REFLECTIONS Introduction

The 1 iterary efforts represented in the fol 1 owing pages came solely from the students in the Spring Quarter

English 173 Creative Writing class here at Western Piedmont

Community College. The work ranges from poetry to plays, short stories to nostalgic narratives, sonnets to satire.

P feel that the quality and depth of the material herein speaks extremely well for the writing abilities of the students Western Piedmont attracts.

Future issues of "Reflections" 'will, I hope, expand to embrace other Fine Arts disciplines, particularly the visual arts, as we seek to include photography, charcoal drawings, pen and ink renderings, cardboard prints, etchings and other examples of the arts.

So read, enjoy, and, by the way, be prepared to be entertained.

John Carenen Instructor English 173 OW+) Table of Contents

John and The Model T nostalgic narrative Jack Dean page 1 Cool Dude poem Anne Harwell 4 In The Library poem Anne Harwell 4 Con tempt poem Steve Penland 5 Ambit ion poem Steve Penland 5 Security short story Penny Dal e 6 God Incarnate poem Kim Radcl iff 2 0 Sol ii tude poem Mark Crisp 20 Life in General poem Toby Stephan 2 1 Sheer, Bloody Ecstasy poem Toby Stephan 2 I The Tragedy Of Midas dramatic parody Jack Shaver 22 Nature Is A Symphony poem Lori ann White 2 6 Parallel Depression poem Toby Stephan 26 The Pulsations of a Lifetirne poem Toby Stephan 2 6 Spare Moments poem Anne Harwell 2 7 Fantasy poem Anne Harwell 2 7 Freudian Slap poem Anne Harwell 27 I See You poem Anne Harwell 28 Soul Rain poem Anne Mawel 1 28 John and The Diamond Earrings nostalgic narrative Jack Dean 2 9 A Dream pa em Steve Pen1 and 34 If I Was King poem Steve Pen1 and 34 Valentine poem Steve Pen 1and 34 Tree poem Michael Vance 34 Take Me Out Of The Ballgame drama Toby Stephan 3 5 The Appearance Of Evi 1 short story Anne Harwell 39 On Having An Identity Crisis poem Penny Dal e 46 F is for Failure poem Penny Dale 47 Infatuation poem Penny Dale 47 Reply to Rich Man's Proposa 1 poem Penny Dale 48 For Love of Sleep poem Penny Dal e 48 The E 1 opemen t reminiscence Lariann White 43 W isdom sayings Jack Shaver 50 John and The Model T

by Jack Dean

My maternal grandfather's name was William Henry Allen, but I always called him John. I meant no disrespect. And even though he had Teutonic ideas regarding family disci pl jne and was somewhat irascible by nature, he took no offense. It was his own fault - if, indeed, any fault was to be assigned. I was christened

Jack, but John thought that diminutive was improper as a Christian name and in- sisted on cal ling me John. As a toddler, I natural ly imitated any sound I heard

(including what the cat and dog said) and garbled back to him whatever word he spoke to me; thus he became identified in my mind as "John". It was he who was re-christened.

John was unique. Never in the past was there a being like him, none exists at present, and there could never be another in the future. I remember him as a short, broad, portly man who wore a broad-brimmed hat, a grey-bland mustache, a heavy gold watch chain across his waistcoat, and a slightly arrogant manner - with a twinkle in his eye. His ancestry was "Pennsylvania Dutch" and Irish, which shewed up in his personality as a blend of the Irishman's feisty cheerfulness and the German's stern practicality. In Rim, the leprechauns marched to the beat of a Prussian drummer. John was a contractor-builder by profession. At the time of hjs adventure with the Made1 T he was an affluent and influential citizen af Charlotte, North Carolina.

Numbers of carpenters, laborers, and cabinet makers worked for him on his jobs and in his shop; and he frequently transported them from job to job in his private automobiles as the need arose. This became unsatisfactory. The men wore soiled overalls and muddy brogans; they couldn't help getting the interior of John's cars dirty, particularly since they had to carry their tools with them. John was proud of his cars: they proclaimed his material succcss in 1 ife to the world; and since he was a self-educated, self-made man (his detractors said that fact reli,eyed L the Almighty of an awesome responsibility) his automobiles were especially precious a( to him. Being a man of action, he did something about it -- precipitately. 1

One day in May in 1924, he had his driver, "Dee", drop him off at the Wilson- b $

Petit Motor Company on South Tryon Street, giving "Dee" instructions to return to T

e- f the garage, John" sttable of fine automobiles. John then walked into the showroom, a and examined three Model T Ford touring cars. Unaided by professional sales help, b # he decided on the one that had the prestigious extras such as bumpers, headlights, T spare tire, and self-starter already attached. Its simple, oilcloth-covered L I jnterior appealed to him as a conveyance for his workmen, one that could easily be a

As he was sriting a check for the amount due for Mr. Wilson, the agency owner, '7

ti Mr. Wilson said to him, "'Mr. Allen, this automobile has drjving controls different '7 from those en your other cars. 1 'I1 have one of my demonstrators give you a LJ driving lesson in your new Model T before you start home with it." This was very 7 considerate; agency employees norma l7y gave driving 1 essons to new drivers purchasing k1 a car in those days, but John wasn't going to let anyone think of him as a new 7 driver. His ego positively bridled at the word lesson. "Hell, man," he said, 9 "1 was driving automobiles before you were out of diapers!" This was true. John t ? owned one of the first automobi 1 es ever driver in Charlotte; and -- he was proud w of the fact -- he owned the first "Straight-8" car, a Hupmobile, ever seen there. L

He had at that time a '"ig SixlYtudebaker touring car, a huge Packard coupe, a V

e.1 MilIs-St. Claire cabriolet and, of course, his favorite, the "Mupl>edan. There was even a worm gear-driven Model T among his trucks, but John had never been in a C it. Mr. Wilson finally prevailed upon him to let himself at least be shown the new 9 car's controls, however; and my grandfather started the engine and drove out of the I; showroom with no mishap. The automobiles agency's staff, all huddled at the door, stared anxiously after him. L

John drove to his residence on South Boulevard in fine style, enjoying, perhaps, li' the novelty of doing something new, daring, different. Wi 11 iam Henry A1 len was v the master of men, women, horses, and motor-driven vehicles. It was ridiculous for anyone to assume he couldn't drive this plebian automotive eqiupage, some- thing hardly more compl icated than a wheel barrow.

He drove into his driveway and on into the garage; his "man'' had opened the door earlier. At this point a Model f pecul iarity came into play: when its clutch was depressed beyond the ha1 f-way point, the car was in -low gear. John knew this -- he had practiced stops and starts on the way home -- but his reflexes were not yet conditioned by habitual use in this vehicle to act automatically under stress. The garage rear wall loomed before him, and he pressed harder, frantically on both clutch and brake. The low gear overrode the brake (that was normal for the "T") and John drove on -- right through that wall. I was not there at that moment, fortunately so. When Mr. Allen was wroth, it was well for boys, dogs, and chickens to be out of sight. It is safe to say, though, that the air in that garage turned blue. John had a large vocabulary. When he was in a condition of vehemance, his remarks could be heard several doors down the street. He had lost his composure for the moment but not his ability to act. With deadly coolness and great aplomb, Mr. A3 len backed out of the wreckage and drove the car back to Wilson Petit",

Model Tk sere a sturdy breed; the bumpers were highly resilient, projecting well ahead of the radiator on heavy spring steel, and the frame was quite strong.

John's "T" suffered hardly a scratch. He drove the automobile into the shop, got out, and walked away from the agency without a word of explanation. He didn't even ask for his money back. Only by discrete inquiry did Mr. Wilson ever learn what happened. My grandmother suppl jed the detail s -- a 1i ttle gleefully, perhaps. Months later, Mr. Wilson obliquely approached John concerning the subject: a magnificent new "Banker's Special" Lincoln V-8 had just arrived at Wilson-Petit's, and would Mr. A1 len deign to inspect it? This luxurious vehicle had its own air compressor and hose with a pressure gauge attached for tire inflation; it had a concealed bar behind the front seat; all the rear windows had pull -down shades; flower vases adorned each door post; the seats and backrest were upholstered in soft velvet; a?1 floor coverings were of an kl e-deep velour; and the clincher , the steering wheel could be flipped back to allow a gentleman of generous pro- portions to enter the driver's seat without inconvenience. Also, Mr. Allen had a credit outstandjng that could be applied to its purchase price -- if Mr. Allen was pleased with the Lincoln. No mention was made of -why Mr. Allen had that credit outstanding in the agency's book keeping.

John couldn't resist. He walked into Wilson-Petit's the next day and bought that marvel, using his credit outstanding as part of the purchase price. He drove it home with his head thrown back, looking down his nose in what looked like arrogance. Actually, it was the only way he could see'to drive; he hadn't been shown that the seat could be elevated to suit his short stature. The Wilson-Peti t employees were reluctant to try to teach him anything!

Cool Dude

I remember fourth period and room twenty three, high school English and the teacher Mrs. P. I remember Julius Caesar and the verb "to be," but most of all the guy who sat across from me.

I remember how he looked when he wal ked into the room; just like a prisoner marching to his doom. I remember what he did during every class, gazed out the window at the trees and the grass.

I remember the Chevy he drove around town, with the back jacked up and the top let down, I remember when he told me he was leaving school, to get away from teachers and be real cool.

I remember where I saw him after ten years passed- at Sharp Sam's filling station - pumping gas. Anne Harwell

In the Library

Saucy sunlight sneaking over my shoulder then darting down to prance upon the page as if to say, "What is holding you here on a day like today?"

Anne Harwell Contempt

Now Machine Gun Frank robbed a bank and Z was in court the day, They put a shrink on the stand and after raising his hand here's what he had to say:

"He was the youngest son and the things he's done just isn't his fault at all. What society's said has messed up his head and he's surely not sane by law."

Then came Dirty Dan who by his own hand had shot and killed a man dead. And I was needing a drink, when I heard that shrink 'cause here" what the idiot said: "He was the oldest son and the things he% done just isn't his fault I" say. He told me when he was a boy, he never got a toy from Santa on Christmas Day. "

Now wouldn't you know the judge let 'im go After he paid a ten buck fine. I'm nat sure what I said, (I went out of my head), but that judge got a piece of my mind. Well my head got clear just in time to hear the judge ' s order ta haul me away. But i was raisin' hell as they dragged me to jail- Here's what I tried to say: "But I was the middle child and what made me go wild was the injustice of this all. What this court's said has messed up my head 'cause I used to be sane by law."

