Lions-on-Line Spring 2020

Lions-on-Line

Spring Issue 2020

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Table of Contents Pandemic Panic, Artwork by Grace Oppihle………………..Cover Artwork by Carissa Palazzolo……………………………………..4 “Little Treasure,” Fiction by Megan Waldeck…………………….5 “I Can’t Sleep,” Poem by Chloe-Rose Ramsey…………………...7 “Letter from Earth,” Poem by Mark Steinriede………………….10 Acadia Forest, Artwork by Molly McKee……………………….11 Special Section: Artwork, Essays, Poetry on Global Pandemic, Coronavirus, Social Distancing “Wind and Walk,” Essay by Molly McKee……………………...12 Self-Portrait: Anxiety…Attacks!, Artwork by Carissa Palazzolo..17 “Corona-Cation 2020,” Essay by Loraine Delaney……………...18 “Quarantine,” Poem by Danielle Lippi…………………………..21 “Normal, Postponed,” Poem by Mark Steinriede………………..22 “On the Seventh Day,” Poem by Skyler Houser…………………24 Submission Details………………………………………………25

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Artwork by Carissa Palazzolo

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Little Treasure Fiction by Megan Waldeck It was about a year or so… I’m not quite sure… but it was a while after she died. My cousin Emily is moving into her house, after all it was her grandma’s house. She wasn’t my grandma; she was my great aunt, my truly great, great aunt who always felt like a grandmother to me and she’s passed away. She’s passed away and my cousin Emily and her fiancé are moving in. It’s happy, for them. But, it’s Aunt Margaret’s house. It’s her house with a pool in the backyard that I spent every day of every summer of my childhood in. My cousin Lynsey, my brother Ben and I would spend hours in that pool. We’d play mermaids, pirates, Avatar with water bending… anything you could think of. We’re the youngest of the cousins and probably the closest to Aunt Margaret. It was our little treasure… And Emily and her fiancé are moving in.

She invited the family over to see the changes that she made. I walked throughout the house that I knew, and I suddenly realized that I didn’t know it anymore. It was Aunt Margaret’s house…but then… it wasn’t. I walked outside into the backyard; the backyard that I spent most of my childhood in, where I learned to swim, where I learned to fall and get back up, where my cousin and I got close, where I spent time with my brother before life started to get in the way, where I always had a smile whenever I was there, where I place most of my childhood memories… the pool was gone. Our little treasure was gone.

My breath caught in my throat, was this the same backyard? It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be the same place that I would cannonball off the diving board, where Ben and Lynsey would shout out their rating for my cannonball, where we would race back and forth, where we would ask the neighbor boy to come swimming with us. Grass was growing over where the pool used to be, and I closed my eyes, maybe when I opened them, I would see that it was all in my mind. I would open them, and everything was fine, the pool would still be there, the memories would still be there, and nothing would have changed.

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I opened them again and it wasn’t a dream. It felt like my childhood had been ripped away, it felt like...how dare she? What right did she have to tear away my memories, her memories, our family’s memories? I became angry and I wanted to turn around and shout at her, This is your grandma’s house Emily! How could you? But… it’s not her grandma’s house anymore, because Aunt Margaret died. I blinked away my tears… I guess this is happy. It is. It’s happy, Emily and her fiancé are moving in. I close my eyes once more and smile at the memories I have, the memories that I’ll always cherish, and I say goodbye. I say goodbye to Aunt Margaret, to my childhood and to my sadness. I turn around and let them lead me back into their house, because it is theirs. It’s their little treasure now.

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I Can’t Sleep Poem by Chole-Rose Ramsey I can’t sleep.

There are too many interesting things to think about That I didn’t have time to think about during the day I think about all of the most interesting movies I’ve ever seen.

And how I would describe them.

I think about the seeds of red, orange and green tomatoes.

I think about if I was in a garden with a robot, How I would describe all of the growing things to it.

