The Western Piedmont Literary Review

2000 Volume One Number Five -. FfE:e Radaskiewicz The Western Piedmont Assistant Editors Literary Review April Branch Judy H. Eurey Brenda Tallent Hunt Christel Messer Rhonda W. Smith Layout and Design Ann Marie Radaskiewicz

Copyright @ 2000 The Western Piedmont Literary Review is published once a year by the students, faculty and staff of Western Piedmont Community College Western Piedmont Community College and contributors from the area in and around Burke County, North Carolina.

Submit poetry, short fiction, essays, photos and art to The Western Piedmont Literary Review, Depart- ment of En lish, Western Piedmont Community Colle e, 108 1 Burkemont Ave., Morganton, North Caro Flna 28655. Copies of this publication were printed by Western Piedmont Community College at a cost of $3.10 per copy. , ,, 7 Table of Contents I (3 73 Years Pass By ...... 52 Cynthia Waters

I< -5db. . , POETRY r ? \. ?F5

Lack of Understanding ...... 22 Christel Messer ESSAYS 100 Days in 1994 ...... 25 The Dogwood ...... 23 Judy H. Eurey Rhonda W. Smith

This White Girl Sho' Do m the Mouths of Babes. Rap ...... 32 ica Dauson jackie chambliss ng Home in My Mind ..... Major Johnson ...... 42 issa D. Lail Louis W.W.James, Sr.

Ode to Walt...... 50 Christel Messerw ,!,.- . .._. I* , . ". E A MeditationI" on Marriage -,. 8, . . , ' 8 1.. , ... ,- 8 I. ;,i$'i <.- FICTION i; -" r ,?fi .9:n'+.. %*,-.I ; ! , ',. ,!, ' ,..qi,+" .. ..(# ...... Do you lwe tulips1 September 9, 1956 ...... ; ...... 8 with fiery tips or dana r. leavitt . Subtle shadings or ~i$$F. One neutral hue? '>4+,, i, Leaving Grover ...... 14 Do you love tulips '4. Two lips Judy H. Eurey - I' ' , . Not knowing which is 4 v,, . ""'' More charming? . P * Orange, Not Red or Blue ..... 26 '1 8 Doyou lovetulips.. , at. dle, .a:- 1 ~essicaDauson . ,< . , rx . I ,1" ' My lover of spring and

a. Sprin of a lover I,, ,to Watching Daddy ...... 34 Yet fiery still? 11 Brenda Tallent Hunt 1!:,, ., . : :I Do you lwe tulips . r < In dyin rain and 11,qJ.T ' ,,, i, .. 7 - , Noise bloom for Moon beam...... : ...... 44 !, +. d Stem and leaf and bud? April Branch A' , I ' '>' Love you these tulips Command this rain and Charm this spring Ido, Ido, Ido! ARTWORK

Drawings by Josh Kincaid ....9,47 ..I Jessica Dauson Drawing by Judy H. Eurey .... 21 8 - 'Y 8. .# . . ,. .I_. A';,

'--,fir!. ," piyp'

8% . < 1- Contributors ...... 63 Ice Man F' r Cold is relentless. From a frosted flute ou feign your fiesta I am powerless to avoid passing on this made from spies, an 2' hickory sticks sheltered terror. and innocent curio&. The heat of that moment will surely melt my - 9 Sweet dreams. I** tomorrows where I will find the warmth of arms- Sweet drains out the holes of this tin plate, and limbs (hunching away, toward a tower of running, opulent ice). meltin through my fingers. Yes indeed, I will come back to life like a frozen In the %ottom of the glass, trout in the sprin , I see the illusion of peace. a sleek steely pre fator unleashed. 4-. 4-. 08 You made me queer fiom your prodding. I did not awake. I did not dream. Judy H. Eurey I did not scream. Who would have listened? They reminisce. "Is that a child crying in this frigid night?" "It's nothing." He said. "It was the same years ago, when 1 was near the arctic." "It's nothing." She said. "The freezing of forever incites unreason." "It's nothing." They said. You said, "Forget it." I tried. Now tender wer tinkling ice, the babblin brown bourbon winks. I shiver in t&, is clever carcass, where my cynical disposition disguises icicles like knives on a butcher's block. I drain the clear cups of winter, watching for the thaw. September 9, 1956

' Her shrieking, screaming, and jumping up and down were more than he could handle with four other children to look after besides her. ~lvis'sface and voice on the Ed Sullivan Show was enough to drive him crazy, much less his thirteen- year-old sister ading like a hormone-driven ma- 1! 4 niac! Roy jum ed up and slammed the television +( off, " Shut up a I' ready, Laverne!!" As he walked past his sister to sit back down on the couch, Laverne shoved him with all her might. Roy fell crashing onto the hardwood floor, scraping his elbows. Reaching to turn the televtsion back on, "How dare you, Roy!! You know what Elvis means to me!! This is the first time he has ever been on the Ed Sullivan Show." Now frantic again from seein the movement of ~lvis'spelvis gyrating to Rea dy Teddy, Laverne had forgotten all about their little quarrel. "Nothing comes between me and Elvis. IWILL marry that man, even if Ihave to run away from home.' Grow up, Laverne!! You're ading like a lunatic! I'm in charge, and 1 say you've had enough of Elvis for a lifetime!" Roy stood up and turned the television ofT again. He then rabbed Laverne and threw her over his knees. He %egan spanking her with all his strength. This was the last straw . for Laverne. By this time, the baby was crying and the youngest irl was getting upset. "I'm going to get Mama an d Daddy, and both ofyou are going to be in trouble!" Betty exclaimed as she rushed out the door. In the meantime, Laverne had enough of Roy's nonsense. "Iwill get even with you Roy!" She hurled her younger sister's modeling clay at her brother. Luckily, it grazed Roy's head, but it J did make a hole in the wall. "Do you really want to pick a fight with me? Remember what happened last time we got in a fight? You know I'll come out on top, and you'll come out with all scrapes and bruises.' the "Go ahead, do it. "Idon't carel This time is the last time'9ou , just started froparing to die. ~avernerealized she should probabl let her and telling me 'brother up at this point. She knew he wou Ydn't do\ Ican do what Iwant to , bother her again, at least for a while. no matter or anyone saysl" Laverne's could almost see the steam

into her mother's plant in the comer. "You've had it now, little sister! Just wait until Mama sees that you ruined her favorite dana r. leavitt plant," Roy chuckled. "Me? You're the one who broke it! You pushed me. That is itl" Laverne ran to the kitchen to the drawer that held the knives. "You're going to regret ever bossing me around!" Roy took her threat light-heartedly. "What do you think you're going to do? You don't have enough guts to kill a fly!' Laverne opened the knife drawer and pulled out the butcher knife with hate in her eyes. She ran towards her older brother with a passion for reven e. Roy was an Eagle Scout, so he knew how to figi t ofF an attacker with a knife. The brother and sister wrestled in the floor with the knife swin ing wildly. Suddenly, Rov found himself in deat t grip. Laverne was holding the butcher knife to his neck--hard. We are watching Elvis," she said calmly, but with a sternness Roy had never heard before. "Robbie, turn the television back on," she ordered her youn er brother. He obeyed, not saying a word, an % continued looking for a picture to cover up the hole in the wall. Roy, scared for his life, watched in silence and prayed that Laverne wouldn't get excited over wooden cage,

Pried open at last, In glee they stand attuned to the lightness of her moving presence.