Steve Penland

Ambi tion

1 think I'll become a hermit and move in a nice, cozy cave. 1 can live off roots and berries, Just think of the money I V 1 save! And maybe I can trap a panther, to keep as companion and pet. And IV1 have loads of fun just trying to outrun, the guys who show up with the net.

Steve Penland Security

by Penny Dal e

The curtain closed. Mary felt as if a huge weiqht had her11 lifted frn~nher shoulders. Judging from the applause generating throughout the small high school auditorium, the play had gone over as a big hit. It was Mary, talented high school theatre teacher, who had undertaken the task of putting on the annual school play.

"Congratulations Mary. They love it.' Frank, who was seated beside her, said.

"Yes. It looks like the annual school play has been a great success.'Vary said as she tried to appear happy.

Was this all there was to look forward to each year? Putting on amateurjsh plays with amateurish performers? Plays of no consequence? Light comedies and musicals? The plays had to be clean, All-American family-type plays. Plays to which one could bring along the five-year-old toddler or even the family dog.

Mary had taken the teaching job in her home town of Slow Gap right after graduating from a small women's college. Slow Gap. A quite picturesque 1 ittle tow tucked away in the mountains. It probably appeared picturesque to outsiders.

But Mary had lived there all her life, and her infatuation with the town's "quaint- ness" had worn off long ago. Slow Gap had a population of 10,000, had one movie theatre, and one Burger King.

Why had she returned to Slow Gap? Mostly because of Frank, her fiance. But it was deeper than that. She could remember graduation day at college. She had been so scared. There were so many opportunities out there in the world, just waiting for her to pluck them up. She recalled the authoritative voice of her father that night of graduation. "What? You don't mean you're still serious about going to New York and becoming an actress? Is this what going to college has done for you? I thought you'd have grown up. Become more real istic. But no, you talk as if you're still a sixteen-year-old. You have a teaching certificate.

The logical thing to do is teach. I'llgo talk to a few people at the,high school and see if they need anyb6dy." It had been so easy for her to put aside her "childish dreams" and acquiesce

to her father's wishes. Going to flew York scared her: infinitely going to auditions,

infinitely being turned down, workiny l'n same god-forsaken job like waitins tables.

And the competition. Thousands of women more beautiful and talented than she.

"Mary, we better get backstage before everyone ~lse. You said you wanted to talk to your students." Frank said as the applause subsided.

They both clumsily made thejr way in front of a dozen bony knees in the row.

Frank followed Mary backstage. One by one the cast filed in from the stage, talking and laughing in incomprehensible tones of euphoria.

"Bay, you'd think this was the happiest day of their lives." Frank said in- credulously. "'I ' 11 never understand what's so great about going out on a stage and making a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of people." Frank nkhhoak his head.

Through a forced smile and gritted teeth, Mary said, "Idon't expect you ever will understand, Frank. Listen, this is their night. They may never have another like it. Please don't ruin it for them."

"OK,OK! Don? be so touchy, Mary!"

Mary looked at the dumb expression on Frank" face and winced. She turned away from him, to face the cast.

"Ijust want to say that I'm so proud of you all! No one messed up on their lines. Everything went beautifully!" Mary said with a smile so big and bright it looked as if her face might suddenly shatter. All the students looked up at

Mary in an idol ism of sorts. Mary circulated among all the actors and actresses, congratulating them individually, leaving Frank alone eating peanuts from a plate.

That night, Mary was giving a party for all cast members at the lakehouse of

Frank's parents. After taJ king to the cast for abut twenty minutes, Mary and Frank left to get everything ready for the party,

It was so nice of Frank to oblige the use of his lakehouse, thought Mary.

The lakehouse had huge cathedral cei I ings with oak beams, from which hung a large black iron chandelier. In the den there were two large suede couches, a TV, VCR, stereo system, and various other "junk" furniture which had not been good enough for the Smith mansion in town. Charles Smith, Frank's father, was a millionaire.

The money had been handed down from three generations, when his great-great-grand- father had been one of the founding fathers of the largest furniture company in

Slow Gap. The Smith name was one into whjch all the girls of Slow Gap aspired to ma rry .

Mary poured both herself and Frank some Scotch. She then busied herself pouring peanuts, potatoe chips, fritoes, and cheetoes out of their bags, into pewter bowl s.

"You know, Frank. I had the strangest feeling watching my students up there on the stage."

"Yeah. What % thha?"Frank asked, bored.

"Idon't really know how to explain it. Jealousy maybe." "Jealousy? Of who?"

"Of them. Of my students."

"Jealousy? I don't understand. "

Impatiently, Mary said, "I kept wishing I was up there on stage. I felt like

I belonged up there, Not sf tting down in the audience."

"I wouldn? worry about it. That's probably something all drama teachers go through. They all reminisce about what it was like in the good old days when they were in plays." Frank said as he threw a frita into the air, then caught it in his mouth.

Mary hardly felt old, and certainly did not think she had been reminiscing about the "good old days.'Vhy did she even try to talk to Frank anyway? The only thing he understood was football. And why did he have to continue to eat fritoes that way? Throwing them up into the air like some dumb high school jock. Lately, his jockish mannerisms were getting on her nerves. She took another large gulp of her drink. The cast began arriving at the lakehouse, the majority of them already drunk from beer. All of them seemed anxious to speak to Vary, wantina a minute-by-minute critique on their acting performances. It was strange that of all the people she knew, including her firends, these people, these adolescents, were the people she most enjoyed bejng around. Was it because they still possessed that genuine, brash individuality which college and adulthood seemed to effectively extinguish?

As she was talking to Gordon and Lester, who were both effeminate and the most deviant of the on-again, off-again couples of the school, she happened to qlance over in the direction of Frank, where Suzie, the cute little blond cheerleader sexpot, was flirting with him. Yes, Mary thought, Frank was the kind of man a lot of women--even schoolgirls, were attracted to. Mary should know. It had been seven years ago when she had fallen for him.

He had been a high school football star. She had been a cheerleader and

Homecoming Queen, all the requisites necessary to have a football star for a boy- friend. Seven years seemed like such a long time for a relationship to last. She looked down at the large diamond engaqement ring. Everyone said she and Frank made the most beautiful couple. They would make a beautiful bride and groom, a beautiful husband and wife, and would make beautiful children, Mary thought with disgust. Frank was beautiful with his tall, muscular build, deep tan, blue eyes, and black hair. Mary was beautiful with her tall, slender build, golden skin, brown eyes, and long, thick chestnut hair. They could rarely go out together with- out people giving them both admiring glances, as if they somehow symbolized the

A1 1-Arneri can Coup?e.

Gordon and Lester made a lame excuse, sayjng they wanted to wal k around aut- side. Mary watched them with slight amusement as they slipped out the screen door.

"Hello Miss McFalls. I've been waiting all night for a chance to talk to you. But it seems 1ike everyone else wants to talk to you too." Tomy said to Mary.

Tommy was one of Mary's students who had been in the play. Mary found Tommy very handsome in an unusual, innocent way. Tommy had the fine-boned refinement of a thoroughbred with his long, slender, graceful 1imbs. He had a narrow, sculptured nose, small sensitive lips, softly rounded cheekbones, and a delicate chin. Blonde hair a soft, unbrassy shade of sand, and translucent eyes a pecul iar Mediterranean blue shade made up the pastel palette of his coloring. He was so classically beau- tiful, Mary fancied Raving a portrait of him done in soft, muted watercolors. "Tommy, what a pleasant surpriqe." Mary said.

The blueness of Tommy's eyes stood out dramatical ly against their redness.

Tommy appeared to be wobbling.

"Tommy, what have you been drinking?" Mary asked.

"That ...over there. That clear stuff in that bottle.'" "Gin? Oh no, Tommy. Have you ever drunk gin before?"

"No. I don't remember it. As a matter of fact, I 've never been drunk before. "

"Tommy, why did you have to drink that gin? Couldn't you have just stuck with beer?" Mary asked reproachfully.

"'I was standing overe there--at the bar. And that's the only thing I found."

"You're making me feel so guilty. If only I hadn't been over here talking,

I would have seen what you were doing."

"What's wrong with a little gin, anyway?" Temny's face suddenly turned white, he gulped, and then ran out the door.

"Tommy? What's wrong?" Mary walked quickly outside, trying to fjnd Tommy.

She spled him hunched over, kneeling at the water's edge, Mary walked ever to him, where she found him coughing and throwing up.

"Poor thing. You're lucky you didn't keel right over into the water." Mary said as she laughed nervously, She held his head as he continued to throw up into the water for the next five minutes.

"Listen, Tommy. You sit back there on the ground and wait for me to come back. I'm going to get a washcloth so we can get you cleaned up. Ok?"

Tommy appeared not to be 1istening, so Mary took him by the shoulders and sat him upright. She ran into the house, then returned wjth a moist washcloth and a glass of water. Tommy was lying supinely on the shore of the lake. "Tommy, are you alright?'"

"Yes. I'm just lying here thinking.b'

"I brought you some water. Here. Sit up so you can drink it."

He sat up, took a large gulp of water, then spit into the lake.

"Hold up your head so I can wipe off your face." Mary said as she wiped his face clean. "Do you fee? like going back in now?'Vary asked after she finished.

"No, not really. I'd like to stay out here and get some fresh air. Do you mind staying out here with me for a while?''

Mary looked apprehensively towards the door. "Sure. Why not." She sat down

beside Tommy on the cool grass. "This is really some place your friend Mr. Smith has here." Tommy said.

'This?" Mary asked as she looked around vaguely, "I suppose it is. I'

"You're engaged to Mr. Smith, aren't you?"

'Yes. I'

"Nil 1 you two be 1 iving here?"

"I haven't really thought about it. This isn't his place, though. It's

his parents ' + I'

Mary looked out into the water and watched a small spherical boat liqhtly skim

1 ike a water spider across the water. Tommy nervously uprooted strands of grass.

