Bellerive, Issue 6: Problems with Infinity

Problems with Infinity

Bellerive 2005

ollege Pierre Laclede H o n o rs C t. Louis University o f Missouri-S

Sta ff _Ackn ow'lcdgtlicn ts

13,ditor:r

Jason Acchtoldt Nathan Hunton Shannon Pendleton Missy Ycarian

r_;,diling Committee

Nathan Hunton, chair Angela Benoist Chelsey Butts Michael Gibson Myron McNeill Bobby Meile Justi Montague Caleb True

Lqyout Committee

Shannon Pendleton, co-chair Missy Yearian, co-chair Angela Brooks, layout asst.

A rt Committee

Jason Bechtoldt, chair Julie Creech

Biograp~/ Publicity Committee

Kate Drolet, chair Shawn Cooley Nichol Harrison Erin Jordan Amanda Reinert Jennifer Wynn

Iacuity /ldvisor

Nancy Gleason

AII members of th e staff participated in the sclccrion process.

Hrllofre V

Table of Contents Shannon Pendleton

cover

Pipe Dre-atn 1X

Editors' Notes Faculty Advisor's Note

X1

Jeanie Meyer

1

Shannon Pendleton

8

Claire Jacques

9

Chaz Crabtree

10

Julie Creech

11

Zachanah Edward Crow

12

Kate Drolet

14

Claire Jacques

18

Julie Creech

19

Kelli Allen

20

Kate Drolet

22

Un Cafe aux Champs-Elysees, Paris

Sarah Middendorf

24

Dusty Debutante

Julie Creech

25

The Journey of a Strong Woman

Stacie Pope

26

Wall of Bluebirds

Matthew R Trost

27

Myopic Dreams

Julie Creech

28

Carpet

Jeanie Meyer

Second Hand Smoke Escape Route Momento Morris Year 3 The Loaded Gun

Our War Flying Solo Who Knows?

Nothing But Time Night 15 at the Motel 8 Sundays

and Missy Yearian

29

Proselytized

Jeffrey William Pechma,m

37

State of the Union Belvedere

Shannon Pendleton

38

Claire Jacques

39

Sinc erely

Susan Crowe

40

Ode to i\f y Lap top

Olivia Ayes

41

behind

Jeffrry Williafll Pechmann

43

Claire Jacq11Cs

44

,\fag nerjc p<>etry:

The Fridge III

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p Kate Drolet

Old Shoes

45

Another Man's Tre asu re

Shannon Pendleton

Selling Liquor to Tob acc o Lawyers

Kate S tein

Oh Myl

Julie Creech

Obscenity is for . • •

Claire Jacques

Second Shift

Susan Crowe

the hill

Olivia Ayes

\Vellston Station at 3 p.m.

46

47 58 59

60 61

Je.ffrry William Pechmann

63

Mis.ry Yearian

64

Je.ffrry William Pechmann

69

Kate Drolet

70

Sarah Middendo,f

71

Matthew R Trost

72

Olivia Ayes

73

Ha l Justin Price Carlisle

74

Kate Drolet

75

Love Song of the Spa nish Inq uisi tion

Claire Jacques

76

Death and the Per son al Pro nou n

Julie Creech

77

Je.ffrry William Pechmann

78

"Robert M. Bliss

79

Kate Drolet

82

Shannon Pendleto n

R.3

Trains A Memory for Mrs. Ne al Love Ap poi ntm ent Sur la Seine, Paris summer / sum me r und ress es a cul ture still Flotando Hurricane

A Civilization Askew Correspondence Self Portrait The Oth er Side o f the Fen ce Essay Con test Win ner s

9q

Reciprocal Inq uiry

Bob~y A1 Hile

Biographies

l() I

1J 1

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Editor s' Notes

Nathan Hunton,

.

. . Commi ttee Chair: Edinng blem with infinity is that it takes so long. It's easy to run out of . n · ed.1t1ng d Th e Beuenve · One pro :vhen you have eterruty to spen. . \ d things to o has traditionally faced the opposit e proble m-a lot to do and . comnuttee which to do it-and this year was no exception. Howeve r, . tl • lit e nme er one faced the challenge and persevered, confron ting such horrors as ::niused apostrophes and dubious hyphen ation while still having a blast throughout the semester. It has been a great pleasure to work with these people and a real honor to work on this terrific issue of Bellerive as well. m·

We hope you enjoy it.

Shanno n Pendlet on, Layout Commi ttee Co-cha ir: This year's Bellerive has been an amazing experience. I am especially impressed with the level of commit ment shown by everyone on the staff throughout the selection process. The task is never easy, but this year was especially difficult for a number of reasons. I applaud everyone for the patience they displayed and for their willingness to listen and compro mise.

For the layout team, most of the real work doesn't start until the other committees have finished. I want to say thank you to my commit tee members, Angie and !vlissy, who continu ed to work hard long after everyone else's winter break had begun, and I want to thank Nancy for all of the support she gave me, both in and out of class.

Missy Yearian, Layout Commi ttee Co-Cha ir: this_marks my second year on the staff of Bellen·ve. I went into this · · g the same experience I'd had on th e edi ttng publicati . on expecttn cbomrruttee the previous year. This was certainly not the case. This year 1 . a h 1 rought . w O e new set of challenges. As co-chair of the ayout committee , I came to learn of the real pressure that falls on our comnnt· tee cl . d · · k urmg fin. al ' s wee and after. The rest of the layout commn tee 1s owe a db bli . · k hi · · e t. Wuh out the patience of Shanno n and Angie, I thm t s pu cation N anqr GI eason. · may not have h appened . The same goes for our advisor, ix

Belle,ive

al spots with the fin t gh ti in le ab lu sure were in va at experience for re g a ·d ce and compo en be y ul tr .

Her gl.11 an e la vout committee. This has d work as well as .c. r th ar h r ei th r 1 fo em stages 10 ould like to both thank th dIw . me, an o n a job well done congratulate them

Jason Bechtoldt, hair: te aspects o f the ri vo fa y m f o Art Committee C e n rive, o e this issue o f Belle g o o d sense for th e ad As Art Editor o f m It g. in ak ept o f decision -m e color, style, and th ct le se class was the conc en th d an some t cover ar t to use th at pr oc es s took class to decide wha le hi W . gn si de l its ing the overal e publication and th f o t font ultimately forg ar p a e ar l into me because we al co rp o ra te d th em time, it encouraged in d an s as cl e th f ns in the ideas o o f the ar t selectio ue cover; I listened to tr is e m sa he ho ver options. T it h o u t knowing w w t ar t presentations o f co u o ab s on some long discussi include. I want to at h w d de the book. We had ci de class of nd in the end, the f this year's issue o f the artists were. A af st e th d an art contributors tor. to thank all o f the to serve as A rt Edi y it un rt po op e th Bellerive, and

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X

Faculty Advisor's Note \\., }come to the SL'X.th issue o f BelleriYe the third . . we . . ' issue that 1s the an honors seminar class. Every issue of th bli . roduct o f . · e pu canon has P •que development stage with struggles and challe i: had a uni nges 1or th e sru dent edicors, all members o f the . staff, and yes, fo r me , as th e fac ul n . .

This year has been no different from past vears e _ ad\1sor. . , xcepr to sav· th at we see me d to have more challenges than ever be fo re· A i:e\" 1 ' ,v of t h ose· are ting here for our readers. worth nO This year we received an average number of submissions from across campus but an above-average number o f submissions comina from fewer writers and artists. This meant that we were choosing fro m absmaller number of people. The submissions are "blind" submissions fo r the student readers so many times, without knowing it, they selected large numbers of works from single authors. Later in the process, we had to limit the number of works by a single author to six. Another factor is that many of the submissions came from our class members, more than the usual number. Again, "vith blind submissions, the class did not know this during the selection process. This caused many things; namely, the students debated the works of their peers with their peers present. I would like to congratulate those in the class for "enduring" endless discussions of their works; frequently, they had to listen to criticism that was difficult to hear.

We attempted to make all of the decisions utilizing a consensus approach. This proved to be difficult because of very cfu-erse tastes in literature. Frustration set in during many of our discussions, but the result is a very wide representation of writings and art. Members of the staff will tell you that there are pieces they like and pieces they did not want published. Their sense of "audience" has certainly been examined and revised as part of our process-som ething I consider to be good. For readers, I believe there is something for all tastes in literature and art, and I hope you will find your favorites. .

Thank you for supporting this issue of Bellerive. I hope you enjoy n it. A ci for my students I hope this issue serves as a reminder of th e semester-long experien~e you have gained through your frank discussions and spirited • . . . comnutment to the publication process. I would like to offer spe_c1al thanks to my four editors-Sha nnon, Missy, Nathan and Jason. I believe the final stages of Bellerive proved to be very challenging. I am

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xi

computer, one another

s, an old grateful for their patience "-ith the proces en ts 1!1 this year's

of the stud I have learned from my editors and all h me to future classes and issues of seminar. I will take tha t kno wledge wit Bellerive.

Nancy Gle aso n

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xii

Jeanie Mryer

Second Hand Smoke I didn't realize I had a childhood hero until I became an adult. In that is how I ~ew I was an adult-s~dd~nly, I was aware of some fact, . y upbringing, someone who penod1eally enters my mind and figure in m there long enough for me to wonder what they are doing now. It is . . . . . thin littl lingers e things that garn unmediate gs, I start remembenng . then th at for I start looking for_patterns ce And almost compulsively, . . , _ . . .

51gn1 6can · . .d ts with mearung. Or else I as sign mearung to the madents' labeling ~~ od or bad or strange.. I start to see things that I was unable to see th emg O as a child, because I was a child. And I start to see things that might not be there, and then I ask myself: Did that really happen? I play those scenes over and over again, rewinding them until they are no longer distinguishable, until I can no longer sleep, and I call my sister, half asleep and cursing above her breath. At these times an adult's imagination is not to be crusted, especially when it comes to her own childhood. But despite all the unanswered questions and a fictitious memory, the recollection of this certain figure and her present-day entitlement of hero somehow becomes a rite of passage within my own life.

I had a hero who, judging by the usual heroic standards of the average American girl, was anything but heroic. Being the late eighties, the idols of most middle-class girls were derived in vanity: glittery pop stars, breast-implanted celebrities, skinny gymnasts. Mine was local, down-toearth, palpable: she was an obese chain smoker with a great fondness for wine. Her name was Linda Swansee, and she was my mother's best friend in high school, but not as an adult. As a child, I saw Linda twice a year, maybe three times at most. I saw her as much as my mother saw her maid-of-honor and former best friend: on an annual visit to Linda's apartment in the city, and on Thanksgiving.

After years of cities and suburbs, my father moved us out to the country, closer to our roots and to his disillusioned dream of becoming his own hero, the author and naturalist Louis Broomfield, whom my fa ther had once worked 1ror when he was not yet a man. To fulfill this d ream, my father bou h b k dil 'd d . · g t ac the family property equipped with a apt ate winery b' ' and dead · which w vm~yard, lost decades ago. There was a century-ol~ log ~a m e built a house around a farm house We filled it with annques,d a Woo d-b . . ' . urning stove, hardwood floors, an old piano and quilts-lots an Be//en've

1

lots of quilts. My mo~ er put mag azin es on the cof~ee table with houses that looked like ours with red barn s and ~w~s and willow trees and lakes.

And when it was done , we put ours elve s 1ns1de the hous e and called ourselves a family. We were five child ren with two pare nts who had separate room s and sepa rate lives. . .

Inside the hous e, ther e was a disti nct smell that follo ws me today when I let myself, on rare occa sion s, be sent imen tal. It is the scen t of a large family in an old hous e mad e new, a bala nce of warm th and dysfunction that mad e our hous e perf ect for seas onal holidays such as Thanksgiving, whe n my mot her invit ed ever yone to see how Midwestern and wholesome we coul d be. Than ksgi ving was one time whe n we, as a family, rose to the occa sion , for the sake of our gues ts and our gran dpar ents -my moth er's pare nts- who knew bette r but graciously played along. But, mos t of all, we did it for ourselve s beca use we wanted to believe that things coul d be good .

Our place was in a valley and accessible only by "the hill," said always at the end of sent ence s and with the raising of eyebrows. It was something to be conq uere d every day. "Th e hill" was the reas on for our cabin fever duri ng the slightest of snowfalls and for our oversized calf muscles. For muc h of the winter, we clim bed to the top whe re our cars waited, covered in snow. The re at the peak my mot her chastised my father for not getti ng a four-wheel drive vehicle, or even a tractor. And in the spring she did the same whe n the heavy rainfalls, coup led with the destruction of my teen age siblings' learn ing to drive , fash ione d "the hill" with pits and canyons and rivers. Ever y mor ning in gram mar scho ol I climbed this beas t walking to the bus stop, and at the end of the day when I-it was always me for som e reas on-w as sent to gath er the mail. And then I came back dow n again, into the valley whe re it was only our family. (fhis was befo re the area beca me a developer's drea m, popu lated by city folks, who brou ght with them high prop erty value, fences, and paved driveways).

Each Than ksgi ving bega n the same, with me stari ng out the window that looked out towards "the hill," as if glue d to my favorite television show. Whe n I saw Linda's car desc end, I ran outside to greet her. Linda always arrived slightly early to the even t. She had nowhere else to go fo r the holi days -no family, save for a brot her.

But he was far away, somewhere tropical and exotic, and whe n I asked her abou t him she told me that they neve r talked, that they didn 't get along . I nodd ed my head . I was a child - the baby of the family, as I am still calle d toda y-bu t I ~nderstood. At eigh t years old, I had yet to see my own parents hug, much ess ackn owledge each o ther's presence o n a daily basis . · Be!!en·ve 2

. w my mother was watching us from th ki e tchen Wlnd . k I kn e ow, . g up from the sm , as I opened the c d ar oor for Lind Th rn conun e a.

Buick, big and comfortable with seats like d k . stea ar satm that warmed h d ar was a certain button was pus e . There were ll kind c s of buttons in a . k · 0 u when a . as her very own coc pit. 1 mda handed m th .