In unison they urge her to tell them of her heart; Anxious just to have a voice, if she will but allow. They wonder what bars must be broken.

"Perhaps if we offer remembrances to stir her soul, and loose the winds that long to gush forth." "Could r begin?" asked the middle one. "This Do may inflame a prelude."

"Digest this Re." (They continue in melody's turn.) "It may spark a shadow to chase."

"Eternities you could spend in this little Me."

"feast on this Fa and setyour fingers free."

"Grace you bring to us. May we offer So to comfort you?"

,t.- eaving Grover that he won't have me to cook supper for those bratty twins an more, that he'll have to get YP.5>' 1 the wood in by himse6 now, that he'll need to figure out how to run the washing machine. ~twill serve him right. This time I'm not going back. Ican see Highway 221 now. It looks like a gray ribbon curling through the valley. I'll stick out my thumb. A good person will pick me up and , 11 -# stamped out the baqk door. Anger causes me to 1'11 be on my way out of Grover Junction for good. lose my grip sode%mes. Idon't always seem to Iam beginning to lose myself in the possibilities. notice such essentials as taking a good pair of ~ftera night or two of rest at Aunt Vera's, I'll get shoes or fit outerwear. The need for a coat I've a bus ticket to Nashville, hook up with a county aware of, since, just as predicted, the and western band. Mr. Ramsey, my chorus is in the low 60's. But it doesn't teacher, has always said Ihave a natural singing lee for good, and 1 hope they're voice, that with a little trainin Icould really go happy now. I've drug that family around long places. In five or ten years, 1'1 kdrive back up to enough. the old home place like Loretta Lynn and pay Pop Ihad meant to leave in due time, after and the brats a visit. 1'11 give them some money graduation in three years. Ihad meant to save and maybe buy them a new house trailer. my money from selling beech drops and ginsen I've had my thumb out for the last six cars. root, build a little nest egg, buy me some trave Ftng Iwish somebody would stop. My feet are cold as a clothes, pack them in the suitcase Uncle Ross left stone and my fingers are red, even though I've up in the attic, and place a note on the kitchen been rubbing them to ether like there's no tomor- table saying how Iwould miss them but that it was row. In the distance I\ ear the frumping of a just time for me to go. I wanted to skulk away motorcycle. 1 get excited because I've seen on1 a concealed by the darkness of a moonless night. couple of them in my life, once at the county Yair But,, circumstances beyond my control have+forced where a daredevil midget rode one around in a my 'hand. globe, and the Harley Uncle Ross rode in on when When 1 get out to the main road, I'll Mama died. Iwonder if Ishould thumb to the thumb. 1'11 catch a rid@to Lowell and then walk to motorcycle. Idecide to, and low and behold, it Aunt Vera's. She'll lend me some clothes, and a stops. coat, a pair of decent shoes and enough money to The man says, "Need a ride, girl?" get me started. If Iask her not to, she won't call "Yeah, but Iain't never been on one of Pop. 1 want him to worry his brains out about me. these before." Iwant him to envision me lying dead in some "Hell, it's easy. You just climb up and hang ditch, with my flimsy shirtwaist on." He chuckles from some lace deep in his chest. shoulders and my legs e~posedfor all It's a sound like thunder ma I! es when it's miles He'll have to consider not seeing me a away. "Do you want to ride or not?" and that he'll have to bury me up I'm a real ninny. standing out here on 221 Cornerstone Church of Christ beside Mama. Ihope with my thumb stuck out, ho ing and praying for he thinks about how much he's going to miss me, a ride, and when one comes aI' ong I'm choosy about the kind it is. "yeah," Isay. , - 'm *.

The man reaches down into a leather ouch that looks like a saddlebag, takes out a blaz wind breaker and hands it to me. "Here, put this on. The wind's cold." me, 'Vau want off here;" .Iout on the jacket and climb to the seat behind the man. - "Tuck in that dress real gwd or it will blow out over your head." Then he points to a chrome nbt~rcycle."I'm nhaded to ipe that hugs the motor. "You see that? Don't but I can't take ya. I like ta Pet your leg get against it. It's hot and will burn the hell outta ya. from behind him. 'Well, 1 nod. - "Now, grab- hold of me around the waist and hang on." I do this. My heart is pounding like a horse nd breaker he gave me race. I wonder how he can keep the motorcycle ut. R's at least two from falling over on us. As he eases it out onto e courthouse square. the highway, he asks, "Where you headed?" en* store. En the "Lowell." I yell into the back of his head, where the braid of his black hair slaps me in the face. 1 must have been squeezing his guts out, because after a mile or two, he prles his thumb between my locked hands and his belly to loosen my grip. Fairly soon, I feel at ease enough that I can merel hold on to the man's love handles, which feeY mushy under his jacket. 1 begin to lean into the curves just like I've done it all my life. He was right; it is easy to ride a motorcycle. His leather jacket smells like new shoes, a scent I've always admired. I decide that he is a good person. He could even be a country and western singer. I think how lucky I've been to hook up with one so soon. Suddenly my dress tail gets loose from t I sa& if Randy Washburn sees where I was setting on it. It begins with little be probably wouldn't flopping, then the more it flops, the looser it gets, knm, ha and now it's billowing like a sheet in a windstorm. he did, since I m having that I'm embarrassed that my white legs are so ex- posed, but I'll 'ust have to deal with it. The man did warn me tC is could happen. We arrive in Lowell. My face is wet from my eyes to my ears, and 1find that I have several bug the rain in one respect, because our garden through the rain. The dog follows me for a needs it so bad, but to tell the truth, it couldn't half a block before giving up that we're long lost friends. Idecide to hurry along, but with bathtubs on my feet, it's hard. Aunt Vera's house is within sight now, but Idon't see her car, which is usually parked under the pecan tree. Ithink, if she's gone, 1'11 scream. But, as luck would have it, she is. When Ifinally slop up on the porch, Inotice a note stuck to the front door with tape, flap ing at me like a flag. With drippin fingers, Ijer R it off. ~t says: Gone to Memphis,%ack Sunday. Istand there looking at the running ink wondering, what now7 For a couple of seconds I'm puzzled. It's like my brain has shut down for a tiny moment, sort of like when the television goes horizontal, and one of the brats has to ive it a smack on the side to clear it up. Well, i8 it works for the TV, it might work for me so 1 slap myself upside my head. Believe it or not, it works because 1 immediately have an idea. I'lljust break into Aunt Vera's. Iknow she won't care. If she were here, she would welcome me with open arms. Idon't like the idea of breaking the front door glass, so Istep out into the gale to survey all the ground floor windows to see if any are un- locked. Ifind one. It's the dining room window. The trouble is, there is a bi hawthorn bush in front of it and the wind is tf rashing it a ainst the house like a dust mo . Going over it wil f be like tiptoeing over a bee Rive, but at this point, what choice do 1 have7 The window is too high to reach without a ladder, so Igo into the arage to get one. ~t'spretty dark in there, an8 as I'm rummag- ing around Iaccidentally step on the tines of Aunt Vera's yard rake. I'm nearly knocked cuckoo when the handle flies up and pops me in the forehead. I lean dazed against the garage door wondering if ters my dress to my butt. Ican feel the BB's those sparklers I'm seeing are what people see hitting it with the force of bullets. Ithink the when the have brain damage. storm is picking up, but maybe it just feels that AX er a few minutes 1 come back to myself way because I'm not used to walk~ngbackward and drag the stepladder through the mud over to 18 @'-' . p , ' 'I )$ he is holding a blue sapphir&-:ei,

I -4; "~fyou would of asked me for it, you could had it. 1's just surprised to see it on your finger, ?Rw 11. The last time I seen it, it was on your mama's hand. I guess I got a little excited." I took the ring and put it on my bloody finger. Today certainly was not the right day for me to leave. I can see that now. The vibes just weren't right. Before I try a stunt like this again, I'm going to go ahead and buy my bus ticket to Nashville and have it in my hand when I get to owell.