"You know, 1% already a senior, and I don't even know what it's like to have a girl friend. "

"Tommy. Is that what you've been so worried about? You have plenty of time

for that. You're only seventeen, You'll meet plenty of girls when you go off to c01 lege. ' "Cool lege?"

"Yes. Aren't you going?"

"Of course I h going. My father would have a heart attack if I didn 't. He

expects me to go an to taw School. That's been his dream for me ever since I was born. But I don't even want to go to college... I'd really like to go to New

York and become an actor--a real actor. Not someone acting in school plays once

a year. What do you think, Miss McFalls? Do you think I 'm good enough?"

It would be so easy to say smugly, "That's your own decision to make, and

I can't make it for you," like so many people had told her. 'But Pary had to tell

him something. We was waitinq eaqerl y for sonle Cinrl nf anP,wr*r, ;~lrlin~.t.I i kr.

starving man wafting for food. "Certainly, Tommy, I d~ think you show potential, but I think it could be refined by acting school. "

"Acting school? Do you think my father would throw away his money on acting school? I hate my father. I really do." He grasped his forehead tightly.

"Tommy, don't be so intense off stage. It's really not necessary. " Mary brushed the blonde hair from his eyes. "Since you don't want to go to college, then

1 see no reason why you should. You can get a job in New York and take acting lessons in your spare time." "That's an idea. " Tommy said wistfully.

"What are you two doing out here?" Frank asked from above them.

Slightly irritated, Mary answered, "Tommy got a bit sick from all the gin he drank." "Gin? I h mot surprised. God, I don't even drink that stuff!"

"Tommy known not to drink it now, don't you Tommy?"

"Yes. I think I learned my lesson." Tommy said as he looked ~ncomfortably at Frank. "I guess I better go back inside. " Tomy ha1 f-stumbl ed to his feet, and wal ked hurridly into the house.

"Why'd you have to run him off l i ke that? We were having an important conver- sation." Mary scolded Frank.

"Well, exvse me. But I think it's only natural for me to be a tittle curious about hwere you disappeared,'"

"Ididn't think you would even notice. You appeared to be so intrigued with

Suzie. I'

"Suzie? Oh, you mean that blonde? Would you believe it if I told you she propositioned me in there, while you were out here busy with that--Tommy kid."

"What is it that you want? Da you expect me to be grateful that you didn't go off somewhere with Suzie? Do you expect me to feel privileged in some way because you' re out here wi th me and not with Suzie?"

"I expected you to be a tiny bit jealous, maybe. I'

"Frank, there's a world full of women out there, All the jealousy in the wurl;d won't stop you from sleeping with them if you want to badly enough. "

"I can remember a time when you would have been jealous. I"

"That time was when I was still a child. Please stop this arguing, I've got a horrible headache. Could you possibly get me another drink?"

Frank took her blass, gave her a puzzled look, and walked into the house.

Mary drifted jnto a blue melancholy. It was pitiful that the wonderful re- lationship that she had once had with Frank had now disintegrated into something like this. She did not feel like an engaged woman, but rather like an old married lady on the brink of divorce. She wondered if Frank felt the same way also.

She could still remember her early feel ings for Frank. When she entered high school and first saw him, she had thought him the most handsome boy she had ever seen. She had worshiped him from a distance until she had become a cheerleader and he finally noticed her. Then he finally asked her out. From that first date Mary had lived just for him. She continued to be a cheerleader just so she could be near him. She had awakened each morning just for him. Washed her hair for him. Worn make-up and fancy clothes for him. It was impossible now to renew that feeling of a virgin-school girl 's infactuation.

"Here you go Mary." Frank was back with her drink. He sat down closely beside her.

"Thanks, Frank." She lay back in the grass, letting the cold drink rest on the sleek line of her stomach.

"Everybody' s almost gone. '"rank said.

"Were you tempted, Frank?" "Tempted? To do what?"

"To sleep with Surie?" Why do you care?"

'Y 'm just curious, that's a1 1," "We1 1. . .of course. I mean any man woul d, especial l y with a girl who looks like that,"

"That's what I thought." Mary sat up and took a sip of scotch. "Mary, don't take it the wrong way. YOU know I love you. You're the only girl I've ever 'loved.'Vrank said this in a rare sentimental tone as he touched her hair.

"Of course Z know that, Frank. T know you love me--just as I love you."

She marveled at how easily the word "love" rolled off her tongue. It was about as easy as saying, 'Go get me a drink', and had just about as much meaninq.

Mary could hear car doors closing. Everyone was leaving. The car slowly

rolled down the long driveway into the darkness of the woods. Everything was immensely quiet, except for the chirpings and creekings of crickets and tree frogs.

A breeze blew in off the lake. the spring air was full of the scent of flowers which bloomed in some hidden tree. Mary finished her drink, and lay back down on the grass. "Everyone's gone." Frank said.

'7 know. The quiet is nice."

Frank leaned over and kissed Mary's cold, unresponsive 1 ips. She turned her

head away from him.

"Frank, I'm so tired. Id' really just like to lie here and rest for a while."

After a few minutes, Frank drifted off to sleep and began snoring--Mary woke

him. They rode back into Slow Gap.

One month passed since the high school play, Graduation would take place tomorrow. Mary had not renewed her teaching contract for next year. She was going ta New York. Having a1 ready packed her things, she would be leaving tomorrow directly after graduation.

She had put off telling people she was leaving, namely her father and Frank,

It was around 7 p.m., and she was seeing Frank at 7:30. She forced herself to enter the room where her father was reading the newspaper. Light from the single

lamp in the room appeared to bounce off his small white head.

" Father. I have to tal k to you. "

'YesS1go ahead." Mary sat down, opposite him. She said, "It's about my jab at the school.

I'm not going to renew my contract for next year."

He put down the paper abruptly and glared up at her. "Just what do you intend to do?'' "We1 I.. . I he managed to save same money this year. " "That ' s wonderful . Now answer my question. What do you intend to do?'" "I h going to New York. ''

"I can't belive it. I get you a job teaching theatre, and this is the gratitude

I get! Why, you may as well have stabbed me in the back. Never satisfied, never satisfied, I break my back trying to do things far you ...and this is what I get!" "I never said I djdn't appreciate what you've done for me. It's just that I can't go on living like this. Living in this dump of a town."

"Dump of a town! This town has been very good to me. And, where else can you go to sleep at night without worrying about the doors being locked? But then Y suppose you think you're too good for this town! If you could only see the way you walk, with your nose stuck up in the air. Or hear the way you talk, with that ludicrous put-on accent you think is so sophisticated."

"This town is only half of it. You don? know how hard it is for me to teach theater. To watch the students up there acting while my own acting ability slowly atrophies ! ''

"So teach English. Or history or something. I'm sure they'll let you teach something else. '"

"You don't listen! I'm twenty-two and I've still got time."

"Go ahead. Break your father's heart. Go to New York and became some kind of floozy. I know what goes on up there with a31 those--actresses."

"It" impossible to talk to you. I just thought I'd give you the courtesy of tel I ing you before I leave tomorrow. " Mary stomped out of the room into the ha1 1, where Ruth, her younger sister was standing.

"1 can't be1 ieve you're leaving! You're crazy, you know. You%e got it made here--with your rich boyfriend and your rich friends. Marry Frank and you '11 CJ be rick--rich as hell. Living in a mansion. Driving a Cadillac. Going to the country cl ub. "

"And all this time I thought you were a fairly intelligent person. Don't 9 tell me your main goal is to be at the pinnacle of Slew Gap society. From the nay *. you tal k, you'd think the weal thy people of Slow Gap were the rnost important pmple w

k ' on earth. Bue let me enlighten you. Twenty miles out of Slew Gap and nobody's even heard of them! "

"Maybe they're not famous, but they do have money. A lot of it."

"So that means they've somehow been touched by the gods and are superior b7 # to everyone else? Well, Ruth, you're full ot it! Don't you see what this town 9 has done to you? It's twisted your mind. I advise you never to return here once L you finish college." A

C. I "You just don't want me to be rich because you're not going to be. Sour grapes, that's what it is. You're going to be an unemployed actress living in some slum, C I and you don't want me to be rich." 7

"That's idiotic. Besides, what makes you so sure you'll be rich?" tl

"I '1 1 be rich. Don't you worry. Richard Blanchard had asked me out for Satur- 1

CI day night. You know--01 anchard as in Bl anchard Furniture Company. He's loaded.. . he's a thousand times richer than Frank."

"You haven't even been out with him yet, and you've concocted a1 ready an ima- II ginary wedding in your mind?" k,

"I 'm going to marry him. If that's the last thing I do." Ruth said with a pout, 7

k1 "But you don' t even know that you two wi1 1 be compata bl e. " 4 "Cornpatable! Who cares? He's got money--thatis enough cornpatability for me." el "Sure. I'm going outside to wait for Frank." 4

"I guess you'll tell him tonight, then. Really, Mary, you should reconsider A I< what you're doing. Doesn't security mean anything to you? Having a nice Home? R

k l A wealthy husband? I've never told you, but I've always been jealous of you. * 7 YouVe so beautiful, Youhve had a rich boyfriend far seven years. You have rich u. friends. Your life just seems to be perfect. And now, in a way, you've shattered v all my illusions." - 16- "Ruth, that's all it was, An illusion. You're young. Next year you'll 99 off to college and discover that other places do exist besides Slow Gap. You'll forget all about marrying into the rich society of Slow Gap,"

"Never! I'm going to marry Richard Blanchard!" Ruth haaid stubbornly.

"Sure." Mary smiled in a sweet, patronizing way. The doorbel l rang. . .Mary wal ked to the door, where Frank waited, "Frank, I don't feel 1 ike going out anywhere tonight. Is it alright if we just sit out on the porch?"

"Ok. 'I

They sat on the ancient, dust-covered perch swing. The air was pregnant with the sweetness of rases, which grew on a trellis behind the swing. The sun had fallen just beneath the horizon of black mountains, leaving a soft lavender hue radiating throughout the sky. This romantic setting was quite inappropriate, Mary thought,

"Frank, do you remember the night of the school play? Remember I told you that

I felt I should be performing?"

"Yes." Frank looked down at his hands.

"I'm not going to be teaching school next year."

"So you're getting another job?"

"Not exactly. I'm going to New York. 1 don't know that I'll make it as an actress up there. But it's something I have to do. Do you understand, Frank?"

