then what is gained? A flooded dessert and an empty sea.

My copy of the book has not come in yet, so I'm feeling a strong frustration in not having read the story yet. Maybe my book will arrive today.

The author wrote: "I make demands on the reader." He has certainly accomplished that with this story.

Because of all of your comments, I've been reading, of all things, the dictionary for the meanings of the words fix and fixer and examining the usage of the character names.

The author who is a teacher of creative writing also wrote about "misunderstandings caused by misprecise language." I have wondered how precise he had been in choosing the words of this story. My teachers always asked me the meaning of the title and the meaning of words the author had used.

Maybe my book will come!?!

Wynona

Lorrie, you brilliant thing, you, you can't wait for ME to mention it, I forgot I read it, too! hahahaha And it only won a Pulitzer, I mean, easily forgotten, right? hahahah

Who in the book IS "The Fixer" and what is fixed? I don't remember it at all, but I have read all of Malamud, somebody needs to "fix" my own brain!

The roofers are hammering from 6:10 am till after dark, and I think I'm typing in rhythm!

Maybe I can set it to music.

---

YiLi Lin!! Welcome to the discussion, can you believe the thoughts expressed so far?

I spent yesterday thinking about several of the ideas here and I did like your take, too: "Was the message here that much of what we think needs to be fixed in life we are overwhelmed by and life according to Sherman says its really no big deal. "

It makes me think about all the "fixes" mentioned so far and then about the Generation....what do they call the new 30 somethings? The ones who have to start out in life with the huge houses and the big cars, things that their parents are lucky if they are able to work UP to after a lifetime?

Did you all see that show on what it was like to live in the turn of the century? The English House where they went back and lived like they used to? The poor woman spent all day washing and ironing, now THERE is a "fix" I am grateful for, the washing machine and the dryer.

But we do, don't we? We do live in an "instant" society, our grocery stores are full of produce any time of the year? Gone are the days when a strawberry was a rare thing and only in June. So as Charlie says here we have substituted perhaps another ill when we fixed the first one. For instance, in the case of out of season produce, we substitued the use of banned chemicals in the US and salmonella and clostridium and all sorts of unhygenic diseases in our imported produce, not to mention the fire ant, now thought to have come over on a banana ship? hahahahha

---

One of the reasons people say it's hard to discuss the short story and that it won't hold up to scrutiny is that a discussion is more than a review, it's the chance to take the elements of the story and discuss them rather than just write a review.

But to do that takes bravery, can you be brave enough to look at some of the elements here and decide if, in fact, Everett is saying something with a moral we can agree on or if it's just a will o the whisp?

DO you, in fact, think that it's a satire on human absurdity and desire? IS there a moral here? IF so what is it? Work thru it yourself? Repair your own car? Stop whining and expecting the government to "fix it?"

One phrase that just about throws ME over the bridge is the infamous, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Why are people so entranced with the "status quo?" Why are people so afraid of change? And why do some of us constantly try to "fix" things???

What did I do, drive everybody off? There are a lot more ideas to discuss, come on back IN!

I still don't understand how the sea can be empty!

I keep thinking of Paul Simon's songs, I'm a sudden, new, and big fan.

His song "You Can Call Me Al," starts,

A man walks down the street, he says
Why am I soft in the middle now?
Why am I soft in the middle, the rest of my life is so hard.
I need a photo opportunity
I want a shot at redemption
Don't want to end up a cartoon
In a cartoon graveyard.


When you personally get up every morning, do you do so with some sort of vague hope? And is this vague hope that somebody or something "else" will "fix" things or make them better?

Or do you get up with the thought that you, yourself, have to do the work?

I think I'm a hoper and that poor Sherman would not get far from me, he'd have to "fix" forever.

What are your thoughts this morning on any or all of the issues raised in this very short story with multiple meanings?

Al

Wynona! like the Disney song, "Someday your book will come, someday you'll meet again..." hahahaha

Boy food for thought tho, I had passed over the author's imprecise words thing, what did you find about "FIX" that might cast some light here???

Great quote too: " 'I make demands on the reader.' He has certainly accomplished that with this story. "

Yes, he has and I still feel the uneasy grip of incomprehension, I'm not sure we have cracked the case here. I feel a joke hidden, several of you noticed the humor and when you combine humor with such bleakness one has to wonder if one is being "had."

Are we?

Thanks for that!

ginny

Rereading The Fix is not a problem. Each reading seems to leave more to discover. I would like to know more about Sherman's past. Who were those guys that were trying to beat him "to near extinction"? These guys are described as "silky-looking."

I am always suspicious so I feel like these guys might have been gangsters. I bet they were dressed like the guys from the Untouchables. I see them wearing knuckle busters or whatever those things are called.

I think Sherman wanted to make a new life for himself. Perhaps, he did not realize how bad these guys were when he became involved with them. Anyway, I think he was on the run.

I am realizing we are not told whether he jumped from the bridge. I think that suicide became an option for him because there was something in his past he could not face. Too him, it was too awful to be discussed with Douglas, but then again, he had just met Douglas.

HATS

HATS

I'm with Hats! It seems to me that Sherman is looking for a whole new start, a new beginning, but after people discover his unique talent, finds himself trapped into the same morass he was in before Douglas rescued him.

Incidentally, did we ever find out why those men were beating up Sherman so badly?

Lorrie

Didn't...Sherman say something about they were...government men? You know, this story is spooky, the first time I read it, I could have sworn the men were shouting "Give it to us," when they beat him up and they most certainly did not. I thought they were government people? CIA?

Now I wonder anew!

Good points, Hats, I slopped over the "silky," that's an interesting word, especially as Wynona has pointed out the author's insistence on using just the right words.

And you think he's running from something, it certainly looks like it. Why am I suddenly reminded of that cartoon with the frog? Remember that one? I never understood it. It was this dancing frog? With a top hat and cane?

Did any of you ever see it? When his box was opened he sang, "Hello, my honey, hello, my baby, hello, my ragtime gal or doll or something," etc. Whoever found him was delighted but at the end it was all they could do to get rid of him, I can't remember why? Can any of you remember how that blessing turned into a curse?

Well like Lorrie, I wonder, too. Where is Sherman's luggage? Is all he has the clothes on his back? Why does he look malnourished? Is there something floating around about good deeds here we need to look at? Sherman does a good deed with Juicy Fruit and also the plumbing in exchange for Douglas's saving his life?

Will Douglas save it again?

What do you all think? Do you think Sherman jumped? Why did the author (Jim VA has already looked at this and I thought his point was interesting) leave it hanging?

Would you have been disappointed IF Sherman HAD jumped?

ginny

Yes - If Sherman had actually jumped, it would have been too hokey. Silky is a good word by the way. Absolutely denotes mafia types to me.

I like Douglas. He is kind and brave. He is more brave than I because I don't think I would have been as quick to run out into the alley and help. We need more people like Douglas.

A few years back I heard lots of news about victims of violence and crowds of people standing around not offering a helping hand. Douglas is just the opposite. He jumps in to save the day.

I think a person who owned a sandwich shop would have to be a nurturing person. I think this is why Douglas is so quick to take Sherman in and give him a home. Sherman is the type who believes that food can heal all our sorrows.

HATS

If Sherman had really jumped, in the story, there would be no story. Or at least it would fall flat and seem so routine. This way we're left hanging--to make our own conjectures as to what really happened to Sherman. This ending could be construed in many different ways, as it is now. Let him jump, and the story's over.

There's a phrase that keeps running through my head. "Be careful what you wish for." I think it could be applied to Ginny's frog, as though someone had wished for something through this frog and then couldn't shake the giver.

Lorrie

If I can remember to do it, I will check "silky" with my students. They will most likely be able to define it.

~Maryal

In some indigenous cultures it is believed that healers (fixers) have only so much energy available for fixing. they are mentored to choose wisely when to use their power and in extreme belief systems it is believed that each time one uses the power it takes an equal amount of power away from the self- thus one can fix to death.

Perhaps that is where Sherman went wrong,he did not choose wisely- fixing foot massagers and bringing women back to life- both done with equal abandon.

Or, perhaps Sherman knew, and whatever went before (the men beating him up) he just went on a fixing frenzy a kind of healer's suicide. Intersting behavior for a savior. And for a brief gasp I thought, ooh I can't post that, people with think...but then a quick examination of the history of man- didn't most of our saviors (cept of course Mother Theresa) die young and/or die from their saving.

"a kind of healer's suicide"----wow, YiLi, I really like that!

SILKY---According to my students, street usage of "silky" means SHADY with a touch of the silk suits that Mafia members, Pimps, and well paid government men might wear, not to mention CEO's. Students assured me that "silky-looking" meant "shady-looking."
_____________________________________
Here's the sentence from the beginning of the story, "Beside his shop was a seldom used alley and above his shop lived a man by the name of Sherman Olney whom Douglas had seen beaten to near extinction one night by a couple of silky-looking men who seemed to know Sherman and wanted something in particular from him" (121)

And from close to the end of the story:

Douglas gave nervous glances this way and that across the park. "This has something to do with why the men were beating you that night, doesn't it?"


"They were from the government or some businesses, I'm not completely sure," Sherman said. "They wanted me to fix a bunch of things and I said no" (133).
_______________________________



I think the story ends exactly where it should, with Sherman teetering on the brink of jumping. I am almost certain that he jumps, but that is me.

~Maryal

"Mafia members, Pimps, and well paid government men might wear, not to mention CEO's. "

Not much difference between those four, is there, Maryal? They all look a little "silky" to me. <sly grin>

I am reading along with all the posts and enjoying them----everything seems to be getting in the way of my getting back to the library to pick the book. But until I do, keep talking, everyone, it is really interesting.

Phyll----Hehehehehehehehe. You gave me my second good laugh of the day!

To me, shady is someone who looks like they might be a crook.

But silky is a con man or woman. Not necessarily on the wrong side of the law, not necessarily living a life of crime in that way. But someone with considerable charisma and totally without conscience. Someone who can lead others astray and/or break their hearts. Extremely manipulative.

Silky- smooth- funny I got the picture of a jockey at the home stretch when I read the description. It was a word that drew me into the story- a not so common descriptor and the word gave rhythm to the sentence. Reminded me about the part in writing called selection of the most appropriate word.

But then again a silky looking man beating one into extinction...used to to be the silky guys had "cotton and wool" standing behind them to do the dirty work. I also am intrigued by the word extinction- not beaten to death, beaten to a pulp, etc. but to EXTINCTION, just like the wooly mammouth.

Maryal, thank you for that insight, who knew? Silky, now I've learned something! MaryPage and Phyll (hahahah, Phyll) great insights and MaryPage, I hadn't thought of that: the con man angle, all this time I was "assuming" that they were the good guys but what is good about beating somebody half to death? In that way I was taken in too, government, silky!

And then YILi Lin's EXTINCTION ....I must admit I did not pick up on any of this the first go round.

In fact, I read....so sloppily, I guess, I would say fast, but I believe the right word IS sloppy, that I missed entirely about the sandwich shop, and it's stated in the very first sentence as Maryal has shown, and I loved that about the balance there. That's well said!!

But this new thread you've suddenly picked up, about the strange uses of precise words, are there any others you now see that you didn't, that you now wonder about at all?

I'm going back and look thru again, myself.

YiLi Lin, I LOVED this, too about the other cultures where the healer can "fix himself to death," and Sherman, when he went on a "fixing frenzy" (that's a good explanation of what he was doing because he did seem kind of haphazard there, didn't he)? and your "Perhaps that is where Sherman went wrong, he did not choose wisely- "

NOW this makes me think again and ask:

WHO is this story about? The Foreword says that the short story "it is a fiction in which society is surmised as the darkness around the narrative circle of light," and ""the real stuff, the important human secrets embedded in stories..."

OK, whose story is this, would you say?

Is it Sherman's or is it Douglas's? Is it a tragedy (Sherman) or not?

I can't see that Douglas has grown any in this story, should I expect him to? I think it might be interesting to watch all the other short stories we come to in this reading and see just how much character development we DO find and which short story has the most?

Not that it's a contest, but it interests me, does it interest any of you all?

Are there other words we have missed, since we now know the author's insistence on the right word conveying such meaning.

---

Doctorow also quotes Frank O'Connor as saying that what "makes the short story a distinct literary form is its intense awareness of human loneliness."

Would you say that this story achieved this goal?

Then Doctorow speaks of "the modern short story is a genre that deals with members of 'submerged population groups,' excluded by one means or another from living in the certainties of civilization-- people of a minority, outsiders, marginalists, for whom society provides no place of means of self-respect."

I think that's fascinating, who in this story is marginal, and who is not, in your opinion?

ginny

Well instead of a spell check I believe I need a brain check but have edited that post above to try to say what I'm trying to say, finally!

Minimalist R Not Moi

Ginny----No, you are more like Faulkner than Hemingway. Definitely not a minimalist!

Doctorow also quotes Frank O'Connor as saying that what "makes the short story a distinct literary form is its intense awareness of human loneliness."

---

You can almost feel the depth of this mans despair. He is isolated and desolute ; quite alone with his "gift". You can sense his lonliness and his withdrawal from society. I think that the author has done a superb job with this and wonder if he, himself, saddled with the experience of having to restore others became overwhelmed and wrote this as his "fix."

Until the wife showed up, I had thought this was an exceptional story about communication between men. and in your question whose story is it? i would have been tempted to suggested we were reading an interesting device and it was both sherman and douglas' story.

But on reading the posts and reconsidering, I think it is a story about us- the reader- we are the darkness- the rabble- we are those beseaching fixing and yes the story is about us- and sherman- well our need just extinguished his circle of light. aha- the extinction!?

an interesting question for self-reflection is how do each of us identify - if sherman were around our neighborhood, what would we ask him to fix?

but not just now . . . . chained to the television set and the great frenzy in Florida. See you all later

Claire

mhmhmhm? My bad knee!

I wonder if our author is not writing an editorial in his own fashion. The world wants a fix for every-thin thing! When one is found, people work it to death and keep after it until "the fix" is dead or useless and then another "fix" has to be found. The yellow/orange lights coming toward "the fix" were warnings of the end unless something new--a new fix--came along. There was a Depression and then Social Security and Medicare and what next. There were people wanting to live longer, so there were vaccines and antibiotics and transplants and now cloning and what next. There were typewriters and computers and the internet and we cover the world and it still isn't enough.

We have a government that has worked to fix its own world, but there are problems. The whole world looks to us for fixes to the problems of other countries--calling and calling for our help until we are about to drain all our man power and monetary power into the deserts of the world and end up as the empty sea. Are we going to "fall" as the other "worlds of China and Egypt and Greece and Roman and Spain and Russia and..." because we can not find another fixer in our lives?

You should never have let me get a hold of that story! It might be just another "serio-comic" story by our author for us to enjoy.

Wynona

These are such good points you've all made, I got up thinking about the car ride back to the store with Douglas and his harridan wife.

Remember the businessman who threw his briefcase between some parked cars and then threw himself after to get out of the way? How we laugh at just such slapstick, I've seen the same scene in the movies, but in real life would it happen just that way?

I'm trying to think if I were walking across the street with a briefcase and a crazy driver came careening toward me if I would throw the briefcase first and get it out of harm's way first before I threw myself. I don't think so, despite all the movies I've seen to the contrary. Is the author making a sly statement here as well? A wry comment?

One of the really good things I like about the short story form is it follows what for me is important in writing, and that is that every word counts. If you combine that with the author's stated preference for the chosen correct word, I think it's probably possible to read a lot into it, but who knows how it was intended?

---

Wynona, you got the book! And you are the first to tranlsate the "The yellow/orange lights coming toward "the fix" were warnings of the end unless something new--a new fix--came along."

Yellow orange lights, what might they be? Like the old joke, maybe it's an oncoming train? hahahaha or stars? Or as I believe Andrea pointed out, were they in the East?

Space ships, even Douglas asked Sherman WHAT he was?

Now THIS is such a true statement Wynona made:

"When one is found, people work it to death and keep after it until "the fix" is dead or useless and then another "fix" has to be found. "

Now there you are, that's MY major problem in life, I wonder if it's the author's, too, or somebody close to him.

What would you say the story is? Is it fun? Is it horrible?

YiLi Lin, I loved your comments, "an interesting question for self-reflection is how do each of us identify - if sherman were around our neighborhood, what would we ask him to fix?"

Now that's like Maryal's if Jesus came today would we recognize him?

Would you have serious problems for Sherman to fix or would you turn him loose on the barn roof or the bad plumbing?

Would it be health? No wonder in Fairy Tales there are always three wishes! Even in the new movie Bedazzled, there are a limited number of wishes. I wonder what those old fairy tales knew that I don't, and that Everett did: nothing in excess, perhaps?

Wouldn't you love to HAVE three wishes, not to mention Sherman's unlimited number?

Peace on Earth, Cure for Cancer? Unlimited financial resources? Well we laugh about it because we know it's not going to happen.

How about a long life? Did you see that they are remaking The Picture of Dorian Grey into another movie? I always loved that thing.

And it would seem that if you had unlimited wishes you could undo the previous fix and fix it, not sure tho that's what happens in this story? In Douglas's case, the fixing went on and on, but his marriage was not "fixed," and his sandwich shop did not become prosperous: who wants to work in a sandwich shop all their lives? His wife did not get "fixed," Sherman's talent seems....curiously selective?

Maybe Douglas did not ask that Sherman fix his marriage, his shop, his life, his finances.

Wonder if he thought about it on the bridge? Once he realized what he had there.

This is wonderful, YiLi Lin:

"I think it is a story about us- the reader- we are the darkness- the rabble- we are those beseaching fixing and yes the story is about us- and sherman- well our need just extinguished his circle of light. aha- the extinction!? "

But at the end he's still there, he still has the chance of redemption, he can still not jump, and perhaps the fact that Douglas does NOT make a move to save him says something, too, do you think?

I don't think he did jump. I think if the author wanted him to jump our last view of Sherman would have been on the way down.

ALF said, "You can almost feel the depth of this mans despair. "

I can feel despair in all of them. Douglas and his quiet hell, his wife in her horrid take charge harridan guise, all of them are in despair. And the one "bright light," is likewise in despair. Maybe Despair is what the story is really about.

But why the comedy?

Maryal: Oh no! Really? Faulkner? Oh jeepers have never appreciated Faulkner, but like him better than Hemingway. Does he have a verbose style then?

Why IS it, Maryal, you teach writing, why IS it that some people take forever to get a thought out, use too many words, while others seem capable of conveying their thoughts succinctly? Is it always editing?

I still do not have an answer for the importance of the "person" in this piece? You know everything is written from a point of view. It can be the person in the story himself, in which case the pronouns are usually "I thought, I saw him," and those are called "first person" pronouns.

I used to love teaching prounouns, but you can see I would not have gone over altruistically, I used to say in the family of pronouns:

I'm FIRST
YOU're SECOND
And He, She, or IT is THIRD.


hahahaah, but those are the "personal pronouns."

It makes a difference if the story is told from my perspective, as in FIRST PERSON, "I hated the way he looked at me...the wallpaper was watching me every night."

And in the more remote "THIRD PERSON," "She often hated the way he looked at her and she thought the wallpaper was watching her every night."

Sometimes the point of view is from an Omnicient Third PERSON who narrates the story.

And there are more, but those are all I remember. What would be some of the other narration possibilities?

When the author switches persons around, then the reader takes notice, JimVA mentioned some time back a shift, I need to go reread once again looking for person and point of view and shifts and unusual use of vocabulary words and see if I can persoanlly come to my own conclusion of what, if anything, was meant by this story.

Such fun, I love the short story, and I'm so glad you all are here to share your thoughts on it.

ginny

Interesting that you mention "redemption", Ginny. The next story that Lorrie has selected for discussion (see the schedule up above) is very much about redeption also.

Isn't that what a "fix" is supposed to provide, our Charlie? I keep thinking of Paul Simon:

A man walks down the street,
He says, Why am I soft in the middle now?
Why am I soft in the middle?
The rest of my life is so hard!
I need a photo-opportunity,
I want a shot at redemption!
Don't want to end up a cartoon,
In a cartoon graveyard .....

ginny

I feel like Sherman is the outsider in the story. He admits that he is homeless. The homeless people are the parts of our human family that we wish did not exist.

Perhaps, it is because of his homelessness that Sherman loses himself in fixing objects and people. It is only when he is "doing" that he finds any sort of self respect.

I think the story makes us think of the "outsiders" around us. Should we really be treating them as outsiders? Unfortunately, these feelings spill over to the elderly and the sick. If not careful, we don't include them. This is a good time of year to remember all of the people who need to become a part of our families.

HATS

Let's think about the title. It is "The Fix" and not, say, "The Fixer" or "The Man Who Fixed Things." I think we see at the very end of the story the only possible FIX for Sherman. The throng of people yelling Fix us, Fix us! is closing in on him. He cannot fix all their problems; some of their problems he does not want to fix (see the beginning of the story where he said NO to the silky-looking men) perhaps because it would be wrong to do so.

The only possible fix for Sherman is to jump, and Douglas who has seen what Sherman has done up close seems to understand. Just before he puts his feet on the brink, Sherman looks at Douglas who NODS. This has to be a nod of agreement for the only possible FIX for Sherman who has become "the empty sea."

After the story closes, he jumps.

Ginny---Re: writing. You have no problems. You have lots and lots to say, no trouble generating ideas. The hard part of teaching people to write is getting the ones who can't come up with anything to say to come up with something.

~Maryal

I haven't read this story, but I've been reading your posts. I've been thinking about the title: "The Fix". A fix is something an addicted person absolutely needs to keep going. It takes more and more of the "fix" for the addict to get the high he or she wants. Is it possible Sherman had an overdose of his fix, thus the ending of the story?

Mal

Good point, Mal. I've been thinking about that title, too. It sounds to me like Sherman may have become so addicted to "helping" others that it took more and more to satisfy his cravings. So when he finally can bear it no longer and finds it impossible to ever get the ultimate "Fix," he jumps!

Nah, that's too simple!

Lorrie

The word fix has about as many connotations as there are people taking part in this discussion:

to fix in place, to fix a photo, to fix or stare at something, to fix a location, to fix the blame, to fix a time or place for a meeting, to fix a meal, to fix a pet, to fix to leave, to fix "a parking ticket," and probably a dozen more answers if we just thought about it.

What a word to leave us open to interpretation!

There are two places in the story that cause me to question:

1. (p. 130) "Sherman sat quietly at the counter and fixed whatever was brought to him....And while people waited for the repairs to be done, they ate sandwiches, and this appealed to Sherman (Should this be Sherman or Douglas?), though he didn't like his handyman's time so consumed. But the fact of the matter was that there was little more to fix in the shop.

2. (p. 133. paragraph 5) "Douglas at first thought Sherman was making cryptic reference to the men who had been beating him that night long ago...." How long ago could that have been?

And I thought of a third question: (p. 134) "Sherman looked down at the peaceful water below....no one could hope to survive. He looked at Douglas. Douglas nodded." Was Douglas ready to be rid of Sherman?

Wynona

Wynona---I'll focus on that last quote you provide with the "peaceful water" and Douglas's nod. I think it is important that the water is described as peaceful, a word with good connotations. Also it seems to me that Sherman's nod indicates his understanding of Sherman's choice.

You are right--one of the fun things about short stories is the different readings they can support. Sometimes even the author can't tell you what happened after the story ends.

Maryal

Wynona- your example to fix a photo struck a cord- when we "fix" photo's we are immersing them in solution that makes them stable in the light, makes them as permanent as the chemical process allows. I wonder now if the requests for fixing were really requests to photograph moments in time, no plea for no change, have things remain as they are- a permanent record.

Ginny- a question not a challenge- why is NOT jumping the redemption? Is there any redemption in the leap?

Somehow I've not been reading the posts 'til today. Trying to catch up. Great thoughts and I am so sorry I got behind.

I, too, wondered about that nod. Could be that Douglas was understanding the choice? Kind of left it up in the air for me. One definition of "nod" is indication of recognition. I do not think it was the "falling asleep nod".

Someone mentioned Jesus and his ministry of healing, etc. as I was reading. Jesus retreated when he needed that respite as far as I can tell from the Gospel narratives.

~Marj

Here's a challenge for you today....

Who in the world today could you consider a FIXER?

Know what I was thinking yesterday?

Alan Greenspan

He FIXES our economy, our finances, our lives, with a nod, himself.

Back when I've read about that NOD in the book!

ginny

OK here is an incredible thing, to me. ON my umpteenth reading just now I am seeing things, thanks to you all, and our conversations here, that I had not.

For instance, Sherman, after being beaten, actually said, it's related in third person, "Sherman Olney crumpled to the ground, moaning and clutching at his middle (cute word there for stomach), saying he didn't have it any more."

He didn't have IT anymore? Not then....

Now Wynona asks how long a time period has elapsed? Seemed to me like he got IT back soon enough, didn't he? Immediately with the Juicy Fruit.

So are we to think IT has different levels or what are we to think by that remark?

---

Douglas says on page 124, "I'm a good judge of character." Is he? I would say he made a fairly poor choice in his wife, wouldn't you? She calls him a fool. THAT marriage needed fixing, it made him miserable, why wasn't IT fixed?

---

There is a LOT of nodding in this piece? A LOT, when you go back and look for NODDING you see it springing out everywhere.

Douglas nods on page 124 when Sherman says he should get some sleep. A nod in assent. Sherman nods on page 123 when asked if he can fix other things.

Wouldn't it be something if this was so well written that the nods occurred at important places?

Again, I don't have time to look them all up, "This is crazy, " Douglas says on page 132, and Sherman nodded.

THEN the BIG NOD on page 134. All along nodding has meant unspoken and chummy agreement.

"Sherman looked at the peaceful water below. It was a long drop, which no one could hope to survive. He looked at Douglas. Douglas nodded."

I am supremely disappointed here in Douglas. He's not a kindly person who helps others, he's weak. He's weak in the face of his wife, he's weak in the face of goodness, he's Peter and the cock crowing. He's afraid. He's worse than Peter, Peter loved Jesus, Douglas loves nobody.

He let Sherman down with that stupid nod.

---

YiLi Lin, I've put your excellent question in the heading, but "redemption," in my opinion, is to change for the better. In this instance no change for the better can occur if you're dead, floating on the river.

Boy the longer I read this thing the madder I get at Douglas. He had HIS chance to return a FIX and he did not take it, he did that stupid understanding nod, he did not HELP when it was his turn.

I would hope, if I were writing the piece, that Sherman despite being depleted....check it out: he was depleted when they beat him up but he warmed in Douglas's care, right? Then he got depleted again, right?

But where was DOUGLAS when he was needed? Oh boy what a friend, running right along side, nodding.

Douglas deserves his fat wife. I now feel the same about him that I did and while it does appear, as Maryal says, that he did jump, I'm going to hold out hope that he didn't and maybe somebody else who WAS worthy of BEING fixed quietly stepped forward from the crowd and restored order. I find it hard to believe "thousands" could mass on each side of a bridge, with no police being called, that's not possible, either.

Shame on Douglas.

More on your posts in the next post?

disgusted

I want to start out by saying that you all made such good points that I hope I don't inadvertently mix them up in trying to copy them here, that happens when you use a long string of quotes in a clipboard setting like ClipMate, so if that happens I apologize, but these quotes jumped out at me, WHOEVER said them they're great!

I thought HATS made several good points about the "Marginal Life."

I feel like Sherman is the outsider in the story. Perhaps, it is because of his homelessness that Sherman loses himself in fixing objects and people. It is only when he is "doing" that he finds any sort of self respect. I think the story makes us think of the "outsiders" around us.

I liked that take on it, it's one of the joys of the short story genre that you can take a long leisurely look at one particular segment of the disenfranchized or a parody of same, and apply it to your own life, I think that's well done, HATS, thank you for that.

---

Maryal said so many good things, I need to quote her twice: their problems he does not want to fix (see the beginning of the story where he said NO to the silky-looking men) perhaps because it would be wrong to do so. "

Now THERE'S an aspect we did not consider, but Charlie mentioned some time ago, if you fix one thing it changes others, remember the Back to the Future movies? But this, to me, is subtly different, in that Sherman appears to be considering the rightness or wrongness of each fix, the JUDGMENT calls that Sherman might be making? We sort of saw Sherman as a sort of.....what? Just do it kind of guy. I didn't think about the possibility of judgment calls and now I think we should.

What do you all think about that?

---

The only possible fix for Sherman is to jump....who said this one, Maryal again?

Do you agree with this?

---

"The Fix". A fix is something an addicted person absolutely needs to keep going...Malryn

Now there again is a definition of FIX that I had overlooked, that's wonderful, yes, hooked on the FIX, great thoughts, that's really good, thank you, Malryn, I missed that aspect of it. Who is hooked here?

---

Lorrie said, that he was so addicted to "helping" others ...Here again, we need to look at Sherman, he's been presented as sort of a reluctant savior, fixer, or what not, things in the world need fixing, we all know: what if a person came along who could do all that, would that be good or bad?

Obviously the author thinks we would crucify again.

WE as a people are not good enough to embrace this, that's what MaryPage said in the very beginning, GREED, and she was irritated, but I'm just now seeing that intent on the author's part! MaryPage was way ahead of me, here.

Wynona, I loved your, "What a word to leave us open to interpretation," and all the definitions, that was great. And your point about, "How long ago could that have been? " and the "peaceful water" thing, great stuff.

---

YiLi Lin: What a question! I put it in the heading. Is there any redemption in the leap?

What do you all think? WHAT?? I say no. NO redemption just a cessation. To me, it's a defeat.

---

MarjV's comment about" One definition of "nod" is indication of recognition" sent me on a total hunt thru the book with my own conclusions in the post above.

That indication of recognition makes me furious, oh boy, what a friend, understands you and wants to urge you to jump.

Makes me ill.

So what are we saying here, that our Doug got overwhelmed in the face of all this power and only cared about being "understanding?" Is that what friends are for?

To just say, ok yeah sure, right, go ahead and jump and never to say what they really think?

Save me from such "friends," and benefactors. I don't need them.

---

How about THIS angle? Sherman, having been "sent" to Douglas, fails, because Douglas, despite SEEING the miraculous changes that occur in his OWN Sandwich Shop, never is capable of wanting, or indicating the desire for, or whatever vibes it takes for Sherman to pick up on when he decides to make the "fixes," (and no, he does NOT always wait to be asked, either). Since Douglas is incapable of wanting the the REAL change which is necessary in his own life, thus Sherman is distraught. He's empty. He's done all he can do, but Douglas is still patsying along, nodding and sympathizing, and not doing a damn thing useful to either one of them. Poor Sherman, he can raise the dead, and he can fix anything but Douglas.

So Sherman, no particular tower of strength himself, overwhelmed by his failure with Douglas's life so that the crowds get to him at last (WHEN DOES he start feeling overwhelmed? It's not like this is a new thing, people wanting him to FIX. Nobody's BEATING him now?) gives Douglas ONE last unstated chance: in tears he climbs out on the edge of the bridge with the "peaceful" (my foot, when's the last time you looked down on any body of water they saw fit to put a bridge over? Peaceful is NOT what you see when you look down)...and looks over to Douglas one last time for....for.....for.....? And what does Douglas do?

I now hate Douglas!

ginny

By the way, is this a magic story or something, every time I read it I see something new?

Those yellow-orange lights? They are torches. Page 134: "Douglas turned to see the night dotted with yellow-orange torches." Essences of Dracula, the town outside the castle with torches lit?

Does the story keep fixing itself?

ginny

Now I am confused, Ginny.

I must get back to the story, and read it again.

I confuse everybody, Pat, don't give it another thought! hahahaha

It's just my own theory.

(I AM going to ask the author if he jumped, tho. He may not answer, which is certainly his privilege, and he does not like to discuss his own work, but I want to know.)

ginny

NOpe ginny, not confusion, you continue to be evocative- keeps us young!

Okay so rambling down the philosophical path- no redemption in the leap because one is dead and therein is cessation- hmm- well guess that depends on how one sees death- me? i think death is an active process, a verb. After the verb though the big question usually is- is there a direct object?- an afterlife. Well science and nontraditional spiritual belief systems are getting closer and closer in agreement- in a way there is no beforelife-thus no afterlife...it is all life. So perhaps for Sherman there is a self redemption in giving up his present form and moving on (even if to nothingness).

On the other hand, I am now pondering, when we speak of redemption whose redemption? If all in the present life is in some way intertwined, the people requesting fixing, douglas, his wife, etc. all had their lives changed or focused in some way because of sherman. then I wonder does the action of one person in the mix affect the lives of the others. perhaps Sherman leaping is an act of redemption that will be played out in the life of another. Maybe one will learn to turn inward ask himself to fix himself. We are our own fixers.?

At first I liked Douglas because he saved Sherman from those bullies. Later, my mind changed becaused I felt Douglas just wanted to use Sherman. Douglas used Sherman to fix all the broken items in his shop. So, Sherman helped Douglas to save money. Douglas...counted his savings. No more electricians. No more plumbers. No more repairman of any kind."

Each time I read the story, I saw Douglas as a weaker character. I did not feel as upset with his wife. I would have felt the same way. "How could you leave just anybody, a stranger, in our shop?" I just feel that Sheila is a strong woman, and Douglas is a weaker man. He doesn't think about the safety of the shop until their driving back to the shop, and Sheila tells him what to think.

However, as a couple, they were just two selfish people. I guess everyone in the story suffered a type of need or hunger. Everyone in the story is needy; Therefore, no one can serve anyone else.

If he were a stronger person, there is no way he would have stood idly by and just watch Sherman decide to jump. Douglas had no chutzpah!

HATS

Just got the book --- but had to first honor a deadline for submitting a piece to the writers' group.

Sorry about the delay. We are still discussing The Fix, right ? Will hop right to it. Traude

TRAUDE! YAY! You have ONE day, today, because tonight the next short story goes up, and Charlie says it's about redemption! What a perfect seque, I'm not sure Lorrie planned it that way, in fact, I know she chose it before I chose The Fix, so we can really enjoy this slide over into the new one!

ONE DAY, Traude!!!!! Hope you're feeling better!

WHAT do you think??

---

Pat W: What do you think, now that you have reread it?

---

YiLi Lin: Provocative thoughts, as per usual!

i think death is an active process, a verb. After the verb though the big question usually is- is there a direct object?- an afterlife.

So perhaps for Sherman there is a self redemption in giving up his present form and moving on (even if to nothingness).

Whose redemption....?

Perhaps Sherman leaping is an act of redemption that will be played out in the life of another?

Maybe one will learn to turn inward ask himself to fix himself. We are our own fixers.?



Those are marvelous thoughts, I see it depends upon your own philosophy of life.

We've gotten a lot out of this story, loads and loads of people said "You can't discuss a short story for 10 days, especially one with barely that number of pages," but they were wrong. A true reader can discuss a cereal box for a month, and it's something you can learn HOW to do and I do think that we here in the Books have perfected it to a fare thee well, so if you're looking in and saying well heckers, all that over this one little story, heck, jump ON BOARD, remember, it's all about what YOU think, YOUR reaction to the story and YOUR ideas, as long as YOU can back up what you're saying with text from the piece.

So here on the thread of life before and after death, and whether in the continuing "life" a suicide might be considered "redemption," I can see this entirely depends on your own slant. If the "life" of man depends entirely on the soul then I can't see how destroying the shell is redeeming, rather a defeat, rather a giving up.

I once took a course in the literature of India, out of curiosity and the necessity of getting some more hours. It was fascinating in that it included quite a bit about the religious philosophy and the caste system then in effect. In India, at the time, a person would live out THIS life and if he were "good," he might hope to continue in a higher caste next time, but if he rebelled against his fate (which he had caused, himself, by being "bad," in a former life, he would not improve and might decline.

That makes sense. In that continuum of life, destroying the body would send him BACK down to a lower stance.

I am not familiar with enough religious thought to enlarge, how would some religions which do believe in continuing life of the soul over eons in different bodies, take this suicide?

On second thought, I don't think I'll ask the author if Sherman jumped. For one reason, I don't want to know. For another reason, the story is stronger when it's left in the air. I love the way the man writes and the real joy of the short story collection is its ability to introduce us to authors we might not have heard of.

---

Hats said I just feel that Sheila is a strong woman, and Douglas is a weaker man. ...

OK here again, here we go? How strong IS Sheila if she remains tied to this ....weakling. Could, in fact, the wife be getting some of her "questionable" strength by being contemptuous of Douglas? I mean really how much strength does it take to run somebody else down? If he's that bad why isn't she doing something besides staying home and eating?

She does not fool me. A woman whose weight is so much it deflates the car seat? I don't see any strength, I think they are both losers.

. Everyone in the story is needy; Therefore, no one can serve anyone else.

That is wonderful and if we were going on, it would be in the heading, thanks so much.

---

We read a book. We see ideas in the book, the poem, the short story. WE have our own ideas on what those ideas may mean, based on our own path and experiences in life. We try to express those ideas.

It takes a LOT for somebody to articulate what they feel about the ideas in a book or essay or short story or poem, and it frightens people, especially if they don't realize that it's just a form, it's just a format.

Literary criticism has a lot of tenets, research and background knowledge and stuff to bring to the table, but at the bottom of all of that, what MATTERS in a Book Discussion is the insights you all give from your own varied experiences in life.

So don't be afraid to say what you think, because when you add YOUR opinions, you add immeasurably to the entire experience for us all.

It has nothing to do with "education," or "experience in English courses," it has ONLY to do with how you feel.

Looking forward to hearing from Traude, Pat W, and any and all of the rest of you and the new story going up tonight, Good For the Soul," sounds like a natural segue to me!

Thank you all for your fantastic input here, any last thoughts???

ginny

I have changed my thinking about Douglas. Maybe not as weak as you might think, but definitely a temptor, as in Devil, when he kept nodding and giving Sherman the assurance and go ahead, with the final nod at the bridge.

But I still think that the despair that Sherman felt, did not call for a jump from the bridge, if he did jump.

And thank you Ginny and Lorrie for a thought provoking discussion... I start these discussions and so often end up with such entirely different ideas.

Pat W, because you personally feel that any despair can be worked out of?

I like your slant on the Temptor....get thee hence, Satan? Good stuff!

ginny

I do believe that suicide is not the answer...

Sherman needs someone besides Douglas, as friend. Sherman needs someone who would show compassion, love, understanding of his empty feeling, and the time and dedication to stay close to Sherman in his dispair

And Douglas can't do that, because Douglas is a user and Douglas's own despair is greater ....he's a black hole, and thus he uses everybody else for his own needs, even his wife.

And she uses him, too. And I'm of the type of thought that no matter how great your own despair is, you don't consciously use others or abuse others to get your own way. I do believe Douglas enjoyed his little "nod," I get a frisson of excitement there, Douglas for all his...what do you call it? Downtroddenness? Is the real villain here, his choices, like his wife's, are to elevate themselves by stepping on the backs of others.

He's passive aggressive, she's aggressive, same result, same difference.

ginny

I am reading the story once again and anxiously awaiting the start of the new story. As I read the story again, I wonder is it also about how we judge people. Do we such them by their appearance, by their intelligence, by their talents or by some other criteria?

This thought came to me as I read the dialogue between Sheila and Douglas. Douglas thinks Sherman is an honest guy because he never looks at the till. Sheila is suspicious of Sherman because he never leaves the shop.

I am still questioning myself about how I determine a person's character. Are they shady because they appear to be alone? Are they looney because they have suicidal thoughts or are they passive because they remain in bad marriages?

Perhaps, no one can ever be labeled one thing or the other. Maybe, Sherman did not even want to be labeled as a person who could fix every person's problems. No one really wants to be put on a pedestal because deep inside there is the knowledge that we are all fallible.

I think Sherman knew he had personal problems, and he felt if people discovered his problems, they no longer would accept him. I think these thoughts drove him to the bridge.

I believe that Sherman had lost his trust in people. The people he met did not see him as a person with feelings. They saw Sherman as just another object. In a way, they saw him as a robot who could speak and fix, but who did not have a heart. Like the straw man in the Wizard of Oz, we all want a heart. Without a heart, whats the use of living.

HATS

Oh HATS - it is so easy to fall into character labeling. Not an easy habit to break.

I was just looking at the end of the story again. The yellow-orange torches gave me a feeling of Klu Klux Klan type activities! Scarey in feeling. I missed that sentence and thus missed realizing it was a night event.

It states Douglas was pushing Sherman. We have no idea if Douglas knew the bridge was the goal. And since it is night, a body of water always looks peaceful in the night - unless of course, it is a hugely stormy night.

I sure did love all the ideas that could be presented on one focus over the 10 days. I am thinking Everett wrote this as an open ended parable. At least in some degress if understanding. As is New Testament parables, there are layers and layers you can uncover.

~Marj

Two thumbs is all I have, or I would give "The Fix" and Ginny even more thumbs up. Any short story that can provoke such interesting and diverse responses is a strong one.

Whatever else the story says, it tells us a great deal about human need. I, too, think that it resembles a parable in many ways, among them the characters who are very lightly developed. We know almost nothing about them. At the end of the story, whether he jumps or not, Sherman is completely drained, "I am the empty sea."

~Maryal

Yeah- this was great- I vote yes for the suggestion that there always be a short story under discussion in Books & Literature for 52 weeks of the year.

Hope to pick up with you all soon. I am heading "home" for the next few weeks and if all goes well, my son will be able to connect me to the internet from a remote location and I will rejoin you - if not I'll try to sign on from the library.

Is there a clickable link to the Sonata stories?

see ya soon.

Yeah Ginny Fabulous # 1 story, for # 1 gal! Thank you for this discussion and enlightening insight into human nature.

I am like you, MarjV. There are a lot of layers to this story. I feel like we have just begun to uncover all of Percival Everett's themes and meanings.

I had a fun time and hope that this will not be the last book of short stories that we read. Whenever I have time, I go back and read the posts. I gain lots of new thoughts. I guess it proves that stories are fun read with a group than alone.

HATS

hmmmm I guess I'l have to BUY the book..as a 2000 edition it's not likely to be in the used book market and three weeks isn't much of a lifetime for reading and discussing the stories here. The fix sounds very interesting.

Sure, Claire, why not? they are so interesting to read with a group. I can't get over the diversity of opinions with this one small story. Of course MINE is the one that counts.

YiLi Lin: You asked for a clickable for the Sonata magazine? Well, here's the URL address---I wasn't sure about making it a clickable.

http://www.sonatapub.com/

Lorrie

WHAT? YiLi Lin is leaving? Say not so! Yes you must come back in asap and the clickable to Sonata is always in the heading here so everybody can find it.

Where's our Traude? Traude if you don't get your thoughts together before tomorrow, it matters not, chime right in whenever you are ready, hope your eye is ok, with your insights into The Fix, by then we may think it means something completely different! hahahaa

I love the quicksilver form of our discussions here, and like HATS, I have really enjoyed our FIRST story but there are MORE to come, stay tuned, in a moment Lorrie will have the SECOND one put up and it looks a WINNER too.

Why thank you, Maryal and Andrea and everybody who enjoyed our first short story, I loved this especially, "Yeah- this was great- I vote yes for the suggestion that there always be a short story under discussion in Books & Literature for 52 weeks of the year. " hahaha, thank you and safe trip, YiLi Lin, so glad you all enjoyed this and we have lots more exciting ones to come, but YA ALL DONE GOOD with the first one.

I'm proud of you all. THREE thumbs up!!! hahahahaa

---

Heckers, Guys, so many breathtaking ideas here on the last moment, I hope they can seque over into the next one, too!

HATS asked, " How Do We Judge Character?"