~udyH. Eurey

I'm sure, become a permanent scar. It's necessary for me to rest moment, as I'm getting weak from the sight of blood, and my head IS poundin from the blow of rake handle, from which I be Fleve 1 got a concussion. 1 plop down on the back porch step to see if 1 can th~nkof what to do next. I'm almost at my wit's end when 1 hear the honk of a car horn. 1 wobble to my feet and peer out from behind the house. 'Thank God," I say aloud and dart through the rain like a shot. I get in the car and wait. "You ready to come home, girl?" "Yeah, Pop. Let's go. I'm cold and I've hurt CF-' @. yi ;k,prThe light flashes iz eyes II& and Isee my refle ; and the fe& " you carry around in your' when Itell you I am emotional" I am human Iam female, and I am like the winter whsn my heart is being mung out like an dd, dingpm* ' Your tongue stabs m in the chest as you announce you are wornout you are human you are male and my ushing soul makes aC uge mess onyour sleeve as I hold on with all my dear lealdng life and beg foryou to be pagient . and stay for just a while longer.

Christel Messer am thrilled. Iwill get to see my precious dogwood blossoms earlier than usual this year. ' This brings me to another thought. How is it decided when Easter will be? It never falls on the same date, so who isthe great Calendar Being that decides this all important date? Well, it doesn't really matter because tbk dogwoods _know. They alwayswknowwhen Easter is and never fail to bloom just before the holiday. I&8n wonder how the dogwoods always seem to know just when to bloom, but Ihave decided after much contempla- tion that God tells them. That's how they know. According to legend, the wood of Jesus's crucifix was dogwood, and the tree's appearance sepes as a continual reminder of His sacrifice. The petals of dogwood flowers form the shape of a cross. A tiny spot of red stains the tip of: each white petal to symbolize the blood Jesus shed. The center seed cluster of each flower repre- sents His crown of thorns. The dogwood tree remains small and delicate today so that it can never again bear such a terrible burden. So each day Iwatch and wait, and finally that day arrives! Isee the first blossoms. Oh, what a sight. Iwant tojump, shout, and sing for joy. My heart fills with a gladness and joy that is totally, completely wondrous. I feast my eyes upon them for days on days on end. 1can't seem to take my eyes from them. Tho99 creamy, white petals beckon and call my name. Those same,petals, so pure as if to be virginal, are food for nly soul, Oh, thank you Lord, for giving me the vision to see this beautiful sight! The days fly by, then suddenly it seems, the blossoms begin to die. As 1sit and see the petals spread upon the soft green grass, 1 only want to cry. Trivial? Ithink not. tytaybe if we all had a dogwood in our life, the lwprld would be much better off. Rhonda W. Smith Not Red ,- )range, or Blue "''hp+a$, - grand with no regrets. And had we been V" r4i ~mptedby some abruptly rude but relatively jnh,,,, * acefir1 form of cancer, would my pain be less? , ' '* d ;,:;: (.a 10 ,"+ <;,I? i:t,s"~,- can tell? But violence--pain and cruel and . , :[P w.,&~ sunderstanding that all led to violence--tP at 741. AS Iwas approached by'khe offilcials, esn't suit him. It makes me want to shrug it off managers of protection and torture, I had actdd as back, close one eye as if in deep thought and if to harm them in retaliation, or maybe in some 1, "NO, that's not quite right". Orange was his form of vindictive bar ainin with God. Whatever lorite color (how brightly unique!), not the my cause, Iwished to R urt t iem, their blue cos- :bless red of his blood or the brutal blue of tumes seeming a sick joke to me. Had they been >sejag ed wounds. less kind. Ilikely today would be housed in a bar- WR at Icould never have foreseen, though, ren corner cell~ofthecounty jail. Ironic, the way is this bottomless feeling of betrayal. No miscon- bm longin for that now. ceptions, mind you, that I've been betrayed by the ) I- I! ~nt \ at first instant, Iknew that Iwould beast who took him (the beast had no initial not be okay. Iknew, in a way that Icould never obligation to me, you see, being that he was simply define and a way that no other soul could ever a stranger), and certainly no betrayal was ever know, that I and my world would not be okay. Oh. committed by my boy - God, my dear, gentle, the desperation of it1 The sheer volume of the heavenly bo I Because had he the cho~ce,he would soul-freezin fear of it! Perhaps every person, have shared' even his last breath with me, for he every Mend and lover and sister and daughter, but cherished m joy as I did his. This Iknow as only certainly--oh God, surelyl--every mother slnce time and especial Yy a mother can know. But Ihave been be an had dreaded this. And there Iwas, plunged betra ed by whomever or whatever it was that wit51 out warning and without an ounce of mercy initiaY ly granted us that blessed connection. To into my personal hell, almost as if Ihad been now tear it from me--how barbaric! It was our fate ordered to design the worst possible worldly fate and our fortune to share all things in all ways; only for myself and was now bein subjected to it. this last inescapable dealing of the cards was My son is dead. Nearf y two entire days suffered by him alone, and Iam feeling very much since we found his body, and tomorrow we bury lost in the cold--and the dark. To deprive me of him. 1 donated his organs, all of them, even . my last excuse to hold tight to him seems so ve though Iwondered if Iwould have trouble giving . 1 was not forced to let go of him by go17 en away his eyes. Such sweet drops of gold they were wrOnfschoo days or adulthood or some orderly war. to me, more precious than old but such the color Nothing of sense or import, and so Icannot let go. when they shone! Filled witfi tears or wonder or I ' 1 cannot let go. A mother wishes in times love or awe, or even his precious anger, they ufjo and smiles to share such things with her glittered like no other gem. chil~butin times of screams and hurt and raging 1 think maybe Ialways knew. Not the against loss, she has instead a need, a desperate method of my loss, not exactly, but Isensed the and never-ending duty to clutch the child to her loss would come and envelop me on some day of ' and provide protection from any ill. My only my life. So Iheld fast to him for all the days of charge, then, my strong and ceaseless lust, is to his, not quite two thousand of them, and we made , oblige the orders of nature, the laws set forth by love and by the souls of mothers, to at the end of a " 'I " &qe,&&&calling me a beast ada mad- am 3,nrtb-$he lobby was ~odknows what else, but Pve done all 1

