Contents: August 2010

Thoughts from the Editor
~ Kate Lydon

Reviews

Poetry & Notes of Anna Kamienska
~ reviewed by Joe Quinton

Kamienska lived her life in the turmoil that was Poland of the 20th century. She was less than twenty when the Nazis occupied Poland and she lived under that barbarous rule for five years.

Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy, and Truth and Beauty by Ann Patchett
~ reviewed by Janice Ewing

Lucy Grealy’s Autobiography of a Face is one of the most captivating books that I ever didn’t want to read.

Stories

Mosquito Island
~ Kristin Flick Strid

“Take the third dirt road on the left after the Grange,” he said. “Get there at five-thirty. It’ll be high tide then and I can get you in the boat. Don’t bring any food. Wait and see what we have. Never had eight kids out here before.”

Me and My Cello
~ Joan G. Anderson

The cello, the cello… my blessing and my curse, my squawking albatross. I took it up as I entered my teens, and the guilt still hangs over me.

The Country Club Set
~ Sandy Lichtenstein

I liked eating there, Sandy – everyone knew who we were, including the waiters and waitresses.

And I’m sure Mom and Dad made us get dressed up to go there.

Sandy, Mom and Dad made us get dressed up to go to the bathroom.

Nos Vemos (See You Later)
~ Mary Porth

There had been leaving her first-born (not yet fully weaned) to return to work, and the myriad good-byes associated with first days of school at various locations and levels. Not to mention the temporary emotional separations that occurred as her children strained from time to time for growth and independence. But this time was unnervingly different.

Seasoned Lumber
~ Patricia Zita Krisch

Once World War II ended it seemed half of the country, or at least those in the Midwest, were moving en masse to California. Houses and housing developments were sprouting up all over. Dad tut-tutted that houses were going up so fast that the builders couldn’t all be using seasoned lumber. He said that the people who bought those houses would be sorry down the line.

Our Tuesday Bread
     ~ Jackie Kearins

She always bought the same stuff, for the same meals, with maybe chicken instead of charred beef for Sundays, or my least favorite, corn beef and cabbage.   And potatoes, always boiled, always ghastly white boiled blobs.

       “I hate potatoes, Ma,” I’d say, “Can’t we at least cook them another way?”

       “It’s not in your nature to hate potatoes, Jackie, you’re Irish aren’t you? Stop complaining, there are children starving in China.”

Poetry

Joe Quinton: 3 Poems
     Down South
      AUGUST
      Untitled

Kate Lydon: 3 Poems
     Pearl Street
     Forever Hold
     Christmas Cove