"I wonder is it also about how we judge people. Do we such them by their appearance, by their intelligence, by their talents or by some other criteria? "

That's one thing I really have always loved about our Books here on SN, we can be our true selves and say what we think, you don't know what I look like or where I live and we like each other because of what we think or who we really are, I LOVE that aspect of this experience. Wonderful thoughts, Hats and MarjV, I hope we can continue looking at them.

"No one really wants to be put on a pedestal because deep inside there is the knowledge that we are all fallible," says HATS again. ZOWIEEEEEEEEEEEE! There she goes again, wow wow wow, what an insight.

Love it!

Now MarjV noticed something I missed, "It states Douglas was pushing Sherman," missed that one! I like Douglas less and less tho here he might have been trying to be helpful? Help him escape at his point. Nodding is different!

"And since it is night, a body of water always looks peaceful in the night," well again, not to ALL of us, water at night, especially if it's flowing fast, scares me! My husband however, just disagreed, saying it always looks peaceful! So there you are!

I agree with Maryal, too, who observed that "Any short story that can provoke such interesting and diverse responses is a strong one." I agree, I can see why it was named among the winners.



This is a great point Maryal made, I had not thought of it in this way while I was reading INTO the characters my own thoughts, "I, too, think that it resembles a parable in many ways, among them the characters who are very lightly developed. We know almost nothing about them. "

That's true and does that make it better or worse for our use, it certainly makes it more tantalizing. In retrospect, this is pretty cleverly written, after all, isn't it?

I've enjoyed it so far, too, let's see what Lorrie has in store for us tomorrow!

Claire, does the library not have the book? So far the stories we've read are very provocative! We would very much enjoy your insights here if you can get a copy.

But you can be sure of one thing, I agree with HATS, this "will not be the last book of short stories that we read."

Now, off to "Good for the Soul," chosen by our own Lorrie, I'm half afraid of this one because of the title, can't wait for tomorrow!

ginny

Ginny" You're half afraid of this one? No, say it isn't so.

Yep, the title scares me.

ginny

Sorry, dear friends, could not make this particular discussion.

But I promise to be right here tomorrow.

Slowly coming up from under, Traude

Are we ready for our next story? This is a delightful tale, and told with wry humor by the author.
Professor Gautreaux, at home with his Cajun characters, writes easily of the people in the Louisiana bayou area, and is never heavy-handed with his regional touches.

In this story, “Good for the Soul” we’re asked to consider the “humanness” of Father Ledet, and to withhold judgement on this hapless man until the very end.

Let us know how you like it!

Lorrie

A totally different author. Very ripe and luxuriant words. I like the fact that he is a very observant writer; he notices details. Some observations should have been better edited. I question the "nothing is so important in Louisiana" line, and having lived in Louisiana, I feel qualified to do so. He should have stopped at its being very important. Same page (the first) I question the dim light in the rectory being "holy" light. That is a bit overdone and unnecessary. Other than that, I thought it a very good yarn with a rather O. Henry twist to it. Nothing profound.

I find a tipsy priest pretty exciting for a change. After all, he doesn't seem too dangerous. Of course, hitting the vice president of the Ladies Guild frightened and worried me. He must drink a lot because his housekeeper is aware of his pastime.

Why does he drink? Has he lost interest in being a priest or is he overcome with the parishioners problems. I don't think I would be comfortable confessing my sins to a priest who has drank too much brandy, but then again, I might feel safer confessing because there is the possibility that he might forget everything I've told him.

I do wish the author had went farther developing the setting. I have never been to Louisiana, but I think it would be an intriguing place to visit. Well, in novels it always seems mysterious and exciting. For some reason, when I think of Louisiana, I think of Tennessee Williams and plays such as Streetcar Named Desire and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

HATS

Oh, Hats, what a wonderful post! I laughed so hard. Yes, one wonders if poor Father Ledet has a real problem, doesn't one? And like you, I'd be hesitant to go to Confession with a tipsy priest! But let's not forget that Father Ledet's drinking, although contributing strongly to the plot, is not the true focus of this story.

Gautreaux writes with authority of the Louisiana bayous and the Cajun people. Why not, he has lived and taught there for years!

Lorrie

Just for the record: Through various 12 step programs I've known, I have met several priests who had many problems with alcohol. It's not an unusual situation at all.

Mal

There was a famous Navy Chaplin, Father Martin, who had this problem and who convinced the Navy they had to stop treating drunks like psychos and start AA programs. He did, literally, a world of good that is ongoing. And he was the best speaker EVER!

And, sadly, a priest in a parish I attended eons ago announced his problem from the pulpit once. He went for treatment due to an Intervention held by the parish, his fellow priests, and his Bishop! People wept openly, because this extremely charismatic man was everyone's favorite.

Malryn and MaryPage, you answered my question. I wondered how many priests had a struggle with this problem. Lorrie, I did come to realize that this is not the main plot, but it sure does add zest.

I know Gautreaux is from Louisiana, but I just did not catch the feel of the place.

HATS

I have not read the story. But I want to jump in on the discussion of clergy and alchol. We are in a time of the world when that can be discussed. And where the gritty humanity of the clergy is a plus. For centuries they were on pedestals; and any minor/major problem was tsked at. Looked down on. Overlooked. So much more can a recovering alcoholic priest/pastor/layworker understand when they walk such a path; or any challenging life problem.

Now we have a blizzard day here in the Detroit area - perfect for reading the tale. Delightful since I don't have to drive anywhere.

~marj on monday

Hi, there, Mal! Welcome! Yes, the problem of alcoholism among the ranks of the priesthood is a fairly common one, and one wonders what it is about that particular life that would affect their drinking. Could it be the celibacy? The unutterable sadness they must feel after hearing human confessions day after day? I don't think the drinking of the wine at the celebration of Mass has anything to do with it. What is your opinion on this?

Mary Page, that was a touching story about the self-confessed priest. People tend to relate to this because most of the parishoners have a bond with their "pastor."

Hats: Yes, it would have been nice to have read a little more about the area in which this story was set. I'd like to read more about the bayou, for instance.

MarjV: Like you, we've got the wicked weather too here in Minnesota, so I'm settling in with a good book, also!

Lorrie

Hi! I just logged onto the Book Club and bought a copy of Best American Short Stories 2000. But when I looked at your schedule I can find only two slated for discussion: "Good for the Soul" and "The Fix." The great O.Henry story "Gift of the Magi," is not included in the book, nor "Sonata Magazine," and "The Third and Final Continent."

Jean BS: Hi, there! Welcome! In the paperback version of these short stories, you will find the story "The Third and Final Continent" on page 248, As you can see in the lower chart, this story will be discussed later.

Sonata is an emagazine that features writers from all over, and this Holiday issue is featuring several who are regular contributors to the Books, besides being Discussion Leaders, some of them. Their works will be discussed next week. http://www.sonatapub.com/

No, the "Gift of the Magi" is not in the book, Jean, but you can read it online or make a copy of it, by clicking the link way at the top of this page. We will be discussing that during Christmas Week.

Does this explain anything, or is it clear as mud, I hope not!

Lorrie

So far, I think this story is so funny. I know Cyde has not been a loyal churchgoer,AND I should feel badly about his immortal soul, but he is humorous. When he tells the priest that he already confessed about the "midget woman." I wonder what exactly did he confess. I'm left wanting him to tell that story.

I bet Clyde has led a pretty interesting life. It is pretty smart to start confessing your sins once you realize that Castro is on the way with an arsenal of bombs.

I'll have to get more serious. I am probably missing all the serious points of the story. Next time, I will be more churchlike.

HATS

Hats! No, no! A little humor is welcome here! To be perfectly honest, I thought this was a very funny story, too. Yes, wouldn't it be nice to be able to hear what else, besides the 'midget woman' that Clyde might have told Father Ledet?

A lot of people would say that Vic, the patrolman, was over-reacting with the priest, that he should have given Father Ledet a pass on arresting him for DUI, but I don't agree. I think Vic was doing his job exactly as he had sworn to do, and he was quite conscientious about that, even though the "perp" happened to be his own pastor! I say good for him!

Lorrie

The contributor's notes tells us that Mr. Gauteaux was feasting on butter beans when he appealed to his wife for her assistance. Note, in the first paragraph we have Father Ledet munching on those same butter beans making him feel like "an old spayed tomcat...". Doesn't spay refer only to the female cat? I thought the males were 'neutered" and the females spayed. I loved how his big ole hand could make a highball glass disappear. Is this how the author is setting the stage?

spayed tomcat... I just figured the author didn't know about animals..

doesn't have a TV tuned to the news channels. . . . But this election stuff will be over soon...maybe.. I did have one INSIGHT. How to judge a character in a short story. Since it's such a small formatt, everything must have a reason for being there. Now does this character perform a function? why is it there?

Claire

Alcoholism hits about one in four people all over the world, and has no reverence for priests or any person.

A great many alcoholics never take a drink in their entire lives, often due to having been raised with religious prohibitions against it. Thus you seldom hear of a Mormon or Moslem having to struggle with the addiction they very well may have been born with an endowment of.

Alcoholism is not something you acquire or become. You are born with it, and it is an extra burden for you to have to deal with while attempting to live your life productively.

Thanks, Lorrie. I'm glad I bought the book, but hope more of the short stories in it will be discussed later.

I concur with at least part of MaryPage's observation: that this "a very good yarn with a rather O. Henry twist to it." I had the same reaction to the form of the story - rather classic short story, I thought.

Although, not a developed part of the story - not the author's focus - it is interesting to speculate on the reasons for Father Ledet's problem with alcohol - and to speculate that it is related to his carrying the burden of confession from his flock. We of course are led to this speculation because of the story we have just read and find a thread there.

---

JeanBS: We will be discussing more of the short stories in the collection as we get into January - 4 that month, to be announced. So stay with us. We may even continue. Depends on the continued interest.

Charlie

Lorrie- You ask: "What is your opinion of the police officer, Vic? Do you think he was too officious?" Well, I for one, do think he was a bit over the top with the cuffing on the second arrest: "Them that deserves it gets mercy", Vic told Father Ledet as he has him spread his legs. I thought he was being just too holier than thou at this point and enjoying his authority more than he should.
Charlie

Exactly, there are no boundaries, geographic or otherwise, to indicate who will become an alcoholic and where, or even why.

Priests are often thought to be more susceptible than "ordinary" men and women; for one thing, the wine is always within reach, and for another, there is the personal loneliness to contend with, no small factor, that, and so I have been told. I am not sure what the presumed reason is in Father Ledet's case, only that the story hinges on it. As for officer Vic, I don't think he was overzealous. He did the sensible thing.

May all of you be warm and sheltered tonight. Traude

JeanBS, O. Henry's Gift of the Magi is now appearing in the Holiday issue of Sonata magazine for the arts in the Christmas section. Click the link to reach the index cover; scroll down and you will see it.

Mal

Hey, Charlie, it's good to hear from you. Yes, I thought Vic was pretty high-handed when he arrested Father Ledet, but on the other hand he didn't want people saying he wasn't doing his duty. After all, a little crowd had gathered there, including the mayor, and probably some of them were Protestant!

It sure looks like Professor Gautreaux doesn't really own a cat. Or is this an honest mistake anyone could have made? I don't think it was deliberate, do you?

Lorrie

JeanBS: Stick around, the best is yet to come. If you don't particularly like this story, stay in this discussion next week when we talk about some of the articles that other people from various discussions have written----we'd like to hear your opinions! Or, as Malryn has shown you, go over to Sonata magazine and read them for yourself. The complete story of Gift of the Magi is also there, as she says.

Lorrie

Traude brought out one of the reasons I thought might contribute to the alcoholism problem of the priest-----the complete lonliness of his vocation. I don't know any priests and am not in contact with them at all but I would think that the nature of their "job" would make a very lonely life. They lead a solitary personal life to some extent, while carrying the tremendous burden of the confessed inner secrets of their congregation. As someone said here--alcoholism is a disease that one is basically born with but I wonder if often, the circumstances of life pushes a person to make that first step. After all, you really don't know that you have a genetic tendency toward the disease until you take that first drink, and then another, and so on, do you?

Yes, Phyll, I agree wholeheartedly.

Another thing that many people might consider as a springboard for some priests' alcoholism is the arduous confessions they hear week after week. A friend of my brother's, a newly ordained priest, told him once that the feeling of despair and disillusionment that comes after hearing just one day's first confessions is shattering! It must be---to listen to men's foibles bared day after day in all their nakedness, I think I'd go mad.

Lorrie

Some of us can handle dealing with other peoples problems, and some cannot. I think I left reporting and went to accounting because I could not handle the uproar of emotions I felt about the situations I encountered. How I did love being alone in an office with my figures! Lonely or bored I never, ever get (except when waiting in a line or office), but overwhelmed by other peoples difficulties I do get.

I think it takes a special kind of person to be a priest, teacher, social worker, nurse, etc. I salute them and am thankful for them, but that sort of person I was not born to be. It is just not in me.

It doesn't take a "special" kind of person, it only takes a person that is blessed with benevolence for and identification with his fellow man. It takes empathy. Some are born with it, some are not.

A priest's life is a lonely road to walk. I don't wish to argue the language of "alcoholism" but---- his habitual and chronic consumption could have been due to the fact that he adopted the "spirits" in place of his own friends and family.

I am not a Catholic so I have never made confession such a focus in my life. As I read about Clyde on his death bed, I wonder isn't it also a burden for the confessor. Not only are you in pain and dealing with the acceptance of death, but you also have to deal with your past.

I wonder does a person have to confess and make every wrong deed right before he leaves this earth. In Clyde's case, his confession led to a lot of turmoil. When we confess and try to make the past right, our decision also touches the lives of others.

It reminds me of adoption. The parent or child might choose to find the other person, but maybe the other person does not want to be found. I just think there is more to confession than just relief for the soul.

HATS

ALF, I have trouble with your definition, because all through my life I have had a problem of having TOO MUCH empathy. I stay awake feeling sick over other peoples unhappiness and troubles. I bleed for the picked-upon, the underdog, the miserable, etc. I actually get physically ill at times over the terrible situations people totally unconnected with myself or my family get into. I want to help everyone and fix everything.

So I have a problem with the definition of the "helping" segment of our society having more empathy. The ones I have discussed this with have always told me that there is a LOT of burn-out in their line of work and that those who stick with it learn to compartmentalize and not take it home with them.

MaryPage: Which part of this definition do you NOT fit into???

It doesn't take a "special" kind of person, it only takes a person that is blessed with benevolence for and identification with his fellow man. It takes empathy. Some are born with it, some are not. You, obviously were born with it. I'll betcha dollars to doughnuts that you have always been this way.

Obviously you were born with this very emotion we call empathy. You sound very empathetic towards everyone and everything.

I was a practicing nurse for 35 years and I promise you that it goes HOME with you even if you deny that fact. It remains, tugging and pulling at you. Compartmentalize?? No, not for me anyway. Even though I was not physically there, in ICU, I spent many an evening and time off, THERE. I burned out 3 times and gravitated right back to practicing. Nurses are not the sharpest pencils in the box.

ALF, the part I do not fit into is being in a "helping" profession. I could not, COULD not, be a doctor, nurse, teacher, (maybe one on one or at the college level), social worker, priest, etc. I have to go off into a room by myself and work on books. What I am trying to say is that I do not believe those who can do these things have MORE empathy than I; I think they have the tools to handle their empathy better than I do.

Yes, you are right, I was born this way. I can remember being dreadfully upset in kindergarten if the group or members of the group picked on someone. I was extremely fortunate in that I was never in my life the picked upon. I guess because I was always white, petite, (not anymore!!!), pretty and well off. But I would spend my recess time with the one crying because he or she was left out. Then I would go throw up. Still do that, and the latter! I tell you, there is such a thing as TOO MUCH empathy! I literally feel the pain.

I have a friend who is an ex-priest. I have asked him about hearing confessions, and he said that most people's confessions are pretty much the same, that he was never shocked in the booth. He said the hard part about being a priest was celibacy and not having a family of his own. After ten years as a priest, he left and got married. He has never regretted it.

~Maryal

MaryPage - we must be sisters, lol. I would save the world if I could! I don't read too much of the newspaper - too upsetting!

FrancyLou

Hi, Francy Lou! Are you new to our Books and Literature site? If so, Welcome, and please feel free to join us here in discussing Tim Gautreaux's short story, "Good for the Soul."

This is great! Already we've heard two confessions. Both Mary Page and Francy Lou have admitted that they're both real "softies." Well, good for them!

Maryal: The facts are all too real. The Church is losing more priests every day, and the shortage is acute, right now. Many of them leave for the very reasons your friend did, and sadly, not enough young men want to make that sacrifice today.

Lorrie

Welcome Francy Lou I am also a softie from a young age and remember taking up for the picked on, ect. people as we traveled all over this Nation when I was growing up but I have learned not to be taken advantage of as so many will do when they think they can. Will be looking forward to your posts. Ginger

Lorrie, My Library did not have this book so did not read it so I have no thoughts on it, my Loss. Ginger

I felt the priest a lonely man. Not even a companion priest to call on for a game of chess, or whatever. Small towns, as this seemed to be, would lead to more of the lonely feeling. Priests, clergy, etc. can't really become good friends with parishoners. And I mean in the sense of a friend as someone you can share your thoughts, frustrations, joys.

What a sad episode when he must drink to accomplish the auto return. That was part of the path the author chose for his redemption. I understand that. And I understand his reaching for the "courage".

Spay: to remove the ovaries of a female cat. My youngsters were neutered yesterday - and thus are no longer young toms. I think it was the author's mistake - and the editors error overlooking. Or don't short story writers have an editor???? Maybe only in a collection that appears in a book!

~Marj

Faith and Beggorah - and don't ask me WHY but for some reason I read "Good for the Soul" with an Irish accent! Could have been the Catholicism; the priest; the booze - just seems to go along in the same trend. (Are we supposed to write 'politically correct because I write this without offense?) But it did bring back days of my childhood in the Catholic Church.

Now onto my thoughts on "Good for the Soul."



Anyway, I liked the story and, as with all good stories, to me, a message was delivered. Most of all it appeared founded in truth rather than fiction. I like that. Horace Greeley writes like that. No punches pulled.

First, I really knew that Priest - he was in our parish; he was waited on hand and foot by the Alter and Rosary Society. He even drove a Lincoln (but then again, all the priests in our parish drove Lincoln's) while we walked to church with holes in our shoes. And he liked his brandy much better than the preverbal wine served at mass. I knew all those woman in the Mr. Gautreaux's Ladies' Alter Society. They just teetered and giggled and blushed just to have the priest say "Hello" to them. I always found that sad.

I felt sorry for Vic and I respected him. Just as a priest dispenses undue punishment (20 Our Father's to Mrs. Acrenaeux, not for her sins, but for her asking him to retrieve the car), Vic's words to the priest had to be to Mirada, cuff and search him. He was upholding man's law and for that I admired him. He wasn't a wise guy; he wasn't obnoxious and most of all, he had respected and admired the priest but had to show him the error of his ways. I admired him especially when he took Father Ledet to watch as Mr. Barrilleaux was being treated as she cried with pain. Father Ledet had to heal souls, but Vic, in his law enforcement capacity, had to see mamed bodies.

Clyde! I loved Clyde. Clyde was a very real character in the book. I knew Clyde too. In fact, I was probably the female version of Clyde. He stored up all his sins knowing he would be given "one last shot" at redemption and forgiveness. I felt Clyde understood Father Ledet more than Ledet understood Clyde.

I recognize from reading the story however, that we may not be punished for the things we should be punished for, but end up being punished via another channel; as with the stolen car and just as "punishment is rendered" by earthly sources - "forgiveness is decreed" from a much higher source - and sometimes, as with Clyde's appearance in Church, recognized only by the sinner for the true meaning. How apropos that Clyde should be the vessel to dispense forgiveness to Father Leder.

Dolphindli@aol.com

Now, having said all that, and having a wonderful group to express both book opinions and personal opinions to, I personally feel that priests do not lead solitary lives; the are active on the golf course; they are active skiing and they are just plain active. The have little constrains and I would definitely question celibacy.

Having read all your great posts, I have to say: Ooh oh? If Mary Page and Francy Lou admittedly "softies" then I must be the skeptic. Having been raised Catholic, confession was a part of my regular regime. I personally have much more respect for nurses who have to tend wounds; hold hands and have to comfort both patient and family and of the truly caring neighbors who do not let you go without in a time of need. And, as far as listening to the "sins" of others, let me just say that I was a legal secretary for 40 years and that should be sufficient; if it happened, I heard it - name it; thieves; adultery; sodomy, child abuse; death - all that and Catholic too - but I survived.

Ok - enough said. Thanks for listening.

Once again, Dolphindli@aol.com

I agree with MarjV that Ledet was "a lonely man." It seems though, to me, that he is comfortable in his loneliness…

"Father Ledet breathed deep in the shadow of the statue of St. Francis. He took another long swallow [of brandy], glad that the assistant pastor was on a visit home in Iowa, and that the deacon wouldn't be around until the next afternoon. Two pigeons lit on St. Francis's hands as if they knew who he was."

As if they knew who he was...Would he have called that other priest to a game of chess if he were available? It seems that Ledet preferred his solitude and his brandy to that type of camaraderie. Why the mention (twice) of St. Francis in the stories opening paragraph? Any thoughts?

Dolphindi - You obviously have a sense of the "rightness" of Gautreaux' portrayals - and you make some good points (damaged souls and maimed bodies). Good post.


Charlie

"It seems though, to me, that he is comfortable in his loneliness…"

Picky here, but isn't it fun. There is lonely and alone, quite different. I prefer the latter.

Claire

Claire. You're right of course. Sloppy with words here in the East! The solitude, the comfort of being alone, is what I was after - not the loneli-ness.

I finally gave up on the library and bought the book. I read through again, as carefully as I could, the Father Ledet story. I came up with two more thoughts.

First: "nothing is so important in Louisiana as that first release from the sopping, buggy, overheated funk of the atmosphere." I didn't live in Louisiana but very close to it on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi and this quote pretty much says it all about the summer in that part of the country. That one phrase brought it all back.

Second: I have to say that I think as a person, this priest was weak. He was flat-out manipulated by Mrs. Clyde into returning the old car. If Clyde had gone ahead and died how could she have ever explained it to her brother that her husband had stolen and kept the car all those years and she didn't know it? I think she was more interested in her own agenda than she was in giving Clyde "relief" from his sin of thievery. She even called in a friend (Mrs. Barrilleaux) to apply the screws with a touch of blackmail because the Father felt guilty about crashing into her car and breaking her arm, anyway. I think he was willing to buy approval by doing what he knew he shouldn't and had to bolster himself with brandy in order to do it, even though he had to know that to drink again could be disasterous.

Anyway, I ended up with feeling sorry for the priest but with not a lot of respect for him as a person or as a cleric. Not exactly a strong leader for his flock.

But, I do like the author's descriptive writing. He can evoke a place or an emotion in just a few words.

These are really wonderful comments! I can see that the character of Father Ledet has impressed you all, negatively or not.

MargV thinks the priest is lonely and suffering in his solitude. And by the way, Marg, somebody goofed on that "spayed tomcat" bit, wouldn't you say?

Dolphindli: What a marvelous post!

Phyll: Yes, that's one other thing I like about this author. He has a wonderful sense of place in his descriptions of Louisiana. I've never been to that state, but he makes me feel as though I'm there. And his choice of words is wonderful, like "Saving a soul was soometimes like catching a dragonfly. You couldn't blunder up to it and trap it with a swipe of the hand."

And yes, someone mentioned that Vic, the patrolman, showed more integrity when he made Father Ledet watch Mrs. Barrileaux being treated at the emergency ward. Do you agree?

Lorrie

A quick aside here: Interesting reading in Salon about anthologies, which go back as far as 1915 with short story collections – Houghton Mifflin being the “800-pound gorilla” of the genre, according to the article. It is said there that HM even has a trademark on the phrase: “Best American” (as in “Best American Short Stories”)!!

A priest is charged with the job of dispensing compassion and clemency to the guilty. When he pleads for "mercy", Vic isn't as forgiving and states that "Them that deserves mercy gets mercy." WHO, now is in the vestments?

Charlie, that was a fascinating article in Salon about the proliferation of so many anthologies these days. I had often wondered just how some of the selections were made.

I'm sure this pre-selection of short stories, of anything, for that matter, is a great time-saver, but I don't know, I still like having a personal choice.

Anyway, i urge all you readers to read this article.

Freedom from Choice

Lorrie

It being my first experience as an online book club member, I totally, totally, totally enjoy all your posts - no, not posts but more emtional outlets, not only of the stories we read, but the association of life experiences it generates that you all share so graciously. Thank you - thank you. It really is fun. I have to do this also with IVillage where we are reading Pope Joan and with Coffeerooms where we are reading the Blind Assassin. Now I can't wait for our next story; but Good for the Soul certain evoked great discussion.

Also, thanks for the positive comments on my "emotional display" above written.

Chow for now. Dolphindli

I just posted here, not 2 minutes ago, but I now can see NO RECORD of the post.

Similarly, I posted last night, briefly, and I have no idea in what black hole the post may now repose. Is a puzzlement ... Trau

Well.....what is good for the soul, anyway? Confession? A little comeuppance? A little humble pie? Maybe it's just the tacit forgiveness of others who are fallible like yourself. Taking the confession of others is a lofty (and ultimately unrewarding) position to be in, one suspects. It seems that Father Ledet had lost his center. Father Ledet was mailing it in. Amongst the "fundamentalist garage mechanics, striptease artists, and spoiled depressed housewives" he got in touch with his soul again. Back in his pulpit, "he saw in the fifth pew, against the wall, something that was better than forgiveness, better than what he deserved, something that gave sudden light to his dull voice and turned bored heads up to the freshened preaching." Father Ledet had suddenly become a man that Clyde could listen to. Father Ledet had now been there and was now speaking a language that Clyde could understand.


Charlie

DOLPHINDLI, thank you for the links to the Pope Joan. I did not find a book discussion group there, however, but just a page with links all about the book. Tried every link, but it only told how you could go about becoming a discussion group. So I was unable to get to your actual book discussion. Interesting link about the book though. So it is to be a movie directed by the guy who did Snow Falling on Cedars! And is the number one best seller in fiction in France and Germany!

Also, thanks for the link to The Blind Assassin. Found out right away that I did not care for the set up for that book discussion. That place is not NEARLY as well organized as SeniorNet! Maybe I am getting too old to change or something, but I think we are REALLY the best right here!

When I lived in Louisiana in the mid forties, the names were just as they are in this story. It was Cajun country, and the place was more than half Catholic, with most of the rest Baptists. One thing I remember well was a favorite lady in town that everyone called "Miss Sarah Mae." At least, that is what I thought they were calling her. Found out just before I left there that that was not her name at all. It was just another example of their "French" pronunciations down there! Her name was Mrs. St. Romaine! I swear!

Probably cause the discussion hasn't really started yet. Some are still reading and this is also my first experience with them. I totally agree about senior net, but I am sure once everyone finishes a book at the "other place" it will be discussed in hopefully the same manner as here. And who knows, if you also suggest Pope Joan here as a read, we can all have a great discussion, only this time, I will keep my book next to me. Silly me - I was totally lost with the e-mail and the fact that my puter was constipated. Oh well, it was fun.

And, like I said, Blind Assassin is a toughy to get into but GOOD.

Thanks. Dolphindli@aol.com

Maybe the moral is in the homily from which the title of this story is taken. "Confession is good for the soul." Clyde confessed, Father Ledet confessed, even, to some extent, Mrs. Clyde (Doris) confessed, and the "fundamentalist garage mechanics, striptease artists and spoiled depressed housewives" all confessed. Maybe what we are supposed to learn is that carrying a secret is too great a burden---that we should live our lives without secrets.

I really don't know what the moral is but I do know that when I first read this story I thought it was just o.k. but when I re-read more carefully I found a lot of substance in it. Good story and good author.

Dolph: enjoyed your post# 194 such vibrant scenes you painted

Charlie --- perhaps he knew no other way to be than lonely. And took it.

Thanks for the link to "Freedom from Choice"....going to read it.

Here and there he has used great ambiance descriptions. I agree - such as the air in Louisiana, and the dragonfly sentence.

And I loved that sentence at the end where he sees Clyde in the congregation.

~Marj @snowallaround.com

Traude, have you discovered the cause of why your posts were disappearing? I hope so, because I am anxious to read your comments about this story.

Phyll and MargeV: I think you've caught the essence of this story. In an interview one time, Gautreux said that ““No story is interesting unless it deals with matters of values. Or else," he added, "you end up with nothing but a slew of New Yorker stories, all nihilism and meaningless pauses.
Writing about meaning and values doesn’’t mean preaching, of course. It means looking at the world in a certain context and telling us stories about it."

Gautreux’’s context is particularly focused on issues of commitment and responsibility.

Lorrie

hahahaa, I LOVE this story! It is hilarious, another comedy, to me, a comedy of errors and decisions and, Charlie said it best, redemption. I love it.

Gautreaux is so right about The New Yorker, Lorrie: "but a slew of New Yorker stories, all nihilism and meaningless pauses."

I notice that "Blind Jozef Pronek" is from The New Yorker, maybe we could consider that one before we quit.

Let me go see what you all made of this one, back in a mo!~

ginny

Strangly enough, I didn't find this story amusing, which is quite contrary to my nature. Post # 201 still bothers me with Vic's lack of compassion and forebearance. WHO does he think he is? God?? A priest ready to grant absolution?? OR is the author attempting to show our priest what it's like for the "sinner" to be so naked before someone elses eyes. (other than Gods)

The stolen car's muffler did not work. What a disturbance!!! Clyde stole the car so that he could get a good night's rest. It took a lot of nerve for Clyde to steal that car. He did it for the good of the neighborhood. I would not call Clyde a thief. He's not the type who would rob a bank. He just wanted to give everyone some relief.

Now, I'am stuck in the mud of my own thoughts. Should his intentions be considered, or is he just an outright no good liar and thief? I would not be afraid to pass Clyde on a dark street. I don't think he would push me down and steal my purse. He just seems like a nice guy who is very, very sick.

HATS

Ooh boy, you all have really covered ALL the aspects of the piece, nothing much evaded your hawk like eyes. I, too, like HATS and Lorrie found it funny, several of the phrases again, made me laugh out loud.

The writing is wonderfully clever, I loved the "well fed smirk of a husband" on 144 and "the sun was bleeding gold streamers of light..." on 150, Clyde's "detailed way (of confession) which showed, after all, a healthy conscience," (page 139), I love the way it's written, just love it.

I loved Clyde's, "Sure enough, you think there's a hell?" and the following,


"There's a lot of talk of it in the Bible," he said.
"It's for punishment?"
That's what it's for.
But what good would the punishment do?"


hahaahaa, that's cute. That's also one of those "moments," a definitely Southern thing in which somebody has reasoned out a tenet and found logic wanting. Of course the priest's answer, to me, forms the theme of the story:

"I don't think hell is about rehabilitation. It's about what someone might deserve."

The entire story is about contrasts and decisions, it seems to me. The very opening paragraphs are contrasts: the "sweet sweet" women of the parish and the spayed tomcat. The lazy Louisiana days where "not much happened," the the total Keystone Kops episodes which follow.

I'm seeing Everyman here. A man who has a good heart and who wants to do well, who is himself under temptation (puts arm around cop and tries to talk him out of it), as he's wanting for himself the same absolution he gives others. I think Andrea said: who is wearing the vestments now?? What does HE deserve, and by extension, what do WE deserve, if we have not spent 1/10 th the time trying to help as he has.

He's constantly faced with decisions and temptations. I need to go back and look at each one and how his own answer causes or not his own end.

IS this a tragedy? Is it a comedy? What IS it?

"people did not run their lives by reason much of the time, but by some inferior motion of the spirit, some pride, some desire that defied the simple beauty of doing the sensible thing." (page 143).

It's that sensible thing I need to go back and find.

(I'm also thinking that there's no way that old battleax of a car could outrun any police cruiser.) I don't remember the Toronado, but that bit about racing the engine every morning made me laugh because we used to have a neighbor who did the same thing. I would think stealing it would be a blessing, not a sin. hahaah But imagine PAYING to keep it in storage all those years, that's strange, and shows WHAT?

ginny

-- hoping that this post will not disappear.

I have enjoyed the quiet warmth of the story.

As I see it, it is an artfully-presented slice of real life in its varying aspects, i.e. not always totally and unredeemably grim but with often sudden joyous moments that must be savored and fondly remembered. Still, life undeniably involves drudgery, daily miseries and petty annoyances of one kind or another. This story is a perfect example, and the setting is perfect too. It is a bittersweet story, not humorous by design, that has its comic moments so that we can nod and smile in recognition.

Most of all it shows people and their reactions under ordinary as well as in extraordinary circumstances, in short, people we might find in different areas and "settings" who would feel and act in the same way.

I have witnessed first-hand the eagerness and dedication of altar guild members, the tireless efforts of those who serve at coffee hour after services, feed the homeless, and put on special events and talent shows during the year--especially the Christmas Faire. If some of these fine, well-intentioned people get a bit proprietary, well, there's really no harm done, is there ?

My parish has lived through the trauma of the youngish rector confessing to being a closet alcoholic, first to the shocked vestry and then to the company of the faithful assembled in church for this specially-called humiliating occasion, and the bishop coming down to console the demoralized congregation. There was no element of humor in that situation, I can assure you, only deep grief and endless self-questioning. Nor was there an instantaneous solution. The healing took years.

The author's light touch in no way minimizes the significance of what has transpired here. The chastened priest accepts his punishment but wonders what he can do beyond attending those AA meetings to REALLY make up for his transgression. After he is reinstated, he preaches in a dull voice on an old familiar text to uninterested (probably fidgeting) youngsters and the habitually present elders- and the reader can imagine his despair,

until lo and behold his eyes light upon Clyde ! Clyde has finally made it INTO the church though (supreme irony) he is asleep. Asleep, yes, but THERE ! And that makes it all worthwhile for Fr. Ledet.

He is instantly reinvigorated, his voice becomes strong, the familiar words ring true and they suddenly resonate and hit home, the people look at him with renewed confidence, knowing the ministry will continue.

What a wonderful and satisfying tale ! Traude

Well said, Traude!!

WELL SAID, Mary Page!!

A duo of well saids!!!

ginny

Traude, since you have lived through this thing, here's one thing I wondered about: You said,

"My parish has lived through the trauma of the youngish rector confessing to being a closet alcoholic, first to the shocked vestry and then to the company of the faithful assembled in church for this specially-called humiliating occasion, and the bishop coming down to console the demoralized congregation. There was no element of humor in that situation, I can assure you, only deep grief and endless self-questioning. Nor was there an instantaneous solution. The healing took years. "

In this case, was the priest not transferred?

Did he, like the priest in this story, remain? I thought that was incongruous, myself?

I loved your take on this story and I think you're right, still want to look further into what I also see the author doing with choices, back tomorrow!

ginny

Ginny, oh, he resigned when he confessed to the vestry, but the diocesan bishop allowed him to stay on in the rectory while his status was being considered. I remember the turbulent time very well because I helped out in the church office for a few weeks (the regular secretary had quit on the spot and was never seen or heard from again). After a few months the rector left for another church in another state. There was no send-off, just collective sadness and incredulity. I knew him fairly well from bible study classes and work on a project or two; he buried my husband, and I never ever saw him in any state other than "normal", never heard of any "incidents". I hope and pray he is well and wish I knew it is so.

Traude

I feel so bad about what Traude tells, because it is so different from what happened in the parish I was in. That priest went to rehab and then came back and was the same old favorite priest, with AA meetings and all that, and everyone loved him and bled for him and cheered him on with his recovery.

I think the folks in Traude's parish must have not understood that alcoholism is a disease like any other, except the cure is different from most. It sounds as though they could not deal with what they considered a dreadful lapse and sin. It was a tragedy, but also a triumph because he QUIT DRINKING, and learned how to properly deal with his sobriety.

Don't you like the way Gautreaux writes about his Cajun neighbors? He is never heavy handed with his regional touches. His characters may season their conversation with dashes of French, but they are not constantly eating crawfish and dancing at the fais-do-do. They are characters, not caricatures. And oh, the descriptions: "he saw the old man in his bed, a few stands of smoky hair swept back, his false teeth out, his tobacco-parched tongue wiggling in his mouth like a parrot's." Great!

Lorrie

I find it so interesting that each one has a bit of "personal" knowledge to share in relation to Gautreaux's "come to life" characters. It seems as though we all know someone inside those pages so delightfully written.

Traude experiences of the quiet disappearance of one man of the cloth with a disease and the open arms of the Parish to another man of the cloth with the same disease as in MaryPage's story. This is such a learning experience about tolerance and understanding and even understanding those who are not tolerant. Dolphindli

Traude makes me want to look closer at the story. I am realizing the situation in this story has touched many of us. Thinking about the priest MaryPage mentioned, makes me wonder about the feelings of that particualar priest. Wouldn't it be more difflcult to return to the church of your past?

Some people have long memories. Is it conceivable that there were people in the congregation who never forgot the priest's mistake? Or were there some who just left rather than be faced with a fallen priest every week?

I do commend the priest for coming back and facing his old demons and remaining strong. I just believe it could not have been a piece of cake for him or his congregants.

HATS

Friends, I must make clear now that ours was not a Catholic but an Episcopal priest. Episcopalians call them 'rectors' (rather than ministers), in the Anglican church they are called 'vicars'.

They are allowed to marry and our rector was married. His wife was an AAUW friend of mine who attended Harvard Divinity School.

I don't know what went on behind closed doors when his fate was hanging in the balance, nor how forgiving (or not) the superiors were. But I do know that his pride would have made it impossible for him to stay on, even if forgiven, or to return. He was for clear-cut solutions. I admired him, before and after.

Traude

Thank you for that, Traude...both of those explanations, as we were posting together, just now.

As we all know, alcoholism is no joke, but as many a priest will tell you, the church...doggone it if I can remember how it goes, very catchy, the church is there not for the perfect, but FOR the sinner, a hospital for sinners, how does that thing go??? That's why it's there in the first place. All have sinned, if they're mortal, right?

When you think of the terrible "sins" of the priest, THIS priest in THIS story, how mortal are they? Are they venial or mortal? What IS his biggest sin here? That's where I'm going with his choices. I think his choices are the most important thing in the story.

As a person with quite a few family members in the priesthood as well as a best friend married to an Episcopal priest, I don't think you can separate or categorize "the priesthood" with a couple of adjectives any more than you can categorize the "retired" of America.

To me, since "many are called, but few are chosen," the priesthood is a sacred thing, look at it this way, no matter how much he drank, he personally, even if Clyde did not convert, the priest's having dedicated his own life in the service of God, in that way elevated himself over anything I could, for instance, ever do. In my opinion only: if we're getting serious here, I want to be, too.

I think Traude is right on the wonderful ending of the story, I believe it IS intended to make a coda and a positive one, but as far as congregations not getting over their disillusionment, etc., temptation comes in lots of disguises, and to me, (and we all know the saying about the road to hell and what it's paved with), but to me, any priest or nun for that matter is special and their own "falls" are between them and God, and not anybody else. Not for anybody else to judge at all. He who is without sin, cast the first stone, etc. It's not for Father Ledet's (what does that word mean in French?) congregation to treat him as a stranger or to WHATEVER, it's for them to forgive him, just as he has conveyed God's forgiveness to them continually: whose sin there is the greatest? Theirs or his??

There is a LOT in this little story, too, just like the last one.

It's just a question of what your own particular belief is. To me, this is not about redemption, anybody's redemption, but choices the their consequences ("what they deserve,"). And the subject of a "fall" of clergy and the subsequent "redemption," told as it is in such a light hearted and funny detailed way says more to me than the bare facts of the sin do.

Note, for example, how lightly the priest got off in his accident? There we could have seen an horrendous tragedy, but we didn't. Why not?

As somebody said very early on, every word in a short story counts, thus the lack of serious consequence of the accident means something. That's why I love the short story so much, these little vignettes SAY something, mean something and are something. We just have to figure out WHAT.

And that's why I love our discussions here, we get so much out of them.

ginny

And as to two of the questions in the heading which I left off that last post, I am pleasantly surprised by this story, I'm not sure what I expect from the "Southern" story, I guess something I read once about how people in the south do have such unusual wacky things presented to them daily as normal that they are natural story tellers and have a unique voice kind of sticks in my mind and this story is a refutation of that, it's about normal circumstances and normal people.

As to the question about Officer Vic, yes of course, you'd have thought he was apprehending an Ax Murderer, spread em, I would say that would not happen in real life? And thus is there for a reason.

That would not happen any more than an ancient Toronado (the author must have owned one or something ) could out accellerate a modern police cruiser, let's get real here? Not going to happen.

Those things are incongruous just like Father Ledet's remaining in the congregation. It may be that this lesson is very similar to the one in The Fix or for that matter The Lottery, perhaps the lessons are the same, differently presented?

ginny

Ginny,

I really had to laugh at your last post (in an amused way, not in a sarcastic way). Do you really think that it is normal to steal a car and then pay to have it garaged for many, many years? Or to come to church, as Clyde did, and never go inside---just hang around on the doorstep through every service? These may be normal people but it seems to me they do abnormal things. This is such a meaty story--serious and fun at the same time. I am really grateful to whomever came up with the idea of discussing short stories (was it Charlie?). It is a literary form that I haven't particularly liked in the past but I am thoroughly enjoying this and realizing that because the story is short doesn't mean it doesn't have a lot to say.

I read this quote today and thought about our priest here.

"An ounce of mother is worth a pound of clergy. (Spanish Proverb)

Traude: OUR EPISCOPALIAN MINISTER RAN OFF WITH THE DEACON'S WIFE. true STORY.

Phyll, I laughed too, life is too short NOT to laugh! I liked this one, "Or to come to church, as Clyde did, and never go inside---just hang around on the doorstep through every service? "

There are a lot of people who come to church and "never go inside," mentally, some of whom sing weekly in the choir.

Andrea, is your priest's running off with the Deacon's wife worse than it would have been if it had been your neighbor doing it?

No, I still don't undertand the car garaging!

I loved this "This is such a meaty story--serious and fun at the same time, " that's great: MEATY~ I'm constantly amazed at how MEATY these things really ARE.

I can't find LEDET in a French dictionary, I can find LEDIT, but not LEDET do any of you have any thoughts on what that might mean?

ginny

Pyll: That's it in a nutshell! "Meaty" short stories, and yes, this was Charlie's idea, as so many of the good discussions around here are!

Ginny, when you say "many people go to church, and yet are still not there," seems to me to be so apt. Especially when you look around at services and see so many hypocrites.

Lorrie

There used to be this awful thing which haunted me for years about this congregation? But THIS congregation this particular building, when you would go in, suddenly all the masks fell off and whatever you were (a la The Picture of Dorian Grey) (which is being remade, by the way, as a movie)... whatever state your own soul was in would be visible instead of your outward shell.

Gone the pretty dresses and hairdos the fancy suits and ties, and instead, the Soul itself in all its horror or not, revealed.

Scared me to death for a long time, I don't know where I saw that, but it's an interesting concept.

Boils R Us

Ginny: In the dream I had last night I dreamt that I has died; Saint Peter stood near heaven's door And ushered me inside, And there I was surprised to see Some people I'd known before, Some I'd observed and graded as not fit for heaven's door. Resentful words rose to my lips. But never were set free For every face displayed surprise-- No one expected me !

What's funny is I never gave a second thought to the portion of the story dealing with the stolen car storage all those years!.

My daughter and I bought a two family house (not to live in) and when we bought it, one of the bays of the two car garage was already rented by a non-resident person to store an old car. Well, the seller of the house had the car tenant for 8 years and I had him for another ten years at $35.00 a month (the same price as the former owner charged). We never saw the owner, he just sent the check every month.