I think about how rough my pillowcase is.

If it were made of sandpaper would it make my face smoother?

Or leave lots of little red marks?

Like bunches of trails from slimy snails.

I go to my mom’s room to lay down.

Earlier in the night she had said “What-what-what-what-what.” in her sleep.

If she had said “Who-who-who-who-who.” she would have sounded like an owl.

I start getting tired . . .

But then I think about what a cat’s meow would look like If it were a flower.

My mom is snoring slightly And it sounds like a lighthouse.

Or, on second thought It sounds more like a yo-yo being pulled.

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And that stupid clock is ticking, ticking, ticking!

I go back to my room.

What if a monster was laying in my bed?

It would open its eyes and look at me drowsily Before going back to sleep.

And I’d have to go sleep on the couch that’s covered in cat hair.

I think about my cat laying on my legs.

She’s like a sweet little dessert cooking in an oven.

Her purring is like old fashioned candy in a jar.

You must remember that I was half asleep.

There is a picture of small, star-shaped, purple flowers That grows in bunches.

I'm sure the stalks they grow on Are big and ugly.

I think about all of the different shapes and sizes that people come in.

And how they’re rather like fruits and vegetables.

I think about how inquisitive the stars are.

And how they don’t give anyone privacy.

I think about what it would be like if I had a unicorn horn.

I think about how cool parts of my pillow are.

And in what ways pillows are similar to eggshells.

I think about how other parts of my pillow are even colder.

They’re like thick ice floating in an Arctic sea That’s much bluer than anything has the right to be.

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And there are the dark figures of seals deep down in the water.

I think and think and think . . . I think too much. I think weird thoughts . . .

Now Get To Sleep!

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Letter from Earth Poem by Mark Steinriede Dear Inhabitants, Why do you treat me so badly?

What have I done to you to deserve this?

I’ve given you my greatest gifts.

Clean water to drink Pure air to breathe Fertile soil to till Majestic mountains to conquer The oceans to temper the seasons And yet You dump your garbage in my oceans You explode my mountains You despoil my land You spew poison into the air You foul my fresh water Are you Going to continue Until it’s too late Then discard me That is not an option Just because you are the Alpha species Doesn’t mean, you are the only species, Perhaps just the last one!

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Acadia Forest by Molly McKee 11

Wind and Walk Essay by Molly McKee I look up and in my field of vision is my most dangerous enemy, my most domineering foe, and what could ultimately bring my sudden demise: another human being coming perilously close to invading my six foot bubble. Up until a couple of weeks ago, I wasn’t even aware I had a six foot bubble. But now it seems that the socially acceptable action in this situation is to lead myself and my dog off of the side walk and to nearly the middle of our quiet street. Here is where we can both assume our CDC recommended social distance away from the dog and walker approaching us. It’s late in the afternoon on a Sunday, and so I’m surprised there aren’t more droves of cabin-feverish humans among us, getting some fresh air and maybe even some fresh ideas. The approaching danger smiles warmly at me and my dog, and I think she even chuckles softly at the obvious distance I’ve rapidly put between her and myself; her hot dog on legs that she’s walking pulls on its leash towards my dog.

My dog and I reenter the side walk after a long thirty seconds or so, and proceed on our mission to find the most hospitable patch of grass our neighborhood can offer to a canine. I’m just beginning to think about the fact that I haven’t gone outside of a three mile radius surrounding our neighborhood in over week when we round a corner and are practically blown off our feet. Both mine and my dog’s eyes instinctively squint and her ears are thrown back by the strongest gust of wind I’ve felt yet this spring. However, we forage on and I continue with my thoughts that, like the wind, have a way of drifting back to the topic of coronavirus. In that moment I think about how I’ll gladly welcome this March wind if it means that hot, long summer days are being brought in on its tail. I’d be even more glad if this house-shaking, tree-breaking wind blows out the coronavirus and all of its threats to alter this summer from being like all 12

the summers I’ve known before. Maybe it’ll blow the virus out to the ocean where it can fizzle out over open water…I muse to myself as my dog and I travel further around the block.