NOW, on to the boy. My mission was to wide some necessary separation at would be 8 Y nf us!) and to teach a lesson only I .+ .+ l i .#I ' "Miss Sue went to kitchen to put your . , the ches away. come on, we'll have fun." rp .A,. P "Do you have the race car? The orange $11 one?" B,dht "Uh .... sure. ~t'soutside. Let's go get it.'' "Mama, I don't want to go to Miss Sue's class I Y$ - . "!n, I today. It's not fun." -- "But Sweetie, today's Thursda~." This is pretty cool. We never get to walk "So Sammie's Subs for lunch? outside in front of the building. Only in back "Yep. Sammie's Subs. And didn't you say where thejungle gyms are, and only with a that delivery guy always brings treats for the teacher. I can9 wait to tell Mama what I got to do today. 'Yeah! He's cool. Maybe he'll bring that orange race car again. It has a remote control, "Here we go, little buddy. Hop in." Mama. Ineed one of them." "Ithought we were taking a walk." "One of those, darling." "~t'smore fun to drive. This way you can "Uh-huh, one of those. But it has to be sit in the backseat and play with the race car. We'll orange." drive for a little while and you can take a nap if "Okay, sweet pea. We'll see what we can do. you get sleepy." Give Mama a kiss now. f 11 see you this afternoon. "okay. You'll have to shut the door for me. Ilove you, Angel." It's too hea ." "Rea ?'y?" sure hope that guy brings the'race car. "~ey!Where's the race car?" That'll be cool. Miss Sue is wearin that red dress "Keep looking. It's in there." with the blue--what are those cal Ped?--stripes. It's not my favorite. Hey, there's the Sammie's guy! This guy's weird. And I can't find that He's not the Sammie's uy that usually comes, race car anywhere. I thought Sammie's Subs but he's ot the same f ind of clothes. His pants delivery guys drove white trucks, and this car is are too sa ort He must be rowing like a weed. big and red and smelly. I think I'd rather stay in That's what Mama says w4, en my pants get too Mlss Sue's class and wait for Mama. Uh-oh, I short. can't open the door...

'Wey, little buddy. Wanna take a walk with me?" Jessica Dauson "I'm not allowed. We have to stay in the room unless we're with a teacher." "Well, Ijust asked your teacher if it would be okay, and she said as Ion as I had you back in time to eat your Sammie's Bor lunch it would be fine. So whatcha think?" "Ishould ask Miss Sue." tte Girl Sho' Do

refwith a call . . nt and belles have drawl P #fall

jackie chambliss

My clothes are fly (yes, from a mall) When mobsters die, they're carried by pall Bearers who must not trip orfall We listen to a eulogy by Father Saul

So this is my rhyme in the form ghazal I've exhausted my vo-cab-u-la Ry to point where I've used up all Words rhyming with ball, tall, mall

...hang for a sec while Istall(?)

A place to bed horses when night has fall- Encapsulate I rics togetha' (Said thorugl your nose like Brits do al- Ways) to keep Granny warm, give her a shawl. Now we're at the end, so please won't ya'll together in the front seat. Ithought about Mama watching Daddy lookin so oung, and about how Daddy Y 4 called ier is "little girl." She was ten years I younger than him and only fourteen ( married. Only a couple years older than me. Sometimes she even sounded like a little irl. Like ~~(i, when he'd pinch her on the behind and st e'd squeal, ^John, stop it nowl" Then they'd wind up kissing and hug ing. Us kids'd giggle at 'em. Everybod y woke up when we drove through the creek and started the bumpy ride in to our little four-room house in the woods. Not necessar- ily made for cars, and first traveled by my reat- grandpa's mule and wa on, the deep-rutted dirt road turned to red musf whenever it rained. Daddy floored the old car and took a run 'n' go up the hill. Iheld my breath, glad we were all Sometimes 1 wanted to slap the peach fizz right squished up together in the back seat. Otherwise, off his mule-eyed face. we'd have bounced off the roof of the car like Iate a piece ofthe apple pie Mama had jumpin' beans. brought, and sat on the floor by the wood stove in Mama lowered her head and gripped the my usual spot; doing what Iliked best--watching dash. Ifigured she was praying. Breakinp the Dadd . Everybody said he had a s ecial gift, and silence a couple of times she yelled, "Don t hit that that Ze was the best blue rass pice er around. I'd tree!" and "Look out for the ditch!" Mama never heard that all my life an dknew it to be true, cause learned how to drive, but she always had helpful his music always made me feel warm and light- advice for Daddy. hearted. When we ot to the house, Mama told us all Isat gazing up at him, hugging my knees to go right to be% But I couldn't sleep for noth- and tensing my fingers; pretending they were ing. Icould see the lamp on in the middle room, liding like his across the guitar strings. He stood and Iheard Mama and Daddy talking low and Rke he always did when he was pickins--hishead listening to soft music on the radio. I tossed cocked to one side, eyes closed, and the tip of his around and rolled over, bumping heads with m tongue curled out at the corner of his mouth. 1 sister, who grunted and gave me a sideways kicZ on hummed along, wondering where the music took the leg. him. I shut my eyes and tried to go there with Daddy always told me that if you couldn't him. sleep, maybe God was trying to tell you He had something for you to do. And that ou were supposed to just lie still and think aZ out what that Although it was late, 1 was wide awake on somethin might be. But the Good Lord knew 1 did & the ride home. It started raining heavy, and Isoon my best t&, ink~nglistenin to music. So Ifi ured it I. had a sister snoring on each shoulder. would be all ri ht if 1 pulB ed my blanket an % pillow Iwatched Daddy and Mama huddle close off the bed an % snuck through the house, even 1 . .

b , "You mean WE-when are WE supposed to ' leave." 1'11 not be takin' off to Nashville without qk ,:, hI mYlittlegirl,"tea~edDaddy.Weain'tneverbegnpi aPart--not one night since we been married." ' :ik'"X I "Now how can we haul this family all the way to Tennessee and back? We can't afford that. '% And where would the kids sleep? Me and you could sleep in the car, but not them five babies. We'll just have to stay...." à men." "Iain't gonna go without you, Becky," I'd got caught once. "Snoopin'." That's Daddy cut her off short. I'll bet your sister would what Mama called it. The next day, she cut a come and stay the night with the three youngest. : switch & her favorite hickr' bush outside and We can take Emily and Laurie with us. And + gave me a little of what she Yiked to call "peach Smiley's got a cousin that lives a few miles outta tree tea," which Idecided right quick was not MY town. Smiley said he'd ask if we could stay over cup of tea. No, siree. with him. We could give him a couple dollars for "Did ou read the letter from Mr. Carlisle?" his trouble and take our own food.' Daddy aske d' Mama. Wonder how he ever heard "Iknew ou'd thought about this more of me? Ifigure him or one of his boys must've than you were Yettin' on. You've done got it all been down at the county fair when we played there figured out." Mama laughed softly. back in the fall. 1sure wish he would've introduced They turned &the radio and sat quiet. I himself." could hear them kissin ,and I was starting to The couch springs screeched and they sat worry that they might ear me breathin . II But Mama said after a bit, "It I be hard down ri ht above me. ...," t 9 '%/hat does it matter how he heard of you? to be awa from my other little 'uns." Why, my husband's gonna be a star," Mama teased. "Ii now. Iwas just thinking that exact Daddy's big arm swung up on the back of same thing. Maybe we shouldn't go. Like Isaid, it the couch, scaring me so bad my fingers went ain't nothln' real1 ," Daddy whispered. numb and my head tingled for a minute. Iprayed "Well, Ibe Yieve we'd both feel awful if you 3, again, "Hide me now Lord, hide me ... Whoooeee .... don't do this," said Mama. "You just HAVE to go. "Aw, it ain't nothin ," Daddy said, sounding That's all there is to it." kind of boyish. "It ain't t R e main act. It's just Daddy turned the radio back on and the warmin' up the crowd for the main show. It won't lamp off. Iheard them kissin a ain. For a hardly pay nothin'. Mr. Carlisle's startin' to make minute, 1 nearly forgot I was K id~nj...uh ... thinking a name for himself, but he just ain't that famous and praying--andit was all Icould o to keep from yet. Still, the chance to stand and play on that jum in up and dancing a jig. "I'm onna go to Opry stage 'd sure give them fellers down at the Nus vif lel I'm gonna go to Nashvil9 el" I'd never mill something to talk about for a while, wouldn't been farther than the next county when Daddy it?"Daddy chuckled. took us to pick strawberries. But Icontrolled 'Well, of course you HAVE to go, John. myself, thinking it wiser to sneak back to bed and You're the best guitar player around here. We not press my luck. 1 didn't even holler when 1 can't be selfish and kee you all to ourselves. stumped my toe on the bed frame. But 1 was so "b r' r! When are you suppose Bto leave?" -37 ,.. r-= C - r