It was not a "classic" car; nor was it worth anything so my daughter and I would speculate that it was used in a "heist"; it was a "get-away-car"; or, "there was a body in the trunk." We even contact the police department (who thought we were nutz).

The car is gone now - but it always left us with a mystery, a chuckle and an extra buck in our pockets. Who knows? Maybe it was Clyde!

Dolphindli

I have to say again that I am enjoying the short stories. I have always liked novels more than short stories but reading these helps me realize how much "meat" there is in a short story. I think its fun reading them because there is so much to ponder everytime you read the same story over and over.

While reading the story again, I had to laugh out loud. When Father Ledet is in the the confessional box, and after he listens to Mrs. Arceneaux's desire for him to get involved with the stolen car, he curses. "Not no," the priest said, "but hell no!"

Father Ledet goes on to tell Mrs. Arceneaux she will have to say twenty Our Fathers. I thought he had some nerve. How many does he have to say? After all, he cursed, and not only did he curse but he cursed in the confessional box, that must be worse.

I think Mrs. Arceneaux is very courageous when she says, "And I'll pray for you while I'm at it."

HATS

Who knows why people do bizarre things ? But they DO, just the same.

Haven't we all shaken our head in wonderment at some time or another at a neighbor or friend, especially when HE was convinced he was totally within his reason ?

Goes to show we've got to learn to live with what we have, grow where we are planted- for sheer survival, and develop both a sense of humor and tolerance -- to the extent both are achievable.

Traude

Patrick: I really enjoyed your poem. I must remember that one.

Dolphindli: What an ingenious twist to your story! Think of all the possiblities for a story in that mysterious garage renter you had. A get-away car, as you said, a murder coffin for some victim, a source of illegal smuggling? The possibilities are endless.

Hats! I do enjoy reading your posts. Of us all, I seem to get the feeling that you have truly grasped the humor and the incongruity of this simple story, and your sheer enjoyment of it is catching! I look forward to your comments.

Lorrie

Traude: Yes, we had a neighbor once who collected all kinds of odd "junk" for her yard. It was very bizarre, yes, and we all laughed at this poor woman, but nobody even suggested that she might be demented. Perhaps eccentric, if you must put a label to it.

Lorrie

In one of the commentaries I read about short stories, someone ( I can't remember who)said this:

"In 1918, a writer could make a living writing short stories and selling them to magazines and newspapers. In 2000, this is not the case. Sadly, the more obvious, vivid entertainments of our age do not invite audience members to think in order to understand them the way short stories do. And while literacy rates have increased significantly, the rate of literary appreciation has not. The short story has become marginalized and is read by a much smaller percentage of the American public than it was when this series began.

On the positive side, the current audience, by virtue of being smaller and more educated, is also more sophisticated. Numbers may be small, but passions run high. For writers of short fiction, greatness is as hard to attain as it ever was, but I would say that as many accomplished stories are being written now as have been in any period since 1918."

Hats says that she has always liked novels better than short stories, but has come to realize how "meaty" a short story can be. How do you feel about short stories? I, for one, used to like them simply because I was too lazy to read a whole novel, but now I read them out of sheer preference. And in these discussions, it's nice not to be "tied down" for weeks with a long novel.

Lorrie

I have always loved short stories, none more than THE DUBLINERS by James Joyce. That's when the concept of "epiphany" really became clear to me.

Traude

Short stories are extremely difficult to write well. When they are, they're terrific. That's why, I guess, I write so many of them just trying to do one or two well. It's also why I publish them, and I hope you'll look at the ones in the Holiday Issue of Sonata magazine for the arts. That issue is jam packed full of very fine short stories, some of them written by our own SeniorNet WREX writers. Hurry, though, that issue comes off the web just after Christmas to make room for the January-February issue which contains even more really fine short stories. Believe me, I know. I edit every one.

Mal

Hats, according to the dogma of the Roman Catholic Church, taught to the young ladies of a convent school I attended for 2 years by a Father Herbert Jordan, the words the priest used in this story were not swearing. Your mother may have told you they were swearing because she did not want you to use them.

Father Jordan explained that taking the name of The Lord in vain was swearing. He went on to say that he was tired of hearing us go to confession and say: "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been 1 week since my last confession and I said hell twice and damn once." He said these were not even venial sins, much less mortal ones. At this, the nun who sat in on his once-a-week lessons in religion, because after all, my dears, we COULD NOT be alone, even 45 of us, in a room with a man!, Sister turned bright red, I believe because SHE wanted us to think such language was a mortal sin. But Father went on to say it was absolutely UNLADYLIKE and he hated to hear that it came out of our lovely young mouths, BUT ......

it was not a sin!

Honestly, I had all I could do to keep from laughing out loud at the look on Sister's face!

AHA! "Venial" and "Mortal!" My points on this priest's choices and his sins and all, but now no time no time, bad thunderstorms coming thru today.

Patrick, what a hoot! hahahaha I imagine in my case that would definitely be the case hahahahaa.

Someday we MUST read Dante's Inferno, I love the levels of Hell, and who is on them and why, don't you all think that would be instructive? hahahaa

OK,
This Monday we begin a wonderful series of reading from our own SeniorNet authors!



Patrick's short story is up first for Monday, you may want to get a head start now, here's the entire schedule:

All these may be found in Sonata

December 18: Christmas, 1944 by Patrick Bruyere. This is in the Christmas section after the Thanksgiving and Chanukah sections.

December 19: Ahriman by Idris O'Neill. This also is in the Christmas section.

December 20: Giving Thanks by Lorrie Gorg. This is in the Thanksgiving section.

December 21: What is a Disability? by Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca. Thanksgiving section.

December 22: A Holiday Gift for Children by Faith Pyle Christmas section

December 23: My Next Song by Marilyn Freeman Christmas section.

---

Let's all turn out and support this first ever endeavour, a holiday gift to ourselves!

ginny

Please do not be offended if I do not comment on the short stories we are going to tackle next week. I will be in transit and spending a great deal of time hugging my grand babies next week. I have read each and every one of these short stories and assure you they are an excellent selection. The authors and authorettes (?) have produced marvelous works and the editing, by Mal, is brilliant.

Have a blessed holiday everyone.

Andrea

Ginny, it will be a pleasure to come in here and share thoughts about all these great stories. They are representative of the excellent writing Mal Freeman features in Sonata magazine for the arts. Every issue is a gem.

Traude

On rereading Gautreaux's short story here, I was curious about the culture of the Creole people, about whom this author has written so much. In looking up things, I found this link to many answers to the questions I had been asking myself. Check it out, this is fascinating!

CAJUN CULTURE

Lorrie

There is certainly a vibrant community of Acadians in the Maritimes today, but most particularly in New Brunswick. Their culture is now preserved through the school system and the small communities they live in. They play a zippy happy sort of music called zideco (?). I'm not certain if that is the spelling but you can hear it on our radio stations here in Canada.

Idris- I remember visiting a wonderful Museum ssomewhere in The Maritimes a few years ago. The history of Acasian peoples in Canada was fascinating.

Yes, if you can get past the fact that we weren't exactly nice to them back then. I believe the main reasons were that they were French speaking and Catholic. Not a tolerant lot back in those days.

I don't suppose you were at a museum that had a grand collection of pottery mushrooms?

Don't remember that. I liked listening to Cajun music years before I made the connection between Acadian and Cajun.

Wonderful happy music, Charlie. The sound of a small accordian like instrument is very much part of the music. Did you know they still have kitchen parties out East? They purposely build enormous kitchens into their homes so there is plenty of room for the folks and the musicians. Just about everyone plays something, even if it is only a comb with tissue paper wrapped over it. They fire up the woodstove, put a huge pot of fisherman's stew on the simmer and away they go. Hmmmmm forgot the homemade beer and something i can't remember the name of that is booze.

Laissez les bons temps rouler...

They do roll there, Charlie. )

This is really interesting, Idris! I've always liked the speech inflections of Cajun speech, and how they use the expression "Cher" to everyone. This author writes freely of these people, and rightly so, he has lived and worked among them all his life. Very good posts, you and Charlie!

Lorrie

New Brunswick is a Province rich with heritages of many people. They are for the most part isolated in small communities and so the customs and languages live. There are also a lot of folks there who can and do speak gaelic, french and english. Moncton, New Brunswick has a call centre that is doing very well. It is not unusual for the folks that live in the smaller communities to have three or four seasonal jobs per year. They fish, hunt, run wilderness tours, tend and cut balsam Christmas trees and just about anything else that will allow them to live close to the land and be themselves.

Idris, that sounds just like the small communities in the mountains of North Carolina! They are a fiercly independent people with their own customs and dialect and hunt, fish, and work their little piece of land (which includes growing Christmas trees, too, sometimes). A large majority of them are of Scottish heritage and it wouldn't surprise me if a few of them could speak Gaelic, too. Once again, the more we are different, the more we are the same.

Yes indeed, Phyll. ) Hardworking and fiercly independant is exactly it. They don't give a hoot what you wear but they sure care if you are a good person inside. Most of the things i know about these people are due to the fact that there was a thread once on Sympatico where they all hung out. It was wonderful listening to their tales. They would write, the way they spoke. A lot of cussing, praying and believing. Good folks. )

What a wonderful link, Lorrie, what richness and diversity ! Thank you, and thank you, Idris, for the Acadian "angle".

It makes me want to read more about Louisiana before the L. Purchase and who the inhabitants were then. If there is a creole heritage, it must have come from Latin Americans. And not a few came from the West Indies. As for Acadia, I need help. I recall, dimly and perhaps incorrectly, that Acadie was a French colony in SE Canada and ceded to Great Britain in 1713. Did some Acadians eventually migrate south to Louisiana ? Loving history and geography, I would love to know. Thank you. Traude

Traude, the english Canadians of the time forced them out.

Patrick, you posted a sweet poem the other day and I meant to thank you then. Am doing so now.

Traude

THAT explains it ! Thank you, Idris.

Traude

Great bunch weren't we. )

Some of you must not remember studying the saga in poetry titled EVANGELINE. It tells all about the expulsion and their going to Louisiana.

I lived in Cajun country. Creole is an entirely different thing. It might easily seem the same to anyone not from there, however.

Descendants of the French settlers in Louisiana, and of various other Europeans and Latins, and those of mixed blood, these are Creole. The Cajuns swear they are directly descended from those Acadians. There would be so much mixing of the blood lines now, that who really knows which is what.

This is a very good link for all things Acadian in New Brunswick.

Acadians in New Brunswick

Here is a link for the Acadians in Nova Scotia. It also includes a piece on Evangeline.

Acadians in Nova Scotia

Many thanks again. Have printed the excellent information on the New Brunswick Acadians.

Also have just checked my big Random House dictionary, which lists seven (7) definitions for Creole : -->1. in the West Indies and Spanish America, one born in the region but of European, usually Spanish, ancestry. -->2. esp. in Louisiana, a person born in the region but of French ancestry (will not enumerate the rest).

I had considered only def. 1. Sorry. Traude

Hmmmmmm i didn't do to well with a search on this one. The info is sketchy.

Louisiana Creole

All right, boys and girls, now that we have covered the Louisiana Creoles and Cajuns, and what not, shall we all get back to our story of poor Father Ledet, and his flock?

Since tomorrow is the last day for this particular story, I would like to hear from each of you what your thoughts are, in general, on this story "Good for the Soul"

What did you think the author was trying to tell us? Did you like the ending? Would this story influence you to consider reading more of this author's works?

Tell us what you think!

Lorrie

I want to say how much I have enjoyed this story and the first one. These were my introduction to this book club. All of your comments are very interesting--I never got mine formulated even though I read the story early. Maybe after I have been a member a while, I will quit thinking I have to give it so much thought before I type a message. I like the short stories--always have. But then there is nothing like getting into a book that you cannot put down. Marge

MarjorieElaine: What a very nice post! It's good to see you in here, and please don't think you have to post a lengthy, thoughtful message. Some of our best comments made here are off the top of our heads. Stay with us during all these short story discussions---I'm sure you'll enjoy them. And don't forget to join in next week when we talk about some articles that were written by people you've seen posting all over the Books site, including yours truly! I'm so glad you like the stories so far--I did too.

Sure hope we see your name here again. Don't be shy, now that you've broken the ice!

Lorrie

I just bought the book and am enjoying the quality short stories. As for father Ledet, he seems to be paying the price for his shortcomings, the drinking, the DUI. Amidst all the parishoners aloofness and lack of forgiving, however, is the appearance of Clyde. This is Clydes first showing in the church in I forget how many years. This should be good for the old priest's soul. His primary function is to save souls from perdition and Clyde, freshly confessed and relieved of his thievery, is on his way to salvation, comfortable asleep in his pew. Good story.

I don't think the officer was too officious. The author used the sympathy we would have for the injured lady to balance our sympathy for an aging priest who never intended to injure her, but who had to be shown the damage he was doing to himself and his parishoners by continuing his drinking and driving.

I thought that the officer's character was well drawn for a short story. He had to maintain his duty and to also judge fairly what was to be done to whom. This, in spite of the fact that he was dealing with a spiritual leader of the community and any mishandling of the case could lead to scandal and loss for that same community.

After reading "The Fixer" and "Good for the Soul" I Had to choose "Good for the Soul" as my favorite. I won't forget Father Ledet and how much he loved the smell of brandy.

I pondered the theme. I think the theme is about forgiveness. The story helps me to see that when I need forgiveness, it can come from an unexpected place and from an unexpected person. I think Father Ledet expected his forgiveness or redemption to come from his parishioners, but instead, it came from Clyde.

When Father Ledet sees Clyde sitting in the back of the church, he decides it's possible to forgive himself. He chooses to believe that there are layers to his life and not every layer is bad. When Father Ledet sees Clyde, he accepts the fact that he is no different from everyone else because along with his dark side there is a light side.

HATS

Ah wow, this is fabulous, here's our Dansker back with some great points on the contrasts in the story, and Officer Vic, I think I might change my own opinion about that, after reading Dansker's.

Great to have you back, Dansker, this is wonderful. I've missed you.

MarjorieElaine! Welcome!!

What a joy to see you here, and Lorrie is 100 percent right. Some of us (wonder who?) are simply incapable of writing any thing including HI in a truncated form!!

I think it's a style thing, note how we all have different voices, so nice to see you here, just say anything in your own style, there's nobody who can do your style like you!

---

Final thoughts, Miss Lorrie?

I'm half afraid to type this in fear I may have inadmittently missed this in one of your posts, but how does the expression go? "XXX is good for the soul." I know there is a saying so.

Is it "confession?" or....what IS it?

IN this case, I think the author did a great job, through as I pointed out in my first post (and am thrilled to see DANSKER pointing out some I missed) the contrasts throughout the piece between what seems to be opposing viewpoints.

It might be interesting if we had more time to look at what the confessions ARE in this piece and who makes them and which characters are more affected by them and which characters are more affected by the confessions NOT being made (the priest's arm around the officer's shoulders) but alas, the time has expired.

I think this is a good story but it's not "The Fix," in that while it raises issues and conflicts, it also ties the knot neatly and sweetly, the coda is positive, in direct (that word AGAIN) contrast to "The Fix."

I think it's a story with a moral, but, as JimVA said of some of the other stories in the book, at least it HAS a point.

Last night I was looking at some of the others, we may want to keep on here but JANUARY (coming up in a couple of WEEKS) has some BLOCKBUSTER books for us, INCLUDING but not limited to a REAL COUP: The author himself of The Lost Legends of New Jersey will be attending his reading, PLEASE try to schedule time to come in there, so he'll have somebody to talk to!

So Marge, as you can see, some of us are just....what's the word,....long winded!!!!!!!!!!

ginny

HATSSSSSSSSS!!! We were posting together and I absolutely LOVED your post, I love it. Forgiveness from unexpected sources, YOU are an unexpected treasure!

WOW!!!!!!!!

ginny

Such great posts. I miss a day and get waaaaaaaaaay behind. Now I need to catch up from Friday. Lorrie --- I heard you are having blizzard conditions in Minn. Good time for reading and thinking and the fun of internet connection.

Marjorie Elaine" Welcome aboard. Ginny has said it superbly. We all bring a part of ourselves to these discussions and we each have our own voice. Ginny's is more bombastic than most, some are here in a flash and gone for the day, some are deliberate and speculative and others just full of thought provoking phrases. It is true, we all introduce our individual dispositions and identities here. Feel free to grace us with your own distinctive expressions.

And then there are my quiet introverted humble opinions.

Robby

I agree with Hats that forgiveness is an important part of the story but I think it goes one step further and shows that confession is the key. Clyde, finally, on what he thought was his death bed, confessed to a "crime" that had bothered him so much over so many years. And, in the end, even Father Ledet confessed to himself and confessed to his bishop in Baton Rouge, and ultimately must have confessed in the AA meetings where he sat in a rusty folding chair and listened to "testamonials, admonitions, and confessions without end". Without first confession, there can be no forgiveness.

But, I loved the author's little human twist----Mrs. Clyde, and her cohort, Mrs. Barrilleaux--who had shamelessly manipulated the Father into returning the old car--in the end would not forgive him. Not fair of them but human, I think.

A good story and I hope to read more by Mr. Gatreaux.

Welcome, Marjorie Elaine (Marge)!. Good to have you with us. As you have no doubt noticed, all opinions and thoughts are welcome here.

I, for example, don't think much of the current short story, "Good for the Soul." Especially when I compare it to "The Fix." But a number of others disagree with me. I like "The Fix" because it is troublesome, will not stay still, refuses to submit itself to one meaning. "Good for the Soul" lacks freshness to me, perhaps because I don't get the flavor of New Orleans that I want and perhaps because I am simply not very interested in the characters. I enjoyed reading the comments of others far more than I enjoyed the story itself.

~Maryal, the Grinch

If you really meant that as a question, yes, "Confession" is good for the soul.

Linda

From HATS: "When Father Ledet sees Clyde, he accepts the fact that he is no different from everyone else because along with his dark side there is a light side. "

I like that idea best in the whole story. Father L is the same. Vic accepted that idea when deciding to do the arrest. It has always beene a point of aggravation to me when so called "special people" can be above and beyond ordinary life or the law. All clergy are just like you and me - they are ordained but that does not make them un-human. And we are all Saints! We all carry the dark and light. The capacity to love and err!

~marj

Yooo Hoooo, Ginny -

I lost track of the calendar of selections from Sonata for this coming week????? Which is when?????

~marj

Welcome, Marge!

Here 'tis and 'tis good to get it up now, and Lorrie, if you don't mind, into the heading it goes!

All these may be found in Sonata

December 18: Christmas, 1944 by Patrick Bruyere. This is in the Christmas section after the Thanksgiving and Chanukah sections.

December 19: Ahriman by Idris O'Neill. This also is in the Christmas section.

December 20: Giving Thanks by Lorrie Gorg. This is in the Thanksgiving section.

December 21: What is a Disability? by Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca. Thanksgiving section.

December 22: A Holiday Gift for Children by Faith Pyle Christmas section

December 23: My Next Song by Marilyn Freeman Christmas section.

---

Let's all turn out and support this first ever endeavour, a holiday gift to ourselves!

I agree with Maryal, actually, on the relative values of the two stories.

Grinchette

GOOD point, PHYLL!!!

ginny

I'm a little late, posting here. I've enjoyed reading both short stories "The Fix" and "Good For The Soul." And every thought others have posted here about these.

I like short stories because they offer different "slices of life" of others than me. It's natural that we each view life from our own perspectives. But I think we also need to stop occasionally to view life as it is being dealt to others sharing our earth.

These short stories are one good way I can vicariously "walk in others' shoes." I'd not be able to physically travel to all their worlds. But I can empathize with them as I read well-written, honestly portrayed short stories.

Re "The Fix": I'd posted a short comment earlier. I'm not a writer, just a good-writing fan. I'd earlier posted that Fix's author segued (well) between 1st and 3rd person. I now realize I meant he segued between dialogue and 3rd-person narrative form.

Re "Good For The Soul": As a Baptist growing up amid rural German-Catholic emigrants to mid-MO, I think my comments on this story would soon degenerate into "Religion." And IMHO, there's 3 topics totally unacceptable in mixed-company among friends: Religion, politics, and sex.

I'll just offer this: Father Ledet's minor sin gradually mushroomed into serious consequences. And that's a scenario we all have by now experienced. We do one inch of inadvised discretion, and it mushrooms (via Satan's fertilizing, no doubt).

I've peeked ahead, and see there's 19 more different "slices of life" ahead that we readers can experience vicariously via these "Best American Short Stories 2000." I hope to enjoy reading and discussing most of these with other readers here.

This has been bothering me and I have to get it off my chest. It revolves around the definition of the term "story." You are about to read a piece of mine which I call an essay and which does not hold a candle to the wonderful "stories" that are also in Sonata. Mal was kind enough to publish it in her terrific magazine and you folks are about to examine it but it did not take any creative ability on my part. All I did was use the written word to share my thinking with you.

Robby

Oh, Robby, I am so glad you wrote that. I, too, feel as though I've been heralded under false pretences. The "story" I wrote doesn't have a plot, there's no confrontation, no problems solved, simply an opinion piece on what it feels like to lose one's hearing. I hope these readers forgive us fornot adhering strictly to the rules of "telling a story," as such.

Lorrie

Idris is kinda worried too. What a silly earth woman she is. *poof

The Wee One

As we bring this second short story to a close, I want to thank all you wonderful posters who made this such an enjoyable discussion. Your comments were all very much to the point, insightful, and in some cases, genuinely amusing. It has been a real pleasure to host this discussion, and I'm hoping that you will all take time out from your Christmas festivities to join us in talking about O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi." Which we will be discussing right after the reading of the pieces from Sonata magazine. Bless you all!

Lorrie

But first this : Robby, you should feel proud, NOT uncomfortable The WREXERS have had the privilege of reading your essay right after you had written it, and it is eminently worth having been included in Mal's s Sonata selections for reading here.

And what's this I read in your post # 278 about "quiet introverted humble opinions" ? I understand- quite well, actually, for I tend to hold back a lot myself. However, everyone who has something to say should say it, must say it I think, BUT always with discretion and tact, of course (and I will take the liberty to elaborate more on that point in answer to JimVa's post, later).

to be continued Traude

To

Okay, everybody, as the editor and publisher of Sonata, I have the privilege of publishing work I consider fine, be it fiction or essays. I can tell you firsthand that every piece you will read and discuss this week is of the highest caliber. What's more, they all have been written by writers whose talent and honesty is beyond question. I know you will enjoy them all!

Mal

Friends, what did I tell you about Robby's essay ? Mal has since confirmed what I posted earlier.

Re final words about GOOD FOR THE SOUL -

I think our excursions into the locale of the story and the historical background were helpful and right on. Idris' links were superb and I will revisit them. The first two sentences of the last link clearly delineate the term "creole" and what (and whom) it encompasses.

Lorrie's questions were these : 1. What was the author trying to tell us ? 2. Did you like the ending ? 3. Would you read anything by this author again ?

1. Only the author knows what he was trying to tell the reader. That reminds me of an aphorism which, paraphrased, reads like this every good book contains more verities than the author meant to put in to it ... This may be true in this case, food for thought ?

It is quite obvious that we READ differently, perceive things differently, are moved, or not, or even turned off by a story. But that's why I think our get-togethers here are so helpful, eye-opening they are, mind-opening perhaps (well, consciousness-raising is a given !!!, right Ginny ?). 2. Liked the ending ? Oh yes, the ending MADE the story. 3. Oh yes, I will look for more work by this author at the trusted local libr.

Back to 1. I think GOOD FOR THE SOUL is a poignant story, enhanced by the description of the locale, alien to so many of us. It is also very well written - look at the dialogue ! There is a universality to this story - just change the protagonists to fit the scene ! And AHA, there was an Italian in the bunch, Vic Garofalo ! Good for him. The right mixture.

Now to JimVa's post. I totally understand it. Let me share this : When we came here as naive immigrants, someone informed us without delay that there were 3 no-nos that must not be discussed : religion, politics and race relations. ( And no, sex was not then mentioned.)

I was frankly surprised (read : hit over the head unexpectedly) by this rigid stance because it was so completely at variance with the image of freedom of speech we had cherished LONG before coming.

As for the discussions of a book, ANY book, LIKING it helps, but that should not be the ONLY CRITERION for a good discussion, as long as the discussion is handled with tact and discretion.

Traude

Wonderful, Traude! Thank you for that!

So glad to see you back, JimVA, we missed you, and look forward to your input especially on the New Yorker pieces!

One of the first things we did when we started our book clubs was to read books (hahahah) on HOW to hold book discussions. Many of those books differed on many points, but the first tenet was always:

(I've got it memorized) Avoid at the outset the question of whether or not you "liked" the book. We learn something from everything we read, and from the contributions of the others.

What we are HERE about is just to talk about our own impressions of whatever we are discussing?

Since we are all different, come from different backgrounds, and have different experiences and interests, naturally we have different things to bring here to the table.

THAT'S what we are about.

In addition if you have taken any sort of class in literary criticism (which is essentially what we are doing, here) you know (help me out here, Maryal) that you are entitled to your own opinion, as long as you can back it up with elements in the story that support it.

That's why you can have so many diverse theories, and as long as they are supported by what's in the story, no person can say you are wrong.

There ARE no right or wrong answers here, and we strenuously avoid the curse of "paper hanging," which is to come in, lay down your paper on the piece, and go back off. Neither do we tear down another's paper: ("this IS the way it is, I am right, you are wrong. I know more than you do.") We don't do that.

One good way to avoid paper hanging is to use the words "I think, " and "I feel, " and "It seems to me...." and so on, which informs the world you are expressing your opinion, to which you are entitled.

The ONE thing that irritates me the most is a paper hanger, please let's not be one, anybody can do it, let's advance our own opinions and listen eagerly and respectfully to everybody else's. We might just learn something.

We dialogue. That's why we're here. I see something, maybe you don't but you see something I didn't and together at the end we have a new experience.

That is why we're here. All opinions are valid.

---

That said, this week we'll try a brand new experience, reading short pieces, some memoirs, some fiction, some essays (this will be fun) written by our own SeniorNetters.

We will not be assessing worth, thank you very much Malryn for allowing us to read your fine magazine, a labor of love and very impressive and creative even IF it did scare the dog with the beautiful music!!!!! hahahahaa

---

This morning we look at Patrick's fine piece: "Christmas 1944"....now, Patrick, this appears to be a true story....or is it fiction? If it's fiction it's remarkably real!

I thought your writing had a lot of power especially in the part where opposing sides sang Silent Night and other carols, each in their own language, and then the next day began one of the most hideous set of battles known to man.

What must you have thought, the next day? Were you at all surprised by the ferocity of the attack?

How did you feel when the singing was over and how did the quiet begin? Did it just die off?

That's so moving.

One point your writing brought up to me was who, in fact, starts wars? And who wants them perpetuated? Now that war was one that both sides felt strongly about but yet in the stillness of the night, people on both sides were the same: just people.

What does this say about us as people?

And then the God With Us, extraordinary, one could dicuss that all day.

What wonderful points you have given us to think over, and I bet I missed some!

I'm going out of town today and hope to get back in here late tonight, what do you all think of this first piece???

ginny

Good cold snowy morning to everyone. And this is only in Kansas. It looks worse for anyone north and east of here.

I read Christmas 1944 and thought it to be true. I had heard something similar from someone else. It was my thought that Patrick had experienced that night. And that such incidents are a reminder that God is still in the heavens and offers us hope in spite of all the horrible things that people do in war or peace.

Wynona

It is the epitome of "The Christmas Story"- which is peace on earth, good will to ALL men.

I read Patrick’s tale as his own war experience. The first short paragraph sets the time and tone of the piece. The very starkness of the words and shortness adds life to this short story.

The second paragraph begins, “As the darkness fell” and the sound of a mouth ogan plays the tune of Silent Night. From the other side of the river voices of the enemy pick up the mood and both sides begin to sing. I felt this to be the recognition of what united them as humans for that short period of time. This tiny miracle took place on the night of the 15th of December but by daybreak of December 16th, these same men were to live through a battle later to be known in history as the Battle of the Bulge. The magic of the symbol of love and peace was crushed once more.

The story give us a glimpse of lost hope and understanding when the writer notes the words on the belt buckle of an enemy soldier. It read “God is with us.” The writer also notes that they as Americans believed God was only with them. In recognition of the humanity of both, in God’s eyes, the storyteller notes, “God was with both of us.”

Patrick has written a story that i feel embraces the magic of belief in their oneness in Creation amid the horror of war. The spirit of love and peace, as always desolves in the light of harsh reality.

I very much enjoyed this tale. The brevity in this case was not less, but more.

To me, Christmas 1944 by Patrick Bruyere is the story of what happens when "the enemy" becomes more than just that. Imagine how Pat and his companions felt when the sound of Silent Night, Stille Nacht, drifted through the air. Suddenly the opponents became real people, not just a target to kill. What a terrible experience that must have been in a way, and yet, what a moving one. For a brief moment Peace on Earth came true, only to be lost the next day when fighting began again. I think it is almost impossible for anyone who has not had the experience of fighting close hand in a war to imagine what it was like. I am thankful that Pat survived to be able to tell us about it.

Mal

As I review Patrick's story, I should say in advance that I read it through the eyes of someone who was a GI in the 29th Infantry Division at the same time as Patrick was there in the 3rd Infantry Division and not too far from him. So I speak as someone who experienced the horrors of war. May I add, also, that my father, who was a Doughboy in World War I, on many occasions told me a similar tale. I have also read of such a First World War event in historical documents and read how both the British and German officers were angry that the Infantrymen would do such a thing. They were there to fight a war!!

But these were events and, if I understand Patrick's desire correctly, he did not want to speak so much about behavior as about feelings. And this he did most eloquently. His choice of words and their phrasing is excellent. He starts off with the usual GI battle action of digging foxholes but ever so gently moves on with the soft evocative phrase "as the darkness fell." There is something about the dark which brings out emotions that are not present in the light. Patrick noticed this change and brought it to our attention.

The reaction from across the river? It was not expected and Patrick hits us with the word "suddenly." From here on in, the author seems (at least to me) not to be talking about a wartime event but about Brotherhood in its purest sense and its apparent conflict with "man's inhumanity to man." -- "two different languages, the same melodies" - different sides of the river, "perfect harmony."

This was not to continue, however, and Patrick brings us back to reality with a "lashing out at daybreak." Even during the light, however, truth was not to be denied as Allied soldiers who were fighting with "God on their side" learned that German soldiers were doing the same. And so Patrick ends with the theme of Brotherhood, the emotion of eternal Love overpowering the behavior of killing.

Robby

My view points may seem very out moded to you, as I am over 80 years of age, live alone, and rely on my computer and e-mails for companionship.

When I was a youth there was no such thing as a minimum wage, and my siblings and I worked for 10 cents an hour during the depression of the 1930s.

When WW2 broke out 4 of my brothers and myself went into the armed services, when the basic salary was $21.00 per month. and one of my sisters went to work for the War Department.

Since then my ideologies have changed many times through the years, and I now lean more to the conservative side, based on my life time experiences.p> I grew up in a large famiy, consisting of a mother and father and 14 children, in rural America in the ''20s" and ''30s", and went to parochial elementary and high schools taught by low salaried Canadian nuns. The nuns lived in communities in crowded dormitories in the upper stories of the schools.

 Because of the inability of the families to afford luxuries and the necessity for them to conserve money during the depression, the students all wore the same type of uniforms, which made it easy for their parents to patch them, to wash them, and to pass the used clothing down to the younger siblings as the older children outgrew them. On any given day, you could walk through the school halls and observe the quiet, disciplined students, and see that the girls were wearing white blouses and blue serge skirts while the boys wore white shirts and black ties, blue serge pants and suit coats.

  You could make the same observation at any of the parochial elementary or high school campuses anywhere in our country.

  Amazingly, I do not ever recall reading or hearing about mass shootings in any of those elementary or high schools. Every home contained a hunting rifle, and the fathers taught their children the safe use of guns, and also numerous retired police officers spent their Saturdays in the State Armories teaching eager children the secure use of weapons, under the auspices of the N.R.A.

After WW2 I myself, along with other returning veterans, volunteered our spare time to teach teenagers the proper and safe use of guns in these same Armories, with the N.R.A. supplying the financial funds necessary. We never had an accidental gun injury.

What has changed in America is not the accessibility of guns, but the character of man, caused not only by the break-down of the family, but the loss of authority on the part of the teachers, lack of discipline among the students, the tolerance for mediocracy in our politicians, the liberal views of the news media and the lack of manners and politeness in our homes and schools.

Some of my relatives attended public schools in the 1920s and 1930s and they discuss the fact that for years, a standard requirement on every teacher's contract was membership in a local church, and they remembered starting every school day with the pledge of allegiance and a prayer.

They remember when girls who got pregnant in high school were ashamed, when abortions were illegal, when the divorce rate was not 50% because couples stayed together for the kid's sake, when there were no X-rated movies, when milk cartons didn't have missing kids faces on them and they didn't know anyone personally who used drugs. They remember when kids were taught respect for authority and accountability to God.

They hear people say that the good old days and their generation and their politicians weren't always so good but please don't tell them you think this younger generation and their liberal polititical leaders are any better.

The A.C.L.U. and its adherrants are adamant about ridding prayer fom the schools or any public gatherings. The more this country struggles to free itself from religion and discipline, the more we become entangled in the consequences.

                   The same Religious Orders of nuns and priests from Canada and Europe who set up and taught at the parochial schools and Colleges in the United States also started and staffed hospitals, orphanages and homeless shelters, with no government financial aid or help from the liberal politicians.

For those who believe that separation of church and state is not enough, that the world would be better off with no church at all, ask yourself this question. How many hospitals, universities, orphanages, homeless and abuse shelters have been founded by the ACLU or American Atheist Society?

  It is the inclusion of the word Catholic, Baptist, Presbyterian, Christian, etc., in the name of so many of these institutions that proves by actions, not just words, who really cares for the suffering of mankind and desires to make the world better.

  Most people of this generation get a distorted view of previous generations and history from radio, television and newspapers, controlled by   anti-religious secular view points, and seem to believe that the main purpose of their own existence is to gratify their every desire, regardless of the resulting evil consequences.

Patrick's story reminded me of a somewhat similar tale I used to hear from my father, who was a veteran of WWI. He said that one of the tragic aspects of that war was demonstrated in the predicament of a famous German-American singer, Madame Schuman-Heink,(sp?) who was said to have four sons, two of them fighting on opposing sides during that war. My father said that when Madame Schuman-Heink sang "Stille Nicht" and then "Silent Night" on the radio one night it sent chills down his spine.

Lorrie

Patrick's story, Christmas 1944, is very moving. His story has made me want to take a little time this holiday and remember soldiers who have fought abroad during the holidays. This is a time when everyone wants to be at home with family and friends. Spending three holidays in the foxholes of Italy, Africa and Germany must make a person really aware of the meaning of "homesickness."

I think this is why we admire and love authors. They help us to reach inside of ourselves. There we can touch emotions that we might have forgotten or never experienced. Thank you,Patrick.

HATS

It's interesting that you mention Madame Ernestine Schumann-Heinck, Lorrie. My mother was a singer, a gift I inherited from her. Before she died in 1940 she told me the two singers she most admired were contralto Schumann-Heinck and soprano Amelita Galli-Curci. These musicians had two of the most remarkable voices in history. I read that Galli-Curci started out as a pianist and was one until someone heard her sing.

Of course, my mother didn't live long enough to see World War II. She did tell me stories about awful things that happened in World War I, enough that the thought of war was abhorrent to me at an early age. It still is.

I met Patrick Bruyere in the Greatest Generation discusssion, a discussion I will never forget. The firsthand stories of men and women who served in World War II brought the war closer to me than anything I had seen in the movies, on TV or read. I remember the stories Patrick and others posted about their experiences. One of those I took from the discussion and published in Sonata before Pat sent me Christmas 1944. That story is Homecoming 1946 by Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca, known to us as Robby. I believe it goes hand in hand with Pat's story, so am posting a link to it below.

Homecoming 1946

A tearful thank you for the link, Mal.

Thank you for "Christmas 1944," Patrick. I really liked your use of the words "mouth organ" instead of harmonica because they reminded me of the origin of that loveliest of carols, Silent Night.

You can read about Stille Nacht here.

In a short space, you also brought up the old philosophical problem of what side is God on in a War. Both sides always think that God is on their side.

I think we ask the wrong question. Perhaps a better question would be "Who is on the Lord's Side?"

~Maryal

Dear Patrick:

If you will remember my husband's picture was beside your own in the Photo Gallery of the Greatest Generation discussion where you spoke so eloquently of your experiences of the war and your family. I've often wished that you would join us here in one of our book discussions and will continue to hope that we will see your post one of these days.

Your story of two opposing factions of the great war was simply great, and, as Malryn said, it brings us to the question of religion, our faith and questions that will never be answered in this life. Recently on a television show I heard a member of the Lincoln Forum speak of President Lincoln's faith in the "Almighty" as he referred to God. How torn he was during the Civil War and the lecturer quoted him thusly:

"Let us have faith that right makes might and in that faith let us dare to do our duty as we understand it." - Abraham Lincoln

In WWII right did make might and you and thousands of your fellow soldiers dared to do your duty. We all thank you and wish you a very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Thank you all for your comments. On Christmas Day we were cold and hungry, and our feet were wet, and covered with snow and water. We were   surrounded by Panzer Divisions and German fortifications, in the Colmar Pocket, and the civilians were fleeing Colmar, in terror for their lifes should the Germans return. U.S. and French Flags disappeared from the windows to be replaced by the Swastica

We spent the next month trying to fight our way out of that quadmire. The temperature was near zero, and a few minutes exposure of nose and ears to the icy gusts of wind, swept down from the Vosges Mountains was almost unbearable.

Units of the 30th Regiment became casualties when they crossed the Ill River and were attacked by a bunch of tanks, and were taken prisoners.

  The rest of the German Armor crossed the river and overran us on Jan. 21st, taking many prisoners. Lt. Audie Murphy won his Congressional Medal of Honor during this action, even though he was wounded, and became the most decorated American soldier of WW2.

During the next week the Germans dropped many propagand leaflets on us, giving the names of our officers who had already surrendered, and telling how well they and the other prisoners were being treated under the terms of the Geneva Convention and that we should surrender.

However, we had been advised that they had already shot many defenseless prisoners near Malmedy, so we held fast to our positions.

On Jan. 29 we were finally able to break out of the Colmar Pocket with many casualties on both sides, giving us another Christmas past to store in our memories.

Pat Bruyere ( former S/Sgt )

Sometimes people come into your life and you   know right away that they were meant to be there, to   serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson, or   to help you figure out who you are or who you want   to become. You never know who these people may be   (possibly your roommate, neighbor, coworker, long lost   friend, lover, or even a complete stranger) but when   you lock eyes with them, you know at that very   moment that they will affect your life in some   profound way.

      And sometimes things happen to you that may seem   horrible, painful, and unfair at first, but in   reflection you find that without overcoming those   obstacles you would have never realized your   potential, strength, willpower, or heart.

        Everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens   by chance or by means of luck.

  Illness, injury,   love, lost moments of true greatness, and sheer stupidity all occur to test the limits of your soul.

  Without these small tests, whatever they may   be, life would be like a smoothly paved, straight,   flat road to nowhere. It would be safe and   comfortable, but dull and utterly pointless.

       The people you meet who affect your life, and the   success and downfalls you experience help to create   who you become.  Even the bad experiences can be learned from. In   fact, they are probably the most poignant and   important ones. If someone hurts you, betrays you, or breaks your   heart, forgive them, for they have helped you learn   about trust and the importance of being cautious .  When you open your heart. If someone loves you,   love them back unconditionally, not only because   they love you, but because in a way, they are   teaching you to love and how to open your heart and   eyes to things.

        Make every day count!!! Appreciate every moment and   take from those moments everything that you possibly   can for you may never be able to experience it   again. Talk to people that you have never talked to before, and actually listen. Let yourself fall in love, break free, and set your sights high.

  Hold   your head up because you have every right to. Tell   yourself you are a great individual and believe in yourself, for if you don't believe in yourself, it   will be hard for others to believe in you.

        You can make of your life anything you wish. Create   your own life then go out and live it with   absolutely no regrets.

      *MOST IMPORTANTLY!!!* If you love someone tell him or her, for you never know what tomorrow may have in store!!!

Pat

Patrick, this is a very powerful testimony to the futility of all wars; the message conveyed in a few sprase words is u nmistakable.

We should ask why people fight wars over and over in each generation, ad infinitum ? Major and minor skirmishes are described in the bible. There were wars, large and small, in the Middle Ages and thereafter, without any significant interruption. The Thirty Years' War (1618-1648) for example was fought by a protestant Union, a Catholic League to which the Habsburg emperors prominently belonged, and there was endless marauding by roving bands, there was looting and burning but no clear-drawn battlefield, let alone a discernible purpose. As for Alsace-Lorraine : The separate border regions/provinces of Elsass and Lothringen, their German names, fertile areas on the upper Rhine, have a long distinguished history dating back to 959 and Otto I. (which I will spare you). From 1871 to 1918 and again from 1940-1944 they were under German administration. After WW II they became once again part of France.

So then, why are wars still being fought with ever more ingenious (?) destructive weapons ? Is it ultimately a power play ?

Thank you for your moving tale, Patrick. Now, if I may : the words "Gott mit uns" literally mean 'God with us' ; this phrase contains no verb. You supplied "is", Patrick, but that is not THERE !

What is in fact missing is the verb "sei" = be : Gott SEI mit uns, May God BE with us, as also used in the phrase Goot SEI Dank = God be thanked, or May God be thanked. In other words, an invocation, a plea, an expressed hope, but NOT the presumptuous certainty the present tense IS would represent. I thought I would point this out for the sake of good linguistic order.

I called the German Consulate in Boston (spec. an attorney in the legal section) and also the Goethe Institut in Boston. Both entities have confirmed that the phrase is Gott sei mit uns, which literally means God be with us.

Traude

It is my belief that in most wars "the enemy" has consisted of leaders at the top who could not or would not resolve their differences, and therefore sent their citizens to kill and to die.

German sons were sent out for the Fatherland. Japanese boys were sent out for the Emperor. Our own fought to prevent either or both from conquering and imposing dictatorship.

Many parents heard and saw the signs of impending conflict. Many prayed with all their might that it would not happen. Many soldiers, sailors and airmen were moving their lips in prayer as they died. They were just like us. We were all the same.

Right or wrong, most of us choose to fight for our homeland. Love of country makes it impossible for most to even consider not doing so. We fight to protect our families, and we feel our cause is just and God is on our side.

My imagination just does not stretch to God taking sides.

Yes Patrick, we never know what tomorrow will bring, or whether there IS a tomorrow.

"Mouth organ" is indeed a fine touch. The German word is "Mundharmonika".

Isn't it indeed ironic that soldiers on opposite sides of the battlefield have prayed, earnestly and sincerely, to the SAME God for THEIR victory ?

MaryPage, I cannot believe either that God takes sides.

Traude

This next short story, “Ahriman,” by Idris O’Neill, is a real gem of a tale. I’ve posted, along with Idris now for over a year in the WREX WRITERS site, and have never lost the admiration I feel for these imaginative and enchanting tales of the Wee Ones.

Written mostly for children, the captivating moods that Idris sets appeal to both young and old alike, and this Christmas story of the smallest of the small, is no exception. As always, I was enchanted when I read it.

In the Little Woods, life was the reality, and any existence beyond there was known as the Land of the Real, a place lacking in imagination and spirit of love, yet full of cynicism and fear.

This is another timeless Christmas story, only told in a much more imaginative way, with Santa as an elf, tiny reindeer , faeriegodmothers, and teddy bears who talk!

