Tangents 1 Publishing Notes Letter from the Editors

summer 2006 the journal of the master of liberal arts program at stanford university in this issue... Essays by Jennifer Swanton Brown, Jennifer Burton, John Devine, Nancy Krajewski, Denise Osborne, Loren Szper, and Bryon Williams Fiction by Andy Grose Poems by Jennifer Swanton Brown, Tamara Tinker, and Mason Tobak summer 2006 the journal of the master of liberal arts program at stanford university volume 5 in this issue... 4 The Silk Horse Andy Grose 10 A Flood of Misborrowing: Sin and Deluge in Atrahasis and Genesis Bryon Williams 17 Three Poems of Love-Gone-Bad Mason Tobak 20 William James Observes San Francisco’s Reliance John Devine 27 The Burghers of Calais: A Personal Viewing Experience Jennifer Burton 31 Dionysus at Sea Tamara Tinker 32 Marriage in The Odyssey: An Intimate Conversation Jennifer Swanton Brown 34 A Deadly Agent of Change: The 1832 Parisian Cholera Epidemic and the French Public Health Movement Loren Szper 39 On the Path to the Pond Jennifer Swanton Brown 40 Kierkegaard in Wyoming: Reflections on Faith and Freedom in the High Mountains Nancy Krajewski 44 Do Laws Govern the Evolution of Technology? Denise Osborne 48 Contributors tangents 1 Publishing Notes letter from the editors This is a publication featuring the w ork of students and We are proud to present this issue of Tangents, the journal of the Stanfor d Master alumni of the Master of Liberal Arts Program at of Liberal Arts Program. For the fifth edition we ha ve chosen a diverse gr oup of Stanford University. works by students and alumni, including: Editor Oscar Firschein A story about two brothers and a powerful horse Assistant Editor Three quite varied poems Lindi Press Reviewers To celebrate the centenary, William James’s observations about the Oscar Firschein San Francisco earthquake Mary MacKinnen Lindi Press Some thoughts about marriage in The Odyssey Faculty Advisor A discussion of the 1832 Parisian Cholera epidemic Dr. Linda Paulson Original Design An analysis of the effects of technology on society Suzanne West And—for the first time —personal essays: one on Kierkegaard, and Layout of Current Issue Geoff Ahmann one on Rodin’s statue set The Burghers of Calais. Principal We are indebted to Theda Firschein for her contributions as a r eviewer and AKA – Ahmann Kadlec Associates, Palo Alto, CA proofreader. Contributions Contributions to support the production of Tangents can Be sure to read about this issue’s contributors on the last page. We hope that be sent to the attention of Dr. Linda Paulson, Stanford University, 482 Galvez Street, Stanford, CA 94305-3004. our choices will give y ou hours of enjoyable reading—and that they will inspire Please make checks out to Stanford University and future contributions. clearly mark “For Tangents.” Rights and Permissions Copyrights for the materials included in this publication belong to their creators. The Burghers of Calais photos by Ken Burton. Wyoming horseback photo by Nancy Krajewski. 2 tangents tangents 3 After breakfast, the boys looked all over the house A nickel for gum, another for candy. A whole quarter for something silk. They pulled at the hem of their lost somewhere riding their bikes. The last dime went mother’s petticoats, but all the strands broke. They into the church collection. the silk found an old necktie —one their father wouldn’t “We still have the stones,” they agreed, with miss—but its threads were too short. satisfaction. Finally they discovered a spool of black button In the boys’ eyes, the rocks were buried treasure. thread in their mother’s sewing basket. It shimmered They were beautiful, one was speckled with quartz like the neckties. It felt strong. Pete looped one end diamonds that glittered in the sun, another was carefully around his little brother’s front tooth and tied flecked with what might be gold. But best, they were the other end to the glass knob of the bedr oom door. full of mystery, with marks that could only be writing “Shut your eyes, Toad,” Pete said. in a secret code. “Okay,” Pete said, bracing himself on the lumpy Even the name Patsuras sounded magic, fit for an mattress with both hands. But when Pete slammed ancient pirate, though the boys knew the horse the door, it only jerked Toad onto the floor. had been named after a small town in Gr eece. Mrs. “Not silk, I guess,” Pete said. Ludokus talked about it all the time. The beautiful, Toad sat on the floor with his upper gum bleeding, mountain town where she grew up as tiny Angeliki the tooth still in place. His eyes filled with tears as Xenopoulos. She left home at thirteen, to