E:,:L:,"' -h< *' kinda silly and out of control. Especially when I iddy inside? Iwas thanking God for everything found myself having to fight back tears that kepi" 6.1 'born ~addyand Mama, my brothers and sisters, to " welling up in my eyes for no reason 1 could even uw bu s and dirt. And for kee ing me awake so figure out. "What in tarnation is wrong with e coulif let me know He wan tp&ae. W travel to me?" I wondered. li II ennessee with my Dad*,. . -fl~filll*3%~ 3- I I 9 5%; ' 1 - , ; 3 f 9 ,~!Y,,F -, The crowd cheered when the curtain The night at ;he Obt$ dropped after the show. Then folks began to mill was an exciting one for sure. about outside, waiting for the main act. In some- I'd never seen so many folks what of a stupor, Igot up from my seat feelin in one place. I couldn't help grateful that there would be more of my daddZ y's . but stare, and Ifelt like my music for me. I Ad;*bUs eyes were as big as a hoot- owl's. The aud~toriumgrew Mama took our hands and led us u the dim, and Ifelt like Ifloated steps to the side ofthe sta e. We all stoo1 watch- .p out of m bod as Iwatched ing Daddy talk with the ot i! er musicians while he my Dadd'f y wal across the put his guitar away. There was hand-shakin', back- big stage with the other pattin', and smiles alore. musicians. He was carrying Icaught tid% its of the conversation, "...fine his guitar and wearing funny playin' ...best Iever heard...." boots and a huge hat that "Listen John," said one of the men from the was nearly as br as he was. group, Weleave for Canada next week..Job's yours Where' l Daddy get rfyou want it... can't pay a whole lot at first.... ' that hat, Mama?" my sister All of a sudden, Daddy's expression chan ed. asked. Mama didn't answer, He turned like he was in slow motion and looke % at and Inoticed she was setting me and Emily. Then he looked at Mama. Time there all big-eyed with her seemed to stand still, and Ithought maybe Daddy mouth open--just like me. was sick cause he looked like a pale statue. Some- Daddy seemed to glow like a lantern in the thing warm and wet hit my hand and 1 looked up. fog under the bright stage lights. He smiled and Tears dripped off my mama's cheeks, and she looked from side to side, like he was drinking the stood stone-still, staring back at him. They didn't crowd in like a cool glass of water. say a word, but they seemed to be talking just the But that sure was a strange night too. The same. 1 wondered what on earth could possibly be music started, and for some reason it just seemed gripping them in such pain. I felt shut out by different than usual. It seemed to fill every nook some invisible wall--like an outsider in my own and cranny ofthe place. It drifted in the air, and family for the first time in my life. danced around me and through me. It called to "Mama, what's wrong?" Iasked, tu ging on me and something deep within--something Icould her arm. She did not answer. And just be Bore I not identi$--strug led to respond. Ifelt uneasy broke out blubbering myself, Daddy said his and breathless an d dared not take m eyes off my goodbyes to the band and moved across the stage daddy. And every time he strummedyhis guitar, I toward us. Only now, he wore the most tender felt like he was strumming over my heart. Ifelt 38 w PT - -

/ . yyY2' 1 ,, ,

+ hugged up in a circle with *I bc offer to travel with that band. I thanked ~odM& I:, I:, 'yo~ws~eming to wrap us qgh~er~andtighter Y ether. -' .. a. B@ / / One night, p ws gathered in the middle ' room with our .Far;r;i"lj) to make ,music, Daddy said, The next week, Daddy came home from the "Laurie, do you know vihat the be@ thing about a mill one evening carrying a beat-up little mandolin. After sup er he called me into the middle room. I "No, sir," 1 smiled up athim. sat down eside him, and he handed the mandolin ! "It's how the Good Lord uses it to bless to me. 1 never dreamed aimed to give it to me, he en you share it with your loved ones," but it felt so good just to hold it in my hands. e said. My heart swelled, understandin what he "Laurie, it's a little rough-lookin', but Ican meant. Then he took my hand and kisse f it. fix it u . And it's got the sweetest tone. Listen C," he said, as he strummed his here," Re said, as he took my fingers and placed his eyes, cocked his head, and stuck them where should be on the frets. Then he put a tongue out at the corner of his little pick in my other hand. "Now squeeze down on the strings, but not too hard. That's it. That's 'Thank you God... thank you for the letting a G chord. Here's a C. And that's an F," he contin- me watch Daddy share his iff with so much love ued, moving my small fingers around. all these years, ' Iprayed si4 ently. Iwas clumsy to say the least. And as I I looked at Daddy. But this time, Idid not strummed alon with Daddy's help, the strange re he was. I closed my e es, cocked my uneasiness I'd ?elt that night at the Opry returned. head to the side, and went there witK him. The music called to me again. Only this time, it was my own. This time, it came from within and I could respond. Ifelt like a dam burst inside me as my first simple song ushed forth. Ifelt like a Brenda Tallent Hunt brand new butterfly %reaking out of its cocoon. Tears stun my eyes again, and Ifound something unexpectef living right there inside of me. Some- thing nobody could ever, ever take away.

,. Over the ne~tfew years, Ioften thou ht about the night at the Opry with Daddy. It 6 ought about the mysterious exchange that took place backstage between my parents after the show. 1 came to realize that 1 hadn't been an outsider at all. Infact, we kids were probabl the main topic "; of their silent conversation. An d'that the pain my arents shared that night was on1 the pain of [apW hearts bursting open with Yove for each ". , ~ajorJohnson ,I Now my head begins to spin. Ipray, submitting to the wind. My dogs bark loud in each house, and in yours. A head begins to spin, beating the wind ihto Where to this time, you evil dragon7 submission Spitting fire of peace, or the unveiling of my life Relentless barking dogs live in a Mbhe &i*two not at war. sub-entrances. ~~jorJohnson is at peace this day, and now ~'mat Where to this time, you evil dragon of the sky? ''- Are you slithering and sliding between the cloudy War! skies7 I Louis W.W. James, Sr. Alone you fly, yet sometimes in pairs and uads Turning days into nights, and nights into lays Coughing indi nities at those in awe, who look at your sia e. The tall green grass is where you should now belong.