"Sure, I understand perfectly. I've wasted the past seven years of my life on you! Everything was going along just fine for me. Now I'll have to start over with someone else, and my whole life will be thrown backwards."

''1 'rn sorry to disrupt your schedule. But 1 ife daesn ' t fol 1ow some idiotic timetable. Everyone thinks that you go to college at 18, graduate at 21, get married around 23, have children at 24, get divorced at 33, then get married again around 35. Just 1i ke all our wonderful friends and their parents. 1 think you're more disappointed that you won't be keeping up with your friends than you are in losing me."

"That's right. The only reason 1 wanted to marry you is because all my friends are married. Of course that's not the reason, Mary. It just seemed like the right time."

Mary took off the ring, placed it in Frank's hand. "Frank, I really did love you, and these seven years have want a lot to me. I wish you wouldn't look so mad.''

"You" look made too if I had broken up with you first. Is that all you have to say?" Frank stood up.

"Are you leaving already?"

"1 see no point in staying, do you?'"

Mary studied Frank intensely. He appeared more handsome than ever before.

Beautiful, with his dark glossy hair shining blue in the semi-darkness, his full quivering lips, his blue eyes bright against his dark complexion. Her eyes lowered to the broad expanse of his chest, the curve of his waist bordering his taut belly, 9

k.' the sinews of his muscular arms. She wanted him so badly now. He walked out to his car. What a fool she had been, giving up someone like Frank. It was not too late. She could still run after him. Could tell him she had made a mistake. Frank's car was backing out the drive. Why had she not listened to Ruth? Mary would have been set for 1ife had she married Frank. She would have been so rich and comfortable.

Now she would probably be living in a ghetto in New York City for the rest of her life. Now she would never find another man. She would be alone the rest of her life. Frank's car disappeared around a corner. Mary" hhead was exploding. Her brain felt as if it were pulsating, about to explode any minute and shatter her skull.

Frank was gone,

Mary got up from the swing unsteadily, her legs wobbling. Her face, drained of blood, had an expression of fright and shock. In one day, she had alienated both her father and her fiance. She had no one. She felt so weak and powerless, 1i ke a cripple with no crutches.

The next day, Mary attended the graduation ceremony. She watched, bored and detached. She could hardly wait till it was over so she could 1 eave for New York.

She was not prepared for the overwhelming thoughts af regret which rebounded off the walls of her head, like an infinite, horribly-deafening echoe. Now, all she

God Incarnate

Feel the wind upon your face, See the birds anlonq the trees, Taste the autumn in the air, Smell the leaves beneath your feet. Hear the water in the brook. This is my place, Made special by God - You see, He is a mountain top And we share.

Once the Mountain was too high - Very few ever traveled there, But then a Man came And he brought the Mountain To the lowest valley.

Now you too my friend Can share in the Mountain. What was once Unattainable.

Kim Radcliff

Sol itude

Sentenced for 1 ife I lay in this cell praying for the day to be freed

Cast in for no crime Since there was no trial my innocence is clear

I look out of my cell Only able to move my eyes hoping to nlove my body

Let me out sf this tissue This prison of flesh I am undefiled.

Mark Crisp Life in General

Forever the rope unwinds only to unravel again in lost time. Reaching out, reaching out to nowhere. Leaving the coil behind.

The hemp is no friend. Gaining only bliss to her environment. Reach out, you, son rope. Spread your knots afar,

Forever the rope reaches. Grasping what he thinks is fine reality. Reaching out; reaching out for what? The man who will dispose of him.

Sheer, Bloody Ecstasy

I finally have it! I worked a1 1 my 1 ife; I schemed all my schemes; I plotted a31 my plats; I practiced all my practice; I acted all sny acts; I toiled all my time; I breathed all my breaths; I finally have it! - My Mercedes.

Toby Stephan THE TRAGEDY OF MIDAS by J. Carlton Shaver [Or: He Who Doesn't Kiss Up To The Boss Ends Up Trimming Hair Off His Ears)

(Author's note: This play is far those of you who've had your nose rubbed in Sophocles ro much in 1 it classes that they can recite "Oedipus Rex" backwards. But for those of you unfamiliar with Greek drama, a few notes will qreatly increase your en joymen t , )

The chorus in Greek drama served both as narrator and as the crowd. For some reason Greek crowds stood around in front of the local king's palace spouting highly formal, and highly boring, moralizing speeches! Strophe means, I think, "to the rightlQr some such. This can either mean that the Chorus is moving to the right or that the ones who are an the right hand side recite the parts marked "Strophe.'" It depends on the director. ('Yntistrophe" means the opposite of Strophe.) At any rate, the Chorus was deadly serious, as is everyone in this play, except Pan. Just remember that the Chorus is saying a71 those silly things with straight faces, and in a dead monotone. )

Chorus: Hearo' people; Men know not of the gods; Thei r ways are mysterious; for Zeus gives no press conferences.

Chorus : Strophe Leader: Pri~stssay that the gods are benign, he1 pful when they dea 1 with men.

Chorus: But Priests are old coots; senility overtakes them; too much they drink of the sacrifical wine,

C. C. : They make us give.offerings to the gods

C: for the ten percent they skjm off the top. Anti strophe The gods indeed made us; But they are dangerous in their dealings with men.

CL: We are pawns before them;

Our wars are games of mightly Aries; Ships are to Posidon but toys in the bathtub. The high ones party too much to be trusted; Mortals must be careful around them. Strophe This, then is our story; Of our noble king, Midas, before he gained the fabled touch of gold. So fear not ye watchers; in the drama set before you, None wjll be midasized. Antistrophe And so, we bring you tragedy, in the class tradition

CL: Of a man brought down, not by a tragic flaw;

C: but by the immortal gods for failure to brown nose. -22- CL: But let us speak no mare of Olympian flaws; for two approach who have immortal look.

C. : The gods must never learn what we say behing their backs; They turn gossips into toads.

CL: Send for the king; he should know of such important guests so that he may greet them (a Chorus member 1 eaves).

We fear a visit of the gods; they most often come seeking our daughters, and they are irresponsi ble fathers. 0' gods, why seek ye our virgins when you have three virgi n goddesses?

CL: Silence! They approach. (enter Apollo and Pan)

C. : 0' mighty gods, 0' splendor incomparable, glad of your visit Your loving worshipers grovel before you In an ecstacy of love and admiration!

Apallo: I am Apollo, Sungod, and this is the goat Ran.

Pan : (not a very dignified fellow. He's rather sarcastic, as opposed to Apol lo's regal behavior) The great god Apolle has stooped to petty attacks on my divinity; I am hurt, nevertheless, I am the god Pan. (Midas returns with messenger, who rejoins Chorus. Midas bows deeply).

Midas : I greet you o'geds, and offer my hospitality. But I fear my daughter is only three years old--

Apallo: Enough! We came not seeking female companionship, but a judge for a contest that this young pup had the insolence to challenge me to.

Pan : It seems the embodiment of beauty feels he must use belittlements to hide that he is jealous of the fact that i have hair on my---

(Interrupting) Majesties, pl ease! What sort of contest do you propose?

Apol lo: The animal thinks he can beat me at singing.

Pan : 1 don't think--

Apollo: Pan : I know that 1 can beat him. Everyone knows that experience is the soul of art, and while I'm not the animal ApoIlo says S am, I have participated in a little --wildlife in my time.

Apol lo: You shouldn't be allowed in Olympus.

Pan : And how much time do I spend there? Olympus is just like you- boring. Give me a jug of beer and an orgy any day. Apol lo: Sot.

Midas: Ahern, Are all agreed then, that I judge? (Turns to Chorus)

Chorus : We bow before the will of our beloved deities.

Midas: Then let us being. (Turns to Apollo)

Apol lo: (sings) A summer day, Seems long ago, To Daphne I gave chase; A fire of love, Burned in my heart, Lust for her kisses taste.

The nymph fled me across the weeds To the river of her birth, She knelt and prayed for succor there To that stream's diety.

The god, her father, Changed her Into a tree a leaf, And now a laurel Wreath I wear To show you a1 1 my grief

(bows his head in sorrow Midas and Pan exchange glances behind Apollo's back, obviously in cahoots, both yawn. )

Midas : Next.

Pan : (whispering) Midas, you know that this is your chance to become my favorite follower. (hands some gold coins to Midas, who looks avaricious) It$5 my understanding that you serve god and mammon anyway. (steps forward and sings solemnly) I took once chased a girl, Who turned into a plant, I too, grieve when I remember (not so solemn) But when I % drunk I can ' t !

So, belly up to the bar, boys, The wine is on the house, Belly up to the bar, boys, 'Cause we are gonna get soused, Belly up to the bar, boys, I promise not to steal your sheep, So belly up to the bar, boys We'll drink oursevles to sleep.

M. : Hmm. M'lord please enter the palace whilst I ponder the decision. u? 1

(exit all three) 1

Strophe t Chorus: Though Phoebus Apollo is god of knowledge, unknown to him, Midas is a worshipper of Pan. The contest was rigged. '7 An tistrophe L-j And the bribe was seen by all save Ape1 lo. The Pythan has been 1 duped by the shepherd god. 5 t rophe The king is a fool for his actions. He risks much in dishonest dealings with a major god such as Phoebus. Antistrophe Though honorless, the gods demand honesty from those less powerful. ?lidas has 1et hjs love of go1 d overcome his good sense. Avarice niay destroy us all.

[re-enter M, leading A. & P,)

Lords, a difficult decision has been asked of me; to choose between the sweet strains of the Delian, and the merry sounds of Hermes' son. However, being quite a merry fellow myself, I choose in favor of Pan.

Pan : Prithee, speak now, 0' truth and beauty,

Apollo: (losing his dignity for the first time) Silence nephesl I am a son of Zeus, one of the 12 great Olympians? Bait me further, and you risk being the dead Pan! (turns to M.) And you, mortal , shall suffer as no---

Pan: . Now wait a min--

Apol 1 o : Begone, mis-shapen beast! (shoves toward Pan. Pan backs quickly off stage as if pushed by an invisible hand.)