become a horse he looked up at Pete, whose first tooth had come out bride in America. The bride of a man she had ne ver all by itself, while they ate chili. Just landing on the met, who chose her from a handful of smudged table, sitting there like a white bean. photographs on the same day he picked up his first As Pete worked to untie the thread, his square pay check as a mine helper. Then there were two short, cracking sounds, like a double-barreled shotgun white front teeth filled Toad’s eyes. Toad studied the Mrs. Ludokus, Angie to her friends, preferred to fine lines running down the front of them, admiring talk about her past. blast, followed by a most God-awful, almost human scream… their perfect bottom edges, each one crowned with The boys loved her stories. She made her home- its own row of neat pearly bumps. Even teeth had town sound like Troy, fabulous with kings and feasts, teeth, Toad thought, sadly, to himself. as she told them of her childhood on its r ocky slopes. The half-blind horse and the terrified boys faced each other. But when the string was finally off, he frowned at Her stories filled the boys’ imagination as they played Pete and said, “Who wants horse teeth anyway.” in the hills outside their own small town, where they Pete was quiet getting dressed, and while the two could be the pirates and Greek kings. of them tossed the bedding from the floor back onto Patsuras, the place, would always belong to Angie. by Andy Grose Toad had been trying all week to make his first the old four-poster. But Patsuras the horse belonged to Gus, whose rule loose tooth come out. He tried biting into apples, “Horse tails are made of silk, I think,” Pete said. with wives and workhorses was clear, “Obey or else.” “Today’s the day,”Toad announced to his brother, and chewing a whole pack of gum at once. The tooth “The saints made shirts and stuff with horsehair .” The boys and even the neighbors tried to avoid Gus. Pete, who was still buried deep under the co vers of was too loose to stick in the apples, and chewing Toad pondered on that for a while. Then with a But, Patsuras was a horse for hire, and she got the bed they shared. gum made it hurt. It wiggled but held fast. broad, bloody smile, he said, “I almost forgot about hired for the hardest jobs, those that required power. “For what?” Pete asked, sleepily. “Give it time,”his mother had said. “It’s a baby tooth, horse silk.” Like pulling stumps, or dragging harrows through “You know what for,”Toad said. “For my tooth.” you know. Babies don’t come out until they’re ready.” stony earth. Gus got top dollar for her. Toad was sitting up in bed, playing with his loose “Try these,” his father had laughed, offering him The only horse the brothers knew, Patsuras, They knew from their parents that Angie never saw front tooth, as he worked his toe into Pete’s armpit, some old pliers. But Toad didn’t want to break the belonged to Gus Ludokus, who lived across the street, a cent of the horse money. tickling him more fully awake. The tooth moved easily tooth. He was going to leave it for the tooth fairy. beyond Rex McAdams. Last summer, their father had “She probably never asks,” their father said. in his upper gum, and when he pushed it with his Toad dug his toes in harder, rocking his brother hired the horse to harrow their field, before seeding “Afraid to,” their mother said. tongue he could feel the rough edge where the root back and forth. “You promised you’d help, Pete.” it with alfalfa. The boys rode on the steel-toothed had dissolved. Pete yawned as he swung his feet into the patch of harrow to weigh it down as it bounced along, chewing “Strongest horse I ever saw,” their father said. Toad had already turned six, and he was tired of sunlight dancing through the lace window curtains the fresh-plowed clods into soft soil. Jumping off to Other horses, he told them, would buck and kick, being baby faced. He wanted his own new teeth, big onto their battered brass bed. His toes were almost clear the larger stones unearthed by the giant square biting at the harness straps when they cut in. square teeth, like eight-year-old Pete. all awake. rake, sometimes digging them from between the Patsuras only flexed, and pushed with her great Pete unwound the wrinkled sheet from his knee, “Well,” Pete said, “did you get the silk thread?” harrow’s rusty fangs with a small cr owbar. haunches, never breaking stride, the skin rippling over rubbing his foot. As the numbness slowly turned into One of their classmates had told the br others you Their father paid them a penny a stone.

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