Lorrie

Thank you all for your marvelous, insightful comments on Patrick's piece, the other historical data and memories, and the links as well, I learned a lot from the Silent Night one and one phrase in it: "His grandfather lived nearby, and it is easy to imagine that he could have come up with the words while walking thorough the countryside on a visit to his elderly relative," add a lot to my enjoyment of the song.

The "God With Us," and "God is with us" research was interesting, too, Traude, thank you for that, yesterday on the way back home from my trip I was listening to the Messiah when they began to sing the very phrase "God With Us," and I doubly enjoyed your explanation as well, when I saw you all were discussing it here.

Thanks to you all! Patrick, that was marveous! You really ought to be a motivational speaker! I echo Ella: please do stay here in the Books.

---

As Lorrie has said, today we now move on to a different change of pace, "Ahriman," by Idris O'Neill, which seems to me to be several things at once: a parable, an allegory, which is it?

I've been pondering over and over what "Ahriman" might mean, but there were several parts of this thing I loved, "The least powerful among you seem to have shrunk the most, " (old age? Us???)

Why am I shrinking physically? Am I doing that mentally, too? My oldest son said Sunday, "well you ARE 6 feet tall can't you..." and I thought heck, I'm barely 5'3" or that's how I feel: suddenly in the malls and stores everybody is taller than I am, strange shrinking feeling.

Loved this: "the Land of Real." I know people who live in the Land of Real, too. You ask them why they think something and they say, "because it IS." Maddening. And in THEIR real world cynicism and fear are the two main tenets: I thought that well done, too.

(What's a "fae?")

Actually this would make a powerful children's book, since it has a moral for life and an actual ending (which so many of them now don't), Idris, I think you have a real gift here, something for us all to think about, as we shrink physically we can grow mentally.

Neat!

ginny

I have had the pleasure for some time of reading in the WREX forum the wonderful tales that Idris weaves. I also read SONATA magazine regularly and so had already read "Ahriman". But it is the kind of tale that one can read over and over and over again just as one can read and enjoy various fairy tales again and again. And as we adults come to find out, every single fairy tale has a strong message for those who look beyond the words and Idris has beautifully followed the path created by the Grimms brothers and Hans Christian Andersen.

Her tales are always written with words of love. Even though she starts off in "Ahriman" with a concern about shrinking, she nevertheless immediately opens the story with the term "dear ones." From there on, without even trying on a conscious level, it is easy to find oneself in the Little Woods as we listen to the fae's chirping, the wiggling, and the donning of mushroom boots. We are suddenly there and the Land of Real is somewhere else. The Land of Real is a place, however, where we don't want to be because it has "shriveled vision" and "cynicism" and "fear."

When I first read this wonderful piece, I began to realize that Idris was re-telling the same story that has been told for centuries, expecially around Christmas time, but helping us to better understand the meaning of that holiday by bringing us first into the Little Woods where we could objectively look out there and see what was happening in the Land of Real - a place where "the spirit of love and imagination" did not seem to be at home.

But lo and behold!! It turns out that something magical happens to all of us in the Land of Real at this time of the year. If we search hard enough, we learn that "The Spirit of Light is everywhere." We learn that while the rest of the year we might have been "shrinking," that for at least a brief period of time we grow in Love. How does all that happen?

"Goodness knows."

Robby

What is a fae? Fae is only one of the words used to describe these tiny mythological folk. Here is a larger list of what they are called.

NAMES:

Fairies are the Little People, the good folk who live in woody dells. Names for them include: faery - faerie - fatae - fa'ae - fairye - sidhe - sith - fee - fay - fae - fayerie - fair folk - verry folk - feriers - ferishers - farisees - wee folk - green men - greenies - greencoaties - green children - gremlins - good neighbors - good people - grey neighbors - pixies - piskies - sprites - tamlane - tammerlane - tom-lin - tom of lyn Elves, gnomes, sprites, goblins, hobgoblins, nymphs, merfolk, trolls, leprechauns, etc. are considered types of fairies in some traditions. Knowing a fairy's true name gives you power over it, so fairies are said to guard their real names very closely.

Ahriman is a the Persian character who represents death and a shriveling of the human spirit. Here is a link

Ahriman

The Persian supreme god is Ahura Mazda. This link explains the relationship between Ahriman and Ahura Mazda.

Ahura Mazda

Thanks to our Books Secretary and Teams Coordinator Pat Westerdale for that cheery snowman in the heading, and HATS off to all of you in the Books!!

ginny

Idris O'Neill has created a character, the Wee One, and the world in which she and other faeries live. This world is the Little Woods. Away from the Little Woods is the Land of Real.

Unlike the Little Woods where there is found joy and contentment as well as a bit of mischief, the Land of Real is full of inhabitants who are thoughtless about their environment and kindness toward their companions on this Earth journey. Every once in a while, a part of the Land of Real enters the Little Woods, and the faes must cope with the problems that brings.

It is Christmas time, and Faeriegodmother finds that the fae are all shrinking. Goodness is threatened by Ahriman, who tries to diminish those who walk the path of thoughtfulness and kindness by shrinking them and sapping them of strength. The Wee One searches for the essence of the Little Woods and is told by Claus that he is the spirit of Christmas and that in truth it is Ahriman, the symbol of selfishness and evil, who is shrinking.

Idris is speaking of the spirit of goodness here, and the threats that come to it from outside forces. This is not just a children's story, nor are any of this author's works. Through the fae and their experiences, cracks in the culture and often misguided beliefs of the inhabitants of the Land of Real are gently pointed out.

I have called Idris's stories Moral Fables and have published many of them in Sonata. Two of this author's works have been published by electronic book publishers, The Missing Teddy Bear, a story of what happens when a loved one is neglected and cast aside, and The Sock Stealers have both been electronically published as books and are available for purchase right now.

Members of the Writers Exchange WREX, a writing group in SeniorNet, are very proud of Idris O'Neill. When she joined the group, Idris's spirit had been threatened and weakened by an invasion of negative forces from the Land of Real, and through her writing about the Wee One and companionship she has found among writers and others, her faith in the world of the Little Woods has been restored. Her example is a strong and positive one, as represented by the stories of the Wee One, and her voice as an author is one to which all of us should listen.

Mal

Idris,

It is a charming story. It spoke to the little girl that is still way down deep inside me---the girl who believed in fairies and looked for them everywhere.

From someone who has dwelled much too long in the "Land of the Real" I thank you for helping me---and I am sure many of the rest of us---to remember that at Christmas everything is good and that somewhere the "Wee Ones" still exist.

I would like to add a more Real World compliment to whomever (was it you, Mal?) for the graphics on this story in Sonata. The little specks of color that fly around the cursor are enchanting---I just knew they were the "Little People" guiding me across the page.

Yes, Phyll, Sonata and my other two electronic magazines, the m.e.stubbs poetry journal and The WREX Pages are one-woman productions. I choose all the graphics and music that appear on web pages for each piece I publish, always with the thought of the meaning of the story or essay in mind. Thank you for the compliment!

Mal

Phyll:--Doesn't Mal do an amazing job with her magazine? I am constantly amazed!!

Robby

She most certainly does, Robby, and I have said so in the past. She is talented and works very hard to turn out an extremely professional product.

".......sad chirping" - what a phrase.

Such a dear story for this season. "Gather round dear ones." And Fairiegodmother is taking charge of a concern she sees ; addressing the issue ; an issue that is real to us humans. I liked Fairiegodmother ; she had a real concern for Wee One. And Wee One captured my heart....her furrowed brow and wondering. And looking at the scurry going on. And snuggled with Teddy.

I am still smiling and passed the story on to some e-pals. Great story for adults and children!

And I also like to think of the Wee Ones keeping us company.

~Marj

PS- And a day late - I enjoyed Patrick's memory offering and the responding posts.

Thank you so much for all of your kind comments on my tales. I too think Mal's e-magazines are the most beautiful i have ever seen on the web. She does a wonderful job and makes our work look wonderful.

If any of you have an interest in reading more of my Wee One tales there are several on my webpage. The webpage has assorted fae gifs and the celtic harp music of T. OCarolyn from the late 1600's. The picture on the index page is of my backyard which is of course, The Little Woods.

Tales From The Little Woods

Idris, I loved your story. I can not wait to visit your site and read more fantasy. I am glad there is a place like Snowville and the Little Woods. I never want to stray into the Land of the Real. If I do enter the Land of the Real, I will realize that I have lost all of my imagination.

Could you send me a pair of mushroom boots?

HATS

Hi Hats. It's the Wee One here. Can you see me? I'm over here in the butterfly bush. *giggle.

*Poof

There you go. One pair of red mushroom boots with spider's web laces. Now your feet will be as warm as toast. Don't lose your imagination whatever you do or i shall start shrinking again. )

I so admire Idris' imagination! Spider's web laces indeed!!!

Robby

I so admire Idris' imagination! Spider's web laces indeed!!!

Robby

Idris:--I believe every word you say!

Idris, since I am only 4'11", I feel I could fit my fae red mushroom boots. You are truly gifted, and I think I can see you behind that Butterfly Bush.

Thank you for such a magical time.

HATS

You are welcome to come to my world of love and imagination anytime, Hats. Remember what Faerie Godmother told me, "As long as we have our imagination, we are but a wish and a dream apart."

Faerie Godmother has her magic wand by the way. Then again she is very, very old and wise. She lets me borrow her wand sometimes when my little magic isn't strong enough.

Thanks for seeing me Hats. )

I too believe in those fairies and thank goodness there are people like Ibris who know them so well. I wanted to comment on the last two words of the story. "Goodness knows." I took those words literally and not figuratively as a chiche. I think that Goodness must be the name of Faeriegodmother. And she does know what is going on with the Wee One and Teddy. She may be old enough that she forgets some things like some of the rest of us, but I don't think she ever forgets the good of the world.

Wynona

Idris, you have written a lovely story and what a lively imagination you have - I loved it, but do tell the Wee One he would be so much better off if he stayed in the faerie as I got this letter from my Great-Uncle Mortal in the Land of the Real this morning:

Dear Niece:

As if the weather isn't bad enough with icy roads and more snow in the forecast and the price of gas hitting the sky and the old back acting up again, it's that time of the year when every 2 minutes on television they are showing toys and gifts for Christmas because, as you know, they have to get their money made over the holidays - you'd think the store owners, or most likely the big conglomerations, are depending on people buying presents for their very survival. All I hear in the news is mergers and more mergers and it'll all be one big building someday where the health clinic is merged with the drug store, and the grocery corner will be in the east wing and the department store in the west wing with the clothes and gifts and all and, of course, they don't consider the old people who have to walk from one end to the other and even when you get there, you can't find anyone around to ask a question or to ring up a purchase.

Now, I ask you is this what our country is coming to - one big merger - and is it the fault of the little guy who works hard all year and pays his taxes or is it those damnable politicians in Washington who are being paid by the lobbyists to vote their way and did they ever have to shovel snow to get to their car? Huh!

It's that time of the year when all those little idiots are shrieking outside and making snowmen and a body can't get any peace at all even on a Saturday or a Sunday. In the old days we never had time for such foolishness, we were out at 4 a.m. on our newspaper routes and then knocking on doors hoping someone would let us shovel their sidewalk for a quarter so maybe we could walk to the movies that afternoon - and the kids today would be better off if they had to do that, but these parents just buy them anything they see on television just to keep them quiet!

I'll be glad to see the end of this year come, not that I think next year is going to be better, no nothing is good anymore. With regards, I remain…..Mortal

I'm putting my thinking cap on now. If you push the magic button you will be able to see Faerie Godmother too. She is really pretty. (very proud she knows her smile)

Magic Button

Ella----Did you make up that letter from an uncle? If you didn't, then we are related to the same guy!

Idris---I very much enjoyed reading your story, and now there is a bonus picture of the Faerygodmother her very own self. Thank you.

~Maryal

Idris:--Faerie Godmother is, indeed, very pretty and, if you would please, ask her to use her magic and to dissolve my essay (which is due to be reviewed in two days) into invisibility. After the sheer beauty of the land which you create, my upcoming mundane remarks can only be seen as chaff compared to the wheat of Godmother's wisdom. I write about what "is" and you write about what "can be." Any fool can see which is the more powerful.

Robby

Ella, i have shown Faerie Godmother your letter from Great-Uncle Mortal and she says this is an emergency, so i can take him on a dreamwalk.

Next time he falls asleep in his easy chair i shall make him a little boy again. I shall take him to the snowy mountain top of Mount Marshall, on Salt Spring Island. We will look at the puffy white clouds as they pass underneath us. He can see the other snowy caps of bigger mountains from there too. We will stay until after sunset. It is very beautiful there as the sun goes to bed.

Then i shall take him to northern Manitoba to watch the Aurora Borealis and listen to it crackle. If he still doesn't believe in magic then i shall take him to the enchanted meadow to meet all of the creatures there. I bet Peggity Rabbit would even make him a nice salad.

Don't worry Ella, Great-Uncle Mortal has just forgotten all of the magic in the world, because he got weary of spirit. I have mended his sock. On Christmas morning he will remember the spirit of Christmas because inside the sock i will put all of these happy memories and more. )

Robby, hush. Some fools, to quote you and if I have to spell it out for you, can't see the power in their own work. You created a land of beauty, as well, with your essay. I'll say more later. Now, stop pacing. :>)

Idris, your enchanting land of fae is made even more special by my knowing you in another discussion---and all your worries about the land of real. How delightful, uplifting even, is this other view of how things can be. I especially like how you've reminded us that we usually are more aware during this time of year (despite the stress and rush of the season) that joy and love and other spiritual kindnesses expand us. I especially love imagining the adult reading this story to a child and realizing that it is not just a story for children! Beautiful!

Thank you, Betty. I was the one pacing yesterday. I was afraid no one would understand my world of imagination and love. I feel better now. )

May i give Mr. Robby a *sprinkle, Idris?

Sure, you know better than i do, Wee One

giggle

Hold still Mr. Robby or i shall miss. You would look pretty silly with happy dancing feet.

sprinkle

Wee One, maybe he wants happy dancing feet. Have you ever thought about that? He may be another Fred Astaire. I hear he dances quite often.

He does?

Yes.

Imagine that. He can think great thunks and dance too. *giggle

Oh, oh!

Wee One, what have you done?

I didn't do anything, honest. You know i can't do anything but plant seeds.

Then just where has Robby gone?

I think he went to visit Faerie Godmother. He said he wanted to, didn't he? Huh, huh?

You had better get him back here, Wee One.

I can see Mr. Robby. He is sitting on a mushroom waiting for her.

Let me see, please. We One, that doesn't look like Robby.

Nobody looks like they do here, when they are in the World of Faerie. You should know that, you write the stories. Remember?

Maybe the rest of them would like to see him too, Wee One.

Okay, but this was not my fault. He just has a really good imagination. Just click the magic Button

Listen, Guys, I'm really sorry to say this, but I cannot access Lorrie's story for tomorrow. Do any of you have it, by any chance, printed out that you could post here?

I have tried all day to even read it and it crashes my computer every time, if any of you have it, please post it here?

Thanks,

ginny

I have a long white beard. Wonderful!! Something to stroke while I think great thunks.

Robby

Ginny----Here is is----apologies to Mal for any copyright infringement. But we don't want Ginny to miss this. Right?

Giving Thanks

Lorrie Gorg

Last week I woke one morning to a different sound. Perhaps I should say to no sound at all. I glanced at my bedside clock and could see that the alarm had rung itself out; I simply hadn't heard it. My ears felt as though they were filled with cotton batting, and any noise I could make out came through thickly, faintly. I wasn't too alarmed. After wearing hearing aids for years and becoming more and more frustrated with their waning effectiveness, I was quick to blame my inability to comprehend others' speech on those two tiny mechanisms. Today I learned the truth. It's not the aids, it's my hearing itself, and I've been told it's only a matter of time until I become "deaf as a post" as my grandmother used to say. I wasn't too surprised. At my age one expects a certain amount of hearing loss, but I had hoped that at least I'd be able to hear some things indefinitely.

Deafness is a strange sensation. It's like the feeling you get when you've been swimming and your ears fill with water and you keep shaking your head until they finally pop clear. Only this time there will be no pop. This utter silence can be frightening, and you feel as though you're in your own soundless world. Then more and more often you retreat into that world, especially in a group where others' conversation is a meaningless mumble.

At first I was furious. I ranted and raved inwardly at the Fate that decreed I would hear no more, and then sadly, thought of all the things I'd be missing. The sound of children's laughter, the welcome patter of raindrops on a roof, the rushing sound of the stream near our cabin, the morning serenade of birds outside my window, even the hushed evening chorus of nighttime creatures on still summer nights.

Never again to hear a Chopin Nocturne, a Rachmaninoff concerto, my favorite jazz records, even the stirring rendition of our national anthem. I thought of all this with bittersweet yearning. But gradually a certain awareness set in. Things actually could be worse, I told myself, and began to count my blessings. I finally realized that even though my ears have failed me, my eyes have not. Nor my sense of smell. As long as I can still see, and smell, my life won't be changed all that much, and for that I am grateful.

I won't have to miss a radiant sunrise or sunset, the sight of a fresh snowfall, tiny buds coming to life after a spring shower, a glimpse into a glorious summer garden, the brilliant colors of the changing fall leaves, or the expression of caring on a dear friend's face. I'll still be able to enjoy the fragrance of lilacs, the smell of fresh coffee in the morning, a wisp of scent from an expensive perfume, and the lingering freshness of sheets dried in sunlight.

The printed word will not be denied me, I'll still curl up with a good book, still watch with delight foreign films with sub-titles, and my computer will become my lifeline to the rest of the world.

For all this, and more, I do give thanks.

Thank you SO much, Maryal, I really appreciate that. I like to print them out and enjoy with my morning...I would say coffee but my only beverage is Diet Pepsi!

Thanks!

ginny

You, yourself, are "mostly magic", Idris.

Your magic is so healing. It is a non-addictive medication for the spirit when it needs a respite from afflictions of this world. Besides that, it is fun!

Thank you MaryPage and to all of you for being so kind and supportive of a new writer. I have a gift for you that i am sending to my friends. To each of you, thank you and have a MERRY CHRISTMAS

Idris---Thank you so much. Another story!! And a fine one it is too!

Thanks, Idris, this has been wonderful. You certainly have made me smile today!

Mal

Good evening.

The WREXERS have been privileged to meet the Wee One and her magic abode before; we have been delighted, as well as (subtly) instructed in the basic lessons of life- among which are love and consideration- and reminded of the ever-more urgent need to champion the good and its supremacy over the forces of evil.

Idris has a wonderful tender touch, and the lessons she is imparting are clearly not meant only for the young. Brava, I say.

Traude

Traude

According to medieval legend, a GOOD fairy and a BAD fairy held vigil before the birth of a female child, and there was fierce rivalry over who would have 'dominance' in her life.

I think the tradition may antedate the Middle Ages, and Idris' information tends to support this assumption.

I recall my mother's off-hand remarks about a girl who did splendidly in I can't remember what, "The Good Fairy surely must have watched over her every step of the way ..."

Traude

The myths surrounding the world of faerie indeed have good and bad faeries. Some are truly gruesome and evil. They were supposed to steal earth babies and replace them with changlings. House Faeries were said to be very evil if you didn't leave them a little tea and cream. All sorts of very odd things that some people actually believed.

To be perfectly honest with you, i have not studied faeries, nor much faerie folklore. I invented this little character for very different reasons than those that spawned the original tales. Some of Robby's essay really explains why i began my tales. I suppose that is why i think his essay is so important.

I wanted my stories to be happy, joyful, loving tales. I wanted to look at certain aspects of the human condition in a very different way than we normally see reality. In a sense i gave birth to myself through these tales. Everyone i think has a six year old in their brain somewhere. They can be tortured or happy. To find the happy self and share it, is a great honour. I truly thank you all for reading my tale and allowing me to share this world with you.

Idris - thank you! And what a magical place this has become with the magical visitors!

I read Betty's post and she said very well what I feel, also. You care deeply about our world and express yourself as if you are sitting someplace else viewing us from a bird's eye view. Your thoughts and viewpoints are generally exceptional and so very right on target. I thought it was because you are from Canada. Now I know it is because you are from a very mystical and magical place that keeps your wisdom and persepctive in place.

thank you

Linda

Lorrie, your article is so helpful. It helps me to see that no matter what is loss, in time, we will come to acceptance. This does not happen overnight. It happens through stages. I guess it is important not to allow anyone to take any one of those feelings or steps from us.

Your article proves there is light at the end of the tunnel. When bad times would come, my dad would say, "everything will be alright." Usually, he was right. I think he meant that in the end we would have many more blessings to count.

HATS

Lorrie's opening sentence leads gradually and then suddenly to fright. What has happened to the world? Where is it? Fear led to anger -- the usual reaction of "Why me?" Then to sadness as the author ran through the entire range of human emotions. She lists for us events which so many of us take for granted. Children's laughter. Patter of raindrops. Serenade of birds. Rendition of the national anthem. These and other sounds were an integral part of her life and as she listed them, I couldn't help but make my own list -- the bark of my dog, the wind through the trees, a passing auto reminding me that I was not alone.

How easy it would have been for her (or any of us) to wallow in self-pity. But this was not our Lorrie. Already there was within her a strength which turned her thoughts to "counting her blessings." Of the five senses, only one had failed her. Four out of five operating senses was not bad at all, the author reminds us. She could still do what many other people cannot do. Admire a radiant sunset. Enjoy the smell of fresh coffee in the morning. Perhaps especially important to her (and most certainly to her friends here on the Senior Net) was her continuing ability to share with us her thoughts and feelings. And for that we give thanks.

Robby

These I got when I came to the final words that lorrie writes"

I won't have to miss a radiant sunrise or sunset, the sight of a fresh snowfall, tiny buds coming to life after a spring shower, a glimpse into a glorious summer garden, the brilliant colors of the changing fall leaves, or the expression of caring on a dear friend's face. I'll still be able to enjoy the fragrance of lilacs, the smell of fresh coffee in the morning, a wisp of scent from an expensive perfume, and the lingering freshness of sheets dried in sunlight.

The printed word will not be denied me, I'll still curl up with a good book, still watch with delight foreign films with sub-titles, and my computer will become my lifeline to the rest of the world.

For all this, and more, I do give thanks.

Lorrie reminds us in such a straightforward manner - we need to move thru those steps in whatever losses come our way. Most certainly --- rant and rave; that is a serious step in our neverending journey to wholeness.

Very well scripted. Thanks.

~Marj

Giving Thanks by Lorrie Gorg

I remember Lorrie coming to the realization that she could not longer hear. It was a very sad time for a lovely lady, i had grown to love and admire. To know you are deaf must be a terrible blow to someone who loves music, children’s laughter and a host of other wonderful things that had made up part of her world. Is it any wonder she raged? What human would not?

Lorrie came through the stage of anger, into acceptance and finally through personal courage she found a way to turn lemons into lemonade. She thought of all of the things she still could do and enjoy. Certainly her presence here in the book section of Senior Net and elsewhere, shows she is capable of many things. Lorrie has a good heart and a lively mind, she shares with all of us.

My mother-in-law, who had more woes than most humans could take, never complained once she got a handle on her current problem. She always felt that someone who lived in their woes was, “dragging their cross.” No one can say Lorrie has ever been guilty of dragging her cross. Through it all she was kind and gentle to all of us.

This glimpse into the world Lorrie lives in, confirms all that she is. She is a woman of personal courage, gentleness and positive thinking. Lorrie is an amaging woman and i’m proud to have met her in WREX. She is one very special lady.

Jeepers, what great observations, and how I agree with you all, I found myself, like Robby, making my own list.

I thought Lorrie did a marvelous and fearless job beautifully illustrating the inevitable losses in this area or that that the body may suffer on it's journey through life and an outstanding exemplary job of illustrating how the soul, the sprit, can triumph.

That's another great one, and I do like the order these are in, too. I think we have some major writing talents as well as major guiding lights among us here on SeniorNet; isn't it FINE to get to hear their voices here too?

What a moving, inspiring piece!

ginny

Lorrie gives me a sense of what it is to lose sound. The ears plugged up, as if after a swim but no shaking the water free this time. I am a swimmer and familiar with ear infections. Some have left me nearly deaf--but only for a space of time--in one ear. I know that plugged up feeling as if an ear were a nose. I know what it is to ask people to repeat what they said.

I am thankful for Lorrie and her amazing mind and wit. I am thankful for the internet which allows her to share her thoughts with others. I am thankful for the written language which allows her still to hear "the voice you hear when you read outloud inside your head."

~Maryal

Lorrie has an excellent description of what it is to be hearing impaired.. DEAF in capitals... is what it is... I'm there and I know just what she is feeling... But I find that I will probably never really get use to being deaf and I have been for 22 years.

But you go on like Lorrie, accepting and dealing with life.. AND being thankful there is still a lot in this world to love and enjoy.

Good Story, Lorrie

Lorrie is an essential strand in the fabric holding us together. Now she offers the gift of viewing a journey she has taken and the manner in which she traveled.

She has said to us: "This is where I went and this is what it was like to go there. What do you think?"

We found the trip profoundly frightening. We found the woman who took it beautiful to an extent that dazzles the mind.

Bravo, Lorrie!

Lorrie, others above have said what I would like to repeat. As we all age, it is common to lose our hearing - I know several who are wearing hearing aids which do not effectively correct their hearing. They have learned how to cope as we all must when adversity strikes. You chose to become stronger through it all and you have our lasting admiration!

Thank you for sharing your story with us.

The ability to be thankful for what's left when something is taken away is the hallmark of a very strong person. I have known Lorrie Gorg for quite a long time now, from when she first joined the Writers Exchange WREX in SeniorNet on America Online. I remember when she found herself unable to hear, and I remember some of the physical and emotional pain she went through. She has made a remarkable adjustment, and a good deal of her recovery is because of the Books and Literature discussions and her involvement with them, I believe.

The computer is a remarkable aid to disabled or handicapped people. My predecessor as leader of WREX is almost totally deaf and badly crippled with arthritis. In this medium we do not see disabilities that are visible otherwise. This woman, Bernice Le Claire, did remarkable things with the organization of a computer writing group that has become important to many, many people, despite and with her physical problems about which some people never knew.

As many of you know, I have been handicapped since the age of seven, or sixty-five years of my life. There came a time when some of my peers began to develop physical problems, and I could not help thinking that they were beginning to catch up with me. I no longer felt as unique because of my handicap, and the understanding people began to show to me was gratifying.

I truly believe that if one is to become disabled or handicapped, it is easier to have it happen as a child than as an adult. When I had polio, I was too young to analyze what had happened to me, and any feelings of deprivation or resentment came later. It was then that my own adjustment really began.

Even in this age of more enlightenment about physical and mental disabilities, those who are handicapped in one way or another are treated differently from those who are not. It is this factor which is perhaps the most difficult adjustment for those like Lorrie, Bernice and myself.

Despite my own handicap, I have a tendency to stare at others who are handicapped in a different way from what I am. I catch myself and think about the person that lives inside this somewhat misshapen, limping body, a person whose intelligence, talent and worth I know very well. Then I relate what I think about me to others. Here in Books and Literature we do not judge any book by its cover. In so-called "real life", many people do.

Lorrie is thankful that she has vision, that she is able to use the computer, drive a car, write, work, participate nobly in these discussions, and cook Thanksgiving dinner for many elderly people at the place where she lives. As for me, I am thankful that I did not die. I am thankful that I lived beyond the age of eighteen to prove that the doctor who said I would not survive to adulthood was wrong.

Often disabilities bring great insight and compensations one would not dream of. I feel sure that years ago, Lorrie did not once think she would be using a computer, do what she does in Books and Literature, or write in the way that she does.

It has been a privilege for me to know Lorrie Gorg, and I have never met her face to face. Hearing impairment is not the only extremely hard thing this wonderful woman has had to face in her life. Her strength is enormous, far more than most people have.

I have the greatest admiration for Lorrie Gorg as a writer and as a woman, and I am more than thankful that somehow I met her.

Mal

Lorrie,

Beautifully and honestly written. Even though I can't understand your emotions fully because I have not walked your path, your story shows me a glimmer of what it means to come to terms with a life altering physical change. First fear, and then anger, and then a sort of acceptance, and finally the realization and gratitude for the blessings you still have. It shows quite clearly your growth as a human being. Thank you for sharing such a personal experience with us.

Robert, I read your article and found it very inspiring. It is helpful to me personally because I have my own disability like everyone else. Some days are harder than others, but it helps to remember that I am not alone.

Also, it helps to remember that, as you said so eloquently, everyone has some potential. My favorite line that you wrote is, "we try to hide our disabilities from others...We smile the smooth smile." This reminded me of a poem I read long ago by Paul Laurence Dunbar. It was about how we wear a mask.

Life become easier, with our disability, once we learn to be more real.

Thank you for writing,

HATS

I can't begin to express how grateful I am for the kind words posted here about my essay. Remarks such as those from Robby and Mal I treasure greatly, and I was really touched by the comments made by others. What a wonderful bunch these "Bookies" are!! This is why I feel that this site is my own "home within a home."

Many joys of the Season to you all!

Lorrie

So sorry- y'all but I am late- well hey the good news is I figured out how to load the new internet cd on this thing and get access.

Just wanted to say that I am a "child" of the Viet Nam war- a very long story there- but the 1944 story was not unlike a viet nam veteran's feeling in the 60's. Funny how war preserves a kind of continuity - a remembrance of humanity for some, aligning with bestiality for others.

so please- ginny- where are we- I really think I am online for a bit- hmm that sonata link againh- what story- sorry to be a pest.

These are links to the essay and stories:
Thursday: Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca
What is a Disability?

Friday: Faith Pyle
A Holiday Gift for Children

Saturday: Marilyn Freeman
My Next Song


Sonata
Sonata magazine for the arts

All of us, all who read Lorrie's poignant story, must be grateful to her for being able to express so eloquently what it means to lose one's hearing. She has done so in relatively few words.

It cannot have been an easy journey from the first signs of the oncoming loss to the eventual realization that it would become progressively severe and irreversible. The reader can imagine the progression from incredulity to pain, to anger, and ultimately resignation.

To reach that stage of acceptance requires uncommon courage and personal strength. And to be able to still grow and expand in other ways in spite of the total loss of hearing, to give unstintingly to others, compensating in numerous different ways, that is not only exemplary, it is rare.

Bless you, Lorrie.

Traude

First, thank you to Mal for creating a safe place for Lorrie's, then Robby's work. Stories or thoughts about disabilities are often segregated, are often seen in journals that don't have wide circulation. Even publications that routinely accept "health" related material don't often print work about disabilities. This is just one of many ways in which people with any number of physical limitations are marginalized, are made to feel somewhere outside the norm. The norm, as most people don't realize and as Robby writes about, actually includes people with disabilities. It is more "normal" than generally realized. Also, the physical world of buildings, campuses, parking lots, etc., is still so full of barriers that many people with disabilities don't venture far from home. If they are at home (in large numbers), we don't see them or interact with them.

So, the secret shame in the first part of this century of having someone in the family with a physical or mental disability is still with us. Architectural and attitudinal barriers keep some people from our view, so it is still easy to think of them as not part of the general public. So, when Mal decides to publish work about and from people with disabilities, we get to "see" each other better.

I've read stories similar to Lorrie's. At some stages of my own disability, the only comfort I could find was in collections of experiences of others coping with serious disabilities. Losing physical function isn't something we expect; it interrupts plans and perceptions. It turns life upside down. It's about loss, loss and more loss. Lorrie's story captures that.

What struck me right from the first was Lorrie's gentle tone telling about enormous losses. The end of the story---about her acceptance and coping---was really in the tone of the first few sentences. And, although it wasn't easy to read about each specific sound that she would never hear again, it felt as if she was guiding us through the list, assuring us that if she could think about this list of sounds, so could we. That's how this writing was different from other stories I've read. It was calm and certain, even though she wanted us to experience the specific losses with her. It's risky business telling so much of ourselves to others. The telling takes much courage. I can tell from those who responded that her trust that she was in a safe place was not wrong. It was a beautiful telling and I hurt while reading it. Thank you, Lorrie. This story will stay with me.

---------------------------------------------------

Robby's essay. Strong! Didactic! We're not getting out of this piece alive---or with our old myths intact, at least. A stronger version of this doesn't exist. I've read the same premise elsewhere---maybe in a sentence or two, but never with such conviction and convincing examples. It was a delight for me, a person with a disability, to read this well thought out presentation on inclusion. I've spent half my life fighting for inclusion in one form or another, so when I read something this strongly worded and well written, it makes my day.

I guess in some ways, we all stay 20 years old, thinking we'll never die---that parts of our bodies will never die, that disability is what happens to the other guy, not us. That doesn't even make sense and Robby says it doesn't in ways that are utterly convincing. I loved reading this!!!

Counterpoint

This is a short counterpoint to my own comments, therefore to the comments in Lorrie's and Robby's pieces.

(remembered from discussions in graduate classes in adjustment to disabilities) There seems to be no "average" or middle ground in society's perception of people with disabilities. They are seen as total failures (no teeth, living under a bridge) or as superhuman, "courageous," and "inspiring." To be fully integrated, people with disabilities must be seen with a wide range of average behavior---which will include bad moods, frustration, average days, impatience, not coping so well, etc.

-------------------------------

Do you know how people begin to tell you about their neighbors and cousins who have already had the same kind of surgery you are about to have? That often happens in a distorted way when someone first hears the details of my disability---they tell of a minor limitation---"hey, listen," someone says, "when I'm playing golf, my old football injury in my knee starts acting up and I'm out there limping around the last nine holes!!" ..............Just once, I think to myself, I want someone to say, "My old football injury is the only thing I have to put up with---I don't even begin to know what it's like to have what you have." Empathy is great, but sometimes acknowledgment is better.

First may i say how much i love Robby's essay. It begins with a series of questions and engages us right away. We are asked to make a journey into self. There is an examination of the issue that is complete in terms of physical disabilities. There are of course others that are not physical and i have one of those and an immune deficiency problem. He urges acceptance of self, as a means to become the best we can be, given what we are capable of.

Through acceptance of self comes, love of self which propels us forward. As Robby states, "You are you, disability and all." Because Robby had raised a like subject in another thread, i examined the issue myself and wrote the tale, "Jeremy and the Firebird."

Robby also asks, "Who among us is capable of learning without help from others, without a pat on the back, without that wavering ray of hope?" Often those who are the best teachers of self-love are those who have been in the darkest of human pits. These usually kind and gentle folk offer us a hand and in return we hold our hand out to others in need. We become the cheerleader they need. As Robby points out, we need to foster "empathy" withing ourselves. Of course this also means the person must be willing to move out of their misery.

Until a few months ago, i was fortune enough to have such a wonderful place. It contained all of the elements Robby speaks of. It was a place called Wordy's on Sympatico. It helped so many folks to come to terms with all of the horrors than had befallen them. Often they lurked for months and read poems, tales and words of encouragement. It was an offshoot of healthtalk, were just about any horror that could befall man was discussed. It fell apart because those who formed the nucleus of the tiny group died or became so ill they could no longer carry on. I can't tell you how badly i feel about the loss of this place for those who obviously still need it. It was the most joyful, accepting place on the web. It made so many people well, and we never spoke of our illnesses, that was for the other threads.

As Robby points out in his essay, "Everyone has disabilities, and everyone also has great potential." Four years ago i would not have believed this, but now i do. I know my disability and it knows me, but i will not give into this one. Thanks to the folks who were The Wordians, i gave birth to myself and helped others to do the same.

Robby's essay deals with the most basic and complicated human issues. It is about hope and acceptance. It is about freeing the magic spirit inside of us. It is about becoming.

We always count on fine thinking and fine writing from Doctor Robby.

We always get it!

Idris, yes to all you wrote about Robby's piece. The word "acceptance" you used made me think that he also is speaking of how much more alike we are than we are different. That concept comes up a lot when perceptions artificially divide us, like race or gender or disability.

Betty: If i cannot love the me in me, i cannot love the you in you.

Back in a mo, thanks for the links, Mal, Everybody: the schedule is in the heading but you can easily download now from Mal's links.

Our Lorrie is quite ill and has been taken to the Emergency room, not good news, very concerned thoughts her way, back in a mo with my thoughts on Robby's VERY impressive and well written essay.

ginny

More details on Lorrie, please, Ginny.

Ginny:-- Please tell us how we can communicate with Lorrie.

Robby

Ginny please, what has happened?

Don't know a thing other than what I told you, had a letter on same from her, have told all, you now know everything I do, I guess email would be our best bet....

Thanks for caring, that's what sets us apart here on SeniorNet, if I find out anything at all, you'll be the first to know, if you find out anything at all, tell us all!

ginny

Robby's inspiring piece this morning is SOOO important I feel like spreading the word and I will.

Words to live by:

Almost never do we push ourselves to our limits. Furthermore, not only do we take it easy on ourselves, but we often commit the human crime of blocking others from reaching their limits. We block them in many ways -- putting them out of our sight and away from our aid; depriving them of opportunities to do things, speaking to them bluntly or acting as if they are utterly helpless, giving them a job far beyond their limits, thereby forcing them to fail and perhaps to give up hope.

Who among us is capable of learning without help from others, without a pat on the back, without that wavering ray of hope? Most of us who feel that in some small way we have succeeded can point to a parent or a teacher or a friend who gave us that extra boost. Do you consider yourself a "self-made"person? Pause if you will and re-examine your life. Do you really mean that you have never received any important help of any sort? From anyone? At any time in your life? The likelihood is that none of us has succeded on his own. Putting it simply, we are all disabled.

I hope it's OK to reproduce the entire piece from Sonata Literary Magazine here, poor Malryn, but I need to go spread the word and see how many people can view this, it's VITAL.

What Is A Disability?
Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca


Who among us is perfect? Who among us does not find his vision impaired, or his legs less than sturdy, or his hairline gradually receding? Who can say that his memory is completely accurate, his ability to understand acute, and his power of logic beyond reproach?

Who among us is not disabled in one form or another? Is it not so that we are all mere fractions of what we would like to be or ought to be? Folklore tells us that "practice makes perfect", yet we know within us that neither we ourselves, nor anything we do can ever be perfect.

We struggle through each day, sometimes trying to our utmost, sometimes not doing our best -- but constantly realizing that every one of us is disabled. As we do so, we try to hide our disabilities from others. We feel guilty that we are not all we pretend to be. We smile the smooth smile and act as though we were doing exactly what we had intended to.

Being disabled, then, is a universal condition. It is common to all of us and varies only in that each of us has different disabilities and to different degrees. No matter to what extent the disability exists, the fact remains that most of us are born with brains of great potential. Of the ten billion or so cells in the brain, some of them - many of them - are available to be stimulated and used.

There are those among us who try to hide their disabilities, but find it more difficult to do because their so-called "disabilities" are too conspicuous. If one leg is shorter than the other, it is hard to hide the fact that one is limping. If one’s eyes aren’t functioning, it’s hard to walk along the street and pretend no help is needed.

If a person’s brain injury causes him to shake constantly or to speak with a slur, or to have trouble reading, he can’t smile the same smooth smile and act as if he was doing exactly what he would like to do. His lack of perfection is more obvious; so we label him different.

Our advanced age of technology, however, has made us ask, "What is a whole person?"

If your appendix has been removed, are you still a whole person? If one of your kidneys has been removed or your heart replaced with another one, are you sitll a complete individual with capabilities? What if you lose the use of one lung? Or come back from combat without arms or legs? Don’t you still have the same childhood memories and perhaps the same hopes and wishes?

You are you, disability and all. The wonder of nature is that you are never without any ability at all. Regardless of disabilities, obvious or not, there is within each of us the power to think and to do. The person without any brain cells is dead. The person with living brain cells is capable of doing something, and the goal is merely to find each person’s limits.

Almost never do we push ourselves to our limits. Furthermore, not only do we take it easy on ourselves, but we often commit the human crime of blocking others from reaching their limits. We block them in many ways -- putting them out of our sight and away from our aid; depriving them of opportunities to do things, speaking to them bluntly or acting as if they are utterly helpless, giving them a job far beyond their limits, thereby forcing them to fail and perhaps to give up hope.

Who among us is capable of learning without help from others, without a pat on the back, without that wavering ray of hope? Most of us who feel that in some small way we have succeeded can point to a parent or a teacher or a friend who gave us that extra boost. Do you consider yourself a "self-made"person? Pause if you will and re-examine your life. Do you really mean that you have never received any important help of any sort? From anyone? At any time in your life? The likelihood is that none of us has succeded on his own. Putting it simply, we are all disabled.

What has happened, then, is that various people in our lives have urged us on - by patting us on the back, either high up or low down - to use our brain potential just a little bit more. Some of us tend to emphasize our disabilities.

"Musical notes all sound the same to me."

"It’s no use - I can’t even draw a straight line."

"You want me to multiply that? I can’t even add a column of figures."

"Science was always a mystery to me."

Despite our disabilities, though, someone saw that we were whole persons, that we had billions of brain cells not being used. To our never-ending surprise, we are able to tote up grocery lists, pick out a popular tune, draw a fairly decent sign and catch the general plan of orbiting a human being around the moon.

We are all teachers. We are all able to urge forward others who are disabled. We can do it through empathy. We can to some degree put ourselves in another person’s shoes. We dislike admitting it openly, but within us we know that there is not much difference between having wobbly legs and being without legs -- between having poor vision and no vision at all -- between a bad memory and a terrible memory.

Everyone we meet has some sort of ability and some sort of desire to learn, so everyone we meet is a potential student whom we can help, regardless of his apparent disability.

Everyone has disabilities, and everyone also has great potential. Everyone has the desire to advance. Everyone has unlimited informational resources available to him. Everyone has a brain just waiting to be stimulated. Everyone can be educated and perform -- even more than he is now -- day after day until the last moment of his life.

So, what is your disability? And what are you doing about it?

© Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca
All Rights Reserved
© 2000

WE need somehow to use this and to get as many people to see it as possible, I think it's not only important, but it speaks to our mission here, as well.

ginny

When Lorrie wrote to me yesterday afternoon, she said she had rather severe back pain and thought it might be pleurisy. Like all of us I am very concerned about her, but I think she would be upset if everything came to a halt because of this news. For that reason, I'm going to post about Robby's essay.

Robby has asked a very good question here that makes me think. "What are you doing about it?" What am I doing about my disabilities?

The first thing that came into mind when I thought about this last night was that my biggest and worst disabilities are in my head, and I think others share this disability. What are they? Negative ideas and thoughts, excuses that keep me from doing what I think I should.

Some weeks ago I fell and broke my polio leg. This has created a fear in me and a lack of trust in the knee lock of the leg brace I wear, which collapsed causing me to fall. I have to push myself to get up out of this wheelchair, put crutches under my arms and walk.

This is only one example. Sometimes it feels a whole lot easier to stay in the comfort and safety of my little apartment rather than getting myself into my car and going somewhere, even when I know I'll feel better and my attitude will change the minute I am behind the steering wheel. I keep wanting someone to urge me on, to do what I did for two elderly men I helped a few years ago. "Come on, get up out of that chair and get your coat. We're going out to lunch!" The prodding and cheerleading I did for them I must do for myself.

I don't like myself much when I use my age or certain physical weakness that some people call Post Polio Syndrome, something I don't really believe in, as a reason for not doing something I think I should. I told someone once in the Polio, Post-Polio Syndrome discussion that for me anyway, Post-Polio Syndrome began the day after I had polio. It is not a reasonable excuse to me, nor is the number of the years I have lived.

Since I am aware of what I consider my worst disability, it's time to do something about it, and the time is now.

Of course, the people who should read Robby's essay are the ones who have deluded themselves into thinking they have no disability at all. Without conscious recognition of what they do, they sometimes look down on people who have obvious disabilities. There are times when I want to say, "Stop! Look into yourself and find out what disabiity you have, too."