Chorus : 0' Phoebus, hear your admiring people. You are known for your love of beauty and justice. Kill our king and your reputation will be hot. Temper your wrath with merry and earn the adoration of the people forever E

Apol 1 o : Very well ; since my loving worshippers beg for your continued existence, I will go easy on you. But you must still be punished! Since you sided with the animal, you shall be part animal yourself!

M: Aieeeeeee! (Claps hands to his ears and runs off stage. Apollo stal ks off after Pan.) Strophe

Chorus : Midas was lucky to escape eternal torture in Tartarus. Mortal men must tell the gods what the gods want to hear. An agnry god is no fun. Anti strophe So Apol 1o gave Mi das don key ears . (enter M. with donkey ears and holding cap An embarrassing fate he tried to hide under his cap. (M. puts en cap) Strophe

CL: But he had to remove his hat to get his hair cut.

C, : Thus they say "Only his hairdresser knows for sure." He forbade the barber to tell anyone on the pain of death. CL: But the barber had to tell, so he told into a hold in the ground. And reeds grew over the s ot whisperin "Midas has the ears of an ass!" And it became know to a1 7 . (Mid35 pu9 Is cap low and sneaks off s.t?ge,) Anti strophe And so, ye people, here a man is punished by Apollo for no good reason. And yet Midas is at fault for not favoring the greater god. Me should have known better .

CC: So, say not that Apollo did this.

C. : But that Midas made an ass of himself.

Nature Is A Symphony

With the ringing in of a new day, Comes a thunderous storm. The lightening flashes with a sforzando, The wind crescendos. And down comes the tinkling rain,

Loriann White

Para1 lel Depression

Here I am and there they are and never the paths shall cross. There's Tommy and Jamie and Jerry with their bats and balls and gloves. And all I've got is my rocks,

Here I am and there they are and never the paths shall cross. There's Tommy and Jamie and Jerry with their cars and bars and broads. And all I've got is my rocks.

Here I am and there they are and never the paths shall cross. There's Tommy and Jamie and Jerry with their boats and pools and wives. And a1 1 1 've got is my rocks.

Toby Stephan

The Pulsations of a Lifetime.. . Baby screams in the 1andrymat. Mother says shut-up then slaps.. Baby screams more; mother slaps more. ... on and on and on ... Toby Stephan Spare Moments

Like every special gift they come so unexpectedly.

And fall into my hands brand new, saying "open me."

Fantasy

I call her Angel My shy little girl With twinkling blue eyes And bouncing blond curls.

She always wears dresses And do1 1 s a re her toys She? never destructive Or messy like boys.

She's loving, she's helpful, she does things with me. We clean and we bake and read poetry.

Just thinking about her can make me feel sad. The sweet little girl that I never had.

Freudian Slap

I pray to God T never see A man who fits a theory.

Anne Harwell I See You

Somewhere under and between the loose and wrinkled folds of skin that age has cruelly hung about your face, I see your clear, discerning eyes. And I know that you are still in there, strona and wise.

Somewhere under and between the limp and rumpled folds of cloth someone has carelessly f 1 ung upon your body, I see your shoulders, held proudly back. And I know that your dignity is stjll intact.

Soul Rain

When grayness swell s and thjckens in my throat And tears paur out of burning, brimming eyes Like liquid columns supporting the sky In a rainstom,

Then fresh and gleaming rays af light shine through Washed cleaner and more dazzling than before; And something I never knew was there Begins to grow,

Anne Harwe'F1 John and The Diamond Earrings

by Jack Dean

John was a member of the First Methodist Church in Charlotte, but he wasn't much of a churchman. He did keep Christmas, though, in a way that Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim would have appreciated. I think he looked forward to the Holidays as a time during which he could put aside his image as a stern father and an exacting taskmaster and be human and humane -- 'bne of the boys." Characteristically, he celebrated the season in a lavish fashion. In fact, he over-cel ebrated.

John never tried to work his men on the job or to do other business connected with his building profession from the afternoon of December 22nd until the morning of January 3rd. Though a hard driver, he was a realist in dealing with men in the building trades, being aware they started enjoying Christmas on Christmas Eve's eve. Celebrating for many of his employees meant having "toddies" (corn whiskey, water, and sugar) with their friends--or without their friends, Their work would suffer. In building, John was a perfectionist. January 2nd was needed for sobering up. No one failed to report for work sober on January 3rd, however; all the men knew John too well to show up any other way. John not only condoned this type observance of the Nativity and New Year"; he took part in it most heartily.

His second most favorite activity at that season was taking his men and their wives their Christmas presents. Shoping for gifts presented na problem; his presents on these occasions never varied. A visit to the bank filled his front right-hand trouser pocket with "Double Eagles" (twenty do1 1 ar go1 d pieces) in Christmas envelopes and his great coat pocket with heavy, shiny new "Cartwheels" - silver dollars. A message to the La Belle Candy Kitchen in the Catta Arcade on South Tryon

Street brought delivery of a load of five-pound boxes of bon-bons -- truly "rich folks'Qandy -- that filled the back seat of his automobile. Other preparations included donning his newest suite of clothing along with his best jewelry and accessories and having Dee, his driver, do the same. Several quarts (not fifths) of Golden Wedding whiskey were then hidden under the rear seat of his brightly k I polished, newest car, and the two set out. Dee was sober, John nearly so. m

& E At each home they called upon, the man of the house was given a Double Eaqle- 9 easily the equivalent of a week's waqes for a master carpenter. His wife was pre- k.1 sented with a box of candy with all due ceremony. John was gracious; he was r3 lordly; he was--as he fully intended to be--quite impressive. The lady was &A flattered. Nearly always she had sonle Holiday delicacy prepared "to take to Mrs. 'II

b; 4 Allen," and John was just as gracious in accepting these tokens of regard as he was in presenting his own gifts.

Each child of the home was offered a shiny Cartwheel, and each child accepted m with pleasure. It is quite 1 ikely some of those children were nieces and nephews p: or even playmates, but John on that day was both genial and generous. He never asked II about relationships. It was Christmas ! L., Invariably, he was invited to have a drink with his host and hostess. It would have been insulting for him to have refused; and, according to his inclinations, 9 unthinkable. Naturally, he then invited the others to have a reciprocal drink with b P him. Dee was signaled to bring in a bottle of "Golden Weddin?"--he had it waiting-- and the ceremony was repeated with appropriate toasts. Afterwards, John and Dee L 2 left, leaving the bottle behind--which also was much appreciated. '7 k-1 As the day progressed, the toasts grew somewhat risque; no doubt the latter 1 were off-color, even tinged. No one was shocked. It was a time ones darkly far ')rI bonhomie.

Strangely enough, though John tipped at every stop, he never toppled. Part 4 ( of his personal code of conduct was to "hold his liquor 1 ike a man ,'hand he could-- a L1 up to a point. He cheated a 1ittle, though, On the one Christmas round I accom- aa panied him upon, I noticed left his unfinished on the second drink, the he gl-ass t l one from the bottle he brought. I doubt any of those leavings was wasted. R

Dee, still strictly sober hirnsel f, returned John home in a state not so far ba gone that he couldn't recover in time for the openins of his family's gifts on 9

k. Christmas morning, an event in which he starred and which was his favorite of 1 the season.

John liked women, a trait that was handed down intact to his decendants. It is true that he regarded his "lady folks" as possessions, but they were cherished possessions, They were to be kept under control--subjugation may be a more accurate word-, but they were to have everything of the best he could afford. It was a matter of pride that his best should be envied by the wives 6f other men. Undoubt- edly, he enjoyed giving and, more sti11, having the gift appreciated; but his main pleasure, his sense of self-fulfillment, came from letting the world know he cauld afford to give the best. Besides, when he gave jewelry-and jewelry was his favorite for family gifts-he gave it to his own, thus retaining a vested interest in the present . According to family legend (the incident took place in 1912, three years before

I was born) this custom led to a curious complication. John had had Garibaldi and

Bruns, Charlotte's 1eading jewelers, create for him especial ly four pai rz of diamond earrings: two sets were ordered to have a carat stone in each piece; one set was to have three-fourth carat stones; and the fourth was to be ornamented with half- carat diamonds. Those with the largest jewels were intended for Lila, Mr. Allen's wise, and for his older daughter, Lila Mae. The smallest set was for Elizabeth, his young teen-age daughter. The pair with three-quarter carat stones were to be presented to Emma, his only surviving son's new wife.

Emma was born to a family of the Old South gentry and was a lineal descendant of Lord Morley, one of the Lords Proprietors of the English Colonial Carolinas. No one could long be acquainted with this lovely southern belle without becorn$ng aware of her descent from distinguished ancestors. She had large, lustrous eyes, a beautiful face, and a graceful carriage. No other woman could faint more fetchingly than she, and the slightest tremor in her voice or the smallest tear in her eye could move men to the heights of gallantry. She was acutely aware of this. It was widely thought that Emma had married beneath her station, but no one questioned that she had married far love. Uncle Tom, her husband, worshipped her as long as he lived, and she was uneasy every moment he was out of her sight. There were few such moments. She s,aw t9 that. L.

During that Christmas season, Tom and Emma (who made their home in Columbia, rn

b South Carolina) were in Charlotte for Emma's first Yuletide visit with the Allens; 4 and, having been made acquainted by Tom with Mr. A1 1 en's habits on such occasions, -A her expectations were high. On this Christmas morning, John had displayed his 17 gifts on a table in front of the fireplace in the parlor. The artistic presentation L 4 boxes were open, and the brilliant-cut diamonds, scattering the firelight in all rt

b the colors of the spectrum, glowed enticingly. As the family entered the room after +-4 the Hol iday brunch, they gave gasps of pleasure. Emma, her eyes gleaming 1 i ke stars, k. made straight for one of the larger sets. "Pappa Allen," she said, "are these for fT me-e-ee? " L.j

Perhaps because it was Christmas (or perhaps it was because of his Christmas m

C i Eve's potations), John was caught off guard. He hesitated the briefest moment 4 and said--fatefuly--"Of course they are for you!" Emma hugged and kissed him, tl and he glowed like the stones-momentarily. Only momentarily, for he caught Lila '7 Mae's eye. +.,

Lila Mae, the older daughter, knew quite well the earrings Emma was attaching rq

il to her earlobes should have been her own. And 1i ke Emma, she knew a good stone when she saw one. A1 though the phrase "'diamonds are a girl 's best friend'' was not coined L. until many years later, Lila Mae appreciated their value. When it became apparent w thenext smaller setof earringswould fall to her, her eyes lighted witha different ,, gleam. John's senses were not so muddled that he did not recognize that liqht; he knew it well. Lila, his wife, sensing instantly the crisis that was developing, l made a move to give her own set to her daughter.