Y e e Wlne or dh the car; it w . er overstuffed purse A d h . . ,, as she would say, an · n s e s1owly lifted . bb. ''spmts, out of the seat, gra mg onto the sides of the car and lli ro ng fi ll h herself • sh oes c rward. When s e was ma y on her feet , in h er 6eige herself 10 made for her feet only, she was nearly out of breath. Just below her, the plush seat was deflated from the contours of her massive figure.

Upon hearin~ me anno_unc~ her arrival to the house, my father would come out of his study, his hair gray and unkempt, like that of a symphony compos~r. He greeted L~da with large eyes. She was a figure from the past, a reliable reference pomt of how things once were. He graciously took the wine and proceeded to fmd a corkscrew. My mother hugged Linda and served the usual questions: How was the drive? Was there any traffic? Will you have a seat? And Linda did, disassembling a fold-out chair that traveled everywhere with her, kept conveniently in her trunk. It spread out like a webbed hand that was made especially for larger persons, keeping their needs and comfort in mind. She strategically positioned herself near the head of the table, where all the food and therefore friends and family migrated. Once Linda sat down, she was down for good, or at least until she needed a cigarette. The only time she got up was when she went outside to smoke, where I would always follow her. There was no smoking inside the house. It was one of the few rules my mother actually enforced.

"Hand me my purse, kid," she would say to me, her smile stained and beautiful.

I handed Linda her purse, knowing what she needed. My mother looked down at me in disapproval as if it was my fault that Linda was opening the first of the two packs of cigarettes she would finish by the en~ of the day. I averted my eyes, and instead I watched Linda who was domg something I had never seen done before not in our house and defmitely not while my mother was watching: Linda lit a cigarette and · · blew it into th air as if she owned it. e This is where my memory begins. Up until this point, the day was like all the oth Th · · holidays like a firesi·de crack1i ng an d anksgivmg er 1 . · ta · di·f£erences £or JUS gdowmg with peop1e gathering around 'ignoring their h. b k ' ay. But now th d · e ay ls singular now as an adult I go ac to t is · Parucular I 100 k £ , d tim or . _e an try to figure out what really happened. answ childhoods: their with do ers Within clues because that is what adults 3

Bel/e,ive

They try to figure out what went wrong. . . .

The phone finally rang it was alw ays rmgmg, and It w l ' as a ways for my mother. Usually, she would tell me to get .t b .

1 , ut not today . . ' not While I f was watchmg Lmda smoke. 1'fy mother had t o go out o the kitch en, .

• where the gravy and other mysterious liqw·ds were simmermg and • Into the f: '. hallway to answer the phone. Being slightly primiti ve, my amily had et Y_ to get a cordless, or even a remote for the television. So the h P one rema111ed . · d bil · · da an d I li stened to were never pnvate . Lm 1mmo e, an conversations . my mother talking, who was suddenly happier than before Sh • e was good . . . . at pretending nothmg was wrong·' she did 1t every day Wl.th my f:ath er. We found out that a family member would be late. We won't start without you, it's okay,_ no ru~h. And do you have any aluminum foil? Sure, plenty, have all you like. Lmda and I smiled at each other.

"Do you have a match, kid?" she asked me, as she handed me her lighter.

Last year on a visit to Linda's apartment, she had taught me how to use the lighter while my mother was in the bathroom. We could hear her shuffling around, moving from toilet to sink. By the time my mother was washing her hands, I had a flame. The toilet was still rumbling and Linda's cigarette was lit.

"You're a fast learner, kid," she said. And I felt smart, confident.

We visited Linda no more than twice a year. Always when she entered Linda's apartment, my mother complained about the smoke, but not in front of Linda. Instead, my mother coughed and made a funny face, pinching her nose without using her hands. I didn't notice the smoke.

I thought it smelled good, like cookies, the cookies Linda wrapped loosely on a paper plate for our long ride home.

"I just bought a new filter," Linda told us in that voice of hers~ the one that if heard today would make my head turn. Only now do I realize how sultry her sound was, how full-bodied and breathy. As a child I was,, told Linda worked at "the phone company." As an adult, this "company has a different connotation.

"It cleans the air. Real state-of-art," Linda said with exaggeration, as if she was reading off of the box that the filter came in. And then she winked at me, as if we shared a secret.

1 Whenever my mother went to visit Linda, I always came along. s was a buffer between the two women. For a child 1 was a good wa. l all bove · t B Id d · 1 ' ' conversationalist, "a good talker," as I ,tn a wou say. u ' a distraction-someone r:o talk 1·0, something to talk about. There was . · · They only had rlieir very little the two women had in common an ymore past, a past I knew nothing about.

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fall asleep on the way h ome from pretending to .

I rem ember once We saw Drivino M . D . an cl movie ,vith my mother and Lmda. . zss azsy, .

0 . . see111g a • moth own her of her reminded Daisy Miss it. loved er-m-1aw, rny rno ther b ·ust know. It was 1 the one whom I would never as we11 ecause . rny grann Y, in the car that night my mother told Lmda that my granny was a "genuine bitch." I had never heard my mother cuss before. Linda responded with a full-body laugh, rapturous enough for both women to turn around to make sure I was still asleep. I closed my eyes quickly, and they continued to talk.

Apparently, Linda had had t~e "pleasure" of meeting my granny before she died. My granny never liked my mother, whose background was too Catholic-although by this point my mother rarely associated herself with the church-and too common to be marrying her youngest son. This was before my mother converted to her present faith, the one that reinvented her, the one my father ardently denied. For her, born-again Christianity was a faith based, not only on forgiving, but especially on forgetting. So that in the present day it is difficult to envision my mother as anything else, as if she has no past, at least not one worth speaking of.

I flicked the lighter a couple of times, holding it away from myself and pressing the thumb tab like Linda taught me only months before. My mother was still on the phone, talking about how she dressed the turkey and what she did differently to the stuffmg-cranberries instead of raisins this year. And no onions. Uncle Mitch is allergic to onions, we had discovered last Thanksgiving. I had plenty of time to light the cigarette, Linda's second since her arrival. For a chain smoker Linda was patient; she knew I would get it again. And I did, clumsily holding the flame to the end of her cigarette, slim and feminine.

Along with glasses of wine, my father brought in one of his old ashtrays from when he used to smoke cigars, the gas station cigars my mother threw away when he wasn't looking. What irked my mother mo st, besides my father's complete disregard for her non-denominational religion, was smoking, namely second hand smoke. My father set th e a~htray down in front of Linda like a plate of food. He then offered me a sip of his wine.

"S omeone's here " I heard one of my s1·blings ye11 · "The hill" · told ' them so. down into the .

0 ne-by-one cars made their slow, cautious way h · ~ od on rhe long . valley S '1 I · ome people parked at the top balancrng t eir O d "the hill " or r1iey 1ac . , ,. walk do · ',. . k. · ,· , wn. f hey were either new to the family an d. . To us, Than sgt, mg . a new car, making them less likely to take such a ive. · we r I ,s becausefrom Was a J · cl rhe _)ig ea!, superior to all other cold weather ho tc_a) · '. tr away hing I rna de lt so. t was the holiday that we claimed, snatc · fld/('l i l"I'

5

ho were allowed Chri stma s, the Chri stian holi day that made us in-laws, w · B ounc · f the thou ght of 1t. mg rom h ouse to h ouse , f rom one dinyawn atht e next in orde r to appe ase both the bloo d family and the one you ner to . . . ried into, was strictly proh ibite d. Onc e you were here , you stayed. The mar "as isola ted enou gh, "the hill" intim idati ng enou gh, to make this house \;v "ble The food coul d be foun d at any hous e acro ss Ame rica, the possl • read extensive and colorful. The com pany look ed . . similar to that of ;the r households: wom en in kitch en, chit- chat ting ; men in living room , drinking, muf fling com men ts ever y now and then ; child ren in yard, various balls at their disposal. The n ther e was Lind a and I, sittin g at the dining room table. She smo king cigarettes, I drin king my first of man y sodas for the occasion. Som eon e-a sain t-alw ays brou ght soda . It certainly wasn't my moth er, not with five kids, mos t of who m were und er horm onal reconstruction.

The day proc eede d into night. At our hous e, Than ksgi ving was an all-day affair. It bega n in the kitch en, then led into the dini ng room and then the living room , and finally back into the kitch en agai n whe re the leftovers received a fair amo unt of atten tion , as did our belt buckles. My father, with his herm itesq ue tend enci es, had long ago retir ed to his study, equi pped with a telev ision that bare ly flush ed out the soun ds of peop le trying too hard to mak e goo d mem ories . He only cam e out of his stud ywhere he also slep t-to stok e the fire and get anot her glass of wine to go with the entir e pie that he had snuc k into his room . By this time everyone had migr ated into the living room again, their pant s tigh ter than earlier that day. We played Uno on the floor, every last one of us, even Lind a who was still in the kitch en. She had not mov ed from her thro ne all day. I could see her at the head of the table, smiling with a ciga rette in one hand and wine in the othe r. Eve n from a dista nce she was still a part of the game.

She was on my team , and we were winn ing.

It happ ened whil e I was preo ccup ied with the gam e or maybe whe n I got up to go the bath room . This is wha t I repl ay in my mind: my mot her quit ting the gam e, nonc hala ntly thro wing her card s in, and us proc eedi ng with out her. My mot her goin g into the kitc hen whe re it is just she and Lind a, and then whil e the gam e is exci ting or whil e I am flushing the toilet, she has a talk with Lind a. Wha t she says is enou gh for Linda to not com e back the next year or any of the follo wing years. It is enough for her to not brin g me to Lind a's apar tme nt anym ore. She told Linda to quit smo king in the hous e.

Sometim e afte r that Tha nksg ivin g, whe n I was cons ider ed an adult in the biological sens e, I rem emb er sifti ng thro ugh one of our mos t prized antiques, whic h held all the family pho tos yet to be ente red into an album.

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They were neglected memories, haphazardly tossed into a newly finished • with shapely legs and carved edges • Th e i::.rnrmture was chest of drawers Renaissance, but insi~e the memories were nearly dead. The pictures sat year after year, orga~e d ahnost chronologically by default. The older pictures, most of which were black and white, were kept in the bottom shelf. In the next dr~wer were faded color photos, the pre-five-children and early marriage pictures. Some of these memories were still in frames taken down at one point and then never put back up. During one of the' many moves my family ~ade, from state to state, from apartment to ranch house to farmhouse, children accumulating like dust with each transition the pictures were sto~ed away~ deliberately forgotten about. They were p~t in the back of the mmd and m the bottom of archaic furniture. There wasn't enough room amongst all the antiques and regionalist paintings for pictures of my parents' wedding day. More than anything, the walls were filled with us-the five kids, growing up, becoming who we were and then who we are.

It was in that second-t o-last drawer that I found my parents as two people I didn't recognize: a happy couple cutting wedding cake. I had to look closely to make sure that it was them, but there was no mistake. My father had an arm around my mother who was gazing up at him. They looked like they were about to kiss, which is hard for me to imagine even with evidence. There were other people in the photo, the wedding party, people who knew my parents' past, who could tell embarrassing stories and make toasts. By my mother I saw a lady, beautiful in every way. She was classy, the picture told me so. She was glowing. I looked closely at the smile, the golden hair, the thin figure. It was Linda Swansee.

Seeing Linda in the past, as a fair maiden, shattered the image I had preserved of her. She was no longer the person I remembered, the one at the kitchen table. At that very moment , I had grown older, susceptible to an adult-like awareness. As a child, Linda was my hero because she was herself- stained, overindulgent, addicted, flawed. To me, she was real, perhaps the realest thing in my life which up to that point was lived amongst adults in perpetua l denial. The beauty of childh~od is not th at imperfections are overlooked; it is that they are translated mto beauty, nd th en ~he making of a hero. As an adult, these flaws are overanalyzed a Justified to fit our percepti on of the world. Heroes of the past become uld b vill ·n became a hero. villa;...

Lus O f th e present. But in my case, a wo - e a1

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Be//eni·e 8

Claire Jacques j\;f om en to Mo rris

f God were a cat IHe would prowl around the house on silent paws; ing every now and then to trap

stoPP

.

some unseen evil in His jaws.

And God could be a cat, for it seems as though a cat is always there; keeping nightly vigil by the hearth or from beneath every chair.

Yes, God could be a cat if God would bend all creatures to His will with no more than a knowing glance, then gaze ahead gentle still.

Maybe God is a cat. g, When I watch my kitten pounce upon a strin I see my life beneath her claws, a small diversion.

Everything.

If God is a cat (and the nature of Divinity is doubt), He is a fierce and lonely hun ter and the Devil 15 a mouse.

Belle1ive 9

◄ Chaz Crabtree

Year 3 You will never be alone, as long as I breathe.

If we should part for reasons I cannot fix, keep your glow. It led me through to you.

Keep your bright eyes and fair, radiant skin.

Light the wicks of the thousand dead souls that you pass everyday. We do not deserve you.

We are ignorant of how to handle the illumination.

Only my heart's fiery embers will roar, no matter where I go.

As long as you keep moving, I will breathe.

I will gladly walk behind you, as you light the way.

Bellerive

10

Julie Creech

The Loaded Gun 1 wish I could wear _a cloak made out of the country sky.

Then when the moon 1s full I would be so bright and beautiful that no one could deny my worth, and when the moon waned or hid behind dark clouds no one would see me, to comment on my wasteful moods.

I wish I could have hair like emptiness like the space between my eyes and the stars I sometimes feel it pressing on my face as I stare up and wonder how far I must jump to pass through it, and then when my head lay flat on a lover's chest he would feel my soul, he would see my mind and still wonder what it meant.

I wish I could write words that explain what it is like to sit on a cracked cement step to smoke a glowing orange fire and contemplate the rustlings of cattle out in the darkness.

To give a sense of that smell only farms seem to possess the mix of life and death, the energy, still passing, from beagles chasing rabbits in the sun, and the fading buzz of wasps and bumblebees taking care of whatever business they are about.

But I don't think I can.