As Betty inferred in her post, attitudes about disabilities of others can be annoying and even hurtful. I think it was Phyll who said to Lorrie that she could not truly identify with what Lorrie had gone through because she had not experienced what she had. This is a far more honest attitude than one that says, "Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about, blah blah blah" when the person doesn't have the vaguest idea what it's like. Only upon self-examination can one discover his or her real disabilities. That self-examination can be painful, but it will lead to a correction that will make that person feel better and his or her life easier.

I will end this by saying I hope and pray Lorrie will recover soon and be back with us here.

Mal

I agree with you Ginny. When we crush the human spirit, it is as bad as physically harming the person. Instead of a helping hand, we offer the back of our hand.

Robby,

I am not going to say I "loved" your essay because that wouldn't be true. It has disturbed me, it has made me think, it has made me self-exam and I think you know that is an exercise most of us don't like to go through. The following paragraph struck home most clearly for me-----

"We struggle through each day, sometimes trying to our utmost, sometimes not doing our best -- but constantly realizing that every one of us is disabled. As we do so, we try to hide our disabilities from others. We feel guilty that we are not all we pretend to be. We smile the smooth smile and act as though we were doing exactly what we had intended to."

Eleven years ago my life and my self-image were altered within the space of a few hours. Because my physical disability is one that I can hide I rarely talk about it and only family and friends are aware of it. Guilt---wow, that really hit me! Even though it has been more than a decade some days there is still bitterness and guilt. And some days there is thankfulness for my life and an "almost" acceptance.

But no one is interested in all that. I just want to say that in spite of your worrying over your "essay" being accepted in a "story" discussion, your words personally touched me more than any others. Your "essay" is valuable to me.

Thanks, Robbie... This has been real lesson... At this time of year, it gives a reason to examine self and consider that age or disabilties have nothing to do with our potential.

Oh, dear, oh, dear, Lorrie ill! I hope and pray it is nothing serious and will be waiting word, Ginny.

Great essay, Robby! You do not fail us ever and, yes, I have been helped by others along the way, and some died before I could say Thanks, before I was grown enough to have hindsight. I am sorry about that.

For some reason, your words reminded me of Forrest Gump who said "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get."

Ella:--Whatever one chooses from a box of chocolates is always pleasant to varying degrees. But life?

Robby

Robby: I think life is beautiful. After all, it's all I have, and when I don't make the best of it
and taste the joys when they come, I have nothing.

Mal

Sorry for late responses to wonderful writings, but I too have been laid up with a horribly bad back and couldn't sit at the computer. But I want to catch up, so, if you will allow me, and respond to some of the most beautiful writings I have ever read. Therefore, I humbly say the following:

Christmas, 1944 (Patrick Bruyere) Patrick - your brought tears to my eyes as I envisioned the lonely, silent night suddenly filled with the most beautiful of all music. You must have truly felt for that evening that God was there orchestrating the music. I read "All Quiet on the Western Front", but I don't believe that anyone who has not experienced the war time experience can ever comprehend the loneliness and fear of the dark nights. Thank you Patrick for letting me know that a higher being was there with you.

Ahriman - Idris O'Neill To Idris:

Thank you for reminding me of the fairyland - Where the magical wee ones can still take me by the hand.

Where the world exits of pure delight and pleasure - Where our subconscious can drift to all the hidden treasure.

In fairyland we are all young of spirit and heart - And find solutions - right from the start.

And sometimes when fairegodmothers go astray It's takes a wee one to save the day.

To remind us all that joy is in the nation - And to come together for a world spiritual celebration.

You have reminded me that the Savior comes in many a way To celebrate the joy of Christmas Day.

(PS - a funny - I have four granddaughters and was always able to discuss my voice as the tooth fairy so my daughter would call when one of the girls lost a tooth; I in turn would call the particular child and tell them in a very soprano fairy voice, that I knew all about it; how brave they were being and a reward would come in their sleep to be found under their pillow. But, with the last granddaughter, and 18 years later, having no longer the ability to create a soprano voice, my daughter called after I had talk to my youngest grandchild and said: "Mom, what did you say to Hannah? You scared her! I then repeated in the voice I had used, my general schpiel. My daughter said "Oh my God, no wonder she was frightened Mom! You sound more like the Wicked witch of the west!!!" Well, we chuckled about it and I was able to enlist the services of one of my friends to take over my job who said to me: "You want me to be what? - lol)

Giving Thanks - Lorrie Gorg

Laurie, when a person can, against all adversity, find the courage and strength to see the silver liner, then she becomes my heroine. And you, Lorrie, are truly a heroine. Because of your heart, you will always hear the voices of good Lorrie. May God (and the wee ones) always bless you. You are truly an inspiration. Thank you.

What is a disability - Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca

Your words of wisdom are powerful. The only true disability we encounter is closing off the light that the friendship and caring of friends and family can give to us in our time of need and more importantly - to admit the need. I started to saddened when I looked at the picture above your story of the elderly woman bringing the turkey to the table as I am no longer to carry the turkey to the table because I do not have strength. But, I have passed that pleasure onto my child and now I brighten with the wholeness of the family picture in celebration together - helping one another. Thank you.

I just heard from Ginny that Pat W. called the hospital and learned that Lorrie was treated and released,
apparently to go home. Pat or Ginny will tell you more later probably.

Mal

Oh gooooood!! Lorrie is being taken home. I am so glad that she will not have to stay in the hospital. Thank you, Mal, for keeping us up to date. Thank you, PatW, for finding out. Thank you, Ginny, for passing the news along.

Robby---Your essay made me think about emotional disabilities for some reason. I can deal with physical problems--have had two back surgeries, have been seriously bent to the side, have used a cane, etc. but I have a number of emotional or nonphysical disabilities. Some are like those others have mentioned, thinking that I cannot make the effort to do something I know will make me feel better.

One "disability" that I have had all my life, or at least as long as I can remember, is IMPATIENCE. I was impatient with myself and with others. Once I recognized this disability that was making others miserable, I started to work on it. I am now almost patient almost all of the time. I still revert to type occasionally, but I try to catch myself when I feel it coming.

Thank you for your essay. It has made me think.

~Maryal

HI LORRIE!! WELCOME BACK

Great news about Lorrie!

Robby, if you saw Forrest Gump, the movie, you might understand? He was mentally retarded and I think the chocolate referred to the box where every piece is a different kind, as in every person's life they experience different problems, e.g. Malryn had polio, my neighbor has a Down Syndrome child, etc. We just try to sweeten what life gives us by having the confidence in ourselves to do the best we can (as Forrest did).

I just talked to Lorrie on the phone... at home and she is hurting with a bad case of pleurisy... They gave her oxygen at the hospital and she brought home an oxygen unit...

They also gave her pain pills... and antibiotics... She sounded miserable... But said she thought she would live.... She is only comfortable lying down... so can't use the computer...

Hope she gets better soon.

We miss you Lorrie

Poor soul. That is painful. Hopefully the pills will help her to feel a little better in three or four days. She will be awhile before she starts feeling like her old self again.

the picture accompanying the selection is wonderful and the music! i enjoyed this story it seems like a real event inthe life of a real person.

Thank you, Pat. That is exactly what Lorrie thought was wrong when she wrote to me yesterday afternoon. I hope she'll recover soon and that friends are looking after her. Christmas is a hard time for Lorrie. I wish I could be with her.

Mal

Well I wish I lived closer so I could bring over some soup, I hate this, wishing her well and healthy again!!!!!

{{{{{{Group HUG}}}}}}} for Lorrie!!!



Thanks to Ella Gibbons for that neato blinking greeting!

ginny

It is a very odd way to wish someone you have never met and really like, well. This internet thing is very peculiar. We really haven't met and yet in many cases we know each other very, very well. Sometimes you can tell just by the way they post that something isn't quite right. Very strange when you think about it.

I have no clue what today's date is, but I did read My Next Song- a really nice story- I can certainly relate to being locked out on a cold night, but my story did not have quite the same ending. Mal you have a wonderful handle on the life in academia, reminds me of that book... hmm was it the good husband? your work and talent putting together sonata is amazing! accolades, accolades.

me? i don't have a spaghetti strap and next time i'm locked out, guess i'll have to knock on doors in sweats, old socks and a lap robe with lighthouses along the edges

Oh noo, my roomie is sick. Oh poor Lorrie, I will indeed fix chicken soup for her bones and I will read to her (chicken soup for the soul .) I DO wish that I had her address so I could write her or call. I have long felt that when someone is ill or "out of sorts" that is truly the time to stand beside them. We need to let peo;ple know that they are loved. Here, at SN, we are in essence an extended family. The road to hell has been paved with good intentions but we don't need intentions we need others to act in our behalf when we're down and out. WHO is going to make the chicken soup? Oh bother, poor Lor.

Alf ... send me an email...

As I was reading the thirty-one messages that had accumulated here in the course of this day, I was concerned about Lorrie, like the rest of you, but heartened to learn (thanks to our excellent networking) that she has been discharged from the hospital and is home.

I do hope someone will look in on her, or stay with her, until she improves sufficiently, and I pray that this be soon. We wish her well, with love and affection. ------------------- Robby's powerful essay boldly addresses human disabilities of all kinds- often unacknowledged, or self-consciously hidden, and all too often blatantly ignored (whith eyes averted) by the world at large.

After all, it is the image of perfection we are taught to covet all through life, even though we learn soon enough that we live in an IMperfect world and are imperfect ourselves !

How we deal with those imperfections and real disabilities (and allow them to take over every aspect of our lives) depends to a great extent on our emotional makeup. Whatever those perceived imperfections may be, we owe it to ourselves to rise above feelings of inadequacy, insecurity and, yes, above any disability.

As Robby says, we all have potential and much to offer, and we must learn to believe in ourselves first, and then make use of our potential by helping others who may not be as far along on that road ...

That would be the best way of proving our gratitude to those who helped US, in one way or another and may no longer be here to be thanked; thus producing an echo of manifold kindnesses, a circle of goodness.

" We have to DO good so that the good BE in the world " as one aphorist said.

That will be a true accomplishment and the release from physical limitations, whatever they may be, and the true victory of the spirit (the mind) over the body.

Thank you, Robby.

Traude

Glad to hear that Lorrie is home!! Ginny, or whoever, anybody....someone call Lubys in Lorrie's town (or a regional cafeteria of good reputation) and ask for a quart of vegetable soup (or chicken, if they have it) and a chocolate cake. And tell them to figure out how to deliver it. (I did this a few weeks ago in my mother's city and it worked fine.) If it's $25 total, I'll buy your next Barnes and Noble book, Ginny (or whoever), then someone else can buy you the next book....to pay you for the stuff for Lorrie. Maybe through trial and error, we can eventually figure out how to do this when someone is sick by trying various methods. I'm just saying that I'll pay for a next book's worth of chicken soup if someone will do the Cafeteria sales job. Other ideas?

------------------------------------------

Here's what I've been thinking all the way through responses to Robby's piece. It's a response (to personal things) I've worked on for myself for a long time. I feel like most of us are not the intended audience for Robby's essay. I mean, of course any of us could be------but I think so many of you, so many of us, don't give ourselves enough credit for who we are, what we do accomplish. Maryal, Malryn and a few others sounded just like I do when I start on my "I'm capable of so much more than this---and I'd feel so terrific if I could just get energized---and life would be so much richer if, if, if."

My son is going through a sudden, unexpected marital upheaval. He's been on the phone to me with his panic, grief, anger, a whole rollercoaster of emotions. Once this week while listening to him, I let the most wonderful thought drift through the back of my mind---about how meaningful my patient listening was, what a gift to him that I could stop everything my mind was busy with and just be with him while he hurt. I was even working to keep silent my inclination to offer lists of fix-its, just letting my self be quiet and attentive.

Those are the kinds of things that I'm working on recognizing---the kinds of things that I already know so many of you do and are and offer others. I do take Robby's admonitions seriously, and agree with every last word he wrote....but I'd be willing to bet that there are accomplishments of the spirit and of connection (here, for example) and love, etc., that don't get enough airtime on our lists of "what I already do well." Maryal, Malryn, at least daily, I fall into those things you two wrote that you say to yourselves....but sometimes I glimpse how even that, too, is a waste. Today's big thing, by the way, is that I wrote a long response to an email from my mother. Letters or emails make her day; she's like a kid when she gets one, happy all day. My writing back to her is not a small thing.

Can you tell I'm sleep deprived? Does any of this make any sense? Or have I just circled around and around without any clarity?

Betty---You make perfect sense, and I agree with you. I also believe that listening, really listening and not trying to FIX, is one of the greatest gifts you can give someone.

And I'm not too hard on myself. Sometimes I just slug around and enjoy the laziness of the situation. And feel NO guilt.

I hope your son's situation settles down. I know it does him good to talk about it even though it may not be the easiest thing in the world to listen to.

~Maryal

And I'm trying to peptalk myself up out of this wheelchair! Nothing wrong with that, as far as I can see.

Just had an instant message conversation with my New York son who said my life is in my mind, and there's a lot more going on in the outside world than that. I assured him that when I can walk and get myself out, my mind's going on vacation!

Goodnight, everybody! See y'all tomorrow.

Mal

As some of my friends here may know, for a 13-year chapter in my life I was a career Scout Execcutive and prior to that I was a Boy Scout and later a Scoutmaster. And Scouting and Indian lore go together. So in my mind (once a Scout, always a Scout) are vivid memories of stories around a campfire, many of them related to the life of the Indian -- some quite accurate, others less so. Regardless of which, there remains within me a strong attraction to the myths of the Indian.

Faith revived those thoughts and "grabbed" me immediately as she painted a vivid picture of the "moon shining up above," the "trail of light on the water", the "campfire smelling of the burning pine wood" and the "little sparks shooting up in the dark." The years fell away and I was back there ready for her tale. Granddaddy may have said he couldn't prove the story was true but who cared?

I love the names Indians give themselves -- One Hunter, Basket Maker, Runs Like the Wind. Faith used these names over and over again in her tale until it seemed natural for a person to have such names. And, without my realizing it as she continued to weave the story, it seemed natural that a squirrel would talk. Why not, after all? We have all heard squrrels chattering. It also seemed natural that a squrrel (they are friendly creatures) would have a soft heart and change to a "gentle tone of voice."

By this time, of course, I was ready for any animal that chose to talk so "old grandfather brown owl" complaining did not strike me as unusual in any way. Wouldn't you complain if someone woke you out of a sound sleep by singing in a loud voice "Yoo Whoo WHOOT" or "Ho Ho WHOOT?" But grandfather owls are also kindly creatures and helped the little girl to find her mother. In return, the girl gave the owl her song.

Faith has written a story which once it enters your thoughts, remains. Is there anyone here who when they next hear an owl will not think of Runs Like the Wind?

Robby

First, I want to say sincerely that I too am happy to hear that Lorrie is home from the hospital and on her way to recover.

I must say something; I have enjoyed this group - but you all seem a close knit group with no room for "outsiders". I am sad to feel this way, truly, I feel I have tried to communicate but get no encouraging response or even acknowledgement,so I shall leave you.

Thank you for allowing me the visits I did have with you all and stay as close as you are.

Dolphindli@aol.com

Dolphindi, I'm sorry you feel that we are all close knit and you are a stranger. Actually we are all once strangers here and we do feel close, our Lorrie, like you, was new just this year to us and she, like you, has been welcomed in as one of us as we hope you now are.

I have not responded individually to anybody's individual posts in this week of looking at our SeniorNet authors, so sorry, so in that you must not feel left out. Taking one short story per day does not allow for that, unfortunately, that closer reflection on the posts of others, but I thought others had remarked on your wonderful (and they were) points?

Your posts have been beautiful, and I have been delighted to see you here, I'm not sure if you are feeling ignored over your posts or over your suggestion of Pope Joan? But sometimes it just happens that people don't wish to follow up on a particular book: we have literally hundreds suggested each year: if they did, I would not have spent the last 4 1/2 years pushing my own favorite author, the prize winning Penelope Fitzgerald, with whom I corresponded until her untimely death this spring.

Certainly you, too, are one of us, and I hope you will continue to post your observations here, this is NOT a closed circle, rather the opposite, but I'm sure you can see the impossibility of remarking on each person's post when we take an entire short story or essay per day.

I thought this would be a good week for the authors themselves to get the attention, I do apologize if you feel slighted, it was not intentional, come on back!!! And a very Happy Holidays to you, in any case!

ginny

Betty, I'm going to follow up on your Lubys suggestion! Thanks!!

ginny

Dolphindi, i do hope you come back. I am here because my tale was being reviewed. I am more of a writer than a reader. I assume that is because if i spent too much time reading books, i would never have the time to write. One can't do it all. ) Please give it another try as they seem like a very nice group of folks.

I am still working on my review of Faith's piece but wanted to leave a link for those of you who love First Nation's People's legends. I use this site for research and it is vast, to say the least.

First Nation's legends

Oh, Dolphindli, don't go away! I've felt the same way you do at least 100 times since I started joining in discussions here in SeniorNet and before that in SeniorNet on AOL. It doesn't mean a thing, my dear, honestly, so don't feel neglected and ignored.

What I forgot, and maybe you did, too, is that there are loads and loads of browsers (lurkers, but I don't like that word) who read what you say and pay attention. Some have even sent emails to tell me so. I haven't met a single person here face to face, though I have known Lorrie online for quite a long time.

Put your feelings and sensitivities in the same place I put mine, and keep pluggin' along and have fun with us in Books. We'll miss you if you don't!

I won't talk about Faith Pyle's story right now because I want to read it again before I do. I do want to mention her novella
Vision Quest, which is a unusual story of one woman's search for herself through an Indian ritual. If you didn't see it when I published it in Sonata, I will tell you it will appear again in that ezine in the Spring. It's something that should not be missed.

Okay, I'm going to drink that first cuppa coffee. I'll be back with more about Faith's story in a while.

Mal

I hope Dolphindli comes back too. This is a large group, and it is impossible to say everything we want to say to everybody. I just love knowing that a group exists that loves reading and writing.

I do want to make a comment to Ginny. I am so excited about your correspondence with Penelope Fitzgerald. I knew she died recently, but I never got a chance to read her books. Is it true that she started writing and publishing later in life?

If it's possible, I would like for someone to recommend one or more of her books that they might have found interesting.

On another subject, I just finished "A Campfire Story" by Faith Pyle. I enjoyed it. I love the names Basket Maker and Runs Like the Wind. I wish we had names like that today.

As I read the story, I also wondered if oral story telling is a part of our lives today? When my children were small, I read to them, but unfortunately, I can not remember telling "made up stories" like Grandfather did in the story.

HATS

A Campfire Story by Faith Pyle

The story begins with a letter from a Great Grandfather to his Great Grandchild. The older man reaches across time to speak to a new generation of a tale his grandfather told him. This passing on of First Nations tales was the way the legends remained, although their’s was an oral tradition. This method of passing on stories was the way ancient people’s, including the Celtic tales were passed from one generation to another. The legends were a way of knowing before understanding.

The tales takes place, “in the great north woods where the great watrers now called the Great Lake are,” and the land was inhabited by, “the real people or Mohicans.” We are given an idea of how the Mohicans lived and survived in a land that is harsh and unforgiving in winter.

The story is about how Runs on Fat Legs becomes Runs Like the Wind and how the owl got its song. Faith has written the story in a simple and straightforward manner, just as these tales were told. It has the magic of talking animals and a kind and loving relationship between man and the animals the child meets. The animals have great charm, as does the child who has the adventure.

In the end we learn how the owl, referred to as Mr. Owl gets his, Whoo whoo whoot song. As in my Celtic tales, the reverence for the animal or human is spoken of as Mr. Owl. It is noteworthy, that in Celtic myth an owl, is seen as a physical manifestation of a Faerie Godmother. The bird is seen as having great wisdom and this story’s Mr. Owl is a thinking, talking being as well.

The story ends in the time of the Great Grandchild, who now has the secret knowledge of how the owl got its song.

I love this sort of tale. It has magic, simplicity and humour that is open to all ages and peoples. Thank you for the lovely tale, Faith.

Hats, i often told my children oral stories. When their grandfather was dying, i told them my own version of "Tuck Everlasting." It is a most gentle way of explaining death. As for an aging story my favourite is "The Velveteen Rabbit." I much prefer children's stories to adult stories because although they have the same themes, they say what they wish to say, more simply.

Dolphindli,

I share your feelings, I am sorry to say, and as Mal says, I have felt that way a 100 times or more. Sometimes when I feel something I have to say is SO important surely everyone else must respond, I am really let down when no one even mentions it. It is hard for me to realize that they feel what THEY have to say is even more important and are probably just as disappointed when no one, including me, acknowleges their point. I have considered leaving, too, but I think I won't quite yet. In large part I have enjoyed the different points of views and the insight that some have brought to a particular discussion. In online relationships, as well as offline ones, there are disappointments and small triumphs. The big advantage of an online relationship is if you don't like something that has been posted you can always turn off the dadgummed computer!

Friends, I am truly unhappy that Phyll and MarjV and Malryn have likewise felt not recognized.

How can we address this problem?

Should, for instance, the DL of a discussion address each and every one by individual post?

If so I will do that IN FUTURE, I repeat it's not possible this week, at least not for me.

Should, for instance, each one of us here, ESPECIALLY the people who may in the past have felt unrecognized) in their feeling of same, shouldn't they and the other participants, be ADDRESSING each of the posters? Since they know how it feels? Wouldln't that be a good solution?

Maybe from this, we can draw some conclusions and we can strengthen our own discussions here because I assure you on my death bed, we do care about you, we do wish to acknowledge you and we do value you here). Obviously?

---

Do you realize that these discussions are put on by people just like you? In other words, there IS no Professional DL here, no PROFESSIONAL BOOKS person?

Do you realize we are all the same here and thus YOU should be talking to each other?

Every time?

That it's YOUR burden in one of these discussions to respond to each poster as well?

WE have complaints that some people take over disucssions and don't talk to everybody. We have that complaint too.

---

As ONE of you, but one to whom the success of the Books is extremely important, all I can do is say that for ME, this week, it is impossible to respond individually and I think it's not wanted.

It's unfair to the authors who are appearing here for their one day of fame this one day each?

I still think they should be the focus of this week's discussion. We had considered making this a monthly thing in a separate discussion, and in THAT format, since there would be more time to address each story, it may BE that we could have the time to acknowledge individual post, but if people are going to feel their marvelous and insightful posts are being ignored then we may shelve that idea.

When we begin the O Henry then I will make a concentrated and special effort to speak to each poster in a post devoted only to him/ her? And see how that goes?

Likewise let's make it our New Year's resolution to do the same, to address each poster and to leave no poster out.

I want the recognition to go to the posters HERE, email letters do nothing but divide. Let's get it out here in public where we dwell, let's be that honest and let's all greet each poster.

You all can start now, by responding to each other, leaving no person out each time and getting a feel for how it should go.

---

The Books, the Book Club Online is important to me, but not just to me. It's important to the 32 volunteer Discussion Leaders and, I hope, to all of our members/ participants/ lurkers and contributors here.

If you have a beef, this is the place to address it. We are a real club, we are going to continue as we have monthly for 4 1/2 years, and right here out in the open not in private email, and we want your input and your help in spearheading these discussions along!

ginny

Idris, I agree. Telling a story would be a great way to help a child deal with death. So often, we don't remember that children are feeling the loss too. As adults, we become all wrapped up in our own feelings. We must not forget that children are not invisible. Your stories and Faith Pyles tell us that you have a heart for children.

HATS

How in the world, do we address each poster? Now, I am beginning to feel uncomfortable. I am not sure I understand what I am supposed to do.

HATS

Hats, often stories like "Tuck Everlasting" are in novel form. My children were early readers but simply could not read something that long, at the time. I went to the library and spoke to the librarian about such a story and she found me the book. I read the book and then turned it into a much shorter version that incorporated at least a little humour. They did not know at the time that Grandpa was dying but i did. There was time to prepare them for what was about to happen.

I expected to only tell the story once. They really liked the story and it was told many times, before and after his death. I really don't think anyone can write for children if they do not love them and see them as a bundle of possibilities.

I understand that Mr. Clement Moore has been proven not to be the writer of The Night Before Christmas. Certainly he was not the sort to have written the tale in the first place, so i am not surprised.

When all is said and done i think writers, even beginners like myself write from the centre of their being. Whatever they write tells you much about them.

Dolphindli, you are one of us now and we would miss you if you go away and stay away.

For me, SeniorNet is the only net place I am comfortable in. I have visited many others, briefly, but always come back to this dear neighborhood for a cup of tea and a shoulder. We laugh together and we cry together. We share our experiences and opinions. With so many people talking at once, it is difficult to always get a response to something you have just said. You know how it is, your voice gets lost in the babble. But hey, you can say it again! And again. The best part is that we all really DO come to care about one another. I have never met Lorrie, yet she is like a true blue sister to me. My body cringed at hearing she has pleurisy. Been there, done that. Know how ghastly it feels. Am dying for her and wishing her well and chicken soup (or vegetable) and chocolate cake and all the rest. But I have never met Lorrie in my life.

Dolphindli, you are one of us. Now we know you are miffed, and we don't blame you. We've each of us been there as well! But you can't go away for good. We've come to know you. You're family.

So sit down here by me and have a cookie, already!

HATS, yes, to answer your question, the fabulous Penelope Fitzgerald started writing in her late 50's I believe. She had a unique voice and won many awards. She wrote 9 novels and some non fiction, all completely different and on different subjects.

I first read her The Bookshop which I think would make a splendid discussion here, her Offshore and had begun her The Golden Child which I found so wonderfully written I could not complete it without writing her.

She was in her late 80's and was a reviewer for The New Yorker and graciously corresponded with me, to my shock, and before I could look up a reference she had made and respond to her last letter, and was in England myself this year, I came back to find she had died and I was devastated because she was one of a kind, minimalist in writing style Grace Paley-like, totally ageless, and a very kind and wonderful person.

I still have not finished The Golden Child, her first book.

ginny

As i am not used to being in here, i wonder if what you really need is one thread that is just for chatting about the day's events in your life. A sort of cyber cafe where people can just chat. I really have no idea but it is the only one i can think of. )

Have a bright and shiny everyone! )

I take responsibility for the way I've felt about being left out in discussions, not just here in Books, but others. I know for fact that I've been over-sensitive about a lack of a response to what I post. That's my problem, not a problem of anyone else.

As Phyll said, I often think what I have to say is important, and it's nice to receive an acknowledgment, but, as Phyll also said, each person who posts feels that his or her post is important, too, and that must be considered.

Perhaps it would be pleasant to have a Hospitality Room where people who are new introduce themselves and tell something about where they live and what their interests are. Then others could come in and say hello and talk about their interests, too. A sort of "Hello, how are you? I'm Malryn. It's certainly nice to be here" kind of place. In that way we'd become acquainted before going into a discussion. If we all checked that site every day, we'd soon know who people are and recognize them enough when they went in to a discussion so that we'd at least say hello.

Just an idea from sunny North Carolina this morning.

Mal

In following this side discussion about being an "insider" or an "outsider," I am asked myself what I am and have come to the conclusion that I am both. In the 1 1/2 to 2 years that I have been on Snior Net, I have been the recipient of many kind remarks and sometimes have had reactions to my comments (some not favorable, but that's OK with me.) So I guess I am an insider. In this same period of time I have read quite often exchanges between people who knew each other long before I came to Senior Net and who seem to know each other's family or who have visited each other. So I guess I am an outsider.

Putting it bluntly, I don't much give a darn which one I am and if you don't react to any of my comments, that's your loss. (Notice my humility.) I think what I think and say what I say (with courtesy and consideration of course) and you will acknowledge it or ignore it as you choose. I would like all of you to be happy but it is not my responsibility to make you so.

Robby

P.S. You may react to this or not, as you choose.

We do have one, Malryn, that's a great idea, we call it The Welcome Center

Everybody drop by there!

One of my personal gripes is the "Subscription!"

I know, I know everybody LOVES the Subscription, but I hate them and never use them, because they don't LET you see the entire menu.

Click on this:

Books & Lit Main Menu! Here you can see the Welcome Center, for instance, right on top of everything else and if you look down down down you can see every discussion including this one we offer?

OOOO how I wish we could get rid of subscriptions! (Don't kill me now but how nice it would be if everybody could SEE all the new posts in ALL our offereings)....

I know I know I know but do visit the Welcome Center soon!~ hahahaha

ginny

Another "idea from sunny North Carolina":

Mal, as usual, has said it much better than I. I really was only expressing my feelings as they agreed with Dolphindli and certainly did not want to stir up a brou-ha-ha. Please, Ginny, don't try to "fix something that ain't broke". These discussions are going along just fine and as Mal also said, it is my problem and not SeniorNet's, if occasionally I feel slighted. We all get in a snit now and then, I'm sure.

But you are quite right----we do not want to detract from the one day of discussion about stories written by our friends, therefore I won't say anything more on this subject.

I must admit to only going to two Sr. Net threads with any regularity, so i didn't know about the chat thread. I simply followed Mal's link, which she kindly provided.

My home is in a very tiny area of Sympatico, a Canadian forum, where i have a tales thread and mailbox for the Wee One.

Hats, I have no idea, that's a good question, how MAY we respond to everybody? Now you see the dilemma of the Discussion Leader in the first place who only wants to discuss a book in the marvelous stimulating company we find ourselves in here?

What's the answer?

I'm glad this came up?

What's the answer, I only have two hands like the rest of you?

---

Robby our goal here is to have no person feeling like an outsider. I dislike the word outsider.

As the author of that fabulous piece the other day, how do YOU think this might be addressed other than your good thought about the impossibility of making another happy?

Of course that's just what I would like to do, wave my wand and make everybody happy. And you say it's not my place to do that.

What IS my place here as the leader for this week only of this discussion?

I have not even addressed today's piece yet!

This is good, I'm glad this came up. We appreciate all of you!

ginny

Well, first of all, Dolphindli, we need people here with your kind of enthusiasm for books. Except for Ginny (she's a category all by herself), I don't know of anyone who tried harder to get a book on our discussion list. In fact, I regret not following an impulse I had earlier to mention Pope Joan on your behalf in the suggestion folder. I do wonder if you're aware, as Ginny wrote, that there are many personal favorites that have come up again and again but without enough general interest to sustain a discussion.

On the other hand, let's not dismiss Dolphindli's (and Phyll's) reactions. This keeps coming up.

One thought I've had since the last time we discussed this is that reading is a private thing. Unlike sitting together in a room together talking where we use verbal as well as non-verbal body language to let someone know that what is said is important, when we read a book or text on a computer screen, I don't think our impulse to respond is as strong. Also, with a time lapse, "responding" to a post that was written 3 hours ago may feel more like beginning a thought instead of responding to one.

At any rate, already this week in this folder, I've thought....so, didn't anyone have anything to say about what I wrote? Did I go to all that trouble for nothing? That feeling faded away, as usual, but I suspect that most of us feel that way after putting a lot of thought into a post and then no one responds directly to it.

I wonder if this reaction we have (did anyone hear me?) is about the same in an in-person setting or has special properties in this format. Maybe we'll get better at answering that as this comes up again and again.

(grin) If some of you get desperate for a response, you can always do what I did a few days ago---I answered and argued with my own post (see "counterpoint"). Felt terrific, but I didn't convince me.

Listen, Phyll, if we have ONE person who is not 100 percent feeling included and loved and appreciated here in the Books, it "air, too, broke!" and I do want to fix it.

Pronto!

This is so good, WE as a group, can learn from this and be stronger. That will be my personal goal for the Books in 2001.

The software is playing tricks this morning, we are all posting together, be sure to go BACK and read all the posts you've missed, and don't miss our Welcome Center at the top of the Books menu!

ginny

Ginny: I will answer your question directed to me later but, for the moment, will do as Phyll suggested and that is to turn back to the reactions to Faith's marvelous story.

Robby

Faith Pyle is much interested in American Indian lore, legends and rituals. I know that her life has been positively affected by what she's learned about Indian beliefs, attitudes about the environment, and philosophy. A Campfire Story shows her interest and involvement with these things.

First, I must say that I'm writing a letter to the editor of Sonata to reprimand her for errors I saw when I just re-read this story. Funny how one becomes so involved in the story when editing it that errors pass right by unnoticed. That's an excuse, and I promise to do better in my job.

I loved the idea of a story's being passed down from grandparent to grandchildren over many generations. The woman narrator here is retelling a story she heard from her grandfather to her own great grandchildren. Runs Like the Wind is gathering nuts with her mother and becomes lost and begins to wail and cry. The chattering squirrel leads her to the owl, who eventually steers her back to her mother. In the process, he takes her cry, and it becomes his Whoo Whoo Whoot call.

This is a wonderful story, and the way it is told takes the reader precisely to the place where it happens. It's the kind of story that most certainly should be passed on to children, grandchildren and their children.

My roots are in Massachusetts and Maine, and there are many tales of ancestors and others that have been passed down through my family. The Maine stories are always told with a Maine accent, and there have been many times when my kids have told them back to me, accent and all.

Another tradition started in my family with me, I guess. I am a musician, and part of the growing up of my kids was gathering around the piano while I played and we sang many different kinds of songs. All of my children know "When I Saw that Crazy Crow" by well-known composer Ned Rorem, and they know other songs, too. When any of my kids and I get together, we burst into song at some point or other. Old and not too well-known Dixieland songs like "Doctor Jazz, Stavin' Change, Hesitation Blues" and others are some of the things we sing.

My New York son, Christopher, is the father of one year old Leah Paris. He was in the room when she was delivered by Caesarean section after a worrisome and difficult pregnancy for her mother. After the nurses wrapped her in a blanket, they put her in her father's arms. She was crying, so he sang "Blue Skies Smilin' at Me" to her, and she stopped. Where did he learn that song? From his mother long, long ago. When Chris told me about this, it brought tears to my eyes, and I knew our story-telling and music traditions would continue long after I am just a memory.

This is a time of joy and celebration. I hope that all of you feel as joyous as I do right now. Counting my blessings is what I'm doing, and one of them is to be able to spend time here in Books and Literature with you.

Happy Holidays, everybody! Peace on earth and good will to all of us!

Mal

I did post my feelings about Faith's tale earlier. It's way back there somewhere. )

I loved Faith's story. Just plain out loved it. Bravo Faith!

I think one of the things that happens to make people feel out of it is when we have a very lively discussion and you sign on and there are #'s of new messages. sometimes a person's post and thought gets lost in the crowd. But I'd rather be lost now and then than not take advantage of hearing the interesting points of view from others. I like best that we live in different parts of the country and bring the local culture to life along with our personal histories.

To say again thoug- Sonata is an amazing online magazine. Accolades, Accolades.

Ginny, I hope we do get a chance to read some of Penelope Fitzgerald's books here in the club.

The day after Christmas I have some books due at the library. While I'am there, I think I will check out one of her books. I am shameful. I really don't need another book in the house.

HATS

I for one will consider ANY book at all but when I feel the book is being "promoted" I stop listening. Maybe that is what happened here Dolphindi. We are not in the habit of making anyone feel as an "outsider" and personally I take humbrage to that. We have a site called Ambassadors where new names are brought in from all of the various sites on SN and three of us work diligently together to assure that each person has been welcomed into Books and Lit. I also write them and instruct them to let me know if there is anything that I can do to assist them while surfing thru the sites. I try to defuse issues and dodge any hard feelings.

Many times I am not answered in the posts, nor is Ginny, nor Robby, nor Mal, etc., etc. ad nauseum. It is an oversight not a personal attack or a deliberate slight by any one of us. You have taken this much too personally instead of looking at the over all picture. Many times when a discussion seems to be slowing down one of us (usually myself) will throw in some humor or casual naggings to get the blood flowing. IF I knew you- you also would be at the end of one of my barbs. Everyone else here is already used to my "levity." There is no seperation of the group. Throughout life and every situation we gravitate towards folks we know, if you choose to excuse yourself from this group of readers you are doing yourself the injustice.

---

On alighter note, I have contacted Lorrie and she is feeling better today. The home health care nurse has visited and she made Lorrie coffee, for which she was most gratefdul. I told her that eveybody in B & L has her in theri prayers and that we are all anxious for her to post when she is feeling better.

Faith's "Campfire Story" drew me in and I became one that was sitting by the fire listening to the Grandfather saying, "Once upon a time...." That is the best thing I can say about any story---that it draws me in and makes me feel "there". It is a lovely legend, Faith. Did your grandfather really tell tales beside the fire at Lake Tahoe? If so, you were a very lucky child to have such a treasured memory.

In my earlier reaction to Faith's story, I neglected to comment upon a sentence which remains with me.

"It happned a long long time ago...or maybe that was just yesterday."

The older I get, the more time seems irrelevant. What happened becomes more important then when it happened. Occasionally I have patients who have not spoken to siblings or parents in decades but no longer remember the reason why. They remember the unimportant "when" but not the important "what." So the divide continues.

I think that Granddaddy's comment (given to us through Faith) was made from the wisdom of the years.

Robby

Ginny, a sure-fire way to DECREASE our round-table responding to each other is to see the "official" DL doing a daily list of responses.

Also, maybe others agree or disagree, I've seen a general across-the-board improvement in everyone making an effort to respond to posts. I think our several discussions on same have paid off.

I think it's fine, in fact wonderful, that different discussions have different cultures. Some DLs are very involved on a daily basis with several/all posters. Some DLs---I'm thinking of Sarah right now, but I'm sure there are others---who post every 4-5 days (not sure of the average, maybe more than that)----this seems to PROMOTE posters taking care of themselves, taking care of the discussion. Posting to each other. (Of course different books might work with one format but not the other.)

I just don't think this is a negligent DL kind of problem. I'd much rather get 1 or 2 thoughtful responses a week from other posters than see my name in a daily list of dutiful responses from a DL. The responses are more than dutiful, but you know what I mean. Besides, I like the DLs to feel a real part of the discussion, not just under pressure to see that we all get answered. We can all take responsibility for ourselves and our group.

What a wonderful touch Faith has in this story, I was immediately taken up with the validity of the form, caught up in the story and believed that it was true.

IS it true, Faith? I mean to say, IS it a true legend in its own right?

It seems so real!

We sponsor a Native American Indian Pueblo child for whom English is a second language. They have their own language and it's very important to his mother that he learn it, first. This has caused a bit of a problem with his reading in school, but not too much, since their language is unwritten.

But in this story we can see the true Indian's reverence for life. We can recall their prayers to their prey when they hunt of gratitde and the personificaion , the animism that pervades the world of the Native American.

Strangely enough it reminds me of St. Francis and his "Praise by my Lord for my brother, the sun."

This is a marvelous tale, Faith, I urge you to find a children's book publisher, I love the stealing of the song and sentences like this one, "Well when you sing and steal my food at the same time I have a right to shout."

Now that might be applicable to any situation, there are some great lessons for any adult or child to learn here.

Love the ending, about how the owls forgot to talk, just loved the entire thing.

---

Robby mentions long held family feuds. Do you all find as you age that you are more or less retentive of angers?

I find myself getting really angry but then two weeks later I can't remember what the issue was or what the fuss was all about. I think that's good. I'm not sure whether or not it's a sign of maturity or senescence, but I think it's a step, whichever, in the right direction.

---

Betty wonderfullly put, I love this:

I like the DLs to feel a real part of the discussion, not just under pressure to see that we all get answered. We can all take responsibility for ourselves and our group.



Wonderful! Let's make that our New Year's Resolution!

ginny

On that note, i shall post my review of Faith's story again, just so we can get back on track. )

A Campfire Story by Faith Pyle

The story begins with a letter from a Great Grandfather to his Great Grandchild. The older man reaches across time to speak to a new generation of a tale his grandfather told him. This passing on of First Nations tales was the way the legends remained, although their’s was an oral tradition. This method of passing on stories was the way ancient people’s, including the Celtic tales were passed from one generation to another. The legends were a way of knowing before understanding.

The tales takes place, “in the great north woods where the great watrers now called the Great Lake are,” and the land was inhabited by, “the real people or Mohicans.” We are given an idea of how the Mohicans lived and survived in a land that is harsh and unforgiving in winter.

The story is about how Runs on Fat Legs becomes Runs Like the Wind and how the owl got its song. Faith has written the story in a simple and straightforward manner, just as these tales were told. It has the magic of talking animals and a kind and loving relationship between man and the animals the child meets. The animals have great charm, as does the child who has the adventure.

In the end we learn how the owl, referred to as Mr. Owl gets his, Whoo whoo whoot song. As in my Celtic tales, the reverence for the animal or human is spoken of as Mr. Owl. It is noteworthy, that in Celtic myth an owl, is seen as a physical manifestation of a Faerie Godmother. The bird is seen as having great wisdom and this story’s Mr. Owl is a thinking, talking being as well.

The story ends in the time of the Great Grandchild, who now has the secret knowledge of how the owl got its song.

I love this sort of tale. It has magic, simplicity and humour that is open to all ages and peoples.

Faith's wonderful story.

Oh, THAT'S what I was trying to find words for, Robby. The straight forward, unadorned telling, reflecting the simplicity of the Indian story and life. Very effective. And those names!! I've always been fascinated with that practice of the name fitting the person.

I wonder what each of our names would be. Mine could be Talks-a-Lot, or Worries-about-Everything or Oregon Woman Lost in Texas Desert.

It's been so long since I've read ANY children's stories, so Idris' and Faith's stories have been particularly delightful for me. Faith, I do like the loving (non-violent) interaction between the animals and the main character.

Passing down stories. When my great great grandmother was alive, she often told stories of her life as a child. They were long stories, well told and we children would sometimes ask for the same story to be repeated. Her stories were often quoted in my school essays---especially the one of hiding in a trunk on a wagon while a skirmish with Indians and gunfire took place.

The tone and setting of Faith's story matches exactly the story to follow. Also, the tension of being lost did not overpower the anticipation of safety----this would be an engrossing story for a child, not a frightening one. I'll bet many writers could not achieve that balance.

I also like the idea of a child reader thinking about the character being momentarily lost but all turned out well. Tough times come, but we find our way back, with help. Wise ones will help us.

I want to know more about the American Indian (native American) lives. We should do a book.

I would like to call to the attention of everybody here who may not be aware of it that the software does strange things when more than one person is posting at the same time?

In essence you may have missed some posts that you might have enjoyed reading, and it's getting pretty strange, so I suggest you go out (not back out but GO out) to another site on SN and return and go back and find your OWN post and then read what's come after it, you may be surprised?

I know I am, this is just a trick of the software.

ginny

Ginny, I have not been having any problem.

Perhaps because I subscribe?

Or perhaps different servers?

I'd better shut up, as I really don't have a CLUE what I am talking about!

My Indian name would be Burns True.

ginny

Oh I disagree with that, MaryPage, if you go look in Memorable Messages on the Main Menu of SeniorNet you will find your own words immortalized forever.

How you could get better I have no clue, and it's possible (gasp! gasp!) haahaha that USING Subscriptions would STOP this heinous thing with the posts!

We live and learn! I think you know more than you think!

ginny

Burns true. Beautiful. Say what it means. (even though I think I know, but maybe not)

I don't like subscriptions, either. I want to see the whole room--that means whatever real room I'm in, too.

I'm just lucky to be able to get here and read the posts. Time lately just isn't permitting much posting. I would never have time to direct comments to each poster. There are some converstional areas. Check Roundtables. There is an introduction area and an international cafe where everyone makes a point of trying to include everyone to the point of greeting one another "good morning" and "good night" but I wouldn't expect anything like that here. I enjoy the humor here and the thoughts about the stories. Wonderful, intelligent conversation. Keep doing what you are doing! Love to see you when I can get here.