With anyone else in the family, John would have settled the unrest with a stem word, but he knew no word would intimidate Lila Mae. She was a true daughter kb of William Henry Allen; she could be cowed by little on this earth. a All this took place in an instant, and John, wantinq to recover his mastery L of the situation, thought fast-but not discretely. "Lila Mae," he said, '" have

)r 4 another gift for you out here.'' Goins to the hall closet, he reached into an inner nl pocket of his greatcoat and pulled o~ta small, velvet-covered box. In it, -32- mounted in yellow gold, was a handsome cameo broach, one that was almost identical to the cameo his wife wore at the base of her high, lace collar. Lila Mae flushed with pleasure. Lila looked bemused.

The rest of the opening of gifts was accomplished with much tearing of paper, squeals of delight, hugging, and "thank yeu's." But a discordant note had been sounded.

Lila" womanly intuition (I have always maintained this was merely sub- conscious prognostication) told her that all was not as it should be. Why did John have that broach so handy? Why was it not in a Garibaldi and Bruns box?

She, Lila, already had a broach. All the other women in the family had been taken care of that Christmas, and John could not have foreseen that Emma would preempt Lila Mae's earrings. ---Who was that broach really intended for? Speculation led to suspicion; suspicion led to investigation. The results of that investigation caused two confrontations: one at a small house in the

Dilworth section with a young, attractive woman, the other with William Henry

Allen in the privacy af his office. At the end all was settled -- as amicably as circumstances permitted. John ' s " lovenest" was destroyed.

Remarkably, no explosion took place. It was not unusual in that era for success ful men to engage in a "little light dalliance." Almost, it was expected. If the affair was handled discretely and did not "come out on the street and frighten the horses," it was condoned by the gentleman's peers if not by his wife's. If the wife had not been humil iated in pub1 ic, she usual 1y forgave her husband. Husbands sometimes just would be naughty boys. The fact that most wives were completely dependent financial ly on their husbands made a difference.

All this came to my knowledge many years later. I was born to Lila Mae Allen Dean three years after John's discomfiture took place. Mother heard that John's peccadillo only after she, herself, had growing children; and she didn? tell me until my children were grown.

Eventually, Emma and Lila Mae became great friends, but sometimes at Christmas

Mother would remember how "Emma took my earrings." Both she and Emma would laugh merrily at such times, but Emma never expressed regret. A Dream

Last night I dreamed of love and warmth, and a lady 1 once had known. And for awhile we loved again, in this vision I was shown. I found it sad tbfit I couldn't stay in that dinlension of the past. But though the dream must fade away, the memory will always last. Steve Penland

If I Was King

Now if I was made the King of the world 1 ' d fi re a1 1 the 1awyers because, The very first thing that I would do, is to do away with all the 1 aws. And then just to keep it simple I'd legislate only two: Number one would be, don' t hassle with me And number two, I won't hassle with you. Steve Penl and

Valentine

I loved a I ady named Janet once, (or maybe it was twice). Sometimes her fire would burn me, Many times she was cold as ice. I know I ' 11 never forget her, her fire left a warmth in my heart. And I ' 11 know I ' 11 always love her. Just as Tong as we're far apart.

Steve Penl and

Tree

Without the tree Near the house Where the television shines Colurnbo is an With murders and killings Blood dripping freely from the mouth tike vampires , werewol ves Destruction the end! Weqrr doomed! So enter the land of the rnidnite sun Burn to death Sniff the fresh fragrance of flaminq flesh Thirst for water In the desert As the sun beats down on the prospectors head No gold Nothing Michael Vance Just bare earth. TAKE ME OUT OF THE BALCGPPE

by Toby Stephan

Scene: Two men are ta1 king on an elevated platfom--preslrmabl,y a tall building. One is standing on the edge. The second is standing a 1 ittle way back.

CHARACTERS: Mark Sal Announcer

Mark: So, you like it up here?

Sal: Better than down there.

Mark: Yea, well I don't mind telling you I'm scared shitless. (nervous laugh)

Sal: Thewall is solid.

Mark: Yea, well, it has an end to it you know.

Sal: I know.

Tlark: (Mark pauses, actually stammering with thoughts, between every sentence. Each sentence lessens in degree of confidence; yet, the degree is subtle) . It's an abrupt end is what I mean. Like, uh, right now it's only just past your toes and I'm, well, I'm worried about you Sal. The end is really close to you but you've got control over it, You know, You don't have to do it Sal--you've got the control--you know.

Sal: A lot of thought can be packed in ,an inch Mark.

Mark: (very quickly on the reply) That's right! That's it and you just keep on thinking about it Sal. (pause) If you think about it Sal, you'll realize that it's just not worth it.

Sal: (cutting in) Don't bevague withyour pronounsMark. "It's just notworth it." How should that be interpreted? Is death just not worth Idfe? If that's the case, then why in this morbid world do we insist on always ex- amining the effect of every cause or vice-versa? Do you mean 1ife is just not worth life? Mark, I hope you're not a pessimist; because I have enoush to worry about with myself. Ts death worth death or, no, you probably mean is death worth suicide? (Mark winces at this word) Ah, now, we have said "it" (emphasizing the word it). Suicide! Suicide! Suicide! "1t'"ernphasis) is a si n ? (calmer now) I had hoped you woul dn' t bring moral ity up Mark ; "jt's" (slight emphasis) very dull to me. Did you know, Mark, that meat in various forms was banned from consumption by some religious forces far no reason other than it made their patrons sick? A lot of innocent animals were put out of work. Scientists, God bless them, finally discovered the para- sites within were the real culprits, but old doctrines are hard to break, my good Mark; however, if one were to donate ten percent of his immediate weal th, meat consumption could be admi ssi ble. Now, these same blessed scientists, with the discovery of certain chemicals, can lengthen the life span of slaughtered meat; thus, the ten percent do-gooders can preserve their fortune. Unfortunately, the meat is no longer oran ical ly eatable. Mark: It sure gets cold up here.

Sal : Don't talk about the damned weather.

Mark: What do you want me to taf k about?

Sal: I don't care, just don't talk about the weather. Better yet, just don't talk.

Flark: A1 1 riqht. I can talk to somebody else you know. Probabl y carry on a decent conversatien. Somebody el se would answer me when I tal k to them even if it's about the weather or some other bull shi t 1 ike that--Jesus Christ, Sal. (faces away)

Sal: Don't turn your back on me Mark. (Mark turns around quickly as if he has been scolded) (long pause) No, you're right. Tt is cold up here.

Mark: (pleased and playful with the change in attitude) Yea, I think I read somewhere that it gets two degrees colder every ten stories. I guess It must be fifteen or twenty degrees colder up here then.

Sal: Twelve, if you reallywant to talk degrees.

Mark: We1 1 probably none of it's true.

Sal : Probably right.

Mark: Why do you want to do this, Sal --I mean end it and all that? Why do you want to do it?

Sal: I don't want to talk about it. (actor can choose whether or not he wants to emphasize it)

Mark: I don't understand. I want to make some sense out of this, Sal .

Sal: If 1 can't make sense to me, I can't make sense to you,

Mark: (attempt at softening and explaining) We all have those times when we can't tell which end of the coin to drop in the slot first.

Sal: What are you talking about?

Mark: Well, I'm, un, talking about telephones.

Sal : (aggravated) Why don't you go back to the weather. Jeez, it's cold up here. Mark: What do you got against telephones?

Sal: B don" have anything againsttelephones; I just don't see any sense in talking about them, that's all. (pause) Ih sorry Flark. You're right. I don? give a damn about telephones. The only time I get a call is Saturday mornings when I want to sleep late. Some fat slob wants to know about my special on riding lawn mowers; so, I spend fifteen minutes of my time ex- plaining to him that I'm not some kind of department store only to get him again five minutes later.

Mark: How can you tell he's a fat slob?

Sal: Who else has riding mowers? Besides he's got that leer in'his voice that comes from fantasizing about being a linebacker and he pants from the walk to the phone. Stupid bastard probably bought it for his daughter's sweet sixteenth birthday. Mark: You tell a wonderful story.

Sal : I've never claimed to be pretty.

Mark: Yea, well, I don't like telephones either. Like when your car breaks down in the snow and you have to put that cold ear piece to your head and ...

Sa? : (interrupting) There you go talking about the weather aqain.

Mark: Damn it Sal; I didn't cut in on your rantinqs about lawn mowers. I mean you've got some nerve treating me like that after I climb all the way up here to tal k you down. You a1 ways do this to me Sal . I a1 ways take the back seat to you somehow. You think you're god-damned worldly wise or something. Well, I have you know I know things too.. .

Sal : (interrupting) Hey, take it easy 1 ittle brother. You're supposed to be talking me down, remember. 1'11 listen to your problems later.

Mark r Yea, well, I just want you to know you're not the only one with troubles. Other people have them, too.

Sal: Care to join me?

(the two characters trade places here--Mark moving down stage and Sal moving up stage)

Mark: No, I don't care to. (Actor can say the preceding sentence with a frightened overtone after looking the downward distance or he can associate the sentence with Sal's question. The first action makes the intent clearer for the viewer; the second action makes the viewer work harder. I like them both) I've get problems but I've got good things, too. Look, I've qot a car and Cindy to ride in it with me. (Says this to na one in particular).

Sal : What happens if your car gets a flat and Cindy gets the flu?

Mark: Don't play games with me, Sal.

Sal I I'm not playing games with you.

Mark: What the he1 1 do you call it, then?

Sal : I'm just speakinq hypothetically; no, I'm showing you the other side of the coin

Mark: Well, if such is such, 1 could handle it.

Sal : Then why are you up here?

Mark: I hate my job. I hate computers. I wanted to be a florist. I hate the smell of metal and plastic and I hate the fact that they have to keep the temperature at sixty degrees for the benefit of the god-danmed machines and ifyou say, "There you go tal king about the weather again," I'm going to hate you.

Sal : A florist?

Mark: Yea.