I'm just a city girl after all, and my sight when I open eyes into that vaS t void of what is known as nature, · .

• · n lungs 15 too Jaded by the thick exhaust still lingering m w~r ' · s O f night, an d my ears are so crowded by th e siren the murmurs of crabby children, and the footsteps of strangers, h . the wooc1. t at I cannot hear the dreams of coyotes 10 I'm just a city girl.

I cannot hear chat far.

Brllnil'f

11

_J

◄ Zachan·ah Edward Crow

Our War Simpletons in suits sipping espresso and living each day as though it were the last, crowding onto busses, longing for the past, shoving past each other to get into an already full bar, to get to work, to get home, to get in bed, to praise the newest star, punching in and clocking out, feeding the tape, putting food on the table, turning out the lights, getting out, breathing fresher air, running away, trying to find new sights, laughing at the new shows, sighing the passing seasons, buying the hottest Harlequin romance, crying themselves to sleep because they must wake to find another day, possessed by the phantom of finance, feeding a never-ending deficit economy they have never understood, being paid with blood money, speaking of the common good, the common wealth, the common man cowering in fear and fighting one another, when they aren't seeking their escape and scheming at the expense of their brother, retreating to religion to find the churches hollow and filled with empty people spawning faithless children, blinded by consumption's evil, living out each day of darkness scarred, terrified, alone, confused, and full of an unorganized and ill-conceived rage, told to be happy with the life they have_ chosen but never distinctly remembering a choice, pacing themselves into a walking sleep with nothing to stir their heart Bellerive

12

►

e to lead th em in th is sp iritu al wa r an d no o n . . . hypnotic ro ad un e us m g th em as a pa rt again st a . ,..,,.e chat they ar e pr is un aWtuon er s of a w ar th at di , d no t re qm·r e a s11ot.

I say, wake up! _ Live as th ou gh yo u we re fre e; di e fig hu.ng be ca us e yo u are no t.

Brllctil'('

13

Kate Drolet

Flying Solo Under most circumstances, if I found myself shooting thro h the srrato~phere at SO? miles per hour next to a complete stranger, I;ould cling to him for dear life. Somehow, the presence of an airplane around u changes the situation, and I hesitate to share the armrest. Those who cans afford the luxury of air travel form a culture of their own. Frequent fliers ' accustomed to atmospheric transportation, treat the experience like a commute to work: all of them sit in their respective vehicles and avoid eye contact. Only in the case of air travel, everyone sits inside of a giant hunk of aluminum with wings and breathes recycled sneeze particles.

My most recent encounter with this isolated, humorless group began at the check-in counter. The airline culture prefers minimal human interaction, and the convenient new "E-Ticketing" system makes this dream possible. I stepped up to the self-operated machine and swiped my credit card. A digital airplane flew across the screen while the computer located my information. ''No information available," red letters flashed. I looked around.

Nobody else seemed to be having a problem. This was the United counter. Where was my United ticket? I waved at the zombie-esque man standing behind the nearby counter. ''I can't find my flight information. I'm going to Philadelphia," I told him.

He focused on a hidden computer screen, which cast a grayish glow across his already pallid face. ''You're flying US Airways."

I looked down at my E-ticket: United. I looked up, eyes questioning.

"We're partners." He turned to speak with another worker.

I shifted the backpack straps on my shoulders and tugged on the suitcase handle. Fifteen minutes later, I found myself in front of another glib checker. Air travel, as it has grown more affordable and popular among those with wanderlust, has bred some bizarre habits. We pay hundreds of dollars to board a giant hunk of aluminum, breathe recycled . sneezes and enjoy a "complimentary" drink service.

"Did you pack your own bags, ma'am?" the bored-sounding woman inquired.

I'm 20 years old W ho else would pack my underwear?

Bellerive

14

"Does your luggage con~~~ anything flammable, explosive, liquid, . otentially harmful. therWlse P O h nntialm and my goldfish, thanks. or Just i,1 e "".r "Have you left your ba_gs unattended since you packed them?"

Unattended? No, the shifty-ryed gentleman in a lumpy trench coat o.ffered to while J went to redo my makeup. . f . watch them After a barrage o mane questions and a lack of eye contact, I the length of a small d to security. The line stretched roughly . . proceede open. Thanks to stations sec~ty fifteen the of tw~ airfield, with a scant the enius that thought 1t would be appropnate to hide razor blades in his sho:s, I had to shuffle through the line in my mismatched socks. The stoic businessman next to me did his best to remain poised, but his professional image lost something when the patent leather shoes came off. Once I emptied the nickel, gum wrapper, and piece of lint from my pockets and into a gray bin, the security guard, eyes intent on the sensor light on top of the metal detector, motioned for me to move through the frame. A highpitched series of beeps screeched to those still waiting in line, "SHE'S DANGEROUS!" The guard, unfazed, told me to remove my studded belt.

Feeling like a criminal being strip-searched, I stepped back through the sensor. The shrill alarm sounded again, and the guard told me to step aside for further examination.

Shoeless, I attempted to gather a few scraps of dignity. A woman with short silver hair, a stern mouth, and a name tag that read "Doris" instructed me to stand with my arms out and my legs spread. She brandished a black wand and waved it across my body. It let out a squawk as it passed my bellybutton.

Oh, sil!J me, I felt like remarking, that must be my Uzi. I forgot to leave it at home todqy. At least she would look at me.

"It's your button," Doris said, her eyes on the metal disk holding my jeans together. Cleared of suspicion, I waited for my book bag to pass th rough the X-ray and wondered how many crocheting hooks th ey f confiscate from little old ladies.

The trek to gate C57 left me winded, and I arrived at the end o • c making me late. . . the termi 1gasping for breath and cursing security ior na Unable tO my pocket and f . k . d spea , I pulled a crumpled boarding pass rom indow: relieve to th handed · ' lt to the attendant at the gate. I looked out e w see . a large plane Ir sorting t . pu mg into the gate area. f " he inst.rue .eu, d.

"W lk d . own the steps and to the a1rcra t, s a th oint I nottce rough a il 1 t ·ide '· nat P . P e of papers. Down the stairs? . At s the concrete ou ~- . .

Otneth111 b than ten people, Not w ~ arely the size of a school bus s1tttng on anting to think about how the plane would fit more ' j

Bel/e,fre

15

I hurried outside and up the collapsible set of · . mto the • red-faced, sweaty man blocked the aisle trvin stairs . . aircraft. A . ' , ~ . .g lt1 vam to shove an stuffed du ffl e b ag mto an overhead compa rtrne t c over.

1 iound seat 12D . n . settled m next to the wmdo w. Mr. Cool Businessm f and an rom the securi , line sat next to me an d turned on his BlackBerry car full . . t) , e y avoiding contact. eye "Hello everyone, my name is Melanie and I'll b fli e your ght attend ant today." A cheerful voice squawked from the inte M . . rcom. elan1e s~ood on the other s1d~ of the swea_ty man, who had resorted to stuffing his bag under the seat m front of him. "I'll take this time to remind that all US Airways flights are non-smoking, and federal aviation you regulations prohib it tampe ring with or disabling any smoke detectors! The captain has closed the cabin door, so at this time I'll ask you to turn off all electronic devices. Once we reach cruising altitude, you may use approved electronic devices. This does not include cell phones!"

BlackBerry disabled his cell phone and slid it into the briefcase that match ed his shoes. Morbi d curiosity implored me to leave my phone on. After all, passen gers could make $10-per-minute calls from the seatback phone s. I didn't recall seeing any news reports about cellular service causing major plane accidents. Though an experiment could be fun I didn't want to risk it. I turned it off. ' "Your seat cushio n can be used in the event of a water landing!"

Melanie contin ued. "Life vests are also located under your seats. s·1mplY place them over your head and blow into the tubes to inflate! Do not . ft.I" inflate while onboa rd the aircra uld I pictur ed this scene taking place at 35,000 feet. . BlackBerry wo . of maintain an air con fid 1 ence, blowing up his life vest. with properflying d t ard the sea. Then again, we were . decor um as we plumm ete ?w . . d of a water landing was slimfrom St. Louis to Philadelphia. The likelihoo Why didn't Melanie just tell us the truth? hi h that we will all .

"In the event of a water 1an ding' chances are dg down, it .

"If oxygen masks rop . perish!" I imagi ned her announcmg. h d e are plummetmg . king too muc an w means the pilot has been d rm . , di" d gninst toward the groun • . f the seat back that butte a. ' d n1) I pulled the magazme out o h , Who reads something ode •1r . lied Attac e. . these, knees. The magaz me was ca Ri' l t I pushed it back mto . t' fel.•1 • · \ ' (\co A ttache? Mr. Cool cough e d . Oh . .h g ntertai ning materia s. . t. .d for any ot er e I our o pouch and looke d msi e ' d After half an 1 , ful . 'k M ff would have to o. . ually u~e stained copy of S ~ a ssories and other eq d · . · garden acce ~ ve • examining dog 1umpsu1ts, .

010 The plane had not azme bac1{. h appliances, I put t e m_.~ag =-- ---- ---- Bellerive

16

b

orry for the delay, but the water truck is behind schedul e," "Fo1k 5, S . . formed us. 'We need it so the lavatory works!"

Melanie ~ y bladder started to f~el the weight of my venti cappucc ino. I 1 s and looked envious ly· at the planes taking off and landing.

5 sed my eg cro Half an hour later, the capta1n cr~ckled over the intercom . "Since . fli ht will only last an hour and 53 ffilnutes, we will go ahead without thls g ,, he said. "Flight attendan ts, please prepare for take off." the water, . . . . trapped herself 1n, and the Jet eng1nes f1nally roared to life. The Me1antes . .d f my ears turned into a vacuum as the wheels left the runway. The ins1 e o city stretche d across the face of the earth. We climbed higher sprawling . . . . ' and it reminded me of a Petri dish with bactena growing on it. The arasitic analogy made me slightly queasy, so I pulled out A ttache and iorced myself to read the advertis ements.

I skipped over the pages with slim, metallic gadgets for sale and stopped at the ad promoti ng travel-c onvenie nce product s.

"Sharpe r Image's new earplugs and a sleep mask block out the interruptions caused by the stranger s that surroun d you on flights," the copy read. Technol ogy, I realized , helps us tune each other out. Does man think that since he can afford the luxuries of advance d technolo gy, he need not interact with regular peons? The peons who surroun d me need no personal attention when I have the ability to fly. This culture, this airline population, took elitism to a new level. When airline travellers rise above the ground, earth become s "beneat h" them. I glanced at BlackBe rry. He sat stiffly, hands folded in his lap. His mouth hung open, and a sleep mask covered his eyes. A whistle escaped his nose as he drifted into sleep. The man could snore in front of me, but he couldn't manage a smile.

I leaned my forehea d against the slightly greasy plastic. The world stretched out below me. An hour later, we descend ed back to the level of normal people. Maybe now other passeng ers would give humanit y a glance. .

A sharp gust of cold air entered my lungs and stung my face as I gtnger~y walked down the collapsi ble stairs. Mr. Cool passed me, earpiece ~tuc~ 111 his head and cell phone in his breast pocket. I followed th e urr1ed str f . d . . eam O passeng ers into the termina l and regame sensatio n 111 my nose as · d fi ul we entered the main gate area We had 1·ust surV1ve a ive-n e, cl escent . · like n h~ractically coming down from outer space, and they walke d away unwu~ ing ha~ happene d. Tired of trying to make contact wi th th e ~;~ resigne~ myself to stare at the ground as I wal~ed . . ., . . looked ey,_ whats so exciting o n the flo o r?" my bro thers voice 1oked. T smiling.up, relieved to see that my famil y s tood w aiting for me, all eyes

Be//e,il'I' 17

(_}aire Jacqttes

W ho I<nows? e What would hap pen if a little Sup pos Curo.ningly clad in a Maybe's clothes on its toes Inched up, and cre pt up, and tipped the rows An d sat down at the end of one of and No's?

Of stiff-necked and straitlaced Yes's

1/:i

~ othing But Tune

H,//m,·,·

I ')

Ktffi _-1/!en

Nigh t 15 at the ~Iotel 8

This is a place that won't he do\\--n, a place that doesn 't know the meaning of botto m.

Here, we aren't afforded the hnairies of humming through our faith , our earnest belief that the day will be as good or as bad as the weather, that the night will bring us dreams swollen with every comfo rt. Once we have the key in the lock, that first hard click gone with the first real breath, something new will be behin d the door this time. Even the last one down the hall, with that god-awful smell that predates any memory we might have. Open ing the door, tonight could be the Big Night in the Big City; the night when she found our room before we did, and is waiting with all the promises of tomor row or at least an arm's length of tonight.

We'll take it, considering what we've been through.

But maybe when we step over this night's threshold, all we'll find are our nightmares, plopp ed down on the quarter-slot bed, watching the tube, laid out for our inevitable return: They know where we've been, They always do.

So, when we can't wake up to a clean sheet of our life, when we remem ber we're in the wrong town for that, at least we have the Possibility.

Rc!le1i,,e

20

d

tu ne gling th at familiar k ers in our ha nd s, jin ' ng bi gg er' hi et m so e's er th ow ·kn ~~ ble, som ething unmistaka w ri tt en ju st fo r us. rhar says this so ng was

Hd k ,fr r

21

Sundays Sunday. was me and Rick's da~. He went on business tnps _ . . . ear1y · h.t _\ 1on dav. mornings, but he lett his w1fe and kids Sundav• afternoo n, ng after church. I'd usually wake up around noon to the smells of alcohol . fr om Saru.r d ay . h ' lefto,-er aruacnon rug ts m al e conques t. After I offered and him cab fare, I'd eat breakfast, run on the treadmill for an hour, clean up the apartment and take a shower.

EYery Sunday afternoo n I'd find myself surround ed by paper.

Bills that needed to be paid, homewo rk that needed to be finished homework that needed to be started- all piled high on the kitchen' table.

