"Shadows" — Rob Copier A Magazine of the Arts Published by the Students of Grand Rapids Junior College —Elsa McFarland Staff Fiction editors Carolyn Hoskin Barbara Saunier Poetry editors Pam Barber Bette Battaglia Freshman English editors Janice Smith Monica Miklusicak Art Editors Sue Rose John Firlik Art Advisors Glenn Raymond Joyce Kennedy Advisor Walter Lockwood —Sandra Wilson Contents Cover Photography / Rob Copier 1 Art / Elsa McFarland 2 Art / Sandra Wilson 4 Photography / Mark Kukulski 5 The Journey Up / Stan Ward 5 Lissen Ah Got Tah Run / Stan Ward 6 The Decision / William J. Bolen 10 Photography / Rob Copier 11 Untitled / Alan Christopher 11 Untitled / Chris Lugtigheid 11 9/17/76 / Margie Derks 12 Madya and Nikolai / Carolyn Hoskin 13 Photography / Mark Copier 15 Ceremonies And Other Lies / Bette Battaglia 15 Skinny Dipping / Bette Battaglia 15 Winter She's Coming / David Flink 15 Stalemate / Heather Hayes Damp 16 Art / Dan Sharp 16 Art / Michelle Berg 17 Art / David Pharms 17 Art / Karen L. Vogel 18 Art / Mark Braendle 19 Art / Jim Marshall 19 Art / Cheryl Williams 20 Art / Michelle Berg 20 Art / Sue Rose 20 Art / Carol Bigler 21 Art / Dan Sharp 21 Art / Paul Skiff 22 In The Woods / Bob Everett 23 Children Selling Flower Seeds / Diane Ohman 24 Photography / Mark Copier 24 April / Ethel Smothers 25 Sunday Emergency / Cliff Bloom 26 How To Make A Girl Hope You'll Never Ask Her Out Again / Bob Wittland 26 Mercury and Me / Craig Michael Utter 27 A Smile / Cecil Tyson 27 Worlds / Elizabeth Emerick 28 Photography / Rob Copier 29 Lucky / John Helderop HI 31 The Oak And I / Stan Ward 31 Furrowed Fields / Stan Ward 31 Christmas Request — From A Journal / Diane Ohman 32 The Melon Patch / Heather Hayes Damp 34 Affluence / Pat Burress 35 Photography / Mark Kukulski 36 Bacchante In The Horse Latitudes / Susan Siddel 36 14th Street / Dale Dennie Back Cover Art / Tom Czarnopys -Mark Kukulski LISSEN AH GOT TAH RUN (uj Sim Wand Lissen tah da cock a crowin a bran new sun Lissen tah da boss a callin Ah got ta run Lissen tah ma stomach growlin nutin tah eat Lissen tah da flies a dyin from too much heat Lissen a man's a moanin, mus be ole Joe Lissen a whips a crackin, he work too slow Lissen da whistles blowin, stop n res Lissen ole Joe's a breathin wid heavy ches Lissen tah da boss a countin dis mornin's toll Lissen tah da boss a cussin cause Joe's too old Lissen tah da wada splashin as dey pass da bucket Lissen tah da boss slap Joe, he jus smile and tuck it THE JOURNEY UP Lissen tah da boss a gruntin as he beat ole Joe Lissen tah ole Joe moanin, he can't tak much mo (uj Stow Wand Lissen tah his chillin cryin as dey hide dey eyes Lissen tah da whistle blowin but Joe don't rise Down long gray trails of Lissen tah da stalks a snappin as dey drag Joe way Broken down sidewalks Lissen Yall got tah work harder da boss man say He ran. Careful not to Lissen tah da boss man cussin he don't like our smell Step on the cracks. Lissen tah da men a gruntin as dey work lak hell He crushed through knee high Lissen tah da whistle blowin, da day is dun Grass and prickle burrs Lissen tah da men a thankin da settin sun To get across the tracks. Lissen tah da precha talkin bout po Joe Brown Down through dark alleys Lissen tah his family a wailin as dey lay Joe down Filled with dilapidated dreams Lissen tah da precha sayin Joe didn't do much sin And broken bottles of wine Lissen tah him beg sweet Jesus tah let Joe in He ran, on the tongues of trusting Friends to be the first in line. Lissen tah da people talkin as dey walk away Lissen tah da people sayin hard work don't pay But on crowded streets of Lissen tah da bed bugs crawlin, sleepin is tuff Slick fingered clerks in long nosed Lissen tah ma mind a sayin AH GOT TAH RUN SHO NUFF Cars, he felt alone. And in the herd of well dressed Lissen tah da cock a crowin a bran new sun Men with two-way tongues, and Lissen tah da boss a callin AH GOT TA SHO NUFF RUN Three-way wives, he had no home. Lissen tah ma stomach growlin nutin tah eat Lissen tah ma feet a dragin too much heat. Lissen a man's a moanin, mus be ole Lee Lissen a whips a crackin, he too blind tah see. THE DECISION by WMm % Bctew I'll never forget that day back in September of 1940. On Maybe I would stop back later. There wouldn't