Still we haven’t seen anyone else on our walk around the block so far. I think back to earlier this week when the thermometer read 75° and, quite literally, everyone and their mother was outside and enjoying Cincinnati’s first sunny, warm day that we’ve seen since September. On that day my neighbors flanked both sides of the streets, bicycling, walking, running, or simply just keeping up with the fencepost gossip chain, six feet apart from one another, of course. People leaned on shovels to take a break from yardwork and soft rock melodies could be heard through crackly transistor radios many of my neighbors still keep in their garages for days such as this one. The kids who’ve recently created sidewalk chalk art galleries on driveways along our route could be seen laughing and trying to wrangle parents into their game of hopscotch; the dusty chalked lines of which were still fresh and apt to be blown into nearby daffodils after a few rounds. I even saw the most stupendous sight- a Bichon Frise in a backpack worn by someone pedaling a bicycle, and at that moment I laughed to myself, We’ve really reached peak suburbia now. It was all I could do to corral my energetic dog and myself to the small square footage of road in between all of the other potential corona-carriers to stay six feet away from everyone else who could pose us a threat. At the same time I did this though, I waved and smiled at nearly all of my neighbors who were out and about, and I amicably hollered “Hello!” to everyone else who initiated the greeting first. In other circumstances such an outpouring of neighborly interaction could have convinced me that my block had been magically teleported back in time from 2020 to 1950 over night.

1950 was a remarkable year, or at least so I’m told. If we were to compare that year and its history-altering events to that of what’s gone on so far in 2020, their details would be dramatically close. 1950 brought to the world just to the doorstep of the Korean War, the production of the 13

hydrogen bomb, and the optimism for a decade potentially free of poverty, war, and all around destruction. At that time World War II’s wounds were still fresh and bleeding throughout every area on earth. Indeed, the Depression’s scars could also still be seen in the empty store fronts, empty dreams, and empty faces of nations ravaged financially by total war.

World War I’s effects even still lingered in the hearts and minds of those who previously came home from the trenches, those who couldn’t fathom sending their own children back to Europe now for a second war.

Moreover, even before the Great War was the Spanish Flu pandemic that destroyed America’s rhythm of life, and that’s something that we are all too frequently reminded of in 2020. Not to mention besides wars and dire financial straits, in many parts of the world, unless you were of the most wealthy and wonderful class, race, or gender determined by those around you, life was made even harder by prejudice and injustice. However, hope in 1950 was palatable among many people in rebuilding communities that spanned across nations. Hard times were fading into the distant sunset for much of humanity. However, some’s sunsets would take longer to fizzle down over the horizon to make way for the shining brilliance of tomorrow’s good times sunrise than others’ did. Nevertheless, those still working by the light of day until cool night, calm, and serenity of life washed over them persevered and survived. Just the same, the ration cards came out a few years before and a few years before that; people’s toilet paper and milk was limited, just like it is now eighty years later. Scarcity ran as rampant as patriotism in the early twentieth century, and the children of such times came face to face with the realization that life’s commodities, relationships, and freedoms are as ephemeral as a gust of wind itself. I don’t know if history truly repeats itself, but those generations of children pulled up, out, and together and persevered through the worst of it, and they lived to tell their stories too.

That same sun that rose for everyone in 1950 is now blinding me and my dog’s four eyes pretty bad as we come around the next and last corner 14

of our walk around the block-I had forgotten to bring my sunglasses again.