Linda

Gliding Lark.

My Indian name.

This is fun! Thank you, Faith.

Oh my goodness, a holiday bruhaha, and I almost missed it what with late shopping (no I never shop ahead) and writing reports on students in academic trouble.

Hello Dolphindli and Phyll and Mal and Betty and Robby and Linda (Hairy) and HATS and Ginny and MaryPage and FAITH and MaryPage and YiLi and even ALF! If I missed anyone, it is my error and let the penalty upon me fall. Come on people, it is the holiday season and we all need to be specially kind to each other.

Let's think about what HATS said "How on earth can we all respond to all the posts?" This is an excellent point. Clearly, we all want to say something about the story we are focussing on.

I have one suggestion for people who feel they do not get a response. Ask a question----generally questions stand out and people jump in either to answer them or provide another perspective.

I have never met any of the people on these boards. I hope to meet a number of them next November in Washington, DC, but there will be others I do not meet. And yet I feel I know many of you without having met you yet.

I have hung mistletoe all around the room and I have set out a large bowl of grog for the enjoyment of all.

I'll be back with comments on Faith's lovely story.

~Maryal

Betty, it means "always on fire, but true at heart." hahahaah, this is fun, we should ALL give our Indian names. Of course you realize that you don't name YOURSELF if you are a Native American, you are given a name, in that case mine would be "Fat Thigh Waddles."

hahahaha

I have GOT to get OFF this addictive thing so I can get something done!

Burns True and Fatly

My Indian name is "Runs with the Dogs"

Faith----I loved your story. You took me right back to Camp Natarswi in Maine where we used to listen to Indian lore and sing songs about pretty maidens named "Redwing."

My favorite sentence of all---"All the trees seemed like cutouts, black against the moon-bright sky." Goodness, that is a lovely sentence. Every single word is pulling its weight.

Your story also reminded me of Kipling's Just So Stories--"How the Camel Got Its Hump," "How the Elephant Got Its Nose," "How the Leopard Got Its Spots." This one is "How the Owl Got Its Hoot."

Thank you so much for the story.

~~Maryal

Mercy! It took a long time to get to the point where I could tell Faith how much I enjoyed the story of the Indians for children. We need more of them in our culture or we are apt to lose "native Americans" altogether, well, I take that back! If you drive anywhere in America you know our native Indians were here, just look at the names of rivers towns and streets. I've often wished that when they put an unprounceable name on a street they would also put what it means in our English language so we would know the beauty that it contains, as in Faith's story - Runs like the wind - we know instantly, and we can picture, a child running fast and free.

Thank you, Faith, for your lovely story!

from - "Moves slowly"

Idris- re the authenticity of Clement Moore's authorship - I don't know if you' heard of this book: Author Unknown


Charlie

Charlie, i had not heard of the book but listened to an interview on the PRI radio. Given the sort of fellow he was as opposed to what Livingston was like, i put my money on Livingston being the author. Writers don't move that far from their inner natures, especially when writing for children.

The Wee One received a Christmas present today. It is a cd by Charlotte Church. I hope she doesn't mind but i have it in my cd player at the moment and i have tears listening to that wonderful voice. Maybe she will come in from the Little Woods and listen too. )

You know it is hard to talk to just one person - then you leave everyone else out.... so I try to make my post more general so that I hope I have included everyone. I have felt left out - but I am fairly new. I may not always have something to say - I am not a big talker - so hope everyone stays!!!!

FrancyLou---good point. It is hard to talk to just one person. I think we all get along pretty well by responding to ideas that set us to thinking, mentioning the person's name who came up with the original thought.

I was attempting to be funny in my message above where I said hello to many of the posters. Sorry I missed you.

~~Maryal

Maryal, I did laugh when you tried to name everyone in your post. I think we do need a taste of that grog. Then, we can get back to the stories.

HATS

lol (laughing out loud)... I was not critizing... was just a thought.

First, thank you for your responses but I fear you have done me an injustice.

ALF: You can take all the "umbrage" you want. I am chagrined that some thought my withdrawal was because of a non-discussion of a particular book -- that's ludicrous! For those of you unfamiliar with my reading list and to dispel that theory, I include below just some of my all time favorite books list, and, had the Internet been available to me during the reading of these books, I would have hounded them; it just so happens, they weren't and if they were I didn't have the puter or the wherewithal to tend to the matter. I just knocked off The Moors; The Blind Assassin and was in the process reading Best American Short Stories with Senior Net. Not to mention the books I read in-between reading the books I read like Anne Perry, etc. Not to mention I have probably read every book contained in the Seneca Series.

Secondly: You misunderstand my thinking (And AFL, I can be "barbier" than anyone). Apparently there were others in the group that felt the same but had not said so. I was not looking for "hand holding and 'well dones" - I was however looking for a little interaction - not direct responses. If I want direct responses, I will e-mail. I enjoy reading and discussing BOOKS while sharing experiences related to those books in real life.

I thought the discussions on the first of the Best American Short stories was invigorating and informative and original. I have completely (as made obvious by my posting heretofore set forth) and truly enjoyed the stories written by Idris; Lorrie and Dr. Bob and having ever intention of posting my response to Faith's wonderful story. Not to mention how much I admire their writings, which I also noted in my prior postings.

Having said that, and having thanked you for your responses, I do not want this situation to arise again. I fear I took way from the precious writing of Faith whose wonderful story I shall post separately. To Faith, I personally apologize.

Thank you also again for the supportive words and even the non-supportive words. After all, what would our world be without words?

And, If I stick around it will be for no other reason than to harass Alf!

Dolphindli

MY PARTIAL READING LIST:

Sacajawea: Anna Lee Waldo A true heroine - where would our country be without this marvelous woman. (Incidentally, not only have my grandchildren read this book, but I post to youth websites and recommend highly as an excellent read in the same manner as I do other books.)

God is an Englishman by John Delderfield Wonderful trilogy of family members you will never forget. Begins with the Boor wars and ends up in modern times. The characters are guests you don't even want to leave. Fantastic reading.

Carshelmara by Susan Howawitch Marvelous touch of Irish and Scots - takes you back in time but shows that the struggles of life were no different from now.

Kent Family Cronicles by John Jakes Marvelous and gleaning of knowledge about the history of our nation. I highly recommend it for all students. It makes history human.

Opinon of the Court by William Woolfolk An inside look at the behind the scenes operations of the US Supreme Court judges; their quirks; their eliteness and most of all, their power.

The Judge by Steve Martini Great stories; easy reading. Written with a sense humor and a sense of drama. Compelling investigations and great courtroom drama. Once again, with repeat characters who you really get to like.

It is now 10:30 p.m. I checked in ONLY for e-mail early this morning and did not turn the computer back on until about 10 p.m. tonight. Then the beloved machine crashed 3 (three) times in quick succession. Mercy !!!

My day was full. My California daughter is here for ONE precious week, she helps me with holiday preparations and is a delight.

I am mentioning this personal fact merely as an explanation for coming to the discussion here late again, as I did last night, but I am HERE now. So while I am, may I say this :

I am somewhat surprised after reading today's many posts, and for the following reason :

The reading/commenting schedule for this week allows for ONE day's time for ONE piece.

Not as simple a task as it might seem. Not at all.

Therefore I believe that - AT LEAST THIS WEEK - it is necessary to stick primarily to the respective writing, and I for one find it totally impossible- especially in my circumstances and especially at this time- to consider posting individual responses/reactions to certain posts. Doing so is considerably easier when an in-depth book discussion is ongoing for a MONTH.

Therefore I believe this week is NOT the time to feel "left out" if an individual response was not immediately taken up and continued. We are all doing the best we can, I am sure; no one is being deliberately overlooked or ignored. One example : I read Betty's post around midnight last night and, indeed, had lots of thoughts (some were taken up by the very next poster, thank goodness), but it was simply too late for me to post them last night; and today was busy, as I said. And now the agenda calls for commenting on TODAY's story.

I very much liked A Campfire Story in form and substance and its deeper meaning, and I look forward to reading more by Faith in the next issue of Sonata. I also feel that we might all benefit from further reading on the subject of Indian lore about which we should know much more than we actually do. The author Louise Erdrich comes to mind.

May I commend Faith and Idris for their work.

Good night,

Traude

P.S. One question, please : WHERE can the International Cafe be found ?

Traude---Here is the International Cafe. It is listed on the main SeniorNet discussions page as "SeniorNet International Cafe."

~~Maryal

Thank your for the holiday gift of your wonderful story. This "child" certainly was entertained by the story within the story.

Your Grandfather, who had the patience and obviously kindness to not only read stories, but to tell stories to grandchildren that would be passed on ad infinitum, is the vision of what all grandfather's should be. How fortunate and joyful that experience for you. It truly represents a sense of loving and sharing. You have certainly honored your Grandfather by retelling his story in a way that I envisioned sitting at that campfire with you. It is obvious you inherited your Grandfather's gene's for artful storytelling.

In your telling of the story, I could see the reflection on the lake; I could smell the fire burning, so vivid did you write. And, you made me hear the "WHOO WHOO WHOOT."

Henceforth, when I hear that owl, I will think of you and your Grandfather.

Thank you.

Dolphindli@aol.com

To say that an author "paints a picture" is a regularly used cliche and yet, for me, that is what Mal did. She is absolutely marvelous in doing so. The plot doesn't begin until one is well into the story. For some time before that, she ever so slowly puts a dab of paint here, a dab of paint there -- "purple nailpolished twit with the brassy blonde hair," "lipstick in the shade of bright cherries," "moues (what a word!) and pouts and flutters her eyelashes," "walls of this cottage are stone," "ivy-covered chimney," "Gothic in shape with small panes of glass at the top and two panes at the bottom," "sleek forest green satin nightgown with the low cut neckline..." - I need to stop giving examples because I would be copying out the whole introduction to her plot. Mal is truly an artist.

But the plot begins at the point where she is locked out of her house. I have never had that personal experience but I can feel within me what it must be like to be "shut out of my house on a cold, windy, snowy Winter's night" in only scanty clothing. OK - there is a building and probable help next door so the story would seem to be nearing an end. Really? Her neighbor grasps her arm, pulls her in, says "We were certain you wouldn't dare to venture out in such foul weather," and Mal's story is suddenly moving at much higher speed. She takes us step by step into this comedy of errors, meanwhile tantalizing us with snippets from the dictionary -- terpsichory, ecdysiast -- and finds to her surprise that she is the "exquisitely talented Charmaine Felice."

How to deal with all this? Her answer is in the martini pitcher from which she takes "a large gulp, then another, and another", followed not too much later by "Scotch, two fingers, straight up" and from there on we, the readers, are forced to continue the story. What is going to happen next? Many things happen next and it is not for me, the reviewer, to spoil the plot for those who haven't yet read Mal's truly riveting fast-paced story.

The story is not meant to have a moral. It is, as I said earlier, a painting. But the author furnishes one. "What an unpredictable joke life is." Yes, I laughed throughout the entire experience.

Robby

Wonderful story! Marvelous story! I said it before, and I'll say it again: I enjoyed it hugely, it is a hoot!

Mal - Nirvana

Mal, being an artist draws her characters well. La Fishwell is such a beautifully drawn character. She is a “practiced grande dame” with a red lipsticked mouth that shouts, notice me, notice me. She has a “manicured blue-white head.” Yes, just the sort of hair-do for a woman so small in spirit and understanding. I wonder she didn’t have doilies on everything to protect perfection from living. She carried a well-polished oak cane and i suspect it is to keep folks away like a metaphorical sword.

La Fishwell’s jealousy knows no bounds when it comes to love made visible. A kiss is to her mind something sinful as she says, “You’d think after my exposure of their guilt, they’d never act this way again.” Mal, foreshadows when she writes, “Sam’s eyes squinted at the taillights barreling over the snowy road toward the dark horizon.” La Fishwell’s statement, “A man should remain faithful forever to the memory of his wife,” shows how little she understands the need of humans to love and be loved. Who of us have not met someone like Eltadeena? Who of us don’t look on with pity as they close themselves off into a world of false importance, personal outward piety and a joyless life.

Elliot’s statement to Barbara sums it up when he says, “The poor old soul’s jealous because she ain’t got what we got. You know that.” He further states they will be seen as, “Two old farts elope and leave town.” Elliiot and Barbara laugh heartily at that. If La Fishwell were a woman less shriveled of heart, they might well feel pity for this joyless soul. Is it any wonder she drinks in private?

After consuming a fair bit of booze, Eltadeena’s, “mouth turned up in a blissful smile as she thought of Georgie Simpson, the boy she refused sixty year ago because he was so poor.”

This is indeed a Christmas story, a seasonal story. There is in death a kind of redemption and renewal as she receives the gift of love. Eltadeena is no less a soul given the gift of joy than Scrooge or The Grinch. In refusing love and joy she became a joyless, priggish self-important twit. To reach Nirvana, she gave her life. I hope she found both love and the joy of being loved, she so needed to be fully human. Even if it was only once in sixty long, joyless years.

I think you can tell how much i loved this story. Not only is it beautifully written, but done in just a few pages. That is writing!

What a delightful surprise to read Malryn's story, loved the turns of phrases, the descriptions and the tone.

Malryn, if you have not read THE GOLDEN CHILD, run get it, I think you will be very surprised at the parallels to Penelope Fitzgerald's general academic milieu in that one, VERY. And that's high praise, from me. Of course this one is a totally different original story, characters, and plot, as well!

I really appreciated the droll sort of phrasing, (NB: the software refuses to put in my final quotation marks, andn apostrophes, that's life!) “ My wit never fails to cause me to smile," and “I sometimes wonder that their clatter and toot don't damage her capacity to hear," hahahaha and the names of the characters: Gotobed, Nuffsaid, Hastobie, that's cute, too, “ ancient anticipation, " that was good.

I did wonder why the old colleagues didn't seem to know her, tho? I thought she lived in a Professor Emeritus type of thing? Meaning a long tenure? May have read it too fast.

A well written, very atmospheric, holiday story. Fun!!

Since we do not have another one scheduled for tomorrow, that I can see, we can continue chatting about this story or any of the Sonata pieces you'd like to discuss.

I think our first experiment here with reviewing the writings of our own SeniorNetters has been a grand experience, and the Christmas Day and following selection of O Henry's “ Gift of the Magi," always one of my favorite stories, is likewise presented in Sonata, which surely is one of the best e-zines on the web. Very proud to have it here.

I have enjoyed this foray into this new area, we might consider making this a permanent monthly feature if enough demand arises.

Charlie will return and begin Gift of the Magi, I HOPE on the Second Day of Christmas (Tuesday) to give us all that one day off.



A very Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah
to you all!

ginny

Thanks, YiLi, Robby, Idris, Mary Page and Ginny. You just made this writer's head swell and her day look very, very good!

Ginny, university library researcher Marian Parsons lived in what once was the groundskeeper's cottage, which was on the same property as the Faulderain Club, the home of aging professors emeriti. Thanks for the book reference. I'll try to get it and read it.

Mal

Mal,

I'm afraid my mid-Western Baptist upbringing blocks me from writing superlatives about your story, "My Next Song", but I am led to say that I really, really enjoyed this one! I have read it over two or three times and still find something that makes me chuckle . You are right---life is an unpredictable joke---sometimes hilarious and other times a little grim but always somewhere in all that is a joke. I, too, love your descriptive turn of phrase and the names of your so distinguished gentlemen--Gonetobed, Rachenrune, Nuffsaid, Hastobie and Simeon---are a hoot. Is it possible that "Simeon" is a play on "simian"? Oh, I hope so, I can just picture this little monkey-like man who speaks only in an ancient Slavic language.

Thanks for the laugh I needed today and please, please write more about Marian---I loved it.

Phyll

P.S. From one jazz lover to another, thanks for the "Sweet Georgia Brown" music I listened to while I read.

Hip, Hip, Hooray!! Mal, I enjoyed your story. I fell in love with Marian's green satin nightgown and black satin mules. Your story made me want to spend Christmas Eve listening to some intimate jazz.

Seriously, your descriptions put me right in the middle of the story. What a break for Marian. It did not hurt at all to get locked out or to be mistaken for Miss Charmaine Felice.

I definitely would not mind getting locked out if I could meet a guy with Caribbean blue eyes. Yummy! Yummy!

HATS

Well I will try to get in synch with the reading list come next week with the gift of the magi- just wanted to back up and add that in some northwestern tribes the owl is the harbinger of death- he announces ones imminent passing and those who are "wise" begin to prepare for the journey.

holiday wishes to all.

Yili:--That owl can tell me to "prepare" all he wants. I don't give a hoot.

Robby

Mal!---Thank you for the fine story. You gave me a good laugh as I watched Marian become the femme fatale that she scorned (and obviously always wanted to be). What a delight to read your story during this holiday season.

Write on, write on!

~Maryal

That's a nice story, Marilyn. Enjoyed the music while reading it, too. For such a snooty gal, she put forth some pretty good entertainment in the story. I enjoyed it. Thanks so much for sharing so many of your talents with us.

Linda

Mal packed many delights into this hilarious story; she is unsurpassed in laying out a scene and defining characters. The names alone are a hoot ! We can read a lot into "Parsons", e.g.

The mordant description of the aging female colleague is right on : alas, women are still each others' relentless, merciless critics, and not only in academia- I dare say. (And when it comes to a man two or more covet simultaneously, hang on to your hats, folks ! Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose = the more things change, the more they stay the same ...)

What an ending ! A wonderful story, Mal.

Traude

P.S. Thanks, Maryal, for the link to the International Cafe.

Ginny, did you read THE BLUE FLOWER ? I would be interested to know what you thought.

Traude

First, I want to thank you for your comments about My Next Song. Phyll, HATS, Maryal, Hairy, Traude and all of you, thank you. I'm really glad you liked this little story of mine. All evening I've been trying to figure out how to start one about Charmaine Felice's encore. After all, the professors want Marian back for a gig in February. Got sidetracked, though, by a three or four part story I started the other night about an unusual character for her time (1946) named Jollity Lessmore. I won't know how many parts there'll be until I finish it. Well, that's how it goes for a writer.

As an editor and publisher of electronic magazines, I want to extend my thanks and the thanks of all the SeniorNet writers represented here this past week for this grand opportunity to show our stories and essays in the Best American Short Stories 2000 discussion and receive comments from participants in the Books and Literature folder. We appreciate your taking the time to read our work in Sonata and hope sometime that it will happen again.

Now a small gift for you all and sincere wishes for a joyous holiday. Please click the link below.

A Christmas greeting for you

I just know it isn't so. You've got to be out there, working as hard as ever, bringing joy to children and us grownups too all over the world. You sure don't need me to tell you this, Santa, but keep up the good work. I love you with all my heart and soul, and will to my very last day.



Your lifelong friend and admirer,



Bobby Cantor

(The above story, which I took the liberty to post, is one I love and have published in the Holiday Issue of Sonata for the past two years. Its author, Bob Cantor, participated briefly in the Greatest Generation discussion, so I think he's qualified to be here. I hope you enjoy his story as much as I do this holiday season when Chanukah and Christmas come at about the same time. Mal)

I'm late posting about Mal's story, but I have to say how much fun I had reading it. What characters!!! And the perfect lighthearted tone!! Don't you just love how a story can pull you along and not let you go? I was so caught up in the adventure, grinning in anticipation of what might come next, and next.

I think there was something of Malryn in this remarkable woman, don't you? A no-nonsense type---an independent spirit---who decided to let herself go with the flow. I had the best time laughing---and enjoying the rich pictures painted (good word, painting, Robby). I've always considered writing that makes us chuckle or laugh to be difficult to do. And writing that avoids too-obvious (easy) comedy the most difficult. This story is that most difficult kind and so well done. More, more!!

I totally adored your description of the "young purple nailpolished twit with the brassy blonde hair" - I know her! I worked with her! And you are right, she was the one that did the least and got the most and I still wonder how she got her 'position'.

The names of your characters truly conjured the images of them. I can see the stodgy old professors "letting loose for the evening" The names were hysterical. I have that same habit, as do my friends - names by association.

Ahh, but Marion - now there is a woman! Multi-talented with a great sense of humor. All I could think of was on Sonny and Cher when Cher sang her V-A-M-P song lying across the top of the piano.

I like to think that, like Marion, there is a touch of the "V-A-M-P" in all women.

Thanks for an entertaining story.

PS - As a side note, the only time I ever got locked out of the house was when my 3 month old granddaughter was sleeping in the crib inside my house and I acted much more like the "incredible hulk" trying to break the door down to get in. Hmmm, I should have used my V- A-M-P image to attract the neighbors.

Betty and Dolphindli, thank you for reading and commenting on my story. Who moi, Betty? Do you think I'm like Marian Parsons or Charmaine Felice? I'd really like to know. Of course, I have to admit to some experience belting out songs in
cocktail lounge jobs long, long ago. A library researcher I never was.

Dolphindli, what a thing to go through. I'd probably be worse than the Incredible Hulk.

By the way, there's not a bit of truth in My Next Song, except perhaps the last two sentences. I wrote it on a snowy night right here in this studio apartment addition to my daughter's house when my imagination nudged me to start thinking about being locked out in the storm. Thank you all again.

Now, I must go darn a hole in the toe of my green and red plaid knee sock. Santa Claus is due tonight, and I'll be darned if those presents he's bringing to me are going to fall on the hearth of this nonexistent, fictitious fireplace of mine.

Once again, Merry, Merry Christmas to all of us!

Mal

I'm unfamiliar with Alan Maitland. But I've put up a link to audio versions of a number of Christmas stories (including The Gift of The Magi). Read on the CBC as Fireside Al, you may enjoy listening to some of them. I thought the Magi reading was quite good.


Charlie

I've been away three weeks and seem to have missed some of the most exciting reading you've all had. I am looking forward to getting in on the next load of fun. Isn't it supposed to start today with the Gift of the Magi? By the way, Merry Christmas y'all. Does it also seem like Sunday to you?

Hello Jean. And Merry Christmas to you and everyone. Hope you all had a grand day with friends and relatives. Hey! There's plenty more fun to come, we think. Did you listen to the audio version of Magi? Or have you read the story here?

You're a contestant on Jeopardy and the answer is $1.87. What's the question? Anyone see the rather sly humor in this story? The wise men "invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication." (my emphasis) Did everyone save their receipts this year?!?!

I liked that. A simple tale really - with a simple moral. But presented in such a low-key manner that the moral has us acknowledging somewhere deep inside us that the gift from the heart is the wisest of all. Like most of the stories I read here that I may have read before I come away with a new appreciation for them. How about you?


Charlie

O. Henry's wit is gently satiric rather than tickle-the-ribs funny. He was a writer with a kindly, if jaded, view of life, the world and people. He was a master of "the twist", easy enough with his "What fools these mortals be" assessment of what he observed.

Mr. and Mrs. James Dillingham Young are very much in love and wanted to give each other gifts to be remembered and cherished. Alas, Della had only one dollar and eighty-seven cents to spend for a Christmas present for her Jim.

In their plain household there existed only two treasures, Della's beautiful long hair and Jim's gold watch. The young bride tore herself away from the pier glass and tearfully sold her hair to buy a watch chain and fob for Jim.

In order to buy the tortoise shell combs Della craved, Jim sold his watch. So, what did they give each other? Rather naive and innocent impractical love.

O. Henry's simple method of writing is deceptive. There is much more to his works than the words one reads. He was a realist, and it shows. Every writer I know craves to master his technique, that of the twist. Good use of this technique creates a work which stays in the mind and lasts long after a piece is read.

I don't remember when I first read this story, but it was long, long ago. When I found it on the web, I decided immediately to publish it in the Holiday Issue of Sonata because its appeal is worldwide, its message timeless.

Mal

I read the Gift of the Magi many years ago and reread it aloud to my children when they were old enough to understand the simple moral Charlie mentioned. I did not feel there was an opportunity for duplication with these gifts because there were no others that could have been given with the same from-the-heart meaning. I tried to emphasize to my kids that the cost of the gift does not increase its value. O. Henry had an innate understanding of people and I believe he used this understanding to amuse, interest and educate readers.

O. Henry's "innate understanding of people" (the "innate" is something with which I do not agree) obviously did not extend to himself.

In 1896, Porter was charged with embezzlement from the First National Bank in Austin, Texas where he had worked as a teller. He fled to Honduras, but was arrested, convicted and sentenced to a federal penitentiary in 1898 when he returned to visit his wife, who was dying of tuberculosis. He spent three years in prison, during which time many of his stories were published.

O. Henry was apparently never a happy man. He died of the effects of alcoholism in 1910 at the age of 48 with only 23 cents to his name. His dying words were, "Turn up the lights; I don't want to go home in the dark."

Mal

Please change the word "poems" in my previous post to the word "stories". The knee lock on my leg brace collapsed again Saturday when I stood up from this wheelchair. The footrests on the chair broke my fall, so I did not break my leg again, but I re-injured some muscles I injured over eight weeks ago when I broke my leg. My knee was hurting me, so I took medication for pain this morning. I can see that it's affecting my head!

By the way, O. Henry's real name was William Sydney Porter. That, at least, is not a goof in my post.

Mal

I stand corrected, Mal. Obviously I need to research before I make comments. I have empathy for your pain having recently recovered from major artery bypass operations on both legs.

I wish you well, Jean. Your surgery could not have been easy. I hope your recovery is going well and that you'll soon feel fine.

Anything that is not true facts about an author that I post here is my opinion and my opinion only, not a correction or criticism of anyone else's views. There are numerous ways in which to interpret The Gift of the Magi. Your interpretation or that of anyone here is as valid as mine. The way I feel about this story now is very different from how I felt when I first read it; that's for sure.

I do think O. Henry is an interesting person to study because of complexities I see in his work and his life. I'd certainly like to know more about him.

Mal

I thought this was a very clever story and I, like you, Malryn, see something in it I did not all those years ago when I first read it. I had forgotten what Jim's gift was, and actually gasped once again when it was revealed. Very clever writing, the way the reader is so taken with Della and HER gift and thoughts, that the possibility of Jim's having bought combs (and the fact that she had coveted same in a window for a long time), coming as it does at the very end, made for a great surprise ending, I thought.

But in fact I see quite a lot in this story and I wonder if, perhaps, my own modern day sensibilities or perhaps just my age have gotten the better of me.

This short story appeared collected in a volume called The Four Million in a set which first appeared in 1906, which I now own, it having belonged to my parents. As a younger person I read all the stories. I love O. Henry, there are 12 volumes in the set and each is different, one has "The Ransom of Red Chief, " for example, but several of his lesser stories are very very good, and I used to prefer some of his lesser known volumes.

There is a nod to McClure's Magazine, copyrights 1902-1905, for their appearance there.

Yet the writing does not appear dated, except for the $8.00 a week rents, it could have been yesterday. The title page of the book makes this statement:

Not very long ago some one invented the assertion that there were only "Four Hundred" people in New York City who were really worth noticing," [I take it this is a slam at the Society 400 List???] "But a wiser man has arisen--the census taker--and his larger estimate of human interest has been preferred in marking out the field of these little stories of the "Four Million."

So in this way O Henry wished to show that each story in the naked city, each person, had intrinsic meaning and in this case, was elevated even to Magi status, to me that's pretty clear.

In this story, however, I can't help making a comparison between the two lovers, as to whose sacrifice was the greatest. Obviously if hair grows back, nothing is really lost, but a grandfather's gold watch is something that is not replaceable.

The burden of the story of course is that gifts coming from the heart and sacrifice are the most important, and I expect long after the fob and the combs were history this pleasant legend would remain, as in fact, it has, all these years. But we know, as adults, that this type of sacrifice to obtain a geegaw (combs, fobs) is, while at once romantic and sweet, is, not worth the sacrifice. IS it?

Maybe that's why O Henry refers to them as "children," at the end of the story, sweet children with a child's selflessness which perhaps he thought we all should emulate.

I can definitely see why you would read it to children, Jean, as it's a marvelous lesson in selflessness. Kind of reminds me of the Uncle Arthur Bedtime stories, do you know them? Very moving moral lessons for children, I always thought.

I am also willing to bet, though, that Jim would not have told Della how he got the money for her present, even if pressed. He had to, of course, when there was no watch for the fob. Notice how he did tell her when he did.

But the very instant she saw his face and could not read his expression, out it all came, "Jim, darling, don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present."

Couldn't she have taken the $.1.87 which is WHAT by today's standards? Almost 1/4 of the weekly rent, which today would be $150 or so? (would not want to see what that would get you in NYC today) but even so, 1/4th of 150 is the equivalent of $31.25, which would have gone a long way then? Could she not have knitted him a nice scarf? "Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves."

Any person can learn to knit. I did. She could have knitted him warm gloves and a warm scarf says the Grinch, who now thinks she could have gone to work, too. A lot of O Henry's other female characters did.

It's a sweet story of giving one's all but peppered throughout the author has made me think other Grinch like thoughts by salting the sweet with other sentiments, like "Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating."

And "properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do."

Ornamentation like maybe combs? Or maybe fobs? If the good don't need ornamentation then......?????

Now that one phrase seems to me to indicate here a struggle, and of course we'll never know as the author has gone, between intent in this story.

On the one hand the author proclaims this couple the real magi, making a contrast between the original Wise Men (Charlie, I had to smile at the very thought of "possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication," in connection with the image of three wise men exchanging their gifts for others), and these "two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house."

What does that word "unwisely," mean here? Why are they "unwise" if they have just provided example of their Magi like status?

I dunno, Guys, the Grinch, while gasping at the author's inventiveness and enjoying the truly selfless act of each of the gifts, today with all this life experience here (which includes, when first married, counting pennies to get enough to pay the gas station man for a dollar's worth of gas) thinks there might have been another way out, but it would not have made for a legendary story, either.

Sorry to hear that both Jean and Mal have had problems, hope you are both OK in this New Year!

ginny

More on "The Four Hundred," which seems to have set a spark in O Henry:

Four Hundred: The inner circle of New York society, the elite. The term was coined by Ward McAllister (1827-95) in 1892. Because the ballroom of Mrs. Wliilam Astor held only four hundred people, McAllister's guest list of that number contained only those he considered to be the most socially respectable.

---Reader's Encyclopedia

ginny

I read the last post by Ginny and find it is amusing that she will use the tern "grinch" for her observations. When I was young and read this story I thought it was very romantic, but reading it as a senior I tend to agree with Ginny. Perhaps not grinches, could it be realism, the fact that at this time in our lives we value things differently and understand that combs are not what it is all about.?

Mal- Don't know if I understand you here: "So, what did they give each other? Rather naive and innocent impractical love." Naïve, perhaps. Innocent, assuredly. It's the impractical that I'm not sure about. (And this from a cynic!!)

JeanBS mentions an innate understanding of people. Mal points out that that understanding "obviously did not extend to himself." Not unusual with writers in my experience (present company excluded, of course).

Barbara- If you're lurking out there…wonder if you've ever been to the O. Henry Museum? (It's in Austin which is where Barbara lives - or thereabouts).

Ginny makes comparisons about the greater sacrifice? This reminds me of the arguments about the relative merits of the sacrifices of Esau and Jacob (I know, I know…this is a real reach!!) I only mean that really, the true merits of the gifts should be evaluated from the sacrifices each made to get them, no? Both gave their most prized possessions - no matter what they were…no matter their "relative" merits. I think Ginny is playing her devils' advocate role here. C'mon G. Admit it!


Charlie

I am not sure ginny is playing "devil's advocate" even if one gives a gift that costs a prized possession0 i have always wondered about the strain of that on the receiver- i watched TV last night- waiting for first of family to arrive- and saw a show about this young man, Raymond. He gave his parents a toaster for a christmas gift.....well the" plot could go on but the bottom line, to me, was the parents sense of "obligation" about the gift which really had no meaning for them. The super juxtaposition was a scene with a woman who commented, "my son gave it to me, what kind ofmother would I be if I exchanged it... where is this post going- not sure- just ruminating on the whole point of gift giving- wondering if that is why o.henry chose the title gift of the magi- what would that baby have wanted or needed with fragrances? maybe i am more ruminating on a call from my friend who celebrates kwanza- she was feeling a bit down, wondering whtat happened to the spirit of this theme- and a recent one at that- and i wonder if o.henry was a prophet for this condition?

no ginny, you are not a grinch

To me, the real gift was not the fob and not the comb but the "ultimate sacrifices" each made for the other - or at least their interpretation of the ultimate sacrifice. Then again, you could call the whole Magi thing a total lack of communication - i.e., what was more important, the gift or the sacrifice? Even in O'Henry's days - Christmas was commercialized but without visa and MasterCard. I think in reading that story to the youth of today, nine times out of ten youths response would be "I'd rather have Nintendo!" We raise our child to give them EVERYTHING we did not have in our generation. (As a child I personally got the same doll with a new wig every year) but I did undestand the sacrafice my Mom made even to buy the wig, from Woolworth's no less. So, I am going to keep believing that the "sacrifice" was the gift and that love conquered all.

The gifts of the Magi, from the Bible story, were not sacrifices. The Three Kings did come a long distance, but their gifts were gifts to honor the Infant Jesus... with treasures that could be traded (as was the custom) and used to help the family survive.

But somewhere between the Birth of Jesus and the time of O.Henry's story, Christmas giving became a matter of sacrifice.. Now, I'm not against giving or sacrifice giving, but I have a real problem accepting gifts from children, who can ill afford to send me a Christmas gift. I'd much rather have a long telephone conversation.

Grinch II

Charlie, it is impractical to give the shirt off your back to someone you love because she's cold by the radiator in the dead of winter when you have to go out in the snow and wind to get something for supper. The gold watch was the only security Della and Jim had. What if they ran out of money, and there was nothing to pawn to buy food? I don't call Jim's selling the watch very practical. See what I mean?

As for sacrificing their most prized possessions, that wasn't practical, either. As Ginny said, that $1.87 would have bought a nice gift in those days, and I'm sure that Jim could have squeezed out a quarter or two for something for Della.

Della and Jim were two kids. I call the story only one of the lessons they learned during their growing up time. Theirs were misguided motivations in the name of love which brought neither one of them joy.

I no longer see this story from a "Romantic" point of view. I would venture to say that O. Henry didn't, either. There's irony in this story. Don't you see it?

Incidentally, I do not believe that O. Henry's understanding of people was innate. He was an observer with a job that was a step up from a blue collar labor job. From his perspective, he saw plenty of "Haves". He saw people from the level of a "Have not" and someone a little bit out of society because he was introspective and a writer. This is why I said earlier that his view of the world and people was: "What fools these mortals be." This includes Della and Jim.

Mal

YiLi- "The whole point of gift giving"…yeah. That's a whole 'nother all right…. If we're talking about the commercialization of Christmas and gift giving and card sending. OK. No arguments here. Maybe I was playing the devil's advocate. By the way- I think of you every time I see the ad for the new movie Yi Yi!!.

But I am with Dolphindi here: "So, I am going to keep believing that the "sacrifice" was the gift and that love conquered all" - at least with the first part.

No the GIFTS themselves didn't bring either one of them joy - but I believe they learned a bit about their love for each other, nonetheless. Can't buy that. And oh, yes the irony is apparent. It virtually knocks you over the head like a frying pan. No getting around that.


Charlie

It's OK not to like the story, right? For the following reasons, I do not like this story:

It is formulaic
It is full of sentimentality
I don't like the "surprise" ending
I don't see anything in either of these characters that convinces me that they have lives or are real. And yes, even in a short story I want my people real.

I heard this story on the radio (probably around Christmas time) when I was a child, and I really liked it then. My tastes have changed.

~Maryal

Can't argue with that Maryal. Course - if you wrote the formula, can you be considered formulaic?


Charlie Zen

Zen Charlie---Touche. However, the short story was already in existence when O. Henry came along. I think he more or less "invented" the twist ending, usually based on coincidence.

To be a little more specific, at the end of the story when the husband is so totally nonplused, none of his actions or responses ring true to me.

And I really don't like the cutsie--"Let us all turn our attention to another part of the room" when the wife kisses her husband. Intrusive narrator. Boo.

Maryal

Over the years I, too, have "given away" much of my hair. Ah, love!!

Robby

OK. I'll admit it. I'm a sucker for intrusive narrators! Although I would have preferred your "Let us all turn our attention to another part of the room" to

For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction

Sheesh

And what's with that candy bar anyway?

Charlie

In my earlier years of teaching (ten year olds), I always used this story. It worked well--usually good discussions after--This was in the 70`s, 80`s, and early 90`s. I am not sure about it now--public schools should not focus on Christmas--I didn`t reread the story. I am sure these were Christmas presents, not winter holiday, or however else we could call them today.

Ok, that's it. We're getting too damn good at this. Next stop is The New Yorker or New York Times Book Review-----"O'Henry Revisited: Thoughts from SeniorNet's Books and Lit." First sentence of the review, "Does Christmas spirit and historic reverence for O'Henry keep us from seeing the holes in Gift of the Magi?

I have to admit it. I, too, read this story (for the first time in many years) with different eyes. I expected to be reminded about properties of love and sacrifice, and of giving of oneself. Instead, I found myself thinking of other stories of poor people who put their heart into handmade Christmas gifts. That was a first impression.

Then, of course, I argued with myself and countered that at Christmas time, especially, it's ok to go overboard, to be impractical. That was part of the gift, I argued, to throw reason to the wind, to show to the loved one how far one would go to please the other. That argument resonates with the child in me, with the young lover in me, even with the retired idea of magical Christmas.

My mother did that a few times during my childhood---threw reason to the wind. Those are some of the best memories I have, of when she said, I don't care what it takes, we're going to find a way for you to go to Glen Lake (a 2 week church summer camp)----or when she insisted that we go shopping for a junior prom dress. My mother was the practical one, the one that kept us financially afloat by sewing all of our clothes and elevating "making do" to a form of art. She paid for that purchased junior prom dress in too many ways, but I really do love the memory of the two of us shopping for that dress. Very, very light pastel green chiffon, straight to the floor, one dark green velvet rose that wound from the waistline to mid-skirt, then dark green velvet spaghetti straps.

Final take....some things about love get low scores on a practicality scale, cannot be justified reasonably. The child and young lover in me wants to ignore the holes in the story. In fact, I wish I had not reread it. I wish I'd just kept it as a memory of a story of innocent love. I suppose it should go into the same category of movies I love that I don't want any feminist friend to know about.

Maryal said, "My tastes have changed. "

I got up wondering if this little fable, this little sweet romantic piece has just accomplished something that no other work of literature we've looked at in 4 1/2 years has: it's the first time our age is showing?

I was interested in May's using it in the elementary grades and her speculation as to what sort of reaction might follow in today's world, because I got UP this morning asking myself: OK, if YOU had to make the uiltimate gift or sacrifice of what means the most to YOU, what would it be, Anderson??? hmmmmm?????

What item???? Hmmmmm?

Now a child in elementary school is essentially powerless and dependent upon money from other sources. This is a story about young love and selflessness and sacrifice, but at our stage of the game, the word "sacrifice" means something else, doesn't it?

At this stage of our lives, we have SEEN sacrifice, have we not? Real sacrifice. If we ourselves have not made the ultimate sacrifice for somebody else, we know somebody who did.

One of the things that I really prize about SeniorNet is, aside from being one of the "kids" here, is the privilege to marvel at the tremendous life experiences that we bring to the table, it's a total learning experience watching how others have gone thru life and how they coped. And it's stunning to learn of the truly selfless sacrifices others have made in the name of love which involved more than the cutting of hair. The author clearly makes the point of immaturity, will Jim love her still? A little prayer, will he find her ugly? We're talking about hair here and a 20 year old.

For instance, this morning, I'm hard pressed to think of ONE most important item I could sell...much less for another item? Items, items, items, which, as Crunchy said, "Perhaps not grinches, could it be realism, the fact that at this time in our lives we value things differently and understand that combs are not what it is all about.? "





It's not about combs, so what does that leave?

Is it about true gifts of the spirit? Is it about sacrifice?

YiLi Lin talks about the act of giving itself, and the strain on the recipient. I, too, saw that Ray Romano piece, what a hoot it was. The engraved toaster....the difference in reception in the two families and the ultimate ironic difference in the mother who wanted the engraving changed on the toaster because her son had given it to her and what kind of a mother...etc. It was hilarious and totally about the giver and the burden on the recipient.

This opens an entire other can of worms.

Why do people give gifts and what does it say about the "reluctant recipient?"

Charlie said, " the true merits of the gifts should be evaluated from the sacrifices each made to get them, no? Both gave their most prized possessions - no matter what they were…no matter their "relative" merits."

OK I agree, here Jim sacrificed a memento of his grandfather which he can never have again, I assume granddad is gone and is not passing down any more watches.

And Della gave hair. Oh yes we all know a woman's hair is supposed to be her pride and joy. Apparently since it sank to her knees there was plenty to cut and plenty left to curl?

Maybe it takes one to know one but hair grows back and watches don't. I wonder, too, if this story divides men and women as well. Women always, in my experience, seem to see through other women, have you found that to be true?

A man wrote this piece, what ELSE could he have had them give?

" I think Ginny is playing her devils' advocate role here. C'mon G. Admit it!"

Maybe a little, Charlie. I want to believe in the sweet story and I want to take it at face value, but the author himself keeps throwing in, as I said, little reminders that the omniscient observer is a bit cynical. This is a warm apartment in the naked city, which was the point.

Now Dolphindi takes up the other aspect: the sacrifice: " To me, the real gift was not the fob and not the comb but the 'ultimate sacrifices' each made for the other - or at least their interpretation of the ultimate sacrifice. what was more important, the gift or the sacrifice"

That's an excellent point. Their own interpretation of the ultimate sacrifice is not one, I think, we would make today?

Or IS it?

Let's ask ourselves these two questions and see if we can answer them honestly:

Is any possession the most valuable thing to you in your life today?

What possession of all those that you do own, do you have you would sell to buy any sort of gift?

Which is the most important thing here, their own interpretation of the sacrifice, the actual sacrifice, or the gift itself?

I wish we could see this couple at 50, don't you? Her hair would be restored, his watch is gone.

<H>

Pat Westerdale added a very important element: "The gifts of the Magi, from the Bible story, were not sacrifices. The Three Kings did come a long distance, but their gifts were gifts to honor the Infant Jesus... with treasures that could be traded (as was the custom) and used to help the family survive"

I did not know that was the custom, I've learned something here, thanks for that, Pat. She's right those were no sacrifices, unless you want to count the long journey. Weren't those gifts prophetic as well? Wasn't one of them for embalming, which of course predicts the crucifiction? Strange present to give a child or not? My knowledge of frankensense and myrrh (sp) is quite slack..

Malryn had a thought I did not think of:

"The gold watch was the only security Della and Jim had."

There again is a whole new point I had not considered. So Jim here gave up his birthright for some pottage, right? Jacob and Esau, Charlie? Maybe it's not so much of a stretch. hahahaha

The story of Jacob and Esau has always been my favorite Old Testament story and I have no idea why, it certainly is not inspiring, having the elements of jealousy and deceit. Yet it's fascinating, nonetheless.

"It's OK not to like the story, right?" Maryal asks, amd the answer, of course, is yes, it's ok not to like it, it's ok to love it, it's ok to paste it on your car windshield it's OK to hate it, as Robby who is sacrificing his hair for.....? Love? Would say, All-OK!

That's why we're here.

---

Sacrifices for love, keeping it light, cheerful and ironic and semi realistic, pretty good little fable.

What happened next Christmas? Don't you wish you could be a fly on the wall? By then his fingers would be frozen off and he would be dead of ague going out with no coat or gloves (I bet, I don't know but I BET a pair of used gloves could have been bought for $1.87 if one did not want to knit same)....

What WOULD $1.87 buy in 1906? I remember my mother, born in 1908, talking about how a big treat was an orange in a stocking.