be many that particular morning Shep and I were going fishing. more fishing days left, and I had a feeling of anticipation Shep was a large, black and grey German shepherd, and as about this one. Shep was running along beside the wagon usual he trotted on ahead as though he knew where we and poked his head in the doorway to bark a greeting to were going. Big Jack, then trotted off down the road ahead of us. As I walked down the gravel road, I watched the clouds We swung right and down a hill. The mighty team with moving across the sky, pushed by a breeze that was cooled hooves slipping leaned back in their harness to hold the by early fall. Every few rods I would pick up a chucking heavy load that bore down on them. Their lathered flanks sized rock and lob it at a flock of sparrows that would fly glistened and rippled, and they snorted their deter­ on ahead and land on the road fence again to jabber and mination not to be overrun. Near the bottom of the incline scold. the driver loosened the reins and the team suddenly In those days every day was an adventure. I was 12 galloped on ahead of the careening wagon load that years old, with hair the color and texture of a fist full of pursued them, their eyes wide with excitement. I bounced straw. The only thing I wore was a faded and patched pair about on my high perch, grasping for a hand hold and of bib overalls, over a body that was thin as a wire fence. found none. I was resigned to a long fall but we suddenly The only time I wore shoes was when there was snow on slowed and the team once more strained to move their the ground, so my feet were as tough as boot leather. burden. I nervously glanced at the driver to see if he had A wagon came clanking by on iron rimmed wheels. I ran seen my plight, but only the back of that ragged straw hat along behind it, hopped on, and scrambled up on a load of showed, and I was strangely relieved. oats in bulging burlap bags. The houses were smaller down here near the river and "Morning," I called to the farmer sitting hunched over set close to the fences that separated them from the road. at the front of the load. The frayed and sweat stained Morning glories in shades of pink and blue clung to the straw hat he wore nodded in silent reply. A team of huge lattice of their small porches, the heart shaped leaves dapple grey horses strained at the heavy load, with necks hiding the unpainted wood. Sometimes the river stole over arched and nostrils flared. its banks and surrounded the little houses during the We bounced down the rough road with the clatter of spring run off, and subsided to leave a sea of rippled mud loose wagon boards and jingling harnesses. Just ahead a that smelled of rotting fish. weather beaten sign read, "Pinkerton - Pop. 103". The The road squeezed through a weather beaten covered road curved sharply to the left and was lined by tall maple bridge. It was cool and dark inside and the hoof beats trees, their green leaves tinted with gold. Rows of neatly thundered on the rutted planks. The load was so high I painted houses with large verandas stood behind white had to duck my head going through. picket fences, looking formal in their black shutters. Immerging into the brightness on the far side, I heard The general store stood on the left, where everything Shep barking excitedly. I looked ahead to see him circling from buggy whips to penny candy was sold. On rainy days a derelict so ragged that it had to be Shack Lewie. Shack when the farmers gathered here, I would listen to them Lewie kept turning and watching Shep with red and yellow swap stories for hours. We sat on crates and barrels, eyes. His boots were tied with binder twine and black toes enshrouded in pipe smoke while the aroma of bulk spices, poked out over soles that flopped loosely. The two buttons smoked chubs and sausage made your stomach feel small. left on his sweater fastened a group of holes together and A handful of soda crackers and a generous slice of cheese his stained pants were held up by a knotted piece of rope. to snack on cost two cents, and a cup of cider right out of A droopy old cap balanced on his ears over a dirt covered the barrel was a penny. We munched and sipped while the face gave him the appearance of a withered mushroom.