Gene·rn always came in and out of the apartme nt on Sundays. She usuallr emerged from her room around noon, hair disheveled and the remains of last night's face in smears under her eyes. Sometim es she'd make breakfast after Saturday night's man had showere d and left. *

I'd make smoothi es for lunch, run errands, and wash the evening's delicates until five o'clock, when I took a cab to the Sheraton on Lincoln and Fifth, right by the airport. I'd go up to the twenty-first floor, room 861. Sometimes Rick was already there, waiting. I'd knock on the door, four light taps and two hard. If he was there, he'd open up and let me in.

Sometimes we talked, but mostly we had sex first. Afterwards, we'd order room service. I'd pretend we were a honeym ooning couple while we shared conversa tion over champag ne.

* After we shared smoothi es (her breakfas t, my lunch), she'd run errands, visit the gym or tune out the world with an iPod and her treadmill to "work off last night," as she always said. I'd do some research for class or write the paper due Monday.

*

. d get lose Sometim es we wouldn' t talk at all. He'd smoke a cigar an . in his own troubled head. It was then I knew he was talking to his wif~- 1 hate d her. Once he told me I was ever ym·mg sh e wasn,t. !\.t the nine, ro . . . th h I beaan too k. it as a complim ent. During those .silent everungs, oug ' \ 0 · · ld 1 rowdY. see 1t as somethi ng else. I was great m bed, he to me, rea. : r · l-k . .. l rea.lm th at meant she wasn't wild. I was his fanta~y. So s 1e was lus · · beg,in tll and I were a hurrican e together . She was his calm afternoo n. 1 1

Bellerive

22

. th •ealize at m)· prow.ess made me noth ing more th an his S . unday rught r The other six days of the week , he lived in aw ld .th 5 rorrn. . . or w1 suns hine breez e.

Whe n he smok ed in ft silenc e I didn't an d so ' want to b e a . ne anym ore.

I look ed forw ard to Sunday all w k Af hurnca . . ee . ter a few s Rick and I did less talking and more smoking p; ... ll mon th , .

• .ua y, 1 d ec1.ded 1 more than iust Sund ay. wanted * Geneva always brou ght a well-needed break Aft h k . she brought home raisin bagels and fat-free cream chees er er wor out e. After she , counted carbs and I coun ted how much work I had left, she'd head out to run errands or meet friends or her "hurr icane lover," as she referred to him with a sly smile. I stayed hom e and finished my bills. * I tappe d on 861 on a particularly stormy Sunday. Rick open ed the door and I could imm ediat ely tell that it would be a cigar evening. He looked worn out. The dark half- moon s unde r his eyes gave away sleepless nights . He almo st look ed afraid. I stepp ed in and shut the door, my mind made up. Did he need more than Sunday too?

Usually we tore off each other 's clothes, consumed in passion. We would collapse, out of brea th, when ever we finished. Toni ght would be different. I led him quiet ly to the king-sized bed, deter mined to give him that sunshine and soft bree ze I knew he was thinking abou t. He closed his eyes tight and kept them shut, his face pained. We finish ed and he rolled away from me, his body tense . I kissed his shoulder. ''We can't do this anym ore, Geneva," he said sharply.

My throa t tight ened . He woul dn't look at me. ''Abby's preg nant ."

That was our last Sunday.

1.

P,,dlnfrt

23

\

, 1,. :i 1;do~;"

U n Cafe au.x C ha m ps -E

Bdle1ii'f

24

lysees. P~1ris

Julie Creech

Du sty Debutante . na . . . or was 1t Mo on lig ht Verbe 1emon;:> . · e hid to l tfu igh del ng "So me thi ty." you r co mm on stench of humani

I've searched, perhaps for years, to find this Godsend . up This po tio n which might lift me ou t of the arm s of familiarity and pure. allow me to bec om e something Rose petals work well, I hear, bu t the delicate snap of crushing their velvet between my es makes me thick, unladylike fingers sometim ed too. feel like a mu rde rer . .. Roses ble r.

Ev ent ual ly I jus t drift into despai stench.

I can no lon ger dre am to lose my I'v e bee n tou che d too lightly and too oft en to any lon ger be a child, and no am ou nt of water from som e Fre nch po wd er roo m will ma ke me smell young again.

Bf'llm·/lf

25

Stacie Pope

The Journ ey of a Strong Woman His hand descends again and again, connecting with my bruised and blackened face.

How can I stop this pain?

Of me, I'm sure there will be left no trace.

The beauty in him I see, where no one else dares look.

The lost, helpless little baby that grows deep inside my nook.

I will bring her forth with a kiss, give her my undyin g love, and I will persist, persist, persist; since, she is my young dove.

Never, will she be discouraged of trying someth ing new, or terrified of dying.

Bellerive

26

► Matthew R Trost

Wall of Bluebirds there is loveliness, child, but your heart will always shriek for ugliness.

27

Bellrn'vc

~Iyopic Drean1s

2H

Jeanie ivlryer and Mis.ry Yearian

Carpet I put. leggings on and slid d own each ew up on the staircase. .

I gr on my butt, grunung each tune I plopped d own onto the next b k f the steps I On its shelves, I kept oo s and decapitated Barbies and pill o ows. ·th • ne 11 d fi o . d odern art on its wa wi my crayons and marker s an inger d create rn . I ot into fights there an lost. . . paints. g 'fhe stairs were protected by a beige banister and covered with • the same the entire tun. e we lived 1n stayed . . rnauve Carpeting. The wallpaper the house: Ugly. It was a dirty beige with tiny blue flowers that had been choked by years of chain smokers, namely my mother. There were fourteen carpeted steps, each one weathered by perpetual traffic. The firs t ten, then a sharp turn to the left and four more. The pivot was a threefoot square that my sister and I referred to as the landing.

On the landing, I played and read books and was punished when my sneakers tripped someone on their way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. My older sister broke her ankle on the landing while chasing after me with my forgotten shoe. Every Christmas, I sat on the landing clutching the spokes of the banister and watching my father put presents under the tree. My mother was already asleep-I could see the TV lights pulsing from underneath her door.

One Christmas, I sneezed.

"Get to bed!" my father yelled, shaking a wrapped gift.

I ran to bed, stumbling over the carpet. When I was young, I didn't take any chances.

My father and I argued on the stairs. He moved forward cursing me. I moved backwards dodging him. When we reached the landing, I could see my mother in the living room, sitting on her chair, staring at a black television screen. I cried out for her- it must have been some sort 1 of reflex, like the first thing you want after waking from a nightmare. wasn't thinking.

She lit another cigarette and turned the TV on. h fo otball field between M hi Y gh school graduation was held on t e .· . N ne seemed th h e ome and away bleachers and under a chance of ram. . o _<~\ rl, c1·i·

l . . cks wtl , i . . to noti ce the dark clouds. Mothers were fannmg t 1etr nep, d1 ers were r , . th . d wy palms. ' tl h.

P ograms whil . I line wh ere a e stas mg Kleenexes m eir e di ' the fifry-yat c stracted . h h wit t eir camcorders, focusing upon Br//('111•1'

29

luft $rage had been assembled. m,u;es I ,ffoided looking into the bleachers as much as possible. Earlier _ k I ._aid nothing as I placed the commencem ent in vitation under a th.1 r " ee . . . .. . . . , refriaerator magnet. Telev1s100 1111gles cam e 111 from th e livmg room as 1 arcl;d the date with a pen. three times. Later that eve ning when I heard nn- fa ther pull into the driveway, I ran to th e fridge and threw the invitation in~o the trash and then ran back upstairs again, locking the doo r behind me. If I stayed there the rest of the night, there would be no confrontation. By my senior year, we had learned how to deal with each other: I a,-oided him. Just my presence alone was enough to instigate a duel. Eye contact was out of the question, as was speaking out loud. \'\/e ·were ne,-er found in the same rooms. But sometimes even that didn't work.

Gowned and capped, my classmates and I created a ripped seam on the track, just as we had practiced during home room. We paired off nvo-by-t:\.vo with the mate of our choice or a choice that was assigned to us b~ default. That night, even the loners had best friends. And everyone was posing for pictures. No one seemed to mind the long dresses of purple and gold. Instead they talked in loud voices, as if quoting from the yearbook. They made promises that were meant to be broken and exchanged phone numbers that would never be dialed. In just a few short hours they would be adults, and they would be drunk, throwing their arms around each other and saying they'd always remember these times. In truth, they wanted to forget.

I was no different from the rest of them: I wanted to get the hell out of this town, too. My senior year was one of college applications and scholarship essays. I skipped class to go on campus tours and talk to professors. And every day, like a small yappy dog, I waited for our postman to deliver my way out: an interview, an acceptance letter, a check, anything. I let myself believe that this was it-a chance to improve my P(JSture and expand my vocabulary.

As I sat in a fold-up chair near the end zone, I tried listening to tht comm encement speeches. There was the Val Victorian and the prin cipal and then some guest speaker, an alumnus who had done well <:: nnugh in life, who was making enough money to buy his parents a new Buj ck and to p encil-in a high school graduation speech. Every speaker USeJ t·he same words: p ersistence, success, vision, prioriries. whare,·er. 1 wame<l t<> believe them with all my heart. I wanted to take those \\'()rds an cJ appl y them to my life like an addict does with a twe lye--step prngrn 111 · At. that momen t the world was full o f people who wa nted to shake nw haoci firmly and read my nam etag: " Hello. N{y name is Sarah.'' lr was 1_

llellmve

30

but for once I didn't mind the pep talk. otesque, s...-iates on the other hand, had other g . . gr My C1as u~ ' . oa1s m nund LI N eekbrace," I heard a whisper in the back d th · "rJ.ey, . , b th an en there hter.

I didn t o er to turn around It g uffled 1au . was on1y one was rn they were all the same. N eckbrace was the ni kn th on but . c ame ey gave pers ' legacy. Throughout high school I wore turtl k . . it was rny enec s, even m me, ths And even to m y after-school ob at the gro · h hot rnon · onung s op a the 'd backroom of wet dogs and college dropouts. At the shop they ' hurJll they were left to assume. But at school my £ hi never sal.d an"·thing; Y u.~as on lack thereof, was an easy target. sense, or .

"N eekbrace," someone called out again. This time it was a girl, one whose popularity could be credited to her wardrobe. She didn't have to wear turtlenecks or heavy make-up to cover the bruises.

"Why don't you show us your love bites, N eckbrace?"

The rumor around school was that I sp ent most of my time in the back of parked vehicles with strange boys who had fangs for teeth. I let them think that; it sounded nicer than the truth.

1·

Empty nest has strange effects on parents. Some grow a green thumb or start remodeling the kitchen. Others join clubs and take RV's to Arizona. Then there are the rest who don't know what to do with themselves. Suddenly, there is no one to tell what to do, no one to complain about to their co-workers, no footsteps to listen for sneaking away during the night. No one to blame for everything that goes wrong inside a day.

After a year of empty nest, my parents realized that those people w~o had been living inside their h ouse all those years were actually their children. So when I came home after a year of state school, I did my best to evade them. It was easy to do with my father-we never spoke anymore. As for my mother, it was harder. When we talked, we avoided all real topics. · We talked about the news. We talked about th e peop1e we b~~~ 1 . o . ' or at least knew of. It seemed like there were on y tragic events ccurnng in th li uld 't 6d e ves of o thers. Incidents the local newspaper co n in room£ d b. . or amongst all the engagement announcements an ° ituanes.

Paper £ One day, my mo ther called m e at the library. I was wor king on a or a class h " at t e local junior college. . off and 1!:ra~, you'll never guess what I h eard. Billy McCl.ine's wife took With him ~un fo r another man. Remember you used to go to school me all th .' They had a kid together Only one year old. Billy's mo m told c~an You tsb toda d · · b k · with her • y own at the store. Sh e said h e's movrng ac · 111 ' · elieve that?"

Belle,ive 31

"I don't care, Mom. I don't know these pe 1 op e anymore " I . . ' whispered loudly. The libranans were stabbing me with th • etr eyes .

"I know, I know. I Just thought you should know, th at ,s all· . ,, . ..

There was that familiar pause, a slight change of breath I h il · · . n er s ence I ' heard the real reason she called. I knew that if I waited ·t uld go awa , 1 wo . . " y.

What time are you commg home tonight?" she finall aske d. y · · "I don't kn ow-I gotta go. " The libranans were shufflin f g rorn pounce. to ready counter, behind the "Okay, well, call if you're gonna miss dinner."

I hung_up and set th~ phone down on the table and went back to my paper, no~g I was passionate about. It was a research assignrnent for my composition class at the community college, the oversized Lego graduating class attended. Basically, it was high block where ~alf of school, but with smoking. For me it was high school without the turtlenecks.

The year before, I had gone to a university on the other side of the state. I went to class and gained only five pounds. I got drunk on weekdays, and never returned phone calls from home. For a freshman, I was doing well. But it was also the year that the parties shifted in the government, and so did the education system. Programs and gray-haired professors were being cut. Tuition soared. They blamed it on the economy, they called it a recession. Everyone on campus was fuming.

Students made T-shirts and signed petitions. There were lectures in giant halls and daily rantings on the Quad next to overflowing ashtrays and drains littered with flyers-most of the custodians had lost their jobs.

At the end of my freshman year, I got a letter in the mail, the one that everyone was receiving: My grant was not being renewed. Then I got another one: My loan application was denied. I had no credit, the letter said, my parents needed to co-sign for a loan. I returned home instead of

m!

being denied my father's signature.

That evening I hung around the library until it closed. The n't that h . ' . . librarians gladly locked the double-doors behmd me. T e paper was hard to write. I was using the same words for some other paper I had h l· the art thi . .

Written before. There were two thmgs I learned from s sc 00 · . h fi t place. 1t of cutting and pasting and why I left my hometown mt e irs · ' me to apply for scholars h"1ps more ar dently than was enough to motivate I' bts Even porch ig· es l. .

Somehow I forgot how bormg t us town was. d d someu111 an aroun drove we school, high In were asleep by sundown. at her lling I . d c few 10und something to look at -a three-legge cat, a gir ye boyfriend, an old drunk. E ven if I had a curfew, there were very

before.