This reminds me of many stories of sacrifice, does it you? The mother who sat up all night sewing, what other stories of sacrifices for love in people and not animals, does this recall?

Uncle Arthur's Bedtime Stories had one. Mom n Dad were poor farmers but they loved their only son and early on determined he would go to college. Early on they began an abstemious life: Dad gave up cigarettes and something else he loved, not once but daily for 17 years (of course today we'd say he was better off), (and they didn't have much to start with...showing that they gave up what small pleasures they did have)....Mom scrimped and did without new clothes, patching old ones, etc., and Junior eventually got to go to the big Ivy Leagues where he enjoyed succeeding and they were proud of his success, until the day of his graduation when his parents somehow found the extra money to come see their son and surprise him, and share the moment. Embarrassed by their unfashionable appearance, he pretended he did not know them, and walked off, laughing, with his new friends. The story ends with the old couple back in front of their own fireside again.

I'm summarizing this thing but it always broke my heart. Sharper than a serpent's tooth is an ungrateful child.

This may truly be a watershed here in our experience, and it was interesting to me that Charlie called up Jacob and Esau, the Old Testament as well as the New are filled with sacrifice, what an interesting choice for the holiday season this was.

So in the end how do we see this couple? What's our final verdict on them?

As far as judgment of the relative merits? In order to sacrifice something, the person giving has to first make that decision, that examinaton of comparative merit: which means more to me, my hair or my ability to give a present since I'm too lazy to knit my poor husband a scarf as he goes out in the cold trying to support me???

(OOPS) hahahahaaa

ginny

Betty, we were posting together, this is a hoot: "Ok, that's it. We're getting too damn good at this. Next stop is The New Yorker or New York Times Book Review-----"O'Henry Revisited: Thoughts from SeniorNet's Books and Lit." First sentence of the review, "Does Christmas spirit and historic reverence for O'Henry keep us from seeing the holes in Gift of the Magi? "

Makes you wonder, doesn't it? Both those publications would benefit from us, actually, it's no mistake that The New Yorker used 80+ Penelope Fitzgerald as one of their reviewers. Sharp is sharp and sharp with age experience, well.... a nonpareil combination.

I'm glad I reread it. I find some of the things done for love related here on SeniorNet to be much more powerful and meaningful than this supposed beacon of selflessness. It's the difference between a pretty doll in a store window and a real person, to me.

I remember things just as you do, too? I remember growing up in New Jersey and my mother, a Doctor's daughter who was used to affluence, wearing the same coat year after year after year, never saying a thing, never letting on anything, but daughter was voted runner up for best dressed in high school. Hello? Once this shallow daughter even said, oh WHY don't you get a new coat????

Oh yes. There's sacrifice for goods and items and then there's sacrifice for goods and items.

I don't dislike this story. Rather I think it's sweet but we here in these Book Clubs have seen the real thing so the plastic lollipop is pretty and sweet looking but the real thing has more savor.

Of course keep in mind what YOU sang when you were younger: How about this meaningful little ditty:

"My boy lollipop.
You make my heart go giddyup."

Remember that one?

How about the scandalous:

"Louie Louie,"

Even today I don't know what that was supposed to mean, talk about depth of character. We need a school to talk this story over with.

ginny

In 1911 the Sears catalog listed wool cheviot coats for $4.98. A brass banquet lamp could be bought for $2.30. $1.87 would have bought something for a gift for Jim in 1906. After all, Della paid the $20. she received for her hair for a platinum watch fob and chain. Platinum?

It is believed that the character of Della was based on William Sydney Porter's first wife, 17 year old Athol Estes, with whom he eloped in 1887, and with whom he spent the happiest four years of his life. If Della is based on Athol Estes, could Jim be based on the man who later became O. Henry, and is the piece a glimpse of their life together?

I'd like to look at this story in a different way. The plot is simple. Here are two kids who have suffered financial reverses and want to buy each other Christmas presents, something they each want very much. Okay, Porter knew that the trick to a good short story was the twist in it, the unexpected development that changes the plot in a way the reader doesn't expect. What better way to do that than make the gifts appear meaningless? It is the twist that the writer, O. Henry, used in this story that has made it a classic. What if that technique of writing was more important to this writer than the story itself?

As an observer, Porter stood back and wrote: "And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house." He tells the reader exactly what he was doing.

Then he writes, "But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest." What? He says Della and Jim most unwisely sacrified; then he says they are the wisest? Does the author mean this, or is he using a convenient device to end the piece in a way he knows will please sentimental readers so the story will sell?

It's something to think about.

Mal

One thought on cutting a woman's hair. Remember, Jo in Little Women cut her hair so that her mother could afford to go to her injured husband in a hospital some distance away. Her family cried out with shock when they saw her short hair but loved her for the sacrifice.

It's probably difficult for us who cut and style our hair at whim to imagine a time when a woman's long hair was an important part of being "woman." I really can't think of anything contemporary that giving up long hair would compare to.

----------------------------------

You've captured it, Ginny. Those of us who have lived for a while have seen the real thing. The 20 year olds in the story may look back at how they demonstrated love this Christmas with amusement.

Maybe O. Henry's irony isn't pointed enough. We're not sure if he's offering a tale of selflessness or of wisdom-less youth.

My granddaughter is in her twenties. She thinks The Gift of the Magi is a wonderful Christmas story. A lot of these kids today are more sentimental and old-fashioned in that way than one might think.

Mal

I too was taken with Pat's post about gifts presented to "honor" the recipient. Now there's a twist- if you give a gift in honor and not in sacrifice- all the "emotional blackmail" goes up in smoke- cool. I did not have the words for a recent experience when I was "presented" a gift of great value- an original chinese waterbrush painting from the artist. I was almost ready to refuse and the artist insisted he wished to honor me from his heart- I don't think until Pat's post did I truly understand the gesture.

It is also funny in some scenarios - not necessarily more modern- how one or both parties make a 'sacrifice' and later that is determined the seed that destroyed the relationship, family or whatever- plot twist- a few weeks later he starts to fool around with a woman with long hair!

Probing questions about what 'thing' we might possess...makes me think of those awful fights families have over the possessions of the deceased. Wonder if there was a hoofraw over the watch in the past and now it was sold!

hair, hair, hair- wonder if it is deemed a sacrifice when Thai and Vietnamese women sell their's for survival or do we accept it as part of the culture? (that was not meant to sound arrogant- a real question- perhaps better said- what are the elements of sacrfice.)

After reading all of these posts I find that I am really reluctant to say anything since I seem to be "swimming upstream" but I am going to, anyway. This story was, and still is, the true story of Christmas to me. Yes, it's dated--yes, it was written in a different time with different customs---for a woman to cut her hair in that time was slightly scandalous, even bordering on wicked--a woman's hair was her "crowning glory". And to have an heirloom watch passed down to you was an honor far more valuable than the value of the watch itself. My husband still treasures the gold watch passed down to him from his father. And yet, knowing that these were the most valuable possessions they owned they willingly gave them up for each other. Naive, innocent, even foolish, but still the greatest expression of love they could give.

As for the title, The Gift of the Magi, I don't think it has anything to do with the biblical story of gold, frankincense and myrrh. The Magi (one of their many names) traveled long distances for many weeks on the faith of a prophecy of the birth of their long awaited Messiah. The gifts they brought were love and devotion. Love and devotion is what these two young people gave to each other.

Call me a flat out romantic but I would rather be that than a cynic.

Upstream swimmers----my favorite kind of people.

I think Romantic is a wonderful way to be, hope there are more choices than romantic and cynic, hahahaha. I looked up cynical and it says "denying the sincerity of people's motivations and actions," and "sarcastic, sneering."

Well, we is what we is, there's no doubt about it, that's the joy of our forums here, we can be who we are, and all be welcome and accepted, no matter what we think.

That's why we're here, to give our opinions, and our opinions are only that, points of view.

And there is still more room here at our table for even more opinions, so bring 'em on!

ginny

Hey, look, if a guy sold his father's gold watch to splurge on something I'd coveted, I'd be declaring his wisdom, intelligence, and general, all 'round coolness and superiority.

However, my hair reaches the middle of my back---never been this long ever---and I'd have to think a while before cutting it for anyone. I can knit, sew, bake, write---not that I've done any of those things for years---but I COULD do them, if needed.

I've been known to do some pretty wild things that did require sacrifice----drove from Oregon to Texas and stayed 6 weeks in a hotel (charged it all, couldn't afford it), just to be with my brother before and after brain surgery. That was 4 years ago. Physically, I shouldn't have done it, but I needed my car with me, etc., etc. Strangely, as we talk here of odd feelings of the recipient, there has lingered some faint feelings of resentment from my brother that I did something that I clearly "shouldn't have," in his estimation. So strange. I'd do it again tomorrow. This is the brother that lives pretty far away now, even in Texas, who I feel closest to---driving to Texas and staying was a given with me, didn't even feel like a sacrifice---until I began paying the bills. Three years to pay that bill. I'd still do it again. But I don't know about cutting my hair.

Oh, good. Next time my wife hints for jewelry for Christmas or her birthday, I'll just tell her: "Why, don't try that emotional blackmail on me!" If you don't hear from me again, you'll know why.

Yes, friends, me too. Was about done with a longish post when I scrolled back to check on participants' names and posts --- and then everything was gone, hence must begin anew.

I find myself in league with Phyll and also with Dolphindli and others on several issues. But first this :

The author was remarkably prolific in his relatively short life. His stories are sentimental, semi-realistic tales about the lives of modest people. He is famous for his mastery of the surprise ending, which became known as the "O. Henry ending" and has been widely imitated.

The man himself, born in North Carolina, later went to Texas where he was editor and publisher of a humorous magazine THE ROLLING STONE.

When he was accused of (charged with) embezzling funds from a bank, he fled to Central America but eventually returned and did serve time (in the penitentiary in Columbus, Ohio, about 3 years), although there was much debate about his actual guilt.

As prison pharmacist he had access to U.S. DISPENATORY, a reference work, in which the French pharmacist Etienne-Ossian Henry was named.It is believed that the author took his pen name from him.

Much of his work is identified with New York City where O. Henry lived for some time; he dubbed it "Bagdad-on-the Subway". Several collections of his short stories appeared during his life-time. How sad that he died broke.

On to the story. I don't mean to appear as Grinch III, but there is a printing error in the story : Della started out with $1.87. Later she found the platinum fob chain:

"Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 78 (sic) cents." That should have been 87 cents. But I don't mean to quibble.

Yes I too believe it is a sentimental story about two young people, too young to be on their own, and also too young to consider their prized possessions, especially his gold watch, as "security" for the future. I don't think they gave the future any thought. They lived for the present and most especially for their love.

The story has justly become a Christmas classic, though we are free to interpret it any way we see fit. It is a simple story written in simpler times (dated for sure); and I believe the author tossed it off within a short period of time without pondering mightily of what precise message he was going to impart.

The suggestion that giving is associated with "sacrifice" had not occurred to me, ever. And I for one believe that within the context of this story it was love that made the protagonists do what they did with the only things of value they happened to have.

Thus a message of genuine love. If it had been considered a sacrifice, there would have been lamenting, regrets. None such are evident. Any way this is my take.

Traude

I would feel completely differently about Della if she had like Jo, in Little Women (was that you, Betty? Yes, I am pretty sure it was), sacrificed her hair for something that really needed to be done. And I understand all about the value of hair to women at the time. My daughter, even now, has long glorious curly hair.

But still---my problem with the story has to do with how we know what we know.

Our helpful narrator just can't disappear. He keeps appearing and commenting.

One example: Here's the description of the watch fob that Della buys


“She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both.”


OK, I have one question. What did that watch fob, that enormously expensive (as Mal points out) fob, LOOK LIKE? And if it is "simple and chaste in design," why is the prose so clogged with words like “meretricious ornamentation”?

And here's another passage that I just can't get by, or through, or around. From near the beginning, Della's tears:


“There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.”


There's something about that verb "flop" that just doesn't do it for me. I will not comment on the "sobs, sniffles, and smiles" section since it speaks so clearly for itself.

And then, at the end, we are told what to think, or what to think about by our narrator. O Henry violates a sacred principle of writing---Don't TELL, SHOW.

I am not a cynic. I have my romantic mode, but this story does not send me into it.

~Maryal

That's a good point, too, Traude, sacrifice means lamenting, usually? Or does it?

I keep trying to think what THING I have, what possession I have that means the most to me that I could sell?

I'm having a problem with finding a thing, actually.

You Guys may not know it fully, but we ALL here have swum upstream, just by starting this set of bookclubs, and isn't it FINE?

I love it, I love the different perspectives and viewpoints, if I wanted to hear my own opinion only, I could talk to myself. This is so much nicer.

YiLi Lin, I had not considered this: "I too was taken with Pat's post about gifts presented to "honor" the recipient. Now there's a twist- if you give a gift in honor and not in sacrifice- all the "emotional blackmail" goes up in smoke- cool. I did not have the words for a recent experience when I was "presented" a gift of great value- an original chinese waterbrush painting from the artist. "

I had not considered that a gift might come with a string attached. I do understand the uneasy feeling of being presented with something of great value, tho, I know where you were with that fine gift you were presented, I had something very similar happen to me, it's kind of a...well, I tend to give things more than...I tend to myself be a better giver than receiver.

It may be that people receive less well because of some childhood...I dunno? But some people really have a problem taking a gift, have you all ever seen that? I have. Maybe it's easier to give than receive, as well as being more blessed.

Mal, have you got one of those 1911 Sears Catalogues, I'd love to have one, what fun that must be!

I did like your point about the wise/ unwise thing, too.

Traude, thank you for that extra background information, too, the actual debate over his guilt is fascinating makes fascinating reading, I seem to remember that even I could not arrive at my own decision of his guilt or innocence. Kinda like Shoeless Joe Jackson's case, in fact, VERY like Shoeless Joe Jackson's case.

Traude, I am concerned that you lose so many posts? Perhaps you might consider installing IE (Explorer) which would allow you to GO back when you are posting to catch the names (albeit a risky business any time) when it appears AOL won't?

I hate we're missing your good words!

Charlie, blackmail, never hear from you again? Say not so! hahahahaa

A bribe is emotional blackmail, now, I never thought of a gift as such, but sometimes strings are understood to be attached, in life. I don't see that here, but that doesn't mean it's not there, just that I don't see it.

What a wide range of opinions on this old and generally beloved little seasonal story!!!

Isn't it fabulous?

Someday we might look at some of his other stories, too? Why not?

ginny

Maryal, we were posting together, so you picked up on that word flop? What is your opinion of O Henry's slant here? Of women? What are you seeing?

Is the gift a fob or a fob chain?

I looked up the definiton of fob:

a short ribbon or chain attached to a pocket watch.

any ornament worn on such a chain (etc.)

Now I am confused?

ginny

Ginny---I don't think he likes women very much. Della, despite the fact that she has the wherewithal to get out there and sell her hair, is treated like a senitmental little twit at other times.

For example, "White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat."

Hooo boy!

Phyll,

I am with you!

Ginny, I searched Sears catalogue 1906 and found what I posted.

A fob is a decoration that is attached to a chain which holds a pocket watch, perhaps like the Phi Beta Kappa key my former father-in-law keeps on his watch chain. It also is a small pocket in a man's vest or trousers where he keeps his watch.

I was going to come in here and say that O. Henry was not all that good a writer except for his use of the unexpected; then I read The Furnished Room and changed my mind. As I said before, he was a master at what he did, and his use of the twist in his work amazes me.

There is no question that his writing is dated. His attitude toward women was the attitude of the time. The use of the word "flop" doesn't bother me, nor do his inserted authorly comments. That was how some people wrote at that time.

I am not the same reader that I was once or will be a few years from now. Maryal and I are perhaps too critical of a sweet little story that has captured the minds of readers for almost 100 years. Maryal is a writer and teacher. I am a writer and an editor. Some writers are harsh in the judgment of own their work. I know I am. If I was not, what I write would not be successful or appeal to a reader because it would not have been revised and revised and revised again. As far as I'm concerned, my transferring of this attitude about my own stuff to another writer's work, especially one who wrote so long ago, is not always a good idea. A lesson learned for me.

I never would have thought about "sacrifice" if the author had not used this word toward the end of the story. I have extremely mixed feelings about sacrifice, just as I have extremely mixed feelings about martyrdom. The reason for this is personal. At one time I gave and sacrificed so much of what I owned and what I am that it led to a situation where there was very, very little left to give.

Unselfishness and sacrifice as some of us were taught as kids can be negative and hurtful, especially for a woman. I'd rather not use those words when analyzing this story. As I said before, The Gift of the Magi is a sweet little story with a surprise ending that has lasted and will last for a much longer time. Perhaps it is best to accept it as such and sit back and enjoy it.

Mal

Here I go...I have been wanting to jump in on this story and a few of the others too; but for some reason have become shy about doing so - and I'm usually not shy about anything online...

"Next day would be Christmas." Now my first thought on reading this is 'why is she leaving the gift getting so late?' I suppose it was because it took her until then to gather the 1.87 together. Then, instead of thinking of a practical gift such as mittens or gloves which Jim could have used, she wants to give him something rich.

I do like the touch of the gray cat on the gray fence in the gray backyard...it matches her mood.

They seem like such an impractical pair, don't they? I have this idea that they both came from well off families and that they are not used to having to live 'poor'. They think in the ways of the rich, of rich and lavish gifts; even though they have to get them in ways used by the poor - she by selling her hair and he by selling his watch.

I think they are wise because in the end they put the gifts aside and go on with life. By putting the gifts away until later, they are putting aside the rich life and accepting things for what they are. They are wise because each accepts the sacrifice made by the other. It is not easy to accept a sacrifice.

I have always liked this story and did see it in a more romantic light when I was younger.

I hope no one has minded my little bit of jumping in?

Hooray for jumping in, Nellie!!!! The more, the better!!!!

Mal, I hear you about watching yourself on applying your rigorous editing to all writers...but, but, I wish you wouldn't. I want to learn what others know, what you know. I relish looking through what you and Maryal wrote. It sure doesn't have to agree with my first impression or with my personal knowledge. However, I'd like to have the chance to consider all kinds of observations----some could become my own and maybe others wouldn't. I'm certain that I'm a different reader now than, say, 6 months ago and different from 6 months before that---all because of what I have learned here.

I like thinking of our discussions as a process, not as a competition of some sort....or taking sides. I can't tell you how often I've had a vague idea that was eventually clarified by someone else. This is a great way to read!!!

Nellie - of course we never mind hearing from you. Wish we would more. Jim does accept the irony of the situation with equanimity, doesn't he? Now, when O. Henry says "Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones" you may at first take that at face value. But on reflection, he could be seen as jabbing the wise men a bit, I think. And saying, well how could these "two foolish children…who most unwisely sacrificed for each other" possibly compare with the wise men. Well - they could I think - and so does O. Henry, I suspect.


Charlie

Nellie,

thank you for your wonderful contribution to our collective reading of this story and your fresh interpretation ! Every thought and feeling expressed is helpful, and we are the richer for it.

This simple tale will continue to move and inspire readers long after we are gone, for different reasons and in different ways.

And I think Nellie has put her finger on it: the surprise ending. These two young people, barely out of their teens, hardly able to function in the world, attain unexpected wisdom way beyond their years and experience.

The language is dated, the presence of the omniscient narrator and his comments from the sidelines not strictly necessary, but the story contains a message that speaks to the reader.

There is no higher praise.

Traude

This story is a classic. We all appreciate that.

We all read it first when we were about 12 years old.

It is by O. Henry and has the expected "O. Henry twist." We were surprised and saddened by the ending when we were 12. Now if we reread, it is only to see what we may have missed previously.

To say much more feels like turning over a whole courtyard and driveway full of stones to find the worms and bugs. I say leave the story enshrined in its time capsule.

MaryPage,

that is what I have been trying to say and couldn't. You have accomplished it in a few words. Thank you !

Traude

What would be our greatest sacrifice? That's easy! Our book clubs, our books, and our time online!!!

Isn't this fun? I like hearing all the different opinions and of course am never shy about giving mine, I think this one little story has had the greatest number of responses, different responses, that we've ever had!!

Welcome, Nellie!

What a wonderful view YOU bring to the story, and I thought you made two splendid points!

They seem like such an impractical pair, don't they? I have this idea that they both came from well off families and that they are not used to having to live 'poor'.

What a marvelous slant and I totally agree, I believe you have put your finger on it, plus your observation of how late in the day the actual buying was, that's great.

Also you said,

I think they are wise because in the end they put the gifts aside and go on with life. By putting the gifts away until later, they are putting aside the rich life and accepting things for what they are. They are wise because each accepts the sacrifice made by the other. It is not easy to accept a sacrifice.

Fabulous, just fabulous, thank you SO much for that perspective.

---

While we here are not about taking sides and arguing over whether or not we "like" a piece (not for nothing do all the books on leading book discussions say to avoid that like the plague...of course it's hard to do, isn't it? To say I love it or jeepers I hate it)....it's still nice for others in the group to know that there are people IN the group who feel just as they do about a piece of literature.

It makes people feel "at home," that their thoughts are also acceptible, and might just be right! I think it's a good thing.

And while I'm not going to draw up a chart of opposing viewpoints, let me just say that ALL are welcome here, however they may feel, unaminity is NOT the goal, saying what you think IS.

Thank you for realizing that, and for being "brave," and it does sometimes take bravery, to go against what appears to be a common consensus.

Have I changed my own opinion about the story? No, but I see things I didn't and can appreciate it from all angles now and I'm grateful for that.

---

Our Nellie is about to appear in Forbes Magazine, the February issue as she's quite a celebrity host elsewhere as well on the Internet and we all look forward to seeing her there! What fun!

---

Malryn, I was so taken with all the previous Sears calalogues offered by our Bookstore, all of you go look there's one from the 1800s and one from 1910 I think it is, and one from the '20s, what a fascinating thing!

Sears Catalogs

---

Maryal, I agree with you, I do see just a hint, just a soupcon of that too.

It's funny when an author writes something what often comes out instead, but we all see it a different way.

---

Hairy!!!!!!!! Oh wow, well done, it would be hard to give this, up, wouldn't it?

Let's hope nobody asks us, that would kill me, for sure!

hahahahaa

---

By the way, as I said earlier, I disagree that the language is dated, I don't find it so. To compare, reread Babbit SAY! Now there is dated language.

---

Maryal, boy, this story has brought out HOO and BOO from YOU, what next, I wonder? hahaahaha, that's pretty strong for U! hahahahaa

---

It's interesting, all the concepts this little story brings out, this morning I'm thinking about what IS "Romance," and if it, by it's very nature, is always impractical?

And the issue of sacrifice.

When you talk about a piece of literature, ideally you get beyond the plot and the liking or not liking, and you add the different points of view of each person, then you add any background information you can find, then you add talking over the concepts the piece mentions, if you can do all that in a cordial atmosphere, and kept a feeling of congenial interaction and even find out a little bit about the posters themselves, then I would say you have succeeded beyond your wildest dreams in ANY Book discussion.

(Now what element in the PERFECT discussion is missing from the above? What other thing should we look for in one of OUR Books Discussions?)

And so we have.

Good job, Charlie, as usual, your discussions soar!

ginny

And thanks to Pat Westerdale for the beautiful Gifts of the Magi in the heading.

ginny

But first!! I apologize for jumping in quickly yesterday and dropping my "pearls of wisdom" (*G) and then not responding to all those who agreed (or, horrors, disagreed). I live in the South and when there is the least mention of bad weather on the way everyone drops everything and runs to the grocery store. It doesn't matter if the pantry is full to bursting and you don't have room in the fridge for anything but Christmas leftovers---you HAVE to go to the store just in case there is the least chance of the "S" word----maybe.

Traude, Francy Lou, Ginny, Betty and all who jumped into the stream with me and started swimming like crazy---thanks. If no one joined me I still wouldn't change my feelings about this story but it is nice to know that I am not alone.

Mary Page---you always say it just the right way, in just the right words.

And Mal, "just accept it for what it is"----I agree wholeheartedly. Sometimes I am guilty of analyzing the bejeebers out of something. It doesn't seem to matter whether I like it or dislike it----I still pick it apart. This story I prefer to just "accept".

Phyll, are we going to get that storm or not here in NC? The most recent weather forecast I received from the Weather Guys said it might go South and East of us. It always surprises me when you have snow and we don't and vice versa, since we don't live all that far apart. You're certainly right about the supermarket madness that hits when a bit of snow is expected to fall. My daughter went before the last storm came, and the checkout lines wove all around the store.

Now I'm going to look at the story again and check out O. Henry's writing. After that I must get the January-February issue of Sonata and the January issue of The WREX Pages ready for the web. I'll remind everyone that The WREX Pages contain only the writing of participants on SeniorNet.

I'll be back.
Mal

Don't know for sure about the storm, Mal. It seems to be even harder than usual for the weather people to call this one. Right now it looks as though it will slide on past us and hit the North East pretty hard. Hope all of you up that way have gone to the grocery store! (*G)

Hope your pulled muscles and bruises are much improved today, Mal. Take it easy.

I am heading out to the store right after this post! and with a houseful of guests who don't understand that in the south one simply hunkers down and waits for nature...rather than plows and salt trucks.

wanted to be clearer- I am not suggesting that every gift is tied with "those strings" but I did want to make the point that this story peeled back lots of layers not only about relationships and sacrifice, but the nature of gifting- what it can mean- what it does mean in various situations. I think that might be what prompted us each to look at the story with different eyes. I still though am most touched by the others who saw as i did the way we might have changed- reading the story in different life circumstances how we revered the sacrifice and the romance and how as we moved along our journey our perceptions changed. that change, i think, is what life is all about- not good or bad- change is.

It's so funny what happens when you look at a piece of writing from a different perspective from the one you used before. This time I read part of The Gift of the Magi the way I read a story or essay I'm editing, and what a nice surprise.

O. Henry sets the scene so well. Look at this use of words.

"The silent imputation of parsimony."
"...it certainly had that word on the look-out for the mendicancy squad."
"....letter box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring."

This is wonderful stuff. It beautifully describes the living situation of Della and Jim. The reader is placed in a scene which is right next door to poverty and introduced to the two characters as well.

Later O. Henry writes this about the pier glass, and what a grand description it is.

"A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks."

Isn't that great?

What about the man who wrote these words? O. Henry was the son of a doctor. When his mother died in 1865, William Sydney Porter was three years old. He and his father went to live with the boy's aunt, Evalina Maria Porter. The only formal education O. Henry ever had was in the small school she ran. It ended when he was 15. Later, when Porter moved to Texas from Greensboro, North Carolina, he lived with a couple named Hall. The wife had a collection of books. While Porter herded sheep, he read Webster's Unabridged Dictionary. It shows.

Want to know how to be a writer besides sitting down and writing? Read. I never had a course in writing of any kind, never read a book about writing and never belonged to a writing group until I joined WREX Writers Exchange in SeniorNet on AOL just over four years ago, but I have read thousands of books in my life and learned how to write from them.

Except for life experience, O. Henry was a relatively uneducated man. He was a writer, though, and gifted in other artistic areas. I read that he belonged to a singing quartet and that he drew cartoons. It occurs to me to wonder whether his unhappiness was because, like other writers, he had to go out and earn a living in whatever way he could and didn't have time to write. Though he worked in the pharmacy while in prison, there was time to write, and he did a lot of it there.

Now I'll go back; read through this story as I did the first part and learn more. My publishing work can wait until a little later.

Mal

Yi Li, you're in North Carolina right now, too? Gosh, I hope the storm doesn't hit the Outer Banks, though, of course, it would be an unusual Southern adventure for your guests.

Mal

This short story by O.Henry was one of my favorites when I was about 10 years old.

In reading the reviews I found it interesting that when we get beyond the plot, how the issues discussed, the liking or not liking the story or the author and the different points of view of each person reveals so much about the posters themselves.

I especially liked Mal's expounding on her personal mixed feelings about sacrifice and martyrdom as some of us were taught as kids, and how it could be negative and hurtful.

I think often about some of the dead buddies who served with me in WW2 and how their personal sacrifices and martyrdom, that they were taught as kids, resulted in my living a longer life into my 80s, and earned them an early grave before they reached adulthood.

Pat

I have 2 pounds of fudge a granddaughter made for me, a box of the 12 Cocoas of Christmas, 3 fresh loaves of 3 different kinds of bread, tons of other food and 5 new Christmas books, plus all the ones already being read. Let it Snow!

Thanks for the very nice compliment, Phyll.

I am a new kid on the block with Book Club, but have been enjoying and being educated in the many discussions of "The Gift of the Magi." Nobody has changed my longtime love of this story, even after learning what a scamp O.Henry was. Our own Thomas Wolfe, in North Carolina, does not have the best of reputations among the locals, but what has that to do with his brilliant writing? Maybe everything.

So, I join you and hope that one day I, too, may write a message of meaning as you all do. Now, I would like to subscribe to the Sonata Magazine. How do I do it? I went to B&N, and they say they do not have such a magazine. Yet, the Sonata Mag says I can get a free copy, but there is no way to subscribe. How do y'all do it?

I'm in WNC, if anyone is interested in this area.

Where in Western North Carolina, Jean? Malryn will be able to tell you how to subscribe to Sonata as she is the publisher.

I'm in NorthEastern South Carolina, we're probably neighbors.

Glad you are enjoying our discussions and have decided to stay, that's the highest compliment anybody can pay us here.

ginny

Malryn, I'm in Burnsville which is 35 miles north of Asheville, NC. Ginny says you can tell me how to subscribe to Sonata. Thank you in advance. Yes, Ginny, we are neighbors. I just traveled to visit my daughter in Florida for the holidays and stopped at the Lizard's Thicket in Columbia for a great lunch, too late for their apparently fabulous breakfasts. I really enjoyed your gasoline prices! $1.19 compared to our $1.45!

Henry Misbach is in Asheville, Jean, and Asheville is about an hour from me straight up I-26. Small world, isn't it?

Sonata is on the internet so the mailing will not be by post.

ginny

Jean, I have sent you an email about subscribing to Sonata magazine for the arts

Mal

I got up today, (while we have a lull here) thinking about what Patrick said and how the comments often reveal the person behind them.

This is so true and this is why the discussion of a book is so valuable, this sharing of the spirit, without any of the accoutrements of what normally passes (or you might say, impedes) communication.

For instance, we here are meeting on the common ground of our own minds. I love that aspect of this medium, and our own Books here in particular. Here I sit, on a farm in South Carolina, typing happily away.

There YOU sit, wherever you are, in whatever country you may be, at whatever place you may have placed your computer (it might be interesting to find out WHERE you are greeting us from! WHERE is YOUR computer???) at your own keyboard likewise, I hope, typing happily away.

We may not have physically met, you don't know what kind of car I drive or what sort of place I live in, I don't know that of you, either, and I don't want to know, because I don't care. You don't know how little or how much money I have, you don't know how fat or thin I may be or how well dressed or not I may be ( unless you have met me and you then KNOW how badly I dress: I mean, on our Chicago trip, remember the woman who took me for an usher? An USHER????), but HERE we meet, you and I, the REAL persons underneath the trappings, just as Patrick said, the person, perhaps, that counts: the real person, not, maybe, the one most people in our own lives see?

I've always liked the SciFi things with the brains in a jar, happily bubbling away, leading whole armies, etc. That's what we are here: a meeting of the brains, it's unique, I think, but it's more than that.

This Thing of Ours here, this Cosa Nostra, which we all have created together, has only gotten stronger and will only get stronger as we add daily new people like you to help us look at and examine the ideas, issues and theories in a book and thus in our own lives.

It's one of the few clubs you can belong to that not only accepts new members but actively desires new members and constantly makes way and makes room at the hearth for newcomers because we NEED their new perspectives.

There's a space right now at the best place in front of the fire, holding open for somebody NEW. We eagerly await the footfall at the door in hopes a new person will take their place here. It only adds to, and does not diminish, our own share of the warmth.

I really want decaf in here, Judy S, and she has promised to join us this year, for one. I eagerly strain for the sound of the approaching footstep to see who else may surprise us by coming on in. Where is Dansker? His place is open over there to the right! Where is Roslyn? Where is Helen? Where is our dear Jo, whose mother just died? We know our Lorrie and Ginger are ill, we are holding their place as well as all those who are under the weather at the moment. All these empty chairs, we need to fill them up with our old friends and the new in 2001~

Welcome all of you who posted here for the first time in this discussion, Welcome! Pass the pickled herring down here, draw up a chair!

One of the best discussions we ever had here in the Book Club Online as Charlie made reference to in the Welcome Center, was the discussion of the execrable The Liar's Club by Mary Karr. I hated it.

Yet out of it we found new kinship, we found new friends, and we created lasting memories for those who participated, it was one of our best discussions, and we disagreed violently over almost everything in the book.

And it was fun.

Sometimes people are a bit intimidated about posting their thoughts on a book. How well I remember my first ever post here on SeniorNet I nearly died. I gave it a whole day of well reasoned thought, edited it till it was almost in short hand (you may have noticed that I am sort of long winded) and posted it. And waited anxiously. And was heartened by the cheerful welcoming, even if nobody agreed with what I said.

We forget how it is to be new (thanks Betty for reminding me) and how timid it feels.

And we forget we're not all used to analyzing books or literature, either. We know how we feel but maybe we worry that we did not take a lot of literary criticism courses and thus may lack the way of expressing it? Not to fear, you have come to the best place to BE on that one, a place where (somebody just said this somewhere but I lost it) you can just say how you feel about a book and you can, if you wish, also actually absorb how to talk about and look at a book, while glorying in the differences of all the different backgrounds and perspectives.

Now you see it takes me a long time to say something, that's just me.

And it may be that you are shorter in prose, great. Or you disagree, great. We're here to look at a book in every aspect it has, leaving nothing untouched.

Nobody does it better than we do, you are in the right place.

Bring a friend for 2001, our schedule is fabulous, the company is rich, go out and bring us one new person and we'll all benefit.

Best wishes for the New Year from a South Carolina farm window!~

ginny

Ginny:--I agree with every single thing you just said except the pickled herring.

Robby

Ginny,

Warmly, sincerely, and well said. I agree with everything except, like Robby, you can pass the pickled herring down the other way, thank you very much!

Welcome to a fellow North Carolinian, Jean. We are a chatty bunch! I am in Cary, next door to Raleigh. Mal is just a few miles away near Chapel Hill. Glad to hear from someone in the beautiful Blue Ridge mountains of N.C.

And YiLi is at her home in the Outer Banks right now. I was thinking yesterday how well-represented North Carolina is in this discussion. Robby's in Virginia. Mary-Page is a Virginian who now lives in Maryland. Ginny's in South Carolina. Betty and Barbara are in Texas. How'd we ever get so many Southerners in here? Of course, a good number of us are transplants from somewhere else. Pat Bruyere is in very cold upstate New York. Dear Traude is in my home state, Massachusetts, as is
Charles (!), so at least three live north of the Mason Dixon line.

I didn't know Ginger is sick. That's too bad; I'm sorry and hope she'll be well soon. Poor Lorrie is having a rather miserable time with back pain. I heard from her last night.

I do hope that those who are ill will feel a heck of a lot better in the coming year. Me included! My goal is "Up out of this wheelchair, Marilyn. Get yourself up and get going!"

I want to wish all of my dear Cyberspace friends a very, very Happy New Year, so....Please click the link below.

Happy Millennium to all!
Mal

Well said, all.

Happy, healthy, pain-free 2001s to each and every one. Lots of nice and just a skosh of naughty. Lots of laughter. So be it!

A "Skosh"?

Gee, Ginny, you have almost taken all my timidity in expressing my thoughts away. What a welcome notice to be given to newcomers to this club. You also brought back fond memories of my hometown, Brooklyn, NY, with your mention of pickled herring. I'd take Robby and Phyll's share if I were allowed to eat it these days---a Dr.'s no no. After reading all the posts since I joined, I think the members are more interesting than many of the authors of the books being read.

So glad I found this club. I look forward to Y2K2001 with you.

A little bit. (Japanese.) A tiny bit, like sprinkling a skosh of nutmeg on top of your eggnog.

On the other hand, knowing you, Doctor Robby, I'd bet you are Perfectly aware of the meaning, and only complaining that that is all the naughty proposed.

Jean: Interesting that you should call Brooklyn, NY as a "hometown" but I guess it is. For years I had family there. They are all gone now. In fact years ago Brooklyn was called the "city of churches."

Robby

Robby,it's been a long time since I referred to Brooklyn as my home town, which it was until I left forever (thank goodness)at age 19 to live in Houston. Trouble is, I always have to put B'klyn as my birthplace on government and health forms. I can't imagine why they care. I didn't know it was called the "city of churches." I lived across the street from St. Luke's, which I attended as a child.

Jean:--It was called the "city of churches" before it was incorporated into New York City and became a borough. When I was in my teens, active in photography, and visiting my relatives, I used to roam around looking for interesting churches. There are so many that it is almost impossible to stand anywhere in Brooklyn without seeing a steeple somewhere.

Robby

This morning the sea was high but the sun was shining- now the clouds are rolling in- Mal I am ready for this stuff- and provided the sea stays where she belongs we should be fine. I have a woodstove for heat if the pump or electricity go, have the instructions for cribbage and a jar of peanut butter and some triscuits- oh and of course have made sure the pooch has her food- I have reminded the kids they might consider going out for extra water etc. - they scoff- those city slicker's- well we'll see later.

So in case we are not online for awhile- happy new year to all.

The January-February issue of Sonata is on the web. There are eight authors whose work is appearing for the first time in Sonata, as well as artwork by a rather amazing 17 year old California artist. These are only a few of the 27 authors, two artists and a SeniorNet photographer who are represented in these pages.

Be sure to look at "Take it....It's Free!" by Dr. Robert Bancker Iadeluca, won't you? I know you'll enjoy this extraordinary issue of Sonata.

Marilyn Freeman,Publisher of
Sonata
m.e.stubbs poetry journal
The WREX Pages

JeanBS---Pleased to meet you and so glad you were brave enough to post. Everyone here is friendly and no one bites (except possibly my Jack Russell terrier who has to find another home if she EVER bites anyone).

Ginny--Well said. Bravo. Except for the Cosa Nostra part. I think we need to put that in another language.

Happy New Year to all as we here on the East Coast await inches and inches of snow. I am in Maryland and our trusty forecaster (who never gets it right) says 2-6 inches. That could mean Anything At All. We may get an inch. We may be snowbound for days. And I am supposed to be car-hunting. The terrier and I are going out right now. The dog will do the negotiating.

~Maryal

Ginny: an inspired post. Really, realy excellent.

Robbie- I dabbled in photography for awhile. New Brunswick has a lot of fascinating churches - nice colors.

During the lull. My computer station is in my family room I have books and magazines all over this room. Well, stacked on tables and a book case lest you think I'm a complete slob. I would be in "seventh heaven" if I could have a room lined with book filled cases. I don't even have to have read them all. I just like to look at and be with them.

Books are one of my greatest comforts. I've been hospitalized numerous times, several times for lengthy stays and I always had a pile of books with me. Even if I was too dopey to read I drew solace just knowing they were there.

My most treasured gifts, from the time I was young enough to remember, have been books. Even though we moved many times and my father was a "thrower" I still have some of those childhood books. I loved (still do) animals and so I have my old Lassie Come Home, Black Beauty and The Fireside Book Of Dog Stories. I have always liked short stories.

I have some very old books that probably are of little value but I like to pick them up now and then and look through them. I have several of an aged aunts old books, several of my fathers and other family members. I even have my husbands first school Primer.

Several of my childhood books were discovered by my younger (by 13 years) sister when she was learning to write her name, and so are "autographed" by her in her childish scrawl. My 5 year old granddaughter similarly scribbled her name in a few before I found her out. I wouldn't erase their "marks" for anything.

I loved Gone With The Wind when I was about 12 and read it about three times. It was about this time that I also discovered my father's hidden collection of Erskine Caldwell. Read those under the covers after lights out and scorched my sheets with the unshaded lamp.

A few years ago my sister went with my mother back to Iowa for my mother's class reunion. Browsing in an antique store my sister came across a school primer with my father's name written in the front. My father was born in the late 1880's and not in the town where she discovered the book. Books do find us.

Judy S

That's a great story, decaf - and very nicely written. One of the things that is fun to read here - aside from the books and the sharing of those - are messages just like these. Messages from the heart that show the great love of books that bring us all here.

---

Yes, we are in between here and will be taking a look at Marilyn Krysl's short story (The Thing Around Them) in a few days. In the meantime, perhaps some of you might want to read a few of her poems. I think midwife, especially, is teriffic.

• Links to Poems: Consumer, Sunset and Come Courage¤¤Summer Solstice, Batticaloa, Sri Lanka and Blazon
• Links to Poems: Words Words Words¤¤Transfiguration - The blind talk of a way out. I see¤¤Midwife

Charlie

This holiday season has been very busy. I have been surrounded by toys and grandchildren. Last night I thought I would get a breather, but my daughter needed a babysitter. Of all nights, I felt out of sorts physically. She only needed me for a couple of hours so that was not too bad.

I missed reading the posts. This morning I have been sipping my coffee and enjoying the posts. Mal, I love the cover of the Sonata magazine. It really makes me want to bring in the New Year with a bang. I can just feel the bursts of sparkle.

I am living in Tennessee. My life began in Philadelphia. I miss the hoagies and pretzels and of course, Wanamakers. At Christmas time, my mother and I always went to see the Magic Fountain. Perhaps, that entertainment is a thing of the past.

Robby, it was fun reading about the City of Churches. I think you wrote that at one time that was the name of Brooklyn. Everyone here has such exciting personal experiences.

Happy New Year, to Everyone!

Thank you all for your very kind remarks, that made my DAY! I do appreciate that!

Decaf, how wonderful to see you here among us again, makes my New Year! What a find, your father's name in an old primer, I myself have been looking for the next primer up that I had in the third grade, I have one, I need the next step up (ironically, it was about the turn of the century). Someday I'll find it and I can barely imagine your excitement at that find!

Jean, RIGHT! Put away that shyness, we're all shy. It was so funny at the NYC Books Gathering, our Helen said afterwards the one thing that surprised her was how shy I was! hahahahaha And quiet! hahahaha Apparently I don't come over that way.

Let's make it our own personal mission this year to add one person here to our fold, and when they get here, to be their personal books buddy and remember how intimitating that first post is and encourage them??

Charlie, thank you for those words and those great links. I think it's OK to have a little breathing space, myself, and I appreciate what you've done there.

Is this only the second time in the Book Club Online's history that we have gone two months on one book? If so we have done that at our participant's request, hope you will all turn out on January 1.

HATS, PHILLY????? PHILLY? Holmesburg here! Hoagies!!!!! Pennypack Park!!! Wannamakers!!!!!! Gimbels!!!!! Lits!!!!!!

I went back "home" a couple of years ago, by myself. My mother and I used to eat lunch overlooking the Eagle, remember the Eagle in Wannamakers? The Eagle is still there, the store is different but I ate lunch in memory upstairs overlooking it all.

Not too much had changed downtown. The suburbs were all changed, for me, I got lost many times. The stop lights in South Philly were still not over the streets but over the sidewalks with the result that I went through three red lights before I realized what I was doing.

My old neighborhood row house is still there.

I miss the Mummers. Did you know they now save the fancy dress and appear that night in an auditorium? Each year I say I'm going, each year I don't.

I used to think they were stupid. Now I would kill to see one.

Do you remember the Geator with the Heater? He's appearing in the lastest issue of Vanity Fair in a story about old Philly, the music business and Payola. It's quite interesting.

On January 1 we begin a reading with the author of the new bestseller Lost Legends of New Jersey. It's another author coup of Charlies, and a big one, this is a big book nationwide.