Sal: Have you to1d Dad about this? Mark: Are you kidding. Me still wants me to pitch for the Cubs. Roses don't grow en the mound, IYI have you know.

Sal: You were always good at baseball, not likeme. I remember dad telling me, "Listen, Pansy, if you're going to waste your time, why don't you do some- thing profitable 1 ike selling cookies just like little Josie." Mark: (no lonqer listening to Sal; Piark is distant) I only played to please him. I never saw much in the game.

Sal : Yea, we both know the good-1 ooking cheer1 eaders date the quarterback. (laughs)

Mark: I could never please him though. He always pushed me so hard. (Suddenly looking at Sal ) Do you remember that time when he cussed out my 1ittle league coach for not playing me once. Jesus Christ! (distant again) I used him later on though when he gat Mrs. Adam to pass me in biology. Shit, Adams was pissed because the only homework I did was her daughter. (pause) Little League and high school--and dad was always in the stands. Then when I didn't niake it in college, I thought he would kill me!

Sal : (checks his watch) Well, 1 isten Mark, I'm being selfish, again. Next week you can go first. I've got to run. I've scheduled a racquetball match in fifteen minutes. (turns to leave--then turns back) You know; you ought to try the game--rids you of some frustration. You cream an insignificant little ball around some insignificant little walls. Using your power, you get that ball past your insignificant 1 ittle opponent, (laughs) 1'11 see you up here next week, if not sooner. A1 l riqht?

Mark: Yea; sure; see you, Sal.

(Sal exists ; Mark stares blankly then jumps; curtain closes ; announcer performs a voice over)

Announcer: At two o'clock this afternoon, two brothers were reported as dead on the scene at the Commerce Bank Building off the Byndon 0, Johnson By-pass on Park Lane. Details are sketchy; but, apparently, Mark Leonard Johnson of Mesquite jumped from an upper story window and fell on his brother, Sal Mineo Johnson, of Addison. That's the news--now it's Richard Grimes with the weather. THE APPEARANCE OF EVIL

BY Anne Harwell

As soon as I went out to the porch and heard what Aunt Paul ine was saying, I knew I had to see Brenda Gail right away. The rocks we had put in the creek would have to be moved again. We had spent most of the afternoon tugging and pushing the heavy things in place so the water would pond up enough for the baptizing on Saturday

Pine Valley Baptist Church had recently held revival meetings, and the following

Sunday four new converts were lowered into the cool, clear waters of Brushy Creek.

Brenda Gail and I always had a baptizing right after Pine Valley Baptist did.

We stood on the creek bank and sang "Shall We Gather at the River," then with

Tommy King as the preacher, we made sure that no 1ittle cousin was in danger of meeting the Lord unprepared. Of course every dog and cat we could catch had been baptized several times, just in case. Also any broom or mop that had been bought since our last baptizing. The problem was that we only had the small stream that run between Daddy's lower pasture and Old Will Frankl in" place. We had to dam the water up two or three days ahead of time in order to have enough for a proper baptizing. After our fall baptizing, Daddy said not to back the water up again.

So this time we had picked a spot further downstream. The new baptizina hole was not easily seen, except from Old Mil1 Frankl ink house over on the ridge, and everybody knew Old Will didn't get out much anymore.

Now here was Aunt Pauline telling Mama and Grandma that Old Will Franklin was dead. Every person in Pine Va 11 ey w~uld be at h s house sometime during the next two days, carring in food and sitting around talkins in hushed vojces. "Ruth being the head of the food committee, I thought I" dbette walk over and let you folks know," Aunt Pauline was saying. Aunt Pauline was not really our aunt, but like Aunt Liszie and Aunt Florence and others near my grandma's age, everybody called her that anyway. "Ruth, I wouldn't make another apple cake if I was you,"

Grandma told Mama. "You've already made one this week for Preacher Flurdock's family, and I know you'll be making one tomorrow for the reunion on Sunday. Them things take too long to make. A cobbler or something simple will do t0 take to

Will's."

Mama was famous in Pine Valley for her baking, especially her apple cakes.

"That's one thing nobody else can make," Aunt Pauline always said. "1 can do pretty good on the spiced appl esauce, but for the 1 ife of me I den 't see how she makes all those thin little layers with the fancy edges."

I knew how Flarna did it. She made up cake batter like it was biscuit dough.

Then she pinched off balls of the dough with her index finger and thumb, and rolled each piece out real thin, She used a scalloped edged pie pan as if it were a cookie cutter to press out the layers, which were baked separately for ten minutes. It took twelve 1ayers to make one cake. Sometimes Mama 1et me have the leftover dough, and I made my own little apple cake, using a jar 1 id to cut out the layers.

"Well, it's not much trouble ta make one," Mama said. She had just finished shelling a lap full of Juen peas, and was getting up to go to the kitchen. "Mama, can I go over to Brenda Gail's and tell her about Old Will dying? 1'11 hurry, and sheql wal k me back halfway." Mama turned around. "Judy, honey, itk going to be dark before you know it. You can see your cousjn tomorrow." Seeing my disappoint- ment, she added, "maybe you two would 1ike to ride with Daddy to the cemetery in the morning. T imagine he' 11 be helping dig the grave. 'Yiqht now Daddy and Uncle

John were over at the preacher's house, helping him fix his car. Mama opened the

screen door carefully and went inside, holdi nq the corners of her apron together to

keep the peas from spi l1 Sng.

I sat down on the porch swing with Grandma, and laid my head on her nice, cushiony lap. I was glad Grandma was round and soft, not bony and sharp-looking

like Aunt Pauline. I couldn't remember Grandpa, but if he was like Grandma, then

I knew why Eliss Annie at Sunday School call ed the Lankfords the pi 1lows of the commun ity .

Grandma and Aunt Pauline were still talking about Old Will. The swing rocked gently backwards and forwards. 1 closed my eyes. "Yes, Maggie, you sure are lucky your Jesse got a good woman li,ke Ruth," Aunt

Paul ine was tell ing Grandma. "1 knew when he brought her here from over at Micavil le that she was quality, even if her people didn't have nothing. He could have done

1 i ke young Bill Frank1 in. They went into the service at the same time. But in- stead of waiting and coming back at least close to home to find a nice girl to marry, he upped and married that girl from Beaufort nobody knew a thin? about.

And on his first furlough, too. Then bringing her back here and building that little house from ground up in three weeks time, Why, every man left in Pine

Valley helped build that house. Well, after Bill got killed in the Philippines we found out about her soon enough. I"e always said that losing Bill that way, and then his wife disgracing the family shortened Jennie Franklin's days. And

Wi 11 ' s not been worth nothing since she died. They're better off dead, both of them.

Now maybe that girl nil1 go back where she came from."

She was tal king about Lena Franklin. Lena 1ived about halfway between my house and Brenda Gail's, on what used to be Lankford land before Grandpa got real depressed and traded it to 01 d Wi 11 for some cows. That happened when Daddy was a little boy. Daddy said a lot of land got traded because of depression.

The swing stopped for a minute, and Grandma ran her fingers through the curly tangle of my bangs. I knew she was checking to see if I was asleep. I stayed very still. I wanted her and Aunt Pauline to keep talking about Lena, a subject of great interest to Brenda Gail and me. We had never been a1 lowed to go to Lena's house, even when we were he1 ping Mama sell the cabbage cutters for the Ladies"

Friendship Circle. About the only time we saw her was when she carried a basket of food across the bridge and up the hill to Old Will's house, But it was a well- known fact that Lena went to town every Saturday, leaving about noon and not cornins home till very late at night. Several people had reported seeing her standing in the ticket line at the Carolina Theater.

Once while taking a shortcut Brenda Gail and 1 discovered that we could see the back of Lena's house from a certain spat in the woods. From then on we took the shortcut often, and always stopped to see if we coul d catch a ql impse of her. Sometimes our efforts paid off, Like the time we saw Lena sitting on her back stoop k.4 putting All-White shoe polish on a pair of high-heeled sandals, then setting them 9 b I on the porch to dry. Lena's black hair looked very shiny, and her fingernail s v were painted bright red. Brenda Gail said she looked just like the ladies on the L a

frong of the True Romance magazines we sneaked and looked at every time we went ~r(l in the Rexal 1 drugstore. L I

Now Grandma was talking. "You know, when Ruth first come to Pine Valley, she 9 *-I gat acquainted with that girl. They met one day over the ridge picking strawberries. 7

RememberwhensheshowedupatchurchthemtwoSundays-thatwasRuth'sdoing. Ruth hd didn't know any better, and by the time I got Jesse to talk to her about it, she v had even told that Franklin girl she ought to sing in the choir. After Jesse talked LJ to her, I did some talking myself. 'Ruth,'" said, 'You are a Lankford now, and as a 7

k* Lankford, you must be mindful of what the apostle Paul said to the Christians of his 9 day: "Abstain from all appearance of evil."' Well, you know how quiet Ruth is. b= 4 She never said a word. But that was the last of her associating herself with that rt girl." Grandma gently lifted my head off her lap and stood up. "Ihv~got to Ic I get this yaung'un in the bed. She's dead to the world. I' I knew I wouldn't get to

le 4 hear anymore about Lena. 1 The next morning Brenda Gail was at my house early. Uncle John had brought L 4 her over on his way into town so she could go to the cemetery with us, When we were getting in the truck, she whispered in my ear, "We have to figure out a time C Y to take care of you-know-what." As soon as we got to the cemetery I told Daddy that '7

h n Brenda Gail and I were going to walk up to the church. 1 "We can move the rocks this afternoon if we can get by ourselves for a few L 1 minutes," my cousin said as we walked up the gravel road from the graveyard. "We fl wi11 just have to work fast and hope nobody sees us. " So owe made plans to have LJ

Daddy stop at Brenda Gail's house an the way home, She could qet some clean 9

Lr i clothes, and take her bath at my house. Of course we would all he qoinci ovrlr to A Old Will's house later to take the rest of the food. Grandma had gone over earlier L 4 with one big hamper full. As usual, she would stay there all day. Brenda Gail

and I woul d have to make sure Mama and Daddv 1 eft a few mirutes before we did. b I -42- .- - d. Then we could make a quick detour by the baptizing hole on the way to Old Will's house.