To be anything of a sort, I see beneath your arms too short Your luggage, wrapped by fingers of green and rings red and mean. Once a ain destro everything in your sight, while %reathing2' eneath your nose Single-eyed, left and right, your dragon is once again flying tonight. Not in war, not in ace, only to train the innocent, wr ere once they should not belong. Major Johnson died today, why we will never know Do s barked, the air bowed. Did the wind not submit, did the clouds begin to roar?

Why did it ha pen this way, no glory for his rewar4' These things we call snakes, 1 so lwe and enjoy Brought death to my friend, in peace, not in war. my m* >r-.; A d

'1 the woodcutter said. "My wife and Iwill care for you until it does. Iwill take you home with me toni ht, but when you are well again 1 will bring :>T, you ack here." Long ago in a far away place, then lived a v f '"" 'woodcutter and his wife. They were very sad and The woodcutter placed the squirrel in a box 1 qOnelybecause they had no children. Each night then picked up some ofthe nuts he found scat- the prayed that someday a son or daughter ~ould tered on the ground. These he put in the box so be gorn to them, but their prayers went unan- the squirrel would not be kungw. Then he set swered. about his work. 1 ,I Early one morning as the sun was rising in When the woodcutter finished work that the sky, the woodcutter took his horse and wagon day, he loaded the wood into his wagon and re- and went into the forest. He went there every day turned home. Upon arrival, his wife greeted him ., to cut the wood that he needed to earn his livin at the door. He told her about the squirrel as he ~uton this particular day he went to a part oft&; e opened the box and looked at it. forest where he had never been before. "Oh, dear me," said the woodcutter's wife as When he reached a place that was cool and she removed the squirrel from the box. "You will shaded, he began to look around. There were certainly need a great deal of attention if your many trees around; they would make for ood injured leg is to mend properly. Iwill take good firewood, he thought. He selected one an % started care ofyou." walking toward it. The woodcu-Her's wife did exactly that. She As he approached the tree he heard a cry. fed the squirrel and carefully tended its broken He stopped and listened. The sound was like a leg. She even made a tiny bed so it would be whimper. Seein nothing, he listened closely and comfortable. Then she gently petted it as it went looked around t&, e tree. There was no one there. to sleep. For a moment he was puzzled, then he heard the Each day she cared for it while her husband sound once more, This time he followed it, and went about his work. ~ndeach night when the soon he found its source. It was coming from a woodcutter returned, she would tell him what she hole in the tree. and the squirrel had done that day. Then the The woodcutter peeked into the hole. woodcutter and his wife would spend their evening Inside he saw a s watching after it. After many weeks its broken leg reached into the healed. One day she told her husband that it was home and looked Its leg was broken, well. no doubt about it. animal had re- The woodcutter held the shirrel and cently been caught petted it. 'Then Imust return it to its home," he thought. @ said. The squirrel was very .frightened, and it "Oh no," said the woodcutter's wife. "I have tried to wriggle from his hand. The woodcutter come to love it very much. Please don't return it spoke softly and petted it for a little bit. Then he to the forest. Iwill continue to care for it. It will tried to mend its broken leg, but it quickly become be safe and happy here." clear that correcting the ~roblemthere would be "But Ipromised Iwould return it to its home when it was well. Icannot break my word," "It will take some time for your leg to heal." the woodcutter told his wife. ,p.r "' 0 ' home. You were very kind and gentle with it. I P She was heartbroken. even visited your home in secret. Iwatched as wapdit run about the is a I your wife cared for it. She, too, very kind a~d md ing, the woodcutter gentle person." the box and put it in his The squirrel crawled out of the wood- a sack of nuts to feed it, cutter's pocket and sat upon his shoulder. H, woodcutter drove away. etted it and said, "My w~feand Ihave come to The woodcutter, too, had Lve the squirrel like the child we cannot have. We squirrel. When he placed it in took care of it as if it were our own." he shed a tear. Several reached into his pocket for given him. These he placed beside the squirrel, then he,,turned and walked away. He was weeping as he d@, -a.':MeC) squirrel lea ed from the tree and follojnd,hlm. It scramg led up his trousers and crawlu3hto his pocket. , It didn't want to be left alone. " %e squirrel likes you very much," said a voice frbm behind the woodcutter. The woodtut- ter turned to see who was speaking to him. He was astounded by what he saw. Standing on a limb of the tree was the stran est little creature he had ever seen. It looked lif e a child, but it was no larger than his finger. It had tiny win s and was dressed ie a green coat and trousers. Bhe woodcutter was ve fri htened. He leaped backwards and hid himse7 f be fi ind a tree. The tiny being leaped from the branch and flew after him, "Please don't be afraid," it said. "I won't harm you."

The woodcutter didn't know what to do. He "You and your wife are very considerate, - was so frightened he touldn't move. His senses said Moonbeam. "Iwill reward you both for the told him to run away, but his legs would not obey kindness you have shown." his mind. Inawe he stared at the little creature. "We ask for no reward for what we've done. , 'The woodcutter trembled. "Who are you?" We only did what everyone should do in such a 1,. rJ4 am a fairy. My name is Moonbeam,'' said case." the tiny l$ing. "Nevertheless, Ishall reward you hand- What is it you want from me?" asked the somely," said Moonbeam. Each morning when ou & trembling woodcutter. come to the forest you will find me here, and zom '1 want nothing from you,'' said Moonbeam. this day forward, Iwill cut all the wood you need wish to thank you for taking good care of to earn your living." irrel. Iwatched. as you took it fram its

, . .)' e-' A Moonbeam sat on the other. The woodcutter The woodcutter's fears had vanished. He whistled a hap y tune all the way home. d and said, ''You are ver tiny. Ideeply When tR ey arrived, his wife greeted them at your offer of help, ut 1 need much 1 the door. She was surprised that he had returned ,,more wood than ou can possibly cut if Iam to so early in the day, and she was amazed when he earn enough to Yeed my wife." . + told her what had happened. She was lad that he Moonbeam flow gracefully 1bWt and said, had brought the squirrel with him an dwas very "It's true, Iam very small. But 1 have magical happy that Moonbeam had come. The wood- powers. 1can use them to cut far more wood than cutter's wife prepared a wonderful meat, and they you can cut with your axe. Follow me and Iwill I ate it all. Then they laughed and sang as they sat I, show you how it's done." by the fire It was a ve hap y time for them. ;$ He led the woodcutter to a very large tree. "Iam very yateX I to R ave such good As he hovered in the air, he pointed his tlny finger f friends as you two, ' said Moonbeam. "I shall now towardllt. Then he uttered a ma ic word. In- 1 present you with the special gift Imentioned." stantly +heLtree fell to the roun% in pieces. Each Moonbeam pointed to the squirrel that now piece w~sekactly the size tt e woodcutter wanted. stood at the woodcutter's feet. He said another Moonh&h?smagic had cut and split the entire ma ic word. A clap of thunder filled the air. tree into firewood. Su ddenly a cradle appeared where the squirrel had Then Moonbeam said another magic word. been. The woodcutter and his wife peered down Suddenly all the wood flew into the wagon and into it and saw a beautiful baby girl. Her hair was piled itself into stacks. The woodcutter was blonde and her eyes were brown and sparkling. amazed. It was still early in the morning, and his She was indeed a dream come true. The baby wa on was already piled high with firewood. Never looked up at the woodcutter and his wife, then be fore had he filled the wa on so full, even when smiled as she stretched out her arms to them. he worked well into the nig!i t. The woodcutter could hardly believe it. He 'Thank you very much," said the woodcut- took the girl in his arms and hugged and kissed ter. "You have made it possible for me to earn her. enough to bu my wiYe a gift." "Iknow you will take good care of her," said "It wilY not be necessary foryou to buy the faity. your wife a gift," said Moanbeam. Ihave a gift to 'Oh. we will." said the woodcutter's wife. give her. It shall be part of your reward." "We shall aiways live her." "What g*rH is that?" asked the woodcutter. And althou h it's hard to believe, that's '9 shall resent you and your wife with a exactly the way it t appened. The woodcutter and very special but you must invite me toyour his wife were rewarded for their kindness. No home so that Imay see the surprise she expresses longer were they without a child. Now they had a when she sees it." beautiful daughter they named Catherine, and "You shall be a welcome guest," said the they loved her very much. Of course they all lived woodcic~er. 'Tonight my wife will prepare a feast happily ever after from that time on1 for usan 'Then bring the s uirrel," said Moonbeam. April Branch "It, too, should share in tR e occasion." The woodcutter climbed into his wagon with the squirrel sitting on one shoulder while T*, rlrirr w : cloth and gingham whether or no, anti 2.H =r*ltnr ,* f, t. " d <' : enacious, acquisitive, tireless,