Bellerive

32

► th getting in trouble for. Sometimes kid s wor 1 ' h s gathered . th PIace t of somebody e se s ouse. It was alwa s th . .m e basementh ones we didn't mind if they came d y e _kid with the cool nts e ownstairs and alk d pare ' kid had skipped town, too. t e to us.

I3ut that 'th I sat in myk cdar Wll papker a~ ~ompany. At times like this I . d that I smo e . t wo ma e s1tt1.ng in a c 1 wishe ak k ar a one more valid t d . lik it does for bre s at wor . It would also h 1 ae ' iust e . d . e P ease my hunger . For hours, I me to ignore my stomach which . d pains. c 1 lik . remin ed me of the .orne.. l0·00 . . PM. I 1e t. ea service announcement£ . or ab sent-minded parents·, I was that child they were bemg reminded of, th e one whose whereabouts were unknown. I started my car-basic n ee d s h ave a way of making one desperate.

When I got home, there was a note on the table. The words were dressed carefully in their loopy letters.

Sarah, Dinner is in the oven. Call next time.

Love, Mom. I pulled out the plate. Meatloaf.

"Sarah." I froze. It was my mother assuming her position: at the top of the stairs, her door slightly open. E ven with her TV on, she heard mecomem.

"Sarah, is that you?"

"It's me," I fmally answered, carefully scraping the meatloaf into the trashcan.

"The grooming shop called this afternoon." Her voice had become closer. I imagined her at the top of the staircase, hesitant to come down and join me. She was waiting for an invitation.

"OK." I was still hovering over the trashcan, empty plate in hand.

:ra

Silence.

"Well . . . goodnight," she said.

Seconds went by, maybe minutes. I didn't hear her bedroom door close' but I knew .

1t was safe to move.

I grabbed the ice cream from the freezer.

E

I didn't address very month, I slipped a check into an envelope. rents' ' an I did , li t under my pa ' bedro n t ck any stamps. The envelope wen k d for rent money, 0 rn door h h . .d Th never as e and . w en t ey weren't ms1 e. ey neither did h . . t ey ever mention rece1vmg t h e check. e my job back.

It took I could afford to do it. The grooming shop gave msip. So-n-So on} fi . k lace gos. · . had ftnall Y ive minutes to catch up on the wor P t fired for nipping rhe y gotten a divorce and What's-His-Face go

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Bellen·ve 33

Noth ing had changed and in a way th • of a poo dle's tail ' intentionallv. · . at op was com1cor ting. The customers were all the same: finick y and compuls' . mers were, the ones with small dogiv-e.

At least a11 the long-haired-dog custo . s er a male. The collies lab name d aft dead actre sses -eve n 1f the dog was . ' s, and mutts had more tolerable owners, more hud back, less coffee consumption. . , I was in charge of sham poom g, so there wasn t much to screw up, except for not rinsing Audrey's coat clean. Otherwise, it wa~ mindless, and my hands were perpetually cracked no matt er how much lotio n I used. It was just like old times, except that I work ed more than I used to. In fact, I worked all the time. I even lingered there after closing, sweeping the floors thoroughly. I swept so well I received a raise -and I prom ised my boss I wouldn't tell my co-workers who had been there long er than I. Every night when I got hom e, I walked past the living room where the TV was turned loud and my father was on mute. I tried to get up the stairs before my moth er caught me, befo re her quick foots teps came down the hallway and reached the botto m of the steps. Mos t nights I was lucky to reach the landing.

"Sarah," she said. I was almost to my room , but she was fast.

I stopped out of courtesy but didn' t turn around.

"Sarah, did you hear abou t that boy down the street?"

"Yes, Mom ." It didn't matt er what I said, she woul d tell me anyhow.

"Didja' know that poor boy took eighteen sleeping pills last night?

Eighteen. And he's still alive. He's down at St. Mary's, they pum ped his stomach," she continued. "Tho se pills were his moth er's ... she must feel horrible."

I held onto the banis ter for supp ort.

"Sarah."

I turned arou nd and look ed dow n at her. She seem ed smaller than I remembered. She played with her wedd ing band , mov ing it from her joint to her knuckle. It was her nerv ous habit.

"I fixed dinner. It's pasta ... maybe we can all sit down?"

"I had a long day, Mom ." I paused. At that mom ent, anything passe d as an excuse. "I'm goin g to bed." l turn ed arou nd and went to my room , locking the door behi nd me out of habit .

.

My boss at the groo ming shop offer ed me }\n apprenticeship. She said I ca l . n earn h ow to shave dogs and get my foot m ~ to the door., so speak. My recent dedication to the job prom pted her to think I was Bellerive ?,4

.f . siness bo ut the do g gr oo mi ng bu 1 lt Was wh . as ' . nted to b lik seoaus a or scientist I h ad to kat I wa ut na e tro as an e , up w I gro . in gh lau m fro d eep I 'f g when he asked me 1 wa nte to purchase my own s t f . ng ari she o e . vhen s as a future mv es tm en t. ' . . " I told he r imm di scissor5 "I'll thi.nk ab ou t 1t, e ate1y regrettin g th at I'd even ' myself in ten years· I had • . 1·r a second tho ug ht. I saw wrmkles and · given home I at ing liv ll sti s at th wa I red d sca an baby fat . was so ' e . ' . nn· e re on mo the ph ar he en ev g. t gin n did I t tha it ht of .

"I ' c th oug d, handing me the cordless · ts ior you" sai ss "Sarah," my bo · , k ecially my mom · wwo r was the one No one calls me at work, esp place I was safe from her. e." e no t supposed to call me her u'r Yo rk. wo at I'm , om "M to tell you something ... " "I know, I know. Bu t I needed I waited, bu t no t fo r long.

It of a shampoo." That was a lie. le dd mi the in I'm it? is t ''Wha ne home. w tha t my co-workers had go was a slow afternoon, so slo . I ad? There's none in the house "Can you pick up so me bre old , bu t then I saw one of your ay tod re sto the at me so t forgot to ge what's his name?" teachers, the English teacher, favorite teacher.

"Mr. Letty." He was my told him he asked how you are and I s ay yw An . him t's tha es, "Y to school at the shop again and going ing rk wo d an n tow in k star you were bac u, that you were one of his yo see to e lov uld wo he t here. He said tha Isn't that nice? ne r tonight and he said yes. din to him d ite inv I so ils, pup d? " So can you pick up so me br ea my voice. "I can't come to se rai to t no ing try n, ga be "Mom," I . ,, . e." lat ng rki wo en.

I'm sev t. 'til on't start dl!lner tonigh .

D. "C an 't the y let you go a little early? mner w m ly. She waited for me to beg ard kw aw ed us pa "I ... n't "No, I ca "I in. aga gotta go."

"S arah." back to be recharged.

"I'll see yo u l at er. " " that I M 'T' e as I pu t the. phon"ta me ' at up 1 en, d a ke ke loo ss bo y ·rhe a bad ed eed I . roo111 w 1 d he r I was go mg. to tol I . iet qu , too w as No e ded d nee to start smoki ng an d no w was a go o ttm · l 1ef t. so h' habit . · I'd 'r inr crr11pt. me . , mg 0re th yt an say n't did an anything. She .

I . g she c. I n. , If. lisr r ntn g for /\ h im · · yt om an t say ' . r . . e, my mothe r did n't . · 1ped m re,. 'd nw d st0 in 1ny t rhe fa 1 st . an 11 g chn h- Way up lan e 1 th · ed ch " , rea c f n 1ou er footst . th.air s. was o 'l'V the ' eps . low \\t Be me ca r ve , as on 111ute at ne ' . . r opet1ed the . hen W . om .

I . continue ro d up the ste ps an d int o my

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/3ellm·//f

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an envelope on the floor-it was from the uru· . doo r, there was . . . vers1ty.

Thev were givmg me a scholarship I had applied for months b c ; . . e10re. Alon with the money I had saved liV1ng at home, I could return to scho . g o1111 the fall. ~at~r that night, I woke _up. hungry. Avoiding my mother made rne into a rrudrught snacker. Past rmdrught was the only time I could eat without her lingering nearby, behind corners, on the stairwell. Just listening to me warm up leftovers.

I slipped out of my room and felt my way to the banister. I knew the way by heart, especially in the dark. Growing up, the only safe time to leave my room was after hours, when my father had gone to bed.

I walked down the first four steps, rubbing my eyes. Upon reaching the landing, my naked feet stopped. My mother was sitting there.

The dim light coming from the windows below showed her head leaning against the wall, an unlit cigarette between her fingers.

"Mom," I said.

I waited.

"I was just thinking that I could tear down this wallpaper," she started, not even looking up at me. "We've had it for so long. I could paint the wall, maybe a light sage-color or something. And these stairs ... your father and I put this carpet down so you kids wouldn't get hurt.

Maybe it's time for it to come up too."

"Mom." Her eyelids closed slowly, and then opened again. Downstairs, the TV was off. I sat down next to her, looking at the wall. It had been a while since I looked at the wall. It was hard to imagine it as anything else, even in the dark.

"I think an off-white would look nice."

Bellerive

36

Jeffrey William Pechmann Proselytized

'j'he i.st tiJ!l' you brought God . ,,t' house I watched mtO 0 VJ. th< c}iirl• cabinet implode sending mYgrandmother's Wedgwood ghost high. And if yau didn't mean to hurt me why did you pierce rny phobic ear with the pane's translucent shard?

Bellerive 37

State of the 1lnion

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Claire Jacques

Belvedere . Escher builr a do llho use.

They sa~ , _ • st whar you d expect.

It was JU . nes were com·oluted, 1 Its pa .

Its mathematics pamfully correct.

That Escher was a strange one, As his dollhouse stood to prove; For those who peered inside the door Would find that they were gazing fro m the roof.

The house had inside-our pavilions, Twisted terraces, and here: A kind of sideways courtyard On the upper middle subterranean tier.

Its layered roofs turned into ceilings, Which melted into tiled floors.

Staircases that led nowhere Led to half-windows and disjointed doors.

Yes, Escher built a wonder With a floor plan like a maze, And tilted walls and winding halls That seemed to waver and move in impossible ways.

He even drew his trademark tessellations On the paper on the walls.

Yes, old M.C. thought of everythingExcept the dolls.

39

J11Jdll Cro u.,.e

Sincerely My shel ves are bare, .My clos ets clean, My bags are pack ed At the door.

I'm writing to Resign my posi tion As maid, Governess, And whore.

I apologize For the sho rt noti ce, But my life Is tired of waiting.

Just forw ard any Unw ante d mai l To 6071 Lay ton.

Han g The help wan ted pos ter And plac e Your classified ad.

Goo dbye !

Ta ta!

Toodles!

It really isn't Tha t bad.

The key is und er The flow erpo t To new adve ntur es Unk now ing.

Myc ah Is idling restlessly, I really mus t Be going.

Bellerive

40

Ode to My Laptop

Olivia "'1J,es

und 4 a.tn., my breath stopped.

Aro b ds formed on my forehead. sweat ea . tapping her slick, I kept WER'fY-lined Q with the rips of my fingers, keys pounding on [ENTER, the space bar, lsdlammmcaewwlkaol!&*#(!((*@kjeaoiuaowf)owl*(*S . yqwooe1oonanooo] but nothing appeared except the blank metronomic blinks of the cursor.

Damn, this cannot be good for our relationship, already strained by my relentless taps and double clicks from dusk until dawn.

I was journaling and talking to her, compressing these past few days into a couple of pages like a zip file I will one day extract when nothing is highlighted under my scheduled tasks, when I'm not eating symposium abstracts or regurgitating fifty words a mini-minute.

Listening to my secret thoughts and filing everything else in iconic folders ' ~he wants nothing Just as long as I dust her off and keep her protected from bugs.

She chimes to remind me of our dates, th0 ugh she knows that I'm a few hours and half-a-day behind.

Shels · patient, screen always brig · htlY lit' 41

Bel/nil'e

~mi~ng at me.

She stream s melodies

until che brink of daylight, just as the birds join_in an~ sunbeams break through the vmyl blinds.

Some days when I spend more hours with her than sleeping, I hear her fan hum nonstop.

She shuts down when she can't cool down, telling me to get some sleep, too, go eat real food and chew slowly.

Now, at 4 a.m. on the fifth straight night I have not let her sleep, I think she has had it.

No more touching her face with the tips of my fingers.

No more dings or bright blue smiles.

No more daybreak tunes or rhythmic hums.

Damn, I miss her already.

Bellerive

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Jeffrey William Pechmann

behind

your pendular ass

of the cat's tail

reminds rne

swinging in front of our television's

·c hypnotizes me

glass-l

with reruns

Bellerive

43

Claire Jacques

Magnetic Poetry: The Fridge III ***

television rusts the iron in my blood and I come away with a need to sleep

*** in the end who can you trust but yourself

*** you are warm peaches and milk in the morning forest leaves after a rain to me you will always be beautiful

*** sometimes in dreams I swim through diamond waters under a purple moon *** the earth came home today and cried elaborate rears when she saw her gown like gardens <le1icate with years :t * *

beneath this skin petals harden in to rock

Bellerive

t Kat(J Orr,le

Old Shoe goddess A shell 0 { a hair sirs in your c t strut ger i\ confiden less s w a g , e c a p r e a slow replaced by d h e a r ts You trample dged heels e r o z a r r u m yo ow r closet n u o y in it They s ing lives. k c e r w m o r d-crusted f Bloo

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\ 11( )thL r \\ L1n·s Tre,1sure

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Kate Stein

o Lawyers Seiling Li qu or to Tobacc . wear a . and sit was pr ou d to down to suu her Ar th ur Rose,hil . h £ , te l at oo My blic sch ac ers and a rs. He was a c d of pu , . h lav,11Ve .

1 dd go be . wit d he d amned if that didn't f the Labor movement. An diflner dchild o~i..;.., hi gran . sorneuw•g. adult life , fior a p11armaceut1cal ole wh s n, ma les sa a . mean fl e worked as . ved that drugs s0 1ve d everyth1ng lie be le op pe re fo be . the da vs 1 ul.d . wh any 1D eak kindly to tired women sp wo d o an ile sm uld wo he . comP ' d·' .