We head west and that same sun casts my favorite kind of golden hour glow all over the budding trees that have lined our trot. I know that soon the sun will be out of my face when we enter our garage and that momentary inconvenience will dissipate, much the same as will the impending threat of COVID-19. One thing that I’ve come to realize about many areas of life, and something that I’ve been especially reminded of in the recent weeks, is that things more often than not have to get worse before they get better. And in some cases things don’t get better, or at least not by my standards, but most usually they do. The coronavirus is going to leave one of these days, even if it’s still going to be a couple months or longer before I can feel safe without crossing the street when I see a walking neighbor approaching, before summer can once again gain its usual sweet filling, surrounded by layers of baseball, vacations, picnics, and normalcy. Albeit an odd comparison perhaps, but you can think of this stage of corona as applying rubbing alcohol to a bad scrape; a few seconds of stinging and pain as a precaution is nothing compared to the infection you could contract if you don’t act now.

So for now I wait in this moment of a little stinging and pain to prevent a much bigger issue. I continue to try to appreciate the little things of isolated life-like a warm wind gust hopefully blowing in more of my favorite season. This season of life is a peculiar one, but my imagination is running like a wild horse unconfined to the bounds of a pandemic, free to the endless land of a once-again healthy world and safe circle of loved ones. It's that same imagination that allows me to pretend that the wind I hear outside my window is actually rolling waves on the ocean, that I’m actually a lighthouse keeper on a craggy island off the coast of New England somewhere, and the tornado-like gusts here in southwest Ohio just feed that fantasy.

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Now we’re coming up the driveway and my dog is tired, the wind is strong but at our backs, pushing us homeward and daring any pandemics follow in behind us.

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Self-Portrait: Anxiety…Attacks! By Carissa Palazzolo

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Corona-Cation 2020 Essay by Loraine Delaney Corona-cation. That’s what she called it. Corona-cation. My daughter can be hilarious at times, mostly cheeky, but I can usually see the funny side. We’re a week and a half in. So far there have been no acts of violence, murder, or parts of the building destroyed… but it’s early days yet. I’ve sequestered myself to the basement, because, you know, it’s quieter down there. I can concentrate on work. Well, that’s what I thought.

Between the washer and dryer running (after all, people in hostage situations still need clean clothes) and the children’s apparent need to move furniture around in their bedrooms on a daily basis, it’s really not as quiet as I thought it would be.

The kids seem to be hungry on the hour, every hour, and I’m starting to wonder if they have worms. That’s what my mother would say when I was a kid. It was either a growth spurt or worms. Simple. I’m watching the fridge, the freezer, and the dry goods, hoping and praying that there is no need for me to hit the grocery store in the foreseeable future. Sure, there’s no point – there’s nothing left on the shelves, only dust apparently.

“Mom,” says my daughter “Can you pick me up some nail polish remover?”.

“What?” I say aghast at such a request and terrified of the thoughts of having to go to the store. “Would that be considered an essential item do you think?” I respond sarcastically.

She rolls her 13 and ¾-year-old eyes to heaven, throws her hands in the direction of my face stating dramatically “Have you SEEN these nails?”. The polish is white and chipped. It reminds me of fire-damaged walls where the paint has bubbled and cracked.

“Can’t you just scrape it off instead?” I say hopefully.

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“Ugh Mom, if I hadn’t bitten my nails, that MIGHT have been possible.”

Lunch can be interesting. I offer them tomato soup and grilled cheese to which I am asked to swap out the grilled cheese for Texas toast - one will have the toast, one will have the soup, and the third will have both.

It’s a short-order cook I’ve become.

Don’t get me started on the “HOMEWORK”. Hand on my heart, I have always said that there was no way I could homeschool – and if I did, my kids would be living in the basement for the rest of my natural life.

Teachers are an under-rated blessing and most definitely not paid well enough. Last night, I had to hurtle my mind back to 1993 and genetics to help the kid figure out some couple’s offspring’s eye color. Look, does it even matter? Isn’t it great that we don’t even have to stick with the same color we were born with, now that we have colored contact lenses? Is this really important information? Can’t we just leave that all alone? And what if some kid gets really good at this genetics stuff and figures out that they are not the offspring of the parents they know? Wouldn’t it be better just to protect them from all of that? Still, we managed to figure out who belonged to whom so no scandal was unmasked… this time.