Here Iam! '' ' ' 'Y5, tj ,Y. and cannot be shaken away." Ready to conquer the worfd, to live my life to the fullest, Through you many voices can sing, and be heard, to smile at the sunrise and the sunset1 not rejected. So 1 sing my song of lover, lovers, hurts, happiness, You breathe life into my spirit; passion. e'#'41 .%8 ,+ wad ,*'b. excitement, nature, and sex to you, Ifeel our loni #rMr rkaching and reaching knowing you contain multitudes, to em1: race everyone 1 contain multitudes, and me; ~ndI am set free. For you the diseased, the slow, the bri ht, the pretty, the ugly, the mailman, the sol $ier, Christel Messer the mother, the children, philanderers, r ,, 1- southerners, northerners, the homeless, the rich, . - the storytellers, and the travelers, > whom you probably love the most. 'C. 4 You find energy and eroticism in even the smallest aspects of life. You are in love with life, in love with love, in love with even the air ou breathe, the rush of busy streets, and drunl en comrades. I,'ut .' Bein enticed and excited by your bold words, Ifee f I also can embrace this open spirit, and 1 can be myself, knowing you have paved the way before me.

For me the farmer, the businessman, the stranger, the friend, the teacher, the student, the baby, the old, the handicapped, doctors, waitresses, managers, the famous, scientists, truckdrivers, editors, and poets, ,+n,.lt ' whom 1 relate to best. @: ' :.'j tfi* ;, - You say, "~ndra~e'1~6uii;e notguilty to me, nor stale, nor discarded, Isee through the broad

' . . n7 - : , r T7;&, . tt From MOU~~Sof ars Pass By the Babes I For my precious Green Bean 6 Corn Cob ' ?ou went through all their criticism theirisdl All the women can'ts and shoulds $: Never recognized until 73 years passed ''11~~~" If a child cries and no one is there to hear " $,, /-<. "?%I&.. Your spirit met you in mirrors 'I it, does it make a sound? Yes/ screams the and in my head. mother's heart pounding in my chest. Infad, Your- work was considered lesser even when 1 am there to hear it, often the cry is while the inner light still glowed-- silent, welling up in the shiny eyes or the pliant Iread. hands or the graspin hearts of my own (undeni- Ithink you headed up a revolution ably my own!) invisibf e-winged angels. Probably of radiance. the most moving lesson I have learned in my You're no lost paradise-- stumbling journey through motherhood is that What does Sergeant know? the cries of children--whether cries offear or joy, You gave yourself fully to your art laughter or loss--are felt rather than heard. "pure lines of pattern cut in polished stone" At times even my own children have mar- The pictorial qualities of poetry veled at this mommy miracle. "How do you know," Innate mode of expression they ask, "that we need you before we cry?" And Glow although I've answered similar1 difficult questions To disparage a poet for being imagistic in the past with easy answers liZ e "mama magic" is to deny the nature ofthe art and "angel radar," 1 never cop out of answering Forms held up this one. This is the question that has prompted Naked me dozens of times to lead my children, one by To the eye each hand, to our favorite rocking chair, where I Of the reader haul one up onto each leg and start talking. Even A feminine nature at five and three, those brilliant babies know this sensitive to the recreative forces talk, and, to the sheer delight of my maternal soul, of life. they smile. We begin--always--byremembering Reachin for the fulfillment some of the most tmportant cries we've shared. that couf d not be yours My son Lo an knows that as he spent the Dancing beyond our rasp first few weeks 2his life in an incubator bed of 'The past is dea I; the future alone lives." the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, Ilived to hear We share the light. his cry. At the time, it was the only thing that "The avenues of experience broaden kept me going. That weak, shrill cry meant to me and with deepened knowledge, that he was breathing, that for the time being my the terrors of the world disappear." rayers had been answered. Stroking his IV- Eruised arm throu h an airtight hole was the only Cynthia Waters contact Ihad ever R ad with him. He was still too critical, too reliant upon too many machines, to be held. But Iheld him, in my heart and in my soul, I boy won. I knew without looking that my sunny- whem I could read fhe silent c&s off@&knd I blond, fair-skinned daughter would be howling austion in his already brown eyes. On tk rare through a blotchy face and five-mile lip in about nZ4 c*, he had the st&n h to thy* ou%&@' two seconds. Sure enough, it rained in shelb itlo scream, I celebratef with that day, and soon my heart landed on the zorA. d heard thi~aoty count1 with her lip. "Shel," I crooned to her, "that little udemtaqds, at the pe boy only wants the lamb because he's two, and that cying is sometimes glorious an two-year-olds don't understand that lambs just are His slsteu, She1 on the other 1 not cool. You're three--way too old for a lamb. threeyear-old queen %hurt feel How about the bunny?" well, cool is critical to such her sensitbity leads to irrational 1 a popular little girl, so we went home with a bunny. (B the way, 1 apologize to the little boy ' who may ave been traumatized by my desperate comment. 1 actually think lambs are very cool.) ~othstories remind my children and their mama of how important their cries are to me. At the mere anticipation of my child's tear, I become a mom on a mission, determined to make every- thin right with their world a ain. And as they clim 6 down from my lap, on tf eir way to the next tear-inducing fight or toppled bicycle, they know 1'11 be here. Because when my child cries, I hear it in my heart long before it reaches my ears. I hope my babies realize that those cries will live in my rain-drenched soul long after the last drops are dried from their eyes. spring aeimoll: bunny, lamb, fro ,chick, and so on. The were adorable and relat&e,y4 inexpensive, so I Jessica Dauson tol 2' each dthe children to chgose one. At the