I .th .

-coated miracle work ers. ite He was g00 va wh ir the wt es nc die . pri te au th r when h e was at rant hun e way he wooed my mo the s wa It it. did he w h g W o ·1 self, or a soc1a r him kflo a docto . . f. Bu t becaus.e he wasn't ,,;th himsel aningful . peace \vi l that his existence was me fee t no di~ he er, wy la_ ther. worker, or a union d help him, even by my mo Go , es tlm me so , ted cia and he felt unappre my dad got his bonus, he'd en wh er, art qu ch ea of d At the en re all a bunch of the din ne r table that we we at im cla pro d an me ho e com stole his bonuses. ma tte r tha t the company it did at wh so y, wa any , lab rats sit ting in his drink beer from the can, d an n de the to ire ret d Then he' never got like ot he r boys' fathers, he un t Bu e. on thr a on if recliner as fought anyo ne , because the Roses hit r ve ne he d an y erl ord drunk and dis yers, my ye rs. Of course, like the law law the e lik t jus ts, fis t with words, no father died full of rage. early ow yo u how generics and I offer up this sto ry to sh ht, pacifist. It's kept me straig d ille e-f rag a n, tur my in experience made me, in an y of my gr y I sta rt talking, throwing an t ge I r ve ne he W . rse of cou turned to Th e all. Fo r moral authority he rec n ca I t tha s bit te ori father's fav dely although An d I can guote them wi s. er mp Go el mu Sa d an NewRepublic I never read them myself s of nd I want to mourn_ ~e los th -a w no e lik ygr an nd e But when I'm . blic graceless flailin~ a pu the d an y erg en of fne nclship and the waste -_I do lik e my ad's just no t in the game he ur yo en wh ed rm rfo !ad golf pe .words into the void of . lik e w ro th I in. pla ex I k. rds tal ~d tau~ht me . I D d ·d· throw wod •d p l t. Th ats, wh at a ge nt lem an does, a .sat ·mies don't ec t e fnend shi os . . . . . pe yo ur ene rocks lnt0 th e void of friendship los t and ho d d b r unfeeJin 0o- stones.+ . . b to surround yo u because yo u'll en d up su rro un e. ·I )the fri.ends 1,1p ac ,, d A .f th eir ,vi,Ts n you'd 1 u never co me to fw1.ts,) t1 C e,,en ' . yo pe ho r tte be so a becau s c ' se two h uman tnen ca n't m ove tw o ton w I ou d let them. told him.

You are old-fashioned I llr/k,iw

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n your side, he told me. . .c h . vour w1 Le o . , f~cep .r . Alwa s. Jane. She makes me eat m y sptnac . That's y ·h , has been.

\nd s t

, I 1· l tell people. \\' 1;1

Bill ff track What I wanted to talk about was · . h . , .

Hur I'm getting o J ( ' l)bn

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l • we came to be fnends and w at ended it. ·· and me- 1ow

· the #4 elevator. He jangled his car keys and spoke , . . . l met Co lin 10 f Mag01e, his yellow Labrador, who waited m the parking .. .

1 r~-110 f f: b d _o~ . mcrssnnry,o His voice was the low rone o . a at ee on a .Llll ower. r. · l · . r:tJilge LO[ 111TI. tune and g ._ h I knew him better I realized that this was the first . ' t ,;1 ter, w en to his broker, who . · tlll\t I ever saw him rushed. .He'd had to talk . nn Iv ome " · b.ter learned was married to his cousm, and something about office 1 buildings a.nd elevators made him nervous. Unlike other men forged during the Donald Trump eighties, Colin didn't feel comfortable in any morn that was higher than the third floor and that didn't clisplay at least

one oriental carpet and one decorative egg.

Colin invited me to meet Maggie. She nuzzled me through the cracked window of Colin's Land !lover. The next night we met for dinner with our wives at a local pub, and from then on Colin and I were friends, generally-buddi es-in any common sense of the word: we talked on the telephone at leas t once a week, had lunch every Thursday, and subbed in each other's foursomes. I can't remember seeing him in long pants more than twice. He wore golf shorts and kept his shirt tucked with the aid of a bear-up leather belt that girded him loose as a dog collar. To look at him, ~'ou'd never know he was loaded. It was money that went back. My wife once remarked both that Colin was rich and that he took forever in the bathroom-as if these traits sat on the same short stretch of chromosome.

Bill could not have been more different: he was a flamboyant in an .

• an mdustry . 1esman tn industry of bores, a natura1 sa of three-year LJ lik d to say he believed in service. Truth was: . warehrn1se c t hc>d un -~n .racts. .- e e P'JJ p P his w1.fe to make a buck. Colin told me a story once about how 1 . · offered r0 • d h' ' sen ls wife, naked, into the hot tub with Colin. They \l _ • , . I' , a. . . , ✓t r t n ' even in A, spcn or Ln somesuch place. Maybe lt was South Caro 11 I rl, i · ' 11 1 remember.

"Tl ' " ia t s a wcir<l fantasy, Colin ," l told him.

N<J, n.: ally," ~.1 id ( :nlin. () h "'I 'hen it W'ts , · I r c was drunk , maybe." , . ' · ,t I" (C. B . I , I,1 'r bl' ,,.,lin shruu-g·c<l . 1. f ( ut as · to :-; ugtrest we both knew Htl ut ec ,..., .

J LIru nk t b . k · 1 ti t ·() ( ) '' nng 1 c that .

4H

► sr rnet Bill throu gh busine ss whe h n e tried to ' ll H I fi1f rent me space in e ca ed on me and I h . arehouses. .

I ex to ad d .c Of }11s w P ain that the pet ny I worke 1or owne d its own wareh ouse and 0 oe th d cornPa at.

I as the huma n resou rces mana ger. H e Smiled [oo d w van nodded. f his cologne, which linger ed for da aD},wa1 consider a me made ys, fhe scent o. fume policy.

A few weeks after that, he showe d up at th e courts; he wore a per . bl shirt an d h e sweatke dh an d grunt ed and call ed the far court h bright ue . , My wife ~ Jane, s. oo er head. "He mus c1es th e ball." baseline . .

So I disnussed Bill as an ass and. promp tly fo rgot h e extsted until I a fund-raiser. . him at a party. It was . . ran IDto took the mike and introduced the Bill Around half. past rune candidate who he claimed to have know n from knee-height, then he introduced himself and sat down at the host's piano. He played "Auld It Lang Syne" and "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" and ended by crying. was eccentric, yes-cl early. But he seeme d sincere, and I was young enough to find that refreshing. The candid ate seemed flattered, if surprised.

My wife, who is (no questi on) smart er than I, whispered in my ear, "Where there's a Jekyll, there's a Hyde. " She repeated this every time Bill did something she didn't like. He was large and gruff and over- the-to p and he drank too much.

"I understand," I told Jane. "He makes you uncomfortable."

"No," she said. "I just see him for what he is."

"He's a bit unusual," I said. "No question."

She shrugged.

"He's a guy's guy," I said.

"There are wome n like him too," she said, shivering with distaste.

I should tell you: there's a histor y to her dislike. A few years back, is Jane ~as talking to Bill at a wedd ing recep tion, answering his quest ion-h gues~on-she reiterated, when he turned away, mid-sentence, without excusmg himself She watch ed him greet Bick Casey from Casey ·Foods "I and never turn back. I made excuses for him. "He gets over-excite d , toId Jane. ''N 0 ,, , she said.

"B e Was drunk " .

"So?" I ever had~~ you, who've never met him, are proba bly wondering why .

D· Goodman as a friend. his where bars · .

111 ' id I tell you that he learne d to play the piano Belle,ivc 49

himself in a trailer at th e that he. practically raised waited tables, . . . mo th er a dirt road m D1.rtsville, that he finished school ' pledged Sigtna Nu en d o f met his wife when she was a stranger he saved from being mugged' th at he ·aped , that he owns a lot of. real estate, and that he occasionallY cuts an d r his dock-workers a break by lettmg them leave early on Fridays? Jane sa . ys.

"He keeps the booze companies in business."

That much is true. That was part of the plan, in fact.

It was a Tuesday, I think. After work, Colin and I met Bill for drinks. He took us to a swank club for CEOs and Vice Presidents and wannabes and their wives. I'd been there before maybe twice in my life.

Bill strode, he smiled, he waved, he squ_eezed hands like a boa. "Hi, how are ya?!"

Bill commandeered a lux pit group and a low table, and he brought us our drinks himself. Over the sofa hung a modernist painting of Jimmy Connor stretching for an overhead. He regaled us with his latest round of ne-GO-tiations and we almost rolled off our chairs, choking on our drinks, and then Bill finished, "So then I had him by the shorts." Bill knew who drank what Scotch; he was a heavy hitter. Gold bracelet gleaming, drink poised at his lips, Bill's eyes followed two made-up women in tennis skirts. They bounced by; he growled to clear his throat, and took a sip. Then Bill glanced at Colin and chuckled. "Now," he said. "Let's get down to business." Bill wanted to become a distributor of domestic liquor products.

"That's a tough business," I said. I had heard this from relatives who lived in Kentucky, the front lines of the action since prohibition. But I didn't know anything, really.

"I like Kentucky," said Colin, who followed basketball and horseracmg. ''Well I don't mean whisky," said Bill. "I was thinking more along the lines of wine. A consortium of small, northwest vineyards. Startups.

Silicon Valley sidelines.

"Pretty regulated, isn't it?" said Colin.

Bill snorted. .

We, none of us, knew diddly-squat about the business.

"We go in under the radar. See?" said Bill, gesturing, his pinkie _ and thumb the wings. He explained his theory: we target those re staurant~ th_at had begun popping up in the fashionable parts of town. The ones wnh sidewalk tables and green and pink canopies with fringe. The one~ opened as sidelines by investment bankers or tobacco settlement la"vyers, men who are always loo king to ride the next wave and always looking for a Bellerive

50

We'd sell them good, small vinta ges-"lik J;~ . rds with cute names they'd never h e J..UIUted ed· . vineya Gourmand,, , said Bill " eard of (and lllons"-from '''Lily Pad ' · Whatever" H We hadn't eith ) We get 'em to stock up." · e paused. "\V, . er · de al 5· . . we give 'em I was amused. I admit it. I figu d re wew ts of suckers. And, as a grandson of the 1 b ere srnart and there . lik d th 'd Io . a or rnove were filled pacifist, e e 1 ea of getting rich by stickin ~ent and a rageof the professional classes. g 1t to the dilettantes Colin suggested, ''We could sell it ov h . "F f: Bill said, ace-to- ace. Got to be £ er t e Internet" ace-to-face Wi · really good salespeople and a professional lookin b · e need two · th . g rochure." o ul handle the terrttory nor of the Missouri and b d ne wo d h uld eyon the outerbelt to the west and south ' th e ot er wo sell to the rest of h M . . . . F th ' t e etro area west of the Miss1ss1pp1. rom ere we d branch out along th Mi . . . . e ss1ss1pp1 Valley then into the greater Midwest. , "Where will we find anybody that stupid?" I asked.

"Brave," said Bill, sternly.

"Foolhardy," I said.

"Brave," said Bill again, more sternly.

"Whatever," I said.

"No. Not 'whatever,"' said Bill. "You've got to believe." He laid his hand on my forearm and squeezed.

"I believe," said Colin.

Bill let go, leaned back, and regarded me, silently. "Well, Pete. Do you believe?"

"It's an idea with potential," I lied. "I'm just not there yet."

"What would it take," Bill asked, "for you to co-sign a loan for the seed capital?"

de al .

!

"I don't know," I said. h.

He sighed. He rocked back, closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of ~~eop ' ene dhi s eyes leaned forward and starte d talking. d I liS tened. And ~fter a while visions of Ted Roney, son of a actor and ' . d fl h rny b an art professor, the childhood tormentor who trte to us oy scout s f d th boy who grew up to b car and badges after gym class, an e . . tco111.e a f T d R ey drmkmg O swill a d ~ orthopedic surgeon in Ladue, visions e on d· n pay d ·d "So how o we YUalify th tng early danced in my head. "Okay," I sal · · e suckers?"

Bil.I bark d ,, u . e_ o ut a laugh. . . ahfying questio ns?" said Colin, clearing his thr~at. cc ,\ d l O You k Ina . ;:i " said Bill. .n n 1OW ny corks now how to use your corkscrew. · ' l<l d crews do you need for five waitresses?" Bill chuc e .

,,i

Belle,ive 51

To keep Bill compan y, Colin and I laughed, too.

Bill bought Build A \\ finning Business Plan software and spent rwo days choosing the right words to fill in the blanks. He had his secretary bind five color copies and stamp them "Confidential."

I didn't ·want to seem like a naysayer, but I didn't want to put in more than three percent, personally, and maybe co-sign a small loan. So I agreed to put in a good word for him \vi.th my friend, Simon, at the bank.

Simon worked in commercial lending. His business card said Vice President. Simon had a ready smile that decayed the longer you talked (and he listened), but that never went away entirely. It was a sign of optimism, I thought. My wife, Jane, who is sharp (no question), believes that Simon possesses too few brains (literally) to hold up the skin on the sides of his face.

Bill hired two guys fresh out of State to be the salesmen: Bud and Dave. They had business degrees, big dreams, and bad prospect s otherwise. Bill thought they were perfect; they were willing to work purely on commission, without benefits, to get the experience. He introduced them, "These are the killers I've hired." This time we sat beneath a painting of Rod Carew. "These guys can run with it," Bill told Colin and me. "Really run with it." Bud and Dave grinned, themselves half-believing the bullshit.

Bill mapped his sales strategy for us on a stack of napkins. Bill's big picture looked like an archery target with a bull's-eye; arrows shot outward and inward through the concentric circles. The innermo st ring said: Create list of prospects. Next was: Qualify. Third was: Sell. The outermost ring was: Get them to stock up! On the next napkin, Bill drew a Venn diagram that showed a small circle nearly engulfed by a larger circle.