I wouldn't miss it, please join us there, we can easily do one short story and a book and Sarah is doing MATING, too, a very intriguing book.

Lots of riches this New Year's season to curl up before the fire with.

ginny

Ginny, I can not believe the Eagle is still in Wanamakers. My mother and I would wait at the Eagle for my sister and nephew. They lived in West Philadelphia. They had to get the subway and ride all the way to City Hall and get off. Anyway, the Eagle was our meeting place. I will never forget it.

My mother loved lunch after shopping. So, we would eat at Horn & Hardarts, but Lit Brothers had the best hot dogs!!! We always bought a pretzel. They were sold on the corner.

Of course, I remember the Mummer's Parade. My dad took me to about two of the Mummer's Parades, but he never missed taking me to a Thanksgiving Parade.

I could go on and on....Such memories!!!!

HATS

HATS:--I know very little about Philly but I remember very well Horn & Hardart (Automat) in New York City. You'd give a dollar bill to the cashier and she would literally throw 20 nickels on the counter. She was almost never wrong. Then it was 2 nickels for the cup of coffee (or was it one nickel), 3 nickels for the sandwich, etc. You could sit at a table as long as you wanted. It was a very friendly place.

Robby

YESSSSSSSSS! The Automat (you all please excuse us here!) the Automat yes yes yes and when I took my children back I guess for their third visit I couldn't find it. I had told them the riches of the Automat and how the street person would sit at your table and buy?? a bowl of hot water and use ketchup to make soup, and how they could put their nickels in but when we got there for this educational experience, it was gone.

White....what was it CALLED? White something with burgers and onions.

Strawbridges! Strawbridges, remember the steps up to the little luncheon area? Grilled cheese sandwiches!

Remember Wannamakers at Christmas? That organ is still there, too!

When I was there people were taking photos of the Eagle and I did too. I will look thru all my disks and try to find one for you.

Lits! Basement!!! Gimbels basement!

We would ride the subway all the way in from South Philly. My grandmother and I bought her a bedrooom suite for $15.00 under the El right there where the trolley tracks turned around?? My son has it now. It has a curved foot bed with a high headboard, a huge dresser with a curved mirror and an armoire. I remember my grandmother who was head of nurses at Hannaman Hospital, thought $15.00 was too much.

We need a Nostalgia discussion here in the Books!!!!!!!

I'm going to go see if we can open one. Pretzels!!!!!!! have not had the like since I went to Zurich, THERE are the pretzyls of our youth.

This rolling time of the year, as Dickens said, is a good time to reminescence.

Hang onnnnnnn

ginny

More Memories: Nobody has mentioned the wonderful roasted chestnuts one could buy at the NY subway entrances. I worked for several years in NYC and lived on those chestnuts and at the Automat. I think the burger place was either White Rose or White Horse...naw, wouldn't be horse. I lived in Greenwich Village in a one-room basement apt. $50 a month. The fridge was in the bathroom and I cooked on a two burner electric stove which was on a shelf in a sort-of closet. Loved it! Right around the corner from the Cherrylane theater.

There was a WHITE HOUSE and there was a WHITE TOWER.

Jean,

My son lives on Bedford Street in the Village. Has a TINY 3 room apartment in a co-op that he pays over $l,l00.00 a month for. Gosh, have times ever changed!

Are you thinking of White House hamburgers? And I never ate any of the chestnuts because I really hated the smell of the stuff the vendors roasted them over----whatever it was!

White Tower White Tower White Tower and the chestnuts!!!!!!!!

Chestnut street!

Oh why not reminescence right here, we have a couple of days left? Why ever not!~!!

Oh I love NYC Macy's the St. Patrick's Day Parade, oh boy.....why IS it we relished those street things? They have got to have been the nastiest things in the world. I remember my father saying you would eat a pound of soot but I had to have, just had to have those pretzles. (sp)

OK HATS: a quiz for you! Without looking anything up, how many subway stops can you name?

I can remember Ticonderoga, Girard......em......

How about you, Jean, can you remember any of the stops? Yes I think they recently asked people IN NYC not to eat from those vendors, they are so nasty, no sanitation.

Phyll, I'm glad you said that! The rents there are outrageous, and that proves it.

Hey, Street People, how about those BIG kielbasas or whatever they were?

How about sauerkraut?

HEY Scrapple!~!!!!!!

Going to find those photos!!!!!!!

ginny

The White Horse was The White Horse Tavern in Greenwich Village where Dylan Thomas spent lots and lots of time.

I just wrote a message and it disappeared. I used to live on Bedford St. Phyll. The rent you mentioned is mind-boggling. The AROMA of those roasting chestnuts was what gave me special pleasure! They used charcoal to roast them. No, I suppose I wouldn't buy from those vendors today either. My mother used chestnuts in her turkey dressing and I have never tasted better. When I was in the foreign service I could buy chestnuts in some country...either Brazil or Tunisia, I forget. In this country they suffered a blight and have been unavailable for years.

I used to ride the IRT to work every day and for the life of me I can't remember the stops which I then knew without looking! Ha! Times Square was one.

Jean:--Are you talking about the 7th Ave. line or the Lexington Ave line?

And your first sentence makes me think of the line from that poem: "I breathed a song into the air; it fell to earth, I knew not where."

Robby

There once was a chain called White Castle. The chain has gone but I have seen a restaurant here in Miami that still bears the name. I think this is where the Wimpy (of Popeye fame) Burgers were made.

Jean:--Come to think of it, you had to be talking about the 7th Ave. line as Times Square was on that line. On the Lexington AVe. line was Grand Central which has a shuttle to Times Square.

Robby

White Castle, too! YES!

AND Chestnut trees, I remember chestnut trees so big and tall and old in Pennsylvania. All gone now, the spreading chestnut tree, gone. There is a new variety but it's not those 100 footers.

Remember the candy stores? We had one when we moved out in the "country" in Bucks County, PA, in a gas station. The gas station's owner's wife ran a candy store, the entire glass counter filled with good things for a penny. Yes. And those strips of paper with the little pills on, I always got them, seemed like you got a lot for your money with them, and you could share.

And the Three Musketeers bars were huge back then and segmented into threes, also sharing. They've recently brought that back, incidentally.

We had a one room school house (I know you don't believe this but it's true) where I attended the first grade next to a cow pasture.

AT Halloween all the merchants would have children paint cute scenes on the windows and then have a contest, they were very clever. That was back when there was a Mischief Night and you went inside people's houses while they guessed who you were.

They always guessed me by my eyes, or so they said.

What else?

How about the World's Fair, did any of you go to it? I took the bus up from NJ where we lived at the time.

I loved that Carousel of Progress, always one of my favorite things at Disney World. Now is the best time, they sang, now is the best time, now is the best time of your life!

I can't find the Philly photos but am still looking.

ginny

This site, for those of you who might like to view it, purports to be offering, tomorrow morning at 9:30 am, the Philadelphia Mummer's Parade

There is nothing playing there now, of course.

ginny

Ginny... It said January 1, 2001 for the Mummer's Parade.. Tomorrow is December 31, 2000

Ginny----I am trying very hard to imagine you as shy as you describe. Perhaps I will overcompensate in my imagination and you will seem downright BubBly when I meet you. Your posts certainly are NOT shy.

Candy stores---ah yes. I grew up in Chicago, southside, and there was a penny candy store we could ride to on our bikes. I loved those stips of paper with the pastel candy drops on them, and yes! you could share. One of us always had enough money to buy some of those strips and I can distinctly remember riding my bike (no hands) and tearing off strips to give to friends. This all took place on an old blue Schwin bike which was too small for me, but I loved it anyway.

As I recall, my favorite sugar drop on paper was the yellow or maybe it was the green. Not that there was any Large Difference in flavor!

~Maryal

White Castle-it is and there are still three of them in the Bronx. Your bought burgers by the sac, they were as thin as a few sheets of paper, chopped onions and a pickle in the center- the best was it came with both ketchup and mustard for those who could not decide. what was nice about WC was the price- 5cents in my childhood then took a big jump to 9 cents. These were prices even my grandma could afford and were considered a major treat for special occasions.

The automat- remember H&H's baked beans. came in that brown crockery.

Some supermarkets up until a few years ago carried a frozen version of White Castle- never tried them and wonder if people in other states have a clue the cultural value of a White Castle-

also made for a super cheap date until McDonald's came along. I remember McD's burgers at 15 cents!

(I'm sure there is a book in here somewhere )

Happy New Year.

PS do any of you listen to "Selected Shorts" on your public radio- again today (a repeat of a show I heard in New York a few weeks ago) is Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried. I can reread and listen to that work over and over- the cadence nevermind the narrative.

You're right, Robby, it was the 7th Ave. line. Seems to me that I had to use the Lexington line when I went to B'klyn to visit my parents and had to change at Grand Central to get back to the Village. Sure do remember the World's Fair, 1939, the same year "Gone with the Wind" came out and I graduated from my Canadian school. Shux..now I'm telling you how ancient I am! It was there I met my first husband--or rather HE met me! My second one I met...hang on, in Afghanistan. No, he was not a Nomad, he was also an American, Foreign Service Officer! (Fooled you) What wonderful lives we mortals lead! Yes, Maryal, we do have a book here among us. And, remember, Ginny, The Three Muskateers bars were three flavors, not just vanilla, like now.

Yes, YiLi Lin, my father used to have a radio that he had plugged into our dining room and we used to listen to Jack Benny every Sunday (I think) and the Jello ads. We couldn't talk when the program was on! I think he had a radio called a Stromberg Carlson...or am I on another planet? At that time, all I was interested in was "The Lone Ranger."

Jean:--I was 19 years old at the time of the Worlds Fair. I was an excellent photographer, the hormones were running, and the Fair was filled with gorgeous girls in scanty costumes wanting to have their pictures taken. I went out of my mind!! It's a wonder I reached the age I am now.

Robby

So THAT's where it took place!!!

Oh well, as long as it was just your Mind you were out of.

Yes, what about Boston and the swan boats I once knew on the Boston Common and the subway ride to the New England Conservatory of Music on Huntington Avenue from North Station where the train stopped on its way from Haverhill, my hometown? The Conservatory was the place where I studied music all the years I was in high school.

And the Waldorf Cafeteria where a bowl of fish chowder didn't cost very much unless you wanted a plate of New England baked beans and franks to go with it?

Loew's Theater on Tremont Street where I saw Benny Goodman, Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey, Harry James, Gene Krupa and Frank Sinatra when he was just a kid.

Or the Museum of Fine Art where I went after my conservatory lessons and saw Titian, Remnbrandt, Degas, and Van Gogh and opened my eyes to fine art when I was 14?

Meat loaf dinners at Schraffts with my high school boyfriend, who ended up my husband years later. A trip to Concord to see Ralph Waldo Emerson's house and the chair where Henry David Thoreau sat waiting to see the master. The Bronson Alcott house where Louisa May wrote Little Women. Knowledge of Margaret Fuller, who worked for the rights of women long before many other people had the idea.

Bunker Hill or Lexington where the Minute Men stood, the Old North Church and the British are coming, announced by Paul Revere. The Mayflower and the Boston tea party. Houses that were older than my hometown, which was founded in 1640. Plymouth Rock? I went there when I was just a kid.

That is what I remember in my youth with the Red Sox, of course, in Fenway Park, Teddy Williams, Dom Dimaggio and the Braves at Brave Field where I watched Vern Bickford pitch a no-hitter. Yup, a no-hitter. Who else has seen one of those? Or the Boston Garden where I saw the Ice Capades, Sonja Henie and the Ice Follies?

Not to mention Sergei Rachmaninoff, whom I saw at Symphony Hall when I was very young. He played his Prelude in C # Minor, and I was astonished when the people sitting behind me didn't know what composition it was when I told them.

And the Children's Hospital in Boston, too, where I spent eight weeks of my life in a full body cast at the age of ten. There are stories about that, too, especially since the Hurricane of 1938 caused a tree to fall through the roof of the ward I was in, and all the children in casts after surgery had to be moved to a different place in the hospital during that terrible and fatal storm.

Or the wonderful Spring day when my sailor boyfriend from West Virginia and I went to Haymarket Square and he bought me daffodils? There is much to remember about Boston in my youth. A magical town. Faneuil Hall, Scollay Square with the burlesque houses where the government buildings now stand, the state house with its gold dome, the old bookstores where I went. I loved it, and I'd go back to Beantown any old day of any old week.

Mal

Darn, Robby. I was 18 and one of those gorgeous gals in scanty costumes! Where were you?

Jean:--I think I have your photo!

Robby

Tear the photo up, Robby. Unfortunately it is now way out of focus!

Rather than delete my sentimental post about Boston, I'm bowing out because I'm not one of the Philly or NYC crew. The only thing I knew about New York was the 1938 World's Fair, and I never got to Pennsylvania until I was the mother of three kids.

Happy New Year, everybody!

Mal

Mal - I've never been to any of the places mentioned but I was most intrigued with your post because as you know my granddaughter goes to The Boston Conservatory there. I've since acquired several books and maps of Boston so that I can sorta be there. When my daughter is there they go to many of the places you mentioned and also take wonderful pictures. Cori's boyfriend is a native of Boston and loves to act as a travel guide. He interned for a construction company and worked on the "big dig." He graduated last summer (engineering degree) and his work is with a firm in Boston. He took my grandson, Kevin, to the last game at Fenway in late summer.

Judy S

I ADORE Boston! Yes, the swan boats and the park and the old graveyard full of famous names and the trolley ride for tourists and the market at Faneuil Hall and that wonderful museum that was a private home in the Italian style (what was her name? How COULD I forget already? Sargeant painted her.) and the old ship in the harbor and what's the name of the restaurant we went to after seeing SHEAR MADNESS there for the first time? Oh! Oh! Oh! Parker House?

Boston is as near perfection as you can get in this world.

except, of course, for Virginia.

Judy (decaf), I'm not sure that the Boston Conservatory of Music is the New England Conservatory of Music where I went. Is it on Huntington Avenue and old? If it is, that's the place. You mentioned the Berklee School of Music in an email. Very fine school. I know jazz musicians who went there and know someone who teaches country fiddle there right now.

Mary-Page, do you mean the Isabella Stewart Gardner house? A wonderful place. If you were lucky, you went to Locke Ober and not the Parker House. In the old days, women were not allowed in the main dining room at Locke Ober. There is still a bar for men only. I was there a few years ago, and had the most wonderful seafood I could remember for a long time. My escort and I sat upstairs away from the men!

Enough. My daughter was in Boston at Thanksgiving, and her Boston is not the one I remember. Still fine, but I'll take what I knew to her version of the city.

Ever hear about The Combat Zone in Boston? That was where all the sin and vice "lived". I don't know how it is now, but some years ago when I lived in Massachusetts after many, many years away, I thought it wasn't a bad idea to have a combat zone more or less excluded from the rest of the city. Made things easier for those tough Boston Irish cops I used to meet on the subway, who gave me a hand when I was a little lost kid trying to find my way to a music lesson or the train home!

Mal

Mal - Sorry, I didn't mean to say "of Music." It's The Boston Conservatory. It's located at 8 The Fenway. Across from the park. It was established in 1867. It is next door to the Berklee College (School?) of Music and I think a few blocks from the New England Conservatory. I think the dorms are old three story brownstones and right next to the building that houses the school. I've not been there just have seen lots of pictures.

Judy

Seeing Frank Sinatra as a young man. Wow! I thought I was going some having seen Nat King Cole, Sarah Vaughn, Della Reese oh, so many years ago. And the magnificent Ella at the Blue Note! And listening to Baby Snooks on the radio. And having to turn the radio off during an air raid drill because of the tiny light it had.

Linda

Linda, I'm a hundred years older than you are, and when I saw Frank Sinatra I couldn't hear much of what he sang because everybody around me was making so much noise "swooning" and falling in the aisles. I went home and thought Ho hum, but the next day in school I was a celebrity because I'd been that close to Frankie.

I was 15 years old. Seems to me Frank was somewhere in his late 20's. He looked emaciated, hollow-cheeked, and I wondered why anyone found him sexy. It was only later that I appreciated what he did. I'm a singer, and, by gosh and by golly, that man had mastered everything I was taught and was supposed to learn. His breathing technique was flawless, and his production of tone could not be surpassed. I am not your usual Frank Sinatra (or any singer) type fan!

I saw Ella years later. She was a genius, and I can see why even opera singers chose her as someone to emulate. More about that later sometime. . . . maybe.

Mal

I was fortunate enough in the 60's to spend New Year's eve at the Rainbow Room in the RCA Bldg. where the Ladies Lounge was larger than my apartment; then had dance floor seats at thee (and I mean "thee" Tavern on the Green and topped it off at the Paladium in Time Square where we sat at the bar and listened to Gene Kruppa playing the on a stand set just above the bar. In my town we also used to have a night club called Three Rivers Inn and I used to waitress there. Saw Bobby Dylan; Nat King Cole and Frankie Lane, who when he heard me singing (off key) Mule Train while I was in the kitchen getting drink orders, tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around and looked way up as he looked down on me with a smile and said: "Honey, I promise I'll ever wait on your tables if you promise never to sign my songs. lol. It was great. At our high school reunion five years ago we had Connie Francis as our entertainment - not too shabby - she brought down the housewith "Your Cheating Heart" and all the songs in her repitrore (or however you spell it). Not too shabby a life guys. Dolphindli

Ho ho, Dolphindli talks about dating ourselves. Want to know who my favorite jazz musicians are today? Diana Kraal, Stanley Cowell, Alan Broadbent, Michele Pettrucciani, Irene Krall (darn, why did that little Pettrucciani guy have to die before his time, and why did Irene Krall?), Chick Corea, Cecilia Noel and there are more. Anybody like these musicians the way I do? Listen to them. They're great! The world rolls on.

Mal

One of my favorite memories was dancing with a lovely date of mine in the Commodore Hotel in NYC in 1942 while watching and listening to Vaughn Monroe.

Robby

One of my favorite memories was shaking George Shearing's hand, and I'll never forget when Wild Bill Davidson, that great jazz trumpeter, said to me at Eddie Condon's club in Manhattan, "Gal, that dress of yours is d*** near on."

Never could dance, woe is me, but that's the closest I ever came to dance floor ecstasy!

Mal

Mal: You're a lot closer to NYC and Philly than I am... out here in the middle of the Boonies...

However, The Boston Conservatory I know about... My son graduated from there in '74... And jobs in classical organ were hard to find... He ended up playing in a "classical" bar on Martha's Vineyard.

I was introduced to Bobby Darin in 1968 or 9 by a very good friend who was the band leader in the "Jewish Alps." I truly did swoon!! I saw him perform in Vegas shortly after that.

That's the one, Mal. The Gardner museum. Fabulous.

Remembering Frank Sinatra, I never saw him anywhere, anytime. At boarding school, we would all gather in our nightgowns, p.j.s, and robes at ten on Saturday nights and listen to (and swoon over) MY HIT PARADE. His hits were usually number one.

I've read a lot about him, though, and one thing I read was that he said MABEL MERCER taught him everything he knew, and especially how to enunciate each syllable. My husband and I were fortunate enough to hear and enjoy M. Mercer one night at a small night club in Georgetown, Washington, D.C. She was a gem.

I know we have long passed beyond the White Castle hamburger discussion but still, being a Kansan in my heart just had to post this bit of info.---

"1921 Hmm.. What can $700 get you? Well in 1921 with $700 of borrowed money, the first White Castle opens in Wichita, Kansas, offering hamburgers at the unbelievable price $.05 apiece."

And if you want to see one of the most fun sites on the Net click on http://www.whitecastle.com/home.asp

Any KC people in here? (she asked, plaintively) How about Harzfeld's, K C Royal, The Plaza district (the first shopping center in America) Roy and Ray's Steakhouse, Union Station (with its Harvey House) and the "Candle"? Is this country girl all alone with her memories of Kansas City?

In the 40s my dates used to take me to the Pennsylvania Hotel, when Glen Miller was playing. We also went to the Rose Ballroom (I think it was called). I could have danced all night..and often did!

Jean:--It was called the Roseland Ballroom and I have lost track of how many times I danced there before the war, during the war in uniform, and many times after the war. I still get out occasionally and do swing, fox trot, and waltz.

They usually had two bands there which played alternately, one a standard one like Glenn Miller or Tommy Dorsey and the other Latin music. Oh, such memories!!

Robby

Did you know that the Roseland still exists? It just re-opened after a 2 1/2 million dollar renovation.

When I was a teen ager in KS I used to listen to the Big Bands coming from another famous ballrooom somewhere in New Jersey. Does anyone here remember?

EDIT...

Eureka!!! Just found it! The Meadowbrook Ballroom in Cedar Grove, NJ.

I took someone dancing in Roseland about 10-12 years ago and obviously it was open at that time. When did it close and when did it open?

Robby

My old boss and his wife were leaving for Florida and flying first into New York City, so they decided to treat our bookkeeper and myself to a weekend in New York City. We flew into NYC; took a cab to the Park Lane over looking Central Park; had strawberries and cream and croissants for breakfast at a tune of about 25 bucks apiece; then Bob, my boss, rented a car and off we went; Little Italy - Vincent's at Mulberry and Mott Street for Calamarie; The famous Italian bakery, whose name skips my mind for Napoleons and Postichott's; Citicorp Center for Lunch; Trader Vic's for dinner; saw Brian Keefe in "Da" on Broadway; went to a new place called "Sirocco's (a Greek place) after the theatre and while sipping Ouzo (naturally) and listening to the band play Greek Music, I turned to my group and said: "Hey, now all we need is Anthony Quinn! And lo and behold, the band started playing "Never on Sunday" and there was a commotion at the door and there HE stood - Anthony Quinn; not the old frumpy guy he always played, but tall, very tall; slicked back black hair wearing a three piece Continental Suite - talk about swooning! Well, Libby and I marched right up to him and told him we thought he was marvelous (and I was no teenager) and he was so humble -- now that was a thrill. But can you imagine, they had a (what else) belly dancer for entertainment who did not know he was there until the last minute. And when she started to dance, he got up, took his jacket off; hooked it over his should and went out onto the dance floor with her and did a Greek dance. Tore down the house. Libby and I kept expounding upon Anthony Quinn this and Anthony Quinn that - Until my boss laughingly said: "Ok guys - say something nice about me or Anthony Quinn will be paying the check!" lol

We did all that on a Saturday. Sunday morning St. Pat's Cathedral; roasted chestnuts in Central park; drove to Washington Square; horse and carriage ride; lunched at the Brassiere - shopped and had a wonderful time making memories.

Your turn!

Dolphindli

Dolphindli:--Most people who live right in New York City never have experiences like that!!

Robby

Wow, Dolphindli, what a thrill! Anthony Quinn was one of my favorites.

Your story made me remember some things. When I was in college Gregor Piatagorsky played a concert with the Boston Symphony at my school. He was a world-reknowned cellist, and I adored his music. After the concert, a friend of mine and I went up to meet him. Now, here was a great, big tall guy who really had an eye for women. He had plenty of choice, too, because I was at an all women's college. He flirted with my friend and me, and then we said goodbye and went out to dinner; not with Piatagorsky, but with the French horn player who played first chair with the symphony. We thought that was darned good.

Some years later I lived in the country outside Westchester County, New York for a while. Westchester is a very rich place, and a lot of very rich and famous people live there. We often saw Alan Arkin shopping and what's his name who played in the Addams Family on TV? Fred Gunn or something. Correct me. I know that's wrong.

My sons did a lot of acting, and one time my oldest son, Rob, had the lead in a play in Katonah. Well, George C. Scott, who lived nearby, was in the audience! He went up to my son after the play and told him he was a good actor and he liked his performance, but never to go into theater.

Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward lived just across the state line in Connecticut very close to where we lived. My kids ran into them from time to time, but, poor me, I never did get to see them. Oh, yes. Hal Holbrook used to visit neighbors of ours. My daughter knew him very well because he always took the kids out for treats.

Mal

Just a moment here, have to adjust my knees, you know. Just a mere mention of Paul Newman ..............

Dolphindli, WHAT an experience! Like Wow!

Phyll, I spent Christmas of 1998 in Missouri, and 2 weeks of it in a granddaughter's Kansas City home. We shopped the Plaza shops by day and drove down to see their incredible lighting by night. This granddaughter is a radio announcer for KCUR.

Robby, I am glad you remember Horn & Hardarts. I think there were two I remember in Philadelphia. One was on Market st. and the other one was on Chestnut street.

Ginny, Of course, I remember some of the subway stops. Let me see, I remember Olney Avenue. This is where we got on. My home was right off from Ogontz and Nedro Ave. I remember: Logan came next..... Girard was farther down.

Ginny, I lived in a row house too. I grew up in West Oak Lane. My father went fishing in Chestnut Hill, and my mother never missed a rummage sale that was in Chestnut Hill or Jenkingtown.

I remember White Castle or White Tower. They had the best hamburgers. I am amazed that I can not remember the name, but I can still remember my address and phone #. Victor-8-1372.

I worked as a file clerk at Albert Einstein Hospital. I could walk there. Later, I worked at Geico Insurance Company in Jenkingtown. I also worked at the West Oak Lane Branch Library during high school. The library was near Cheltenham shopping center.

It was a short trip on the trolley. I miss trolley cars and tokens.

HATS

P.S. Does anyone remember the Steel Pier in Atlantic City? That was before all the casinos. I have not walked the boardwalk since they built the casinos.

HATS

I think the Steel Pier in Atlantic City had, among other things, a diving horse.

Robby

Ginny, I loved scrapple. My dad would buy it from the farmer's market on Germantown Avenue and on Ridge Avenue. I could eat a piece of scrapple right now.

I love Tasty Cakes too!!! butterscotch and jelly, lemon pie and French Apple. yum, yum.

I remember another subway station, Ginny. Erie Avenue. How could I forget that! I got off there to go to church.

I remember Strawbridge too, but I thought they had closed down.

Before I forget, is O'Leary's bookstore still there? I loved that place.

HATS

Robby, I remember the diving horse. YiLi Lin, I loved the Baked beans in the brown crockery. I loved the sweet potatoes, too.

HATS

Ginny, Do you know Sansom St. This is where my dad bought my high school ring.

HATS

Hey... I remember the diving horse ... we were there in '36 for a Rotary International Convention... and we had a room in a place close to the beach.

I never saw the steel pier or the diving horse, but I remember reading about them and I think I saw pictures in LIFE magazine.

Robby, HATS, someone, H E L P. I don't know what a diving horse is?

A horse was hoisted up onto a diving board and it jumped into a huge pool of water there on the pier. Eventually the S.P.C.A. got hold of the story and they had to quit, is the way I remember it. Please to remember yourselves that I have rather moldy memory banks.

MaryPage----Thank you. So it was a Real Diving Horse? I thought it was some kind of something or other than people dived into the water off of. But it really was a horse. Imagine that.

Good grief! I clicked on the White Castle link and smelled the hamburgers! Oh my! Did that smell good!

I have a copy of the short story book and am looking through for some I might like to read. Will begin our first one soon.(The Thing Around Them)

I think I'd like to read Basil the Dog. And how about "People in Hell Just Want a Drink of Water?" I haven't looked at the latter, but I've never read anything by Proulx.

Anyone else have any ideas?

I want to hear more about Ella, Mal!

It was a horse using great force, of course.

robby!!!! of course!

Hairy-----Proulx is goooooood.

Happy New Year all

I have just finished reading about 400 posts. Scanning is more like it I suppose. Since I was away so long I really can not respond to each poster but I will answer some questions re: A Campfire Story My grandfather told us hundreds of stories over the years. His whole life I think plus all the ones he remembered from his own Scots Grandfather. The Stuarts being an old family there were lots of old country stories. I choose the Indian path many years ago with a different Grandmother who was Indian decended from Choctaw and Cherokee. I at one time studied Cherokee language, the only written native American language.. I would never speak it but it taught me about the culture and much more.I wished to study to be a Beloved Woman. That is a female magic /medicine woman in Cherokee.

There are several naming rituals during each persons life. Some you really do choose for yourself. Some are so secret if said outloud it will bring bad luck and horrible buzzing spirits to stick arrows in your head. You may read about things like this in other work I have done and am doing.

You must not ask me if it is a true story. I said at the beginning who can prove if it is true ...I know a story about a woman built entirely from one finger bone found in the Red River in Texas that is as True as a story can be and I must put it down for you.

I am pleased by the interest you have shown, all of you posters, in the Campfire Story. I find it very helpful to have your comments and also it makes it worth while typing these things...faith pyle

Linda, the first memory I have of Ella Fitzgerald was in 1938 at the age of ten when I was in the Children's Hospital in Boston after a muscle transplant from my left leg to my back. I was in practically a full body cast, as I mentioned before, and could do nothing for myself.

I was in a ward with several other children, and the beds were separated by walls which had a curtained window. I remember hearing a radio down at the nurse's station. A man was screaming, it sounded like, in a foreign language, and I was afraid. A very nice nurse walked by and saw that I was scared. She told me the man was Hitler, and said she'd change the radio station. When she did, the next thing I heard was this woman singing A Tisket A Tasket. When the nurse came back I asked her who it was, and she told me Ella Fitzgerald.

I listened to her music as much as I could through the years, and finally I had the chance to see her perform. She was probably in her mid-50's then, and was alone on the stage, all over it, in fact, as she sang and did her scat. The concert was a long one, and she showed absolutely no signs of fatigue. I was very disappointed when it was over. I didn't want it ever to end.

Ella used her voice like an instrument, and her scat singing was amazing, off the top of her head, but, of course, she knew the chords of the tunes and could take off from them. She also had enough knowledge of jazz that she could take a riff and expand on it in an improvised way like nobody else. Satchmo couldn't touch her with scat.

Her voice was never forced; her breathing was incredible and there was a real purity to her sound, even as she grew older. Her virtuosity was without question, and she had mastered difficult methods of singing all on her own.

An amazing musician, Ella Fitzgerald and an amazing person, too.

Mal

I agree, Mal, an amazing person indeed. I would put her up for sainthood, if I could.

When I listen to her she touches my soul. Her songs must come purely from her own soul. And most songs have a smile you can hear in them. Did you ever see the biography of her on TV? I've seen it twice and have been mesmerized both times. She just "speaks" to me!

Linda

I am in Overland Park, KS (subrub of Kansas City). We have been here 18 years. A lot of the Plaza stores etc. have moved out to the new Town Plaza (119th & Roe). My kids had their engagement party at White Castle!

Mal,Hats, Ginny - how could you guys not mention "thee" Salt Water Taffy - oh, I could never get enough of that.

In my humble youth, we left NYS at 3:00 in the morning, again back in the sixties, and rode on down to original Atlantic City and the Boardwalk. We stayed at the then new LaFayette Inn; rented bikes and rode the boardwalk stopping from time to time for those yummy gorgeous morning pastries and coffee at the outdoor stands. The problem is that not only did we "peddle" the board walk, but we went to the end got off and kept biking. When we got back, the poor man thought we had stolen the bikes.

A couple of years ago, I went with a bunch from the Elk's club to Atlantic City - not the same - unless you walked the board walk. Once you set foot on it - the atmosphere is nostalgic and conjurs the "good old days". That is, of course,unless you stop at the "Irish Pub" and then after a couple of those wonderful dark beers, your memory is gone forever.

My reminder of that trip is a very colorful beaded cockney type english cap that I bought at the gift shop. I chuckle every time I look at it. But hats are fun. I put it on everybody on the bus on the way back home; took their pictures and then mounted them in cards that I made from the photocopying the cover the my "Original Salt Water Taffy" box.

Think we will ever talk about books again? lol

Dolphindli

Dolphindli, how could I forget the salt water taffies? My whole family loved them.

I started the new short story, but I have not finished it yet. So far, I love the author's poetry and the short story breathes with atmosphere.

HATS

Linda- Thanks for your suggestions for further readings: Basil the Dog and People in Hell Just Want A Drink of Water. We still have two open slots for the last two weeks of January and perhaps we can fit those in there. And if not well...we can just refuse to leave and talk about them anyway!

[P.S. Had a White Castle growing up in my little town of North Miami, The only place where I could eat three hamburgers - all from their own greasy little bag when taken out - or right there at the counter on a sheet of butcher paper. And with that mug 'o root beer…ummmmmmmmmmmm umm. That was our after movies hangout! And my father was a musician of Miami Beach - before Las Vegas this was THE place to see the acts. He played Ella and Sammy and Sinatra and Jack Jones, Tony Bennett and the comedians including Jackie Leonard, Myron Cohen. Magic Acts and Dance acts. Then gambling "killed" the Beach for awhile, though it's back now]

---

But HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone and ON WITH THE SHOW! Well, The Thing Around Them starts off with a startling image - one that probably touches a nerve with all of us from our own recent history: that of a boy being dragged to his death behind a jeep. Tied by one foot and dragged away by soldiers "shouting in that language no one could understand." Somehow, the language being one that she cannot understand, a language of final, unyielding authority, makes it all the more chilling. Vasuki fears for the safety and survival of her son, Poniah, in a country such as this - Sri Lanka, as we learn from her Contributor's Notes. She makes the decision to buy his way out of the country and seeks the aid of her brother Nardesan to get him safely to the "master" country. Now there's phrase with all kinds of implications. It's interesting to note how little Vasuki knows of the history of her country. Krysl, as we learn, spent a good deal of time perfecting to her satisfaction, this feeling of disconnectedness from one's own history. It just seems of so little importance to Vasuki. And why does she opt to send only her son away - and not her daughter Mannika? Surely not just because she had seen anther son dragged to his death. Although she seems to be saying that it became clear to her what she had to do after touching the "papery hand" of the other boy's mother at the funeral. The implications of her own motherhood came home to her. Her awareness, her consciousness is heightened. History has a way of finding you out. Of demanding that you pay attention to its lessons.


Charlie

Set in Sri Lanka, this is a terrible story beautifully, beautifully written.

It puts you in the moment. You are right there, awash in human folly and conflict and, with the Tamil whose senses you are experiencing, not understanding it. You do not want to be there. You hate that place at that time.

This story dug holes in my cocoon. Would that I could spit it back out of my memory files and plug up those holes again.

Worn to a nub, I am, with man's inhumanity to man, with the ceaseless, seemingly endless killing. Once upon a time I was idealistic and naive enough to believe there would, there could, be an end to it all. That was along about 1945, and I began to lose that feeling in the fifties. Now it is gone entirely, and I just want to hide.

Mary:--Is it possible that most stories are about unhappy emotions rather than happy ones because unhappiness seems to be a more powerful emotion and leads more easily to a story? And if this be so, then could it be that the more fiction we read, the more we think of "man's inhumanity to man" and temporarily forgetting all the happiness in the world?

I think you are right, Robby. Absolutely right.

MaryPage says "this story dug holes in my cocoon." I have more notations with the word "cocoon" in the margins of this story than I can count.

"what she remembered was herself inside a damp, shimmering sphere, a globe of green air. "

As the story unfolds her protected encasement (cocoon) becomes "slit" when the soldiers arrest her father.

" She tried to look for this thing, to find its shape in the air, but the soldiers had burst thru the green shimmering, ripping it."

It is embryonic, isn't it, developing and emerging, she gives birth to a different self, a new person.

There is SO much I want to say about this compelling story but I will share space, I promise.

After reading this story, I feel thankful again to be an American. I do not think we have experienced such horrors on our own soil. In Sri Lanka, there is nowhere to turn. There are insurgents on one side and soldiers on the other side.

No child is safe. The boys are unsafe and so are the girls. When Vasuki sends away her son, I am reminded of the Blitz. During that time, were children sent to America for safety, or do I have that wrong?

I am glad we are reading short stories with a historical content. Human emotions are captured as people go through the worst of times. We see their pain on the news and get a short synopsis in the newspaper, but the short story leads us deeper into the human soul of these people. We are left, in this case, wanting to know more about the Sri Lankans.

HATS

Marilyn Krysl is a true activist poet. That is why I have a great deal of respect for her. On one of the pages about her is the quote from Mahatma Gandhi: "I must become the change I wish to see in the world."

I believe that "man's inhumanity to man" of which we speak must not be allowed to take root in silence. WE MUST SPEAK OF THE THINGS AROUND US for they are there whether we acknowledge them or not. The discussion of the evils that may abound cannot taint my personal happiness in the world. But neither can my personal happiness in the world allow me to turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. As individuals in our society, we are involved. Disengagement is dangerous - not only for ourselves, but for others. The safety of the cocoon is illusory. Hats makes an eloquent defense for the "reason" - if indeed we need one - for reading "fiction." - at least "unhappy" fiction. Fiction - since when did this become a perjorative term? Now back to the story.

---

Alf talks about Vasuki giving "birth to a different self, a new person." And yet the person she gives birth to is herself - a stronger, more fully realized version of herself - forged in an internal fire. The image she uses for this rebirth is the construction of a funeral like pyre inside her:

"She would not be like those other women, helpless in their waiting. She would not soften like a ripe fruit left to rot. She would not wait. She would not hope. She was the mother, and now she stood u inside this presence. She would become even more fiercely the mother."

Tell us more Alf.


Charlie

We have not personally experienced these things here in the U.S. Yet similar things have happened here. Our soldiers took Native American villages by surprise and murdered thousands of women and children. Our Night Riders swooped down and took off black men and boys and lynched them. Our own white populace burned to the ground several whole towns of black peoples.

Our history is not free from these horrors.

No it isn't MaryPage. Odd that you should mention Native Americans. Just the other day in the paper there was an article on "scalping" and who really started it. Some say the first occurrence was done by whites.

---

Krysl uses the term "the disappeared." What does it mean when this term is almost universally understood? We know of it's use in Chile...in Greece...in El Salvador...in Sri Lanka...in countless other countries. What a chilling word that leaves one feeling so vulnerable. Vulnerability very eloquently described by Krysl:

"Through the doorway Vasuki could see, on the lagoon, a single boat, bobbing. Though she could see nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed to her that this boat, which seemed to sit innocently on the water, was in danger. Something could rip the bat from the water, and, in a moment, splinter it...Her mother's face was an opening into a vast place where anyone might quickly be lost."

Charlie

And some scalping was done by Indians who gave the scalps to the whites who told them to do it.

I just finished reading the interview from up above here. What a neat interview. I see she "worked for Peace Brigade International in Sri Lanka and at the Kalighat Home for the Destitute and Dying administered by Mother Teresa's Sisters of Charity in Calcutta."

Among many other things.

Another part of the article caught my eye at the beginning. she was talking about how, as a young child, she would hear her grandparents read the Bible to her daily and "There is both grandeur and glory in that language. I learned from that listening the power of language to render story, and to exhort, to sooth, to sing, to moan, to cry out."

That's exciting.

Linda Will try and read the story tomorrow.

Before I enter my interpretion of the story I would like to say to MaryPage: In approximately 130 words you have expressed the wisdom of the soul. Your likeness to a "cocoon" went straight to the heart. It conjured images of safety and security within a comfortable nest to be disrupted by one swat of a hand. Powerful, MaryPage, powerful!

And Hats - when you wrote about being thankful to be an American - for some reason the story brought forth an enlightenment to me of the Japanese American Citizens interment during the W.W.II and made me do some research and found the following:

"The year 1942 witnessed an event unprecedented in the long epic of America.

Immediately after Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor and the subsequent declaration of the war, irresistible machinery went into operation starting a chain of events which finally culminated in the complete removal of all Japanese, both citizens and aliens alike from the west coast.

The first inkling of things to come was a letter to the President on February 13, 1942, from the Pacific Coast congressional delegation recommending the removal from strategic areas all powers of Japanese ancestry.

On February 19, by Executive order, the president authorized the military commander to prescribe certain areas from which any or all persons may be excluded. Under this authorization Lieutenant General J.L. DeWitt, commander of the Western Defense Command, on March 2, issued a proclamation designating military areas in the state of Washington, Oregon, California and Arizona from which the Japanese, both aliens and citizens were to be evacuated." The article goes on to say: The people of this project make an interesting study. There are 7,620 inhabitants of whom two-thirds (5,497) are American citizens. The non-citizens (2,123) came to America in the early 1900’s as laborers and merchants." (http://www.Ask Jeeves Answer:Amache )

I wonder if a Japanese Mother;a citizen, along with her American born citizen son, were being interned in a prison camp in the United States of America, would she opt to find the resources to send her son to Japan? Talk about being a stranger in a strange land!

And CharlieW - I believe you wrote "It's interesting to note how little Vasuki knows of the history of her country. Krysl, as we learn, spent a good deal of time perfecting to her satisfaction, this feeling of disconnectedness from one's own history. "

My question is: "What further did she need to know ?" She had lost a father and stayed strong; she knew the joy of the morning sun and the peace of the stars at night; the hushed waters of the lagoon; she knew of love and devotion to her family; she knew honor and respect for one another and sadly, when the time came, she knew she had to protect her family - her son she set forth upon a venture - hopefully a safe one. As for her daughter? What does everything think she was going to do with the poisonous seeds her hands could crush?

Dolphindli

MaryPage and Hairy you are right. There have been horrors committed on American soil against the Japanese, the blacks and of course, the Native Americans. At the moment of my writing, I think I wanted to have a convenient memory and forget all of the horrors committed here in the United States. It was easier to think of it happening in Sri Lanka, somewhere far away and a place that I could not necessarily find on a map.

At the end of the story, I became a little confused. Will someone help me understand about the decision made by Vasuki. When she thought of the Alari seeds, had she decided to commit suicide?

In the back of the book, the author writes, "Under these circumstances, it's not surprising that the suicide rate on the island is one of the highest in the world. I was struck by the fact that one of the most commonly used poisons is the seed of the alari, a beautiful flowering vine."

HATS

I've read a few pages and the "cocoon," the green bubble they seem to live in at the beginning is like living in the Garden of Paradise. Everything is peaceful. They are all in a state of "oneness" with God, nature, and each other. And they say they can eat anything except the one plant that is poisonous. Sound a little like Adam and Eve?

As evil intrudes, it breaks the peace, rips it asunder.

I am reading along and keep thinking of Bangladesh or India - the saris, the many states each with their own language. I hadn't gotten to the realization that they are in Sri Lanka. Glad I came here and caught that.

Thanks for bein' here, guys!

Linda

That's a good point, Hats, I, myself puzzled over the ending, as well, the little hand, a stranger's hand, which could not, after all, save anyone, I think you may have hit on it, actually.

I thought this author did a masterful job of portraying the feelings of fear and pervading anxiety (this thing around us) in this story.

When you combine it with the sort of....I'm not sure what you would call it, but all around us we have people disappearing and then we get interested in a character and BANG he's gone, then the author creates at the last an almost unbelievable suspense, good selection, Charlie.

And we can tell how it felt, somewhat, for instance, to be a Jew in Germany in WWII, Kristalnacht.

The hooded informants pointing out the damned.

And we can tell how it feels to send a child to safety, that was pitiful, and how it feels to be an immigrant for those who made it.

Do you think the child made it?

A lot of things puzzled me in this, if the brother could send a person to accompany the child, was it better that way than for Mannika to go?

Could Mannika not have been adopted by the brother and the mother have accompanied the child or could...well, the possibilities are endless.

Wonder how the brother managed to escape?

Frightening story, makes you feel, as you all have said, glad to be an American.

This on page 231, "Eelam, that heaven on earth wehre the peole would be safe."

That's good.

America is paved with streets of gold, many immigrants believed in times past, it may be still.

If Vasuki knew little of the language of the Master Country I wonder how she knew of VCR's.

F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong."

When I first read this story I wondered how I might discover a....kinship with this character as my own experiences cannot begin to match it.

I think it's a wonderful thing, through literature, to be exposed to situations you might not ever, hopefully, encounter, so that you can learn about human response.

So is the author saying she's strong or not?

ginny