ck and not a little embarrassed. Well, the Going Home in My Mind

1 81 AS Isit pondering the events of my a The gentle bulbs of liquidplum'met toward many vivid pictures overtake my mind. A, a cl,,, the earth growing up in the South, one of my greatest joys MI5' 8 To seep into the thirsty ground was running alon behind my daddy during gar- , 1;. L f", > And help nurture its bounty , ,.! . 4,;,/ , 1 deninn season. T 6e sun beat down on my nearlv Bonds of nature's life live in symbiosis , t ' t~ nakedwbody as Iplunged my feet into thi fresh6-4 One to another, each intrinsic to the world Give to me this understandin '8 "fit ! , turned soil. Istill remember the feel of the dirt A child is born from female s Celter squishing between my toes. If Ibreathe in deep Brought into this world by life enough now, the smell of the fertilizer from my All is created from one another daddy's hands comes back to me from long ago. And then, on the hot, sticky summer days, Reborn . daddy would load the family into the back of his beat-up baby blue Chevy and take us to the river 7-he needqf,gne that ran near our house. Neither candy nor A !b, 2 A amusement parks could ever compare to the ride Inyour aberrance, did you forget me ' Did you for et the fate that is dealt in this circle to the river. Nothing excited me more than having For I need t&, e breath you breathe the wind in my face and my legs dangling off the The nurture ofyour arms tailgate, tempting the dirt road beneath them. The creation in your eyes Those were unforgettable days. My soul is born of this love Like many ofyou who grew up in the South, 1 come from a rich heritage, a heritage that is priceless to me now as an adult. Church, going to Jason Hall Grandma's, singing gospel music around our piano, and oin to the river to fish and swim filled my chi1di, oo % days with endless 'oys. Going to church, in our f'amik held a place in our lives next to eating and drin ing. There was no need to ask on Sundays and Wednesday ni hts if we would be going to church. Iusually awof e on ' Sunday mornings to the covers being ripped from ' my body by an evil sibling with orders to get me ' out of bed. And then there was the adventure of , finding two of the same kind of shoes. These hunts easil lasted an hour and ended in threats and wails f?om my bewildered mother. (I'm' sure that some of ou know the Sunday morning shoe hunts I'm tatL' ing about!) However, Ido not recall missing a single Sunday service as a child, unless 1 was close to meeting my maker. And looking back, Now, as Igrow older, I realize what a gift my an accomplishment it was for My arents ave me, a gift far greater than the prized four kids to church on time. qut we Laby dofor toy tram at Christmas. It saddens me even if we rtunrbled through,t4qFQs that so many children today have never tasted a colored sock ar somo@n)es. . R? ripe, red tomato just picked from the arden or a of worries ' .b:f!' piece corn newly shucked and silked n After service, we turned home to oat ttjljilll. me that they have never watched a grape ripen on traditional Sunday lunch, a tradition that st 1 :: , ,:., the vine while impatiently awaiting the moment carries on today. As a child, Ithought it mystet&, - it's ready to eat. For not until then do you learn ous that the lunch always seemed to be prepared" to truly ap reciate the things God has given us. so we would not have to wait forever for it to cook. Not until tR en do you learn to appreciate life in all Mama told me that angels cooked it for us while its fullness. we were gone, but Ihad my doubts about that. It wasin't until later that 1 realized she got up every Melissa D. Lail

Sunday morning bdfore the sun awoke to prepare for us the fkast we came home to. Like many of the "old time " folk, our families lived nearly on toprof each ot er. Many of my childhood summers were spent at Grandma's. M bare feet never seemed to mind the walk along ti e gravel rod(to her beautifctl, old white house. As soon as 1 stepped up on the carport, the aroma of food cooking greeted, and welcomed me in. The television always blared the news, but she never minded if ~.Stzmdit to cartoons. My grandpar- ents' hmsa heid a s ecial place in m heart. It flooded my ears witR sounds and ticl led my senses with enticing smells. Inthe summer, the attic fan hummed in the breeze, and in the winter, the wood , stove crackled and popped, igniting a fire deep within, my soul. Heaven's gift to the traveler, That no bitterness can erase I The splendor of the memory - ;~~,,!lva,., of Living throu h L* -;:*iif&%$ The smile 1 Upon her face Polystyrene Bandxapes, filled withwutQ<.:," Post modern, radioactive Airwaves and Philip D. D'Angelo Jerry Springer days jack Kevorkian nights Millennium fears Futile tears And yet there's

Mercy's smile

1 wish 1 could take her home like 'Chinese food, Square little boxes, with something sweet, To eat in the middle of the night A flavor to savor long after the glow of

Mercy's smile you see, For faith, you must be a believer and For hope, you've ot to have faith and Love never lasts 8orever No matter what those "Poets" might say, but

Mercy's Smile Comes to those who need her No matter their race, their faith or creed Even sinners are blessed by her smile

All she sees is the need contributors

' fxaught myself in a burning room April Branch is a student at Western Piedmont i caught myself all afire community College, where she is majoring inpre- i watched as souls crisped and flakad law and criminal justice. She hopes to become a and i seemed to sta okay .; , > <'*L> private investigator or lawye*. She enjoys reading eternal warmth an;Y excitement thriller and murder stories. i lunged fur the warmth of glowing red walls i not~cedwhat i noticed jackie chambliss tripped while running with scis- ) and lost all control within sors--she since has been sent to detent~on(P-11.0). ifelt me burn u inside Leaving rational behavior behind her, she declares my skin grew ca P m, a river some might say physics to be her jag [it is truly complex ...*sigh*]. and m sight turned the wa ofvapors everyt.1: ing dancing, colorhr r Philip D. D'Angelo is a suave, debonair, rniddle- i held flames in my hands aged man with the heart and soul of a child. and sewed them into a skirt fit for an evening or a gown Rosalie M. D'Angelo is a dark and mysterious, pre- hap^ w& i M show how uncoid-hearted i became ~aphaelitedream who breathes and walks among as In amazement i watched my heart thaw US. and suddenly 1 didn't care about you ... Jessica Dauson is a mother of two who is pursuing i locked the door and stayed forever a degree in communications at Western Piedmont in my nice warm flame room Community College. She enjoys writing poetry and where i can dance forever and know fiction, but the essay is her genre of cho~ce. that when on fire i can always be true, Jud H. Eurey is a Western Piedmont Community Col rege graduate now studying creative writing at Rosalie M. D'Angelo the University of North Carolina - Asheville. Jason Hall is studying broadcast 'ournalism at the University of North Carolina - As6 eville. He likes to draw, write, ad, and sing.

Brenda Tatlent Hunt is an En major at West- ern Piedmont Community Col where she also serves as Vice President of Theta Kappa Honor writing, listening to and spending time Louis W.W. James, St. is a part-time indructor at Western Piedmont Comrnuniv College. He achieved the rank of g - -ant in the United States Marine Corps, whew herR ew helicopters. He re- cei* the Naval Achievement medals and two -&cammodation citations.

Josh Kincaid is transferring from Western Pied- mont Community College to East Carolina Univer- sity to a uire a Bachelor of Fine Arb. He loves to aint, an4 he incorporates materials such as gar- kg=,scrap rnstal, and old window -ens into his artwork.

ii-abmerWestern Piedmont Community College student who is now majoring irt education at Lenoir-Rhyne College.

dana r. leavie is a Western Piedmont student who loves -towrite and play the piano. She enjoys I' ' s ndin time with family and friends, learning agut lk, and hearing funny stories.

I Christel Messer is a former Western Piedmont 1 College student who is studyink jour I Carolina Uni\rers~ I singing, and playing tx. e She piano.

Rhonda W, Smith is a wife, mother, and full-time Western Piedmont Communily College student. Her passions include reading, writing, church activities, and painting. 1 C nthia Waters is a visual artist planning to oL ain her Master's de ee in Art Education from Maryland Institute Cotr ege of Art.

! COMMUNITY COLLEGE AN EQUAL OPPORTUNITYEMPLOYER