I’m not sure how much longer I can deal with all of this. I went back to work after being a stay at home mom for a while who thought she’d lose her mind. Now I am working full time at home (while continuing to take classes), with three children, two cats, a bird, oh, and a husband underfoot and again, I find I am losing my mind. It’s not just being locked down, it’s everything else swirling around. First, we are sheltering in place, then a tornado threatens. I jokingly text a friend saying “What next?

Locusts?”. Guess what? There are locusts currently destroying crops in Africa and Asia! Then, a note home from the school stating that there was a case of lice discovered in one of the kid’s classes before school broke up. Yep. Lice. So, we have Covid-19, Tornadoes, Locusts, and now Lice.

The end of the world is nigh.

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So, I’m throwing in the towel. I’m eating all the chocolate, the chips, the pizzas… In fact, to heck with it, I’m having cookies for breakfast! I’m opening that nice bottle of fancy bubble bath that I was keeping for a special occasion. And perhaps that Asti Spumante. Sure, why not….

Ah but I sound brave. I’ll probably not use the bubble bath – I mean it’s only a week and a half in… I might save that for week 4, or 12…….

These are trying times. And yet we are probably some of the lucky ones. I jest, but I’m hopeful, we will all come out of this unscathed. Marriages will be in-tact, kids will not be placed on the side-walk with signs around their necks stating “For Free” and our neighbors will show their decent sides and share the toilet paper when and if necessary.

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Quarantine Poem by Danielle Lippi My face is turning Red I'm feeling Blue Get me out of Quarantine I miss all of you

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Normal, Postponed Poem by Mark Steinriede Coronavirus Pandemic Closed, cancelled, postponed Schools, stores, non-essential business Restaurants closed Except take-out Worldwide sports shutdown NBA, NCAA, NHL, FIFA, MLB Sick, not getting better Death toll rising Shelter in place Social distance, go home Wash your hands Sorry, no tests available Grocery stores Empty shelves The forgotten elders No cure Has to run its course Who has it?

How many?

How bad?

How long?

Nobody knows Just wash your hands Is that it?

Just wash your hands?

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That’s all they know.

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On the Seventh Day Poem by Skyler Houser To be locked away Watching the world go on Somehow it seems as if...

As if it is doing better Without you With you locked away Tucked inside Watching through window panes Forgotten and lost Saddened and lonely Wondering if things will be okay For you, not the world The world is fine with Us tucked inside boxes Fingers pressed against our skin Lonely Lonely Lonely

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Submission Details Initiated in January 2005, Lions-on-Line is a literally collection of works by the students and alumni of Mount St. Joseph University published online with the cooperation of the Liberal Arts Department.

Lions-on-Line is published online twice yearly, during the fall and spring semesters. When our budget allows, Lions-on-Line goes “in print”. We take submissions during all twelve months of the year.

If you are currently affiliated with Mount St. Joseph and you would like to see your work published, you may submit your work to LOL simply by emailing poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction or artwork to LOL@msj.edu.

For full submission guidelines, consult our website.

Lions-on-Line is always looking for new staff members. If you’re interested in joining LOL, please contact faculty advisor, Elizabeth Taryn Mason, Ph.D. at the following email address: elizabeth.mason@msj.edu.

Editors and Staff Editor-in-Chief: Fiction Editor: Creative Nonfiction Editor: Poetry Editor: Art Editor: Treasurer: Assistant Editors:

Faculty Advisor:

Madison Axtell Skyler Houser Conner Bryson Austin Breiner Trevor Theurling Conner Bryson Eve’Lynn Jackson Chloe-Rose Ramsey Ariana Spencer Mark Steinriede Elizabeth Taryn Mason 25

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