We climbed the big whiet steps of the church and looked at the words carved on a cement square that was built into the brick wall:

Pine Val 1ey Missianary Baptist Church Founded June, 1925

"Thjs church is exactly thirty years old," I told Brenda Gail. I knew that down- stairs on a wall in the Sunday School department was a plaque with the names of the twenty-seven charter members on it. I also knew that first on that I ist was the name of my grandpa, Char1 ie Lankford.

"There must be fifteen men down there, taking turns digging," Brenda Gail said. We walked back down to the cemetery, hoping that nothinq would go wrens with our plans for the afternoon. Daddy gave us a drink of water from a big bucket he had brought along. Soon after that we left.

Mine and Brenda Gail's plan went along fine except for one thinq. When we got home Mama was busy in the kitchen, but she already had on the navy blue dress she a1 ways wore when somebody died. Brenda Gai 1 and I got ready, then Daddy qot ready and said let's go. That's when Mama said for Daddy and us to go on, that she wanted her baked beans to cook. a little more before she took them out of the oven.

But when we got outside, Daddy said Brenda Gail and I could wait on the porch for

Mama. As soon as Daddy was out of sight, we made a bee1 ine for the baptizing hole.

We took our shoes and socks off and set them an the bank to stay dry. Although the water had not pooled very wet 1 , it fel t colder than it had the day before.

Moving the rocks was hard work. Brenda Gail picked up one that was so heavy it made her walk bent over. She only had a few steps to oo when she dropped the thing, splashing water almost as high as our heads. We were both dripping wet from the shoulders down. "We'll have to go back to your house and chanqe. Hurry, before

Aunt Ruth goes up the hill, She might look down this way and see us."

"Let's take the shortcut."

Holding a shoe in either hand, we scrambled up the bank and into the woods as fast as we coulld on our still-tender feet. Brenda Gail was ahead of me. She -43- didn't know when I stopped to pull off a long stem of briars that had attached itself to my leg. Panting for breath, 1 caught up with her. "Shh" she whispered,

"I think somebody is on the path up ahead of us." "Brenda Gail Lankford, you're a big silly. Everybody in Pine Valley is over at Old Uill's house." But I waited wjth her for a few minutes until she was sure nobody was there. We got back to the house and changed into dry clothes, then walked across the footbridge and up the hill toward the Franklin place. We knew the house would be crowded, because we saw a lot of people outside. A group of men was standing under a big pine oak tree smoking cigarettes and talking. Several ladies sat on the porch in chairs provided by Webb Funeral Home.

"Now don't you be looking at me and makinq us both get the giqgles," Brenda

Gail said as we got near the house, "or we'll both be in trouble for sure." "I won? get the giggles this time."

Old Will's sister, Miss Nellje Franklin from Eakersville, was ~reetingthe visitors at the door. "Come in, Judy, your Mallla just got here. Brenda Gail , I declare, you're prettier every time I see you. You girls go on into the kitchen, now, and get something to eat." Brenda Gail and I got plates of baked ham, potato salad, deviled eggs, and biscuits. We took our plates out to the front porch and ate standing up.

Some people were leaving, but others kept coming. That's the way it went for theTnext four or five hours. Most of us couldn't find a place to sit down. I heard Brenda Gail's mama say she was surprised that Lena wasn't there, being Old

Wi 11 '5 daughter-in-law and a1 1. Mama said "Maybe shet s not used to crowds 1 i ke this. I imagine she will be at the funeral tomorrow."

About njne p'clock Daddy told Mama we'd better go home. We all hugged Fliss Nellie, and she cried and said it was so qood of us to come, and that William certainly had been blessed with good neighbors. On the way home Grandma said she thought Miss Nellie was "holding Up' real good, and that she hoped it didn? rain tomorrow so a lot of people could go to the funeral.

The next day was clear and very warm. Every pew in Pine Val ley Baptist Church was filled except for the first three rows on the right, and Grandma said they were saved for the family. The smell of roses hung heavy in the air, and no breeze stirred outside the open door. Same of the ladies were fanning themselves with last week's church bulletins found in the pew racks.

Miss Annie come in a side door dnd sat down at the organ. As she started playing "Abide With Me," everybody stood up. Mama put her hand on my shoulder to keep me looking straight ahead while Old Will's few relatives filed in. There was

Miss Nell ie Franklin, two nieces with their husbands, one nephew, several old people

I guessed were cousins - and Lena. She was wearing a plain black dress and the white high heeled sandals, I stared at the back of her head a1 1 through the servi ce.

When we all stood up again for the family to follow the coffin out, half my attention was on someone else. There was something I had to know. As the family walked out behind the six slow-moving men carrying the 1 arge velvet box, Miss Nell ie was crying. The nieces, nephews, and cousins held their heads down. But Lena walked with her head up, calm and proud, and when she was even with our pew she turned her head toward us. Then with a movement so slight you couldn't call it a nod, she looked straight at Mama. Mama was lookins back at Lena. Their eyes met, and Mama smiled at Lena just with her eyes. Then I was sure about what I had seen the day before. When I was pulling the brair off my leg, I had a clear view of Lena's back porch. There on her stoop was something that looked just like one of Mama's apple cakes. On Having An Identity Crisis

What are you going to be Just control yourself When you grow up? The little girl is havinq I don't know A temper tan truni They goad Inside your head They persist Let" qet a knife A mavie star And lobotomize her A Vogue model Existence A prima ba? 1 erina Out of your brain They smile their maternal smiles So sweet, they think Down to earth This little girl of dreams Real istic, responsible Staid and solid So te3 1 me, what is your major? Well adjusted Theater What do you do? Definitely theater They all now ask The little girl playing I'm a junior accountant Make-Be1 ieve At Deloit, Hasking & Sells Is still alive Wonderful, you've got it made What plays have you been in? Yes, I've gat it made None as yet Smiling my most serious Haven ' t devel oped my technique Adult smile Acting 101 Not boring them It' s sheer he1 1 reading 1 ines With the details Before 7 people Of how "happy" I am Much less an audience Of how I no lonqer My tongue so dry it sticks Have feel i ngs To the roof of my mouth Feeling like a Flesh rips every time Dri~dwonn in the sun I speak Of how exhausted 1 am But it3 just a phase By the end of the day Of injtial stagefright That collapsing into bed It will pass. Has become my f avori te Acting class goes by Recreational Activity. Days, weeks, months The phase doesn't pass Penny Dale I want to scream Beat my head against the wall For not growing up to be What the little girl wanted F is for Failure

Destiny, they say Is ruled by genetics. Meredi ty Physiology False precept that it may be. The truth is Destiny is ruled by Grades A,BvC,Q,F Determine that Jack will be a garbageman While Edward a neurosurgeon. Jane a waitress Elizabeth a lawyer. An Obsession with the Almighty 4.0 A nice way of measuring .people And doling out success, What sweet revenge To make war on Them. To launch nuclear warheads At every Registrar's office lo confiscate all student records To make grades obsolete And giving grades a crime.

Infatuation

Fatal 1y In love with the novelty Where no kiss can parallel No touch compare Only the Effervescent Tingling of Newness.

Penny Dale RepQ --to. -Rich Man's---- Proposal--- -

My former 1ife has been a waste of time. My knight in shining armor rides at last. The days alone are fading to the past. Although 1 can't ignore such thoughts sublime. To marry you, f fear would be a crime. So let me think lest you rush too fast. Now truthfully, your body is quite vast. I sicken when you kiss; It feels like slime. Touching your face feels rough with ingrown hairs. What can one do if wed? Can one refute? Or shall I spend my life a prostjtute? My skin he does make crawl. But no one cares. So marry him, they all insist; He's rich. Or don't. Be poor; Dispose the ?etch. So which?

For Love of Sleep-

You fall upon me softly, tempting sleep. Within me breathe your vapors deep; For I 'm addicted to your 1 ul 1 ing touch. Sweet sleep; In love with you I am too much. The song of larks forewarns the saddest hour; Distressed of leaving your protected bower. Beneath the level drown all life; drift submerged. From which the conscious, troubled thoughts are purged4; Of thoughts of persecution, thoughts of pain; Of thoughts of self-destruction; twisted brain. Into your arms of numbing void please take, And from this mind confused don't ever wake. For once at peace, inside your womb A coffin lined with red; a pleasure-tomb.

Penny Dale The El opemen t

by horiann White

My grandparents were raised on farms on opposite sides of the Catawba

River and attended St. Paul's Mission School together. They soon grew to be childhood sweethearts and to later marry and raise a family. I lave to hear about how my grandmother, Annie Powell-White, and nly grandfather, Robert

Romulus White were married on a cold March 6, 1920.

Rom and Annie made their wedding plans sitting together on the back seat of a wooden boat after she had rowed across to pick up her fiance on the morning of their elopement. They decided that an elopement was the only way since Annie was only fourteen and Rom was twenty-seven. Her family would never agree to their marriage. They planned for Annie to tell everyone that she was spending the night at her uncle's home, but she would never actually go there. Instead, she was to meet Rom at a special spot along the edge of the woods. Rom waited alone there in the fading evenina light. He stood shivering in his warn denim jacket, until he saw his bride-to-be coming along the path. They traveled together through the woods to Rom's llncle Gus and

Aunt Girdy Grey" home where the wedding was to take place. The ceremony began as soon as they arrived. The minister was in somewhat of a hurry, for the fear of Annie's father finding out and corning to stop the marriage. The tension grew as the ceremony progressed, but after the "Ido's" were said there was a feeling of relief and celebration among everyone in the room.

They were announced man and wife and homemade grape wine was served while

Aunt Girdy and Uncle Gus provided music far dancing.

Meanwhjle, Annie" uuncl e was beginning to worry about her since she had not arrived yet and the hour was growing late. One of the neighbors soon arrived, however, from his liquor still to annouce that there was no need to worry, "1'11 just bet," he said, "that they've done gone and got married."

But it was too late, for Annie Powell had just become Mrs, Robert Romulus White.

Conformity is redundant.

I've never met a woman so self-assured that she didn't think she was overweight.

Eli, Eli, lama stupidity? (Which is to say: My God, My God, why hast thou placed me on the same world as "The Dukes Of Hazzard", Boy George, and Tiger Beat?)

I like to touch and be touched; predictably, most people think I h swamp mud and make me wear gl oves.

Jack Shaver