This was our Unique Selling Proposition: We sold small vintage s"limited editions" -giving our customers the opportu nity to corner the market, to not just ride the next wave, but to own it (as he said) if they bought our en tire inventor y.

"We'll ask 'em: you can't make more room for more money?" said Bud. "A full cellar is as good as a full bank account." He chuckled, then snorted. B uel was taking lessons from Bill.

Dave was an ex-coll ege hockey player w h o spo rted a goa ree. '.'Shave it," BiU comman J ell. "You look ligh t in th e loa fers." D ave smiled: It was crooked, a grin1acc.

BiJl fl ew to Seattle and Po rtl and and Sacrame n to. H e said he negotiate d contract s wirh th<.'. vineyard owners, but I think h e was jusr Bellc:ri,,e

52

. . . P cases. He used empty spac In e his b ylflg u Warehouse t u chern cold.

O st0 re them and keep He stamped the bottles like th ey Were lith . ographs-"#33 like you could turn a velvet Elvis into a V by lirn.itin of 412" Gogh an the about lied he then And tion.

- d g number of b . d1 pro uc ottles corked erirnes, as I learne ater, Bill doctored th · e labels t . . f ill .

S0111 o .unprove th ted an usion o scarcity. Unfortu a e year. nately, he did , J-Ie ere careful keep t n rrack•

.

Every other Tuesday, Colin and I met Bill dub fi d · his at .c or nnks.

Bill had given up scotc h 1or vodka martinis. H lid e s an envelope ·th . k · w1 a check under each o f our d rm s, as if he were afraid th 'd ey blow away l · .c · . h h Then Bill gave us an 1n1orma report on the busine ss as e c ewed on h1s .

• kin H . on his olive. He did not draw O11 toothpick and sucked nap s. e did . not prepare financials.

The boys had divided the Metro area west of the river, as planned.

Bud covered St. Charles, Chesterfield, and the outer reaches, Dave the inner suburbs and downtown. North St. Louis and Maplewood had not proved profitable. Clayton and Chesterfield were showing returns. Bud and Dave were good in front of customers. "Solid" was how Bill put it.

The return was modest, but regular. I guessed we would not break even until August. But I felt glee, I admit it, with every small check.

Things went well for a while: the wine was drinkable, the labels pretty, and everyone seemed to be buying everything that spring-new . houses, white SUVs, purple silk ties-not just wine. Everyone was euphoric; the city stayed cool, the skies clear, and the town was awash m cash. d Dave went on their way al · g of the Then the three of them-Bill, Bud, an ' ·ust the term to kill h lab t e goose that laid the golden egg. It wasn t J th were and started 1 ttles purportedly Paded~· Bud and Dave acted like the novice salesmen.

O th tld be certain b ktng eir T&Es and stocking their own cellars wit but I never cot . . . to en. I h' t ink Bill started outright skimm1ng, beca ·11 use he bl tall, until Bi , arned it on Bud and Dave. ~ . ble none a .

Coli n and I, we had no inkling of trou ' d d sued us tor fired B d aroun an ud and D ave, and Bud and Dave turne cornin.is ..

I I've . . s1ons th to know nat ey said hadn't been paid. taken ca'fhe day I was served Bill called. "l want yo Ldl to setcle. They'll · . gree ' re of · " · . tt, he said. "Bud and Dave have a withdraw theirs . uu tomorrow." .

hei

Bel/c1i11' 1

53

"1 \.nsh I'd knmvn rhere was a problem,'' 1 told him.

''How would that haYe helped ?'

I couldn 't ans\.Ye r. I imagined him muscling his phone at the other end.

"Look. It's taken care of. \~farer under the bridge . Lesson s learned ." Bill belted out his excuses like Sinatra edged out the horns. I held the handse t away from my ear. His Yoice sound ed faint. He paused.

"Let's move on."

I took a deep breath and said somet hing I though t Jane would endorse. I told him, "I think we should have hired guys with more experience. I think that was a mistake."

"Can you recom mend anyon e with sales experience?" he asked me.

"Lots of people, Bill. Lots of people. But none of them will be willing to work for us."

Bill was silent for a mome nt, which is probab ly the closest he ever comes to thoughtful.

"It's just come to me," said Bill. "I've got a vision. Do any of these salesmen have kids?"

I knew that Bill did not believe in the power of heredity. It was the power of capital and the power of parental love; Bill wanted children whose parent s were able and willing to invest in their dubious futures. His new idea was to build a 'network' of distributors. We'd create smaller territories, hire clean-cut boys to go door-to-door in residential areas during their summ er vacations selling the makings of suburban ,vine tastings. (''Amway and Tl!lpperware combined," remarked my droll and smart wife, Jane, later.)

"This is my best idea yet," proclaimed Bill, his usual self.

"How is this not a pyramid scheme?" I asked.

"I'm sensing negativity," said Bill. "You need to believe."

"S ure, Bill" .

"Then acknowledge my brilliance and shut up," said Bill.

I laughed.

He didn't.

So Colin and I recruited at the country c1ub . ,v1 we pa1·a tl,e steward.., . to post fliers in the locker room: Wanted. Entrep reneun_. a1 co lleg e student.. over 21 for well-paid summer wor k. ,v1 we gave a p1,one num ber but- no . . ldn't rather names. It was t·he lure of liquor, I thm l<. B ecause w h O wou · . I · - . play eighteen holes of golf? Somet hing worked , m any case. N c'\__-r dung - . . f . the new knew, Colin was hostin g a boor camp cum coc1.:::tat·1 party o1 - . 1ir\'. . .. . . ut recruits, whose fath ers each had po n1cd up six gt ancI fot. ti_,c~ oJJport Bellerive

54

.. caddie that s,1........Jl tner ,,,as bard tothget a . · I t w er, A r u r Rose, was, in all seno usn th {a ~ ,r ess, a font o f w1.sd om. n d eo m so 1v1Y m ar ry e stnarter th an myself "M e who tol m.e to I did and she's k uch e str ai.gh t for the. m tn ' d1e,,on 1t. t t ep u p e h k in th I ost ' .' b J-Ie s did ' Ji .rte!' d vben she h asn t, lt s ecause I n t ste n and I should hav . sma j\11 \: e. e g et mixed up in m t le all o f th.is ~. ne Ja d di hy w S . pa.rt Bill d ' kn o was: she di n t o w about it · ked us to keep it. a as h · o rd er to keep it a cret frotn hi .

T.rut . e and m se 1f W s wife, Colin s bi . d .

A . so al rk ret from keep o u r W1ves m the da · n afte. r kee pi·ng our wives to d sec h to let th etn In on th· d I ha k for so long, we were reluctant en w s .ng _J . d as an d w I : bl is it th e1a}'lng the J.nev a e. · the ar.ren't looking so good. Tru lfl_ uld h ave to eat my spin ach . t11111gs wed be angry. I wo Jane wo ul d our well-heel ed soon-to-be college ne ai tr I d an in d b So Bill and Col . e to their fri ends an case-bytim a at le tt o a e W1fle . .0rs · The y sold th suburban neighbor y ne to ' ts en ar _p sen1 streets of_ the1r agine them going im I . on st case along the leafy in W d p an d names like T n two open sample ith w is ak kh hood s. Yes, ~ e y h~ ed ~ pres atrons t d~an polos and r ankles and the m ei th g door-to-door m the1 pm ap sl es therr b o at sho bottles, the laces on e to tie them. ver a new vintage ne he w gs resisting an impuls in st ta st e boys to h o and wished them ls ia er Bill encouraged th at m ng ti ke d mar wore em price lists an a jazz rip, but he d arrived. We gave th te or sp y o b s s l. O u r best sale sounded two part at th e luck. They did wel ic vo a d an circle. ccable manners so cks and had impe asted a wide social bo er th o m is H care ar t milk. is: we didn't much bourbon and one p th ru T . em th f ud o . But Bill said he was p ro our little enterprise to in t h g u o b d eir fathers h ad ness, o f course, an si bu e th how they did after th f o n io fict ought in to the did trul y believe. y he T . ed some of the boys b oy pl y em selves as gainfull . ro rhe fiction o f them for the opportunity im h k an th to e irdn e pho a sandy-haired th sy o b One called Bill on th s le sa r u 1i ved on it o n e o f o e) As fate would have ' Jo eJo f o J grandson ey, erry generationJoe-Joe (son o f Joe-Joe ' rn to at l ca lo t en p ro m in 1.rescent L s down from a or em ent. do e fiv e an iv, . f a tobacco settl · o t ar p as n M d ' o li h il w · the i ssu s, ] en y werss 0 made his first six m g On d' y's d o o r expectm tl numb ered 32e ay, wben Joe-Joe knocked on Jerr . l on bo t es him self ia ec sp a y J rr Je J th at swered· oe - oe offered 6?of 30an Je rry rememb· ered 3 t. or P i l.

U ce be la c ti h m e ar o. f domes ll na sr a as W t w ~ . borcies id ere stored in t e w d le l be al la said . t1c d en an h· sta urant y numb ered h at, precisely, weas w w o kn t is re th e o n to o d d . 1. . n to. ri rande Vache I 1can only , La G B . v tatw speculate · Ut Joe -Joe accepted Je rry's m kid a cigarette. testa , e th Urant in Je Je rry offered k in th I . he sc or rrys P Bellmi1e

55

_,

rl1 eu.r arrived, Joe-Joe was rumpled but still grinning. · I"'hcy 111archc 1 . . • • L . cJ e restaurant carrying a bottle and came out carrymg two bottles. , U1to 1 . identical down to the number: Clarissa's Port, Chateau G ood Harbor, IlJlJlJ, #41 of 303.

Jerry called a meeting. ·of course, Bill was in Aspen, high-altinide skiing.

Colin and I did not call him-out of fear, I think, tha t ht:'d tell us to do something stupid and we'd do it.

We handled it as best we could. We made our apologies to Jerry Weiss. Colin paid them to keep quiet-both Jerry and the kid. Colin paid them in C-notes like it was no big deal, but he was gritting his teeth, I knew it. And we let the business die.

And it did die. The kids took vacations. The weather got too hot to drink wine. Bill stayed in Colorado. \\ 11en

When Bill returned, we met him for dinner at the restaurant at the top of my office building. Bill was tanned from the slopes. He talked about skiing. A helicopter, hovering above the snow, had dropped him at the top of a glacier. He and two buddies skiied down to a meadow and radioed for pickup. He had photographs.

Colin said that that sounded like fun.

I distracted myself with the menu.

The drinks came.

Colin smiled faintly.

Then the time came. Colin and I tried to explain what had happened. While we talked, Bill drank two vodka shots. He did not order us a second round. I couldn't have stomached it anyway.

Bill leaned forward. He put his elbows on the table. "I left you in charge," he said, slowly, softly. His voice was one of the lowest, deepest V<Ji ces in nature. "And you blew it."

Colin and I looked at each other.

"We've always been the silent partners," said Colin.

"Sometimes you got to step up to the plate," said Bill, his voice ri sing, hi s ton e frank , conve rsational. "lt was on your watch. You Io st .my monty."

'' II was the bank 's money and we saved your ass," 1 told him. '' You saved your ass you mean,'' said Bill. "' I 'here's rh e m o ney l gav e yo u to invest;' l sa.id. " You gave m e nothing," said Bm, almo st yelling.

J And it 1 fdt myself fl us h . 1 kn ew exactly how much I'd investeu. wasn'r no thjng.

Hdlni"i·

56

u'd blow . ,, ,,1 should have knowthn yo It, he sai.d, look. . . "Fra m e beginnin aight at . .ring Colin ~' yallou ~d,n' t believine.,~ Stt 1 0,,r.1e did believe," said Colin. "w d, di we me, go ri · "I st 'd 1·u s I " wa pretendin ''I never did. , . sa.1 · . g. I knew it was a sh'ttty ry be01n ntn ve e th om Fr . ng g ,, And I had kn ru gm 'd From the be d • • rr h , happen db . own, s ea.

1 e to you before, I bet) d to a m it it. , ... at nte wa c k . but no t d at me. H e clutched his i.or and kni re sta ill mblin tre s nd B g ur thr ee porterhfe, ha vo de d ul co he e lik ed r He look etty pr s . . wa I . ses ou 111 a.oge · ted for him to get up and I wouldn't stab me. I wai table. ge sitting. And wheavehi the lar sure he ed ok lo he d an t sa ll didn't. Bi . en s steak . in d ays, s1urpin n te ea 't But he dn hi ha he e lik t e began to ea s green beans g h k ch ht ig e cam t he m gh ou th I at th ly e. o ick qu .th sesames so thin truth W1 g m or e to be said. The no s wa ere Th was suddenly selfd. de ea -h ht lig , ht evident. I felt free, lig . lin whi spered to the waite Co r. ?" go to up e in m p u wra "Could yo , . . ak ,, " t about to leave Bill my ste Me too, I said. I wasn and avoi'ded each oth er,s eyes gs ba ie gg do r ou ed ch ut d I cl Colin . an vator. while we waited for the ele happened," said Colin.

"I can't believe that just d warned me about Bill. ha ne Ja , all r fte A . m hi "I can," I told evator came.

Five minutes later, the el t of there," said Colin. ou t ge r ve ne 'd we t gh "I thou .

I didn't know what to say 44

..

t the business when we ou ab t ou d un fo ne Ja fe I still don't. My wi whole thing was long past e Th r. pe pa l ca lo e th made the gossip column in se the middle, by then. ally, universally hated in the fin is, e H s. an lo s hi on Bill defaulted g in Aspen. I hope he is iin sk e tim his of e or m parts and so spends even ne like nder, as I ~o, h_ow someo wo u yo be ay M . sh slu in nd no ~ o his ~yeballs such senous ill a suffer do n ca , on rs pe us rio se ' ~ho ls hardly a harm in return. st ll to return his ake. Colin Bi g in su is d an r ye law Colin has hired a d sttayed· We were an d re er ve 1k ha e ath ers : and,;J .I do not ta , lunch or gal£ W . Of my foref .

01 ' es 110 ed the memon b"" tier than h h a true .believe.r, wd s eep. I have disappoint rny f th a er th l man and my grandfat er,I h disappomte stni]_ d ' elkre uctant sales ' ave t. e and ta ed and peddled the labor movemen 1 b her intell ect. rny w·i led on Y Y I e--a wom an whose passion is equa I hope h · s e is reading this.

D earest Jane ?

Bellm·vc

57

◄ Oh ~I-d

fl, II, 111 ,,

58

Obsce nity is for C*** -s***

Clain• ./ucqm·.r

ers

. [fend people w ith style . substanc e" ''Nerer o can offend them with . when you ,. , Sain Brown

once I read the d

*** gra ffiltl.

Some f+'**er scribbled on the wall While I tried to rake a s*** In a(***** bathroo m stall.

F*** cl1at! What if it could offend Some poor f*** out there?

No one f+'**ing needs to read That d*** c*** everywh ere.

So it's my new g****** mission Each time I f***ing see Obscene s*** in print or on the airI'll make that b**** rated G.

p,cf/cn!'C

59

Susan Crowe

Second Shift Black mothers trudge home With shopping bags full Of tonight's dinner Hanging from their arms.

Their muscles aching From a hard day's work.

Their heads bowed Too tired to be proud Waiting at the bus stop.

Black mothers breathe A sigh of relief As sore feet Give way to cushion seats.

Unkempt heads hidden Under paisley scarves Nod forward Eyes temporarily closed Resting while they can.

Black mothers arriving Home at last!

Getting ready For the second shift.

In the kitchen

'

Frying chicken, Feeding hungry children, Washing dirty dishes.

Black mothers exhausted ' Praying for a moment's rest In between jobs.

Bellerive

60

the hill

Olivia· ..ryes A

other night, o any uld h to rny room wo ave taken the way . driver an hour 'th a grunung wi d tests rny unscheduled stop. who e 0

this crisp night, £ • ss and warm 1or January breez ele ' i choose to walk across train tracks and strangers' glares.

on

unsure if shadows with drunken lust will follow while i pass, i trample through unmowed grass and gravel caked with mud, gripping my sharpened pencil ready for puncture. i look up, the full moon hides behind black clouds,

but i continue down the hill of a closed-off street, lined with naked branches, bushes full of beer cans and condoms and a broken bicycle chain. i had noticed it one blue morning when shadows harm less Walking up the hill ' reco · · ' gniz1t1g the aqua plastic around the chain that tnat h d c e my stolen 10-speed.

the str

li

eet ght fli k s c er, g hin shadows

castin t .

th

at follow

?1~

i see the b down the hill. uilding now,

Hr/k1i1'1'

61

intense light shining for safety.

my shadows disappear, and i search for the mo on again. it punctures the clouds, a dark blue radiance wit h its ow n shadow .

Bellerive

62

]('f{rey Il'?i/lia111 JJerh111c11111

\'\/ells ton S taci.o n a t ] p.n 1.

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\,Jis.ry r~arian

Trains '\[/e have a histor y \Vi.th trains. They ha\-e been a part of fan1.il y legend for as long as I ca~ remem ber. \X'hen I was a little girl, l spent ·large parts of every summ er with my grand paren ts who lived an hour away.

Every night my grand ma and I \Vould watch musicals while my grand pa sat in another room doing whate ver it is that grand pas do. 1 would walk clown the hall of my grand paren ts' house and find my grand pa, Archi e, fiddlin g \vi.th model trains and smoki ng a fat cigar. He'd be leaning over a plywood table he'd made himself. Trains would chug and whistle by as 1 opene d the door. He always stubb ed out his cigar and waved away the smoke my grandma preten ded not to notice. He'd look up at me, and all 1 could focus on would be the shinin g mode l trains that whizzed by lookin g like they were fresh from the box. He painte d and repaired them, and they never looke d anyth ing like the trains that ran throug h my home town.

I never quite conne cted them to the reality that I saw at home everyd ay. I saw this scene of my grand pa tinkering with trains every night of every summer for more than a decade before I knew where his fascination came from.

My grand ma tucked me in at night and told me stories. She sat on my bed and told me a differ ent story every night. Every once in a while, I asked her to tell me somet hing true. She sat and told me stories about her childhood during the Depre ssion. She told me about growi ng up in an old depot on Rentc hler Statio n Road. The trains rarely ran there, so she and her nine siblings would run down the hill and swim in the trenches beside the tracks after the rains came down heavily. \"'\,'hen their father would go into a rage, they hid in the trench es waiting for their mothe r to fend him off. My grand ma share d her memo ries of the trains fondly. She seemed nostalgic and got teary-eyed as all grand mas do when recalling a youth that seems so distan t. She never told me those stories in front of my grandpa.

She waited until I went to bed and curled up under the quilts she'd made herself. I suppo se she knew that the mode ls were his way of dealin g with things . .

My great- grand paren ts starte d it. Archie's father died leaving l~im to accep t a stepfa ther when he was still yow1g. We all heard this story 10 pieces over the years. Archi e was marri ed when his stepfa ther took lu,s . anoth er '- . o t· t·l1e-1n. sat mother, .Alma, and 111 rhe woma n for an.d e. T'l1c tnree ~ , front seat of his car and h eaded out. No o ne in our fam:Lly was eyer qwtt Bellerive

64

. bu t we kn. ew th ev_, ne Ve r go t there. . ,.e re gorn g, , . hi e rhe} ~ de stl na oo n, thenJ we re t 6 y a tt· . . Th e resr I eJ th co · ·ay , h .r 11e . \\, , O t e \,• atu t \V e he ar d is th at all the y found 0 f ,vrc 11 l v le ge nd . W lia .

-~ -; ., ff of t,uLW ,.ith he r pu rs.e still att ac he d to it · N o on e kne. I10 ww . c,he sCU her afu.....,,. wl· JS eve t ~d en sa id th at sh e w as, so pr be d s ao ha w it t bu s wa . n e ,q ~ "v~ s · ma 0 . . . o ' e th wo car an d e th g m r~ tra pm g ca 1.n es om m nc fro r . ·. r}ie 0the! . dm ot he , ar h ily. ac-gratl Jong ag o, m y s1s fam r ou te r dt d an in te rn et se on · c · .. mf gre Not toO I le ab ou t th e train a cc1'd enc. t tu rn ed . she fo un d wa s an' ar. tic . he r worn an. I t was a g . onlY th111·ro e wa sn t Ju st this on e ot er Th . ng e 1b. we were w . o~t fi h, an d tra ve.led_ to their fav e 1s mg spot. r ca e th m de ro all . out le. Th ey ties an d Th is was in the early six ' . . cs .fi ea sp e th 00 t ou ab . ·th 1: c P . 1 calked ati on ali sm . It described e cusns se ~~e d ne do an ab t no alism ha d ~ . . e really peculiar thi. ng wa .

Th rint ,ourn . wn ro th re we es di . m the ca r th e bo p ees c.. several ran u.o r sack ~o kl in g $927 and ga su a s wa e rs pu 's ma Af ter the mone y. In Al ca rry mg so mu ch money. s wa e sh y wh ew kn e r rings. At first no on a was ca rry in g he r and he m Al at th t ou d un fo fo r an investigation th ey eir de ath s with th e fees th to led ve tra ey Th husband's burial money. r sa ck in th ei r laps. their burial sitting in a su ga m th en on . pr es en ce in ou r lives fro in rta ce a d ne ai nt ai m The trains ars old. We ville wh en I was fo ur ye lle Be m fro c tu at Sh to to wn .

My family moved us e on the ma in str ee t in ho n tio ta an pl ed rm fo d moved into a large, re ee t fro m a se t of ra ilr oa str e th ss ro ac t sa e us on ly The white, two-story ho tracks themselves we re e th le hi W l. hil sy as gr tracks hidden by a large, s low, the trains could be wa t cu to d se fu re er th fa visible when the gr as s m y ch ild ho od sh oo k th e walls of my ey Th y. da a es tim en seen at least sev he ar th e d m ad e it im po ss ib le to . an lls wa e th f of s re ctu , my pa re nt s at JUSt th e home, knocked pi th wi d ha .

I ts televis.ion · Th e trams ra n th ro ug h .figh , · m e fro m sa yi ng th in gs I wo ul d lat er re gr et. nght tune ' st ~ppm g e town. ve ry fe w ch ild re n in th of e re th re st we I d an e l\tiuench With My si ers ter s an d I be fri en de d th Th sis y m m fro se oo ch to · fatni] no one else e ' ne a little uneasy. yo er ev e ad m Ydown .the ce oi str ch is Th t. ee .

Muench f: Th ey were at h th e re st of us. ne be ff ed er id ns co s Wa · a ).-1orrn 0 anii]~ dse clo e Th . ist pt Ba ns While everyon e els e wa s Ca th ol ic or h cri.lll.tnu , pl e of w at we am ex an be to nt ea m th ~ ~ Th ey we re use. _shouJc.1.n ,t be, Th e.rn ap ar t. sm all tw o- be dr oo m tlho a d an n re ild ch n ee irt d ey had th fhe Muen ch re ferre to as 1e ne yo er ev at o th dr n es va ge od Muerich nlobil ve a 70s D ro ss th e t van an d drive ac e th to in ds ki e · h d1 h all _They'd pa ck · 'wtacks tow.at d e. ,oh t eir ou se s of r ou e fil d . ul b wo .. ne ate}, :. to wn s·. , an d pe op Ie '1.UJ.g and sbaoJtii or in g. .

1 in di sa pp ro val. ta fvfy sister s . g t.h e1r he ad s s we re nice, so we sp en he nc ue .M e th t gh ou th an d I Ll

Be l/ m'tlf

65

f rime w-irh them. \X'e'd build snow forts in the fields in the winter

!rdoplay baseba ll~ the _front yard of the Baptist church in t~e summer. ere three girls nght around the ages of me and mv sisters. Sarah Th ere W · , Kathryn, and Izzy were some of our best friends at that age. Every night we came home from school and droppe d our bags on the living room floor. We ran out the door and grabbed our bikes. ~1y sisters and I rode to the Muenches' house, and they followed us to the tracks. \Y./e rode bikes together until the streetlights came on and we were told to come in and do our homework. We loved summe rs because the sun went down later, and we could ride longer into the night.

Izzy rode alone a lot more than the rest of us. She was too young for the town-wide baseball game, and we could be mean. \Y/e told her she was too little to be with us. We were growing up and wanted to separate from those we felt held us back. Her family had seen her ride off alone so much that no one though t anything when she left for the last time.

She rode Kathryn's bike up the street, passed our house and came to the railroad tracks a hundre d feet from our door. I can't be sure what happened next. I was told she got her shoelace wrappe d around the pedal and the bike tire caught in the tracks, although that all seems a little too convenient. It doesn't really matter. It was only a few minutes before a train came and took Izzy away.

My mom, my sisters, and I came home to a train stopped on the tracks. We couldn' t get across town to our house. The lady who worked at the post office stopped to tell us what had happened. Of course, I didn't hear this. She'd pulled my mom out of the car, and I walked up to the tracks while the lady was talking. I walked up to the tracks and saw why we were stopped . I saw Izzy's body. I was standing on the hill above the tracks and saw her body lying on its side. From the front she looked perfectly normal, but the back half of her body was missing. I only looked for a second before my mom realized I'd run off and snatched me up.

The train was stuck that way for hours while various people cleaned up the scene. We all drove over to our neighbo rs' house. \X!hen we showed up, the whole town was there. Well, at least the half that happened to be on that side of the tracks. We all waited for the tracks to clear an<l everyone to go home. l sat on the floor in our neighbors' livi~g room petting their cat and overhearing town comme ntar y on tfa.· lives of the Mr,rmons that let th eir daughter get hit hy a trnjn _ I heard people saying that i-h c:y were obviously bad parents tn let something like rhis happen. Anoth er woman vowed to c tlJ t.h c Dcpartnwnt of Children 1111d Famil Y,Ser v1·ces. People , · pn GJJeJ Lh etn we If·,11T parents . ' I'I H' Vrt,rn,·1r-ked · th em having thirteen children .

All of this was 1111 <: rspcrscd wit:h rh,it Be!!enve

t of my head B een th . . po ssi ble to ge t it ou . etw I d e Judgments b y.

I ck 1111 s tra wa the saw o ' r he ld cou I saw I s. t . ge- · bbors, n t wait to get 1J11a n. tow ss cro to nt wa n't did g nei f J11Y tra ck s. I co uld n't or Would n,t cross th 1 ooJ1le, but I afraid of the . f em , d kill and l1 ere wh s no wa I o h me I kn .,,1n wou1 co me ou t ow ew ·. c ~ n mi hel tl · k a u~sys an overw d ha I d. rke wo tem y .

Izz t tha didn't 1111 g 1eeling ' did I k to ost l gh r traU he e hol . those rrac s. n t wa nt get me. For months thew th t Id all over and g I Ilg flt1 hall ze up · 0 co ry time I ca me ne ar em , I fro was . that eve ou gh the d oor, up the stairs thr d lle rre ba I e. us ho my to after . h t back h stra1g rs. My .mo the r said no thin g,. s e assumed ve co the r de un f sel my d . ran . d burte g me ac t so weird. kin ma ef gri rny an . de for ·r was iust e was talking. It was fourth gra 1 I went to sch oo l an d ev ery on eral and such. J went to class e. wa s ou t for the fun Sh . ryn . ath me an d K d things like, he r beh1~d he r back. Kids sai t ~u a~ g kin tal ple peo rd hea and ls like it's athryn s bike" and "I bet she fee !<C g 1n nd ly ual act s wa she rd "I hea de fun sympathy; kids in ou r grade ma ed ow sh s kid er old stly Mo her fault." ut this to add to it. I never said tho wi gh ou en ird we s wa e of Kathryn. Sh all, I saw rt of an outcast anyway. After anything. I just listened. I wa s so her body. ask me questions. "What did it After a while pe op le sta rte d to for jus t ignored them. I wasn' t up y all usu I " ss? gro it as "W look like?" ited for s trying so hard to forget. I wa the retrieval of the me mo rie s I wa never came sit in silence with her. But she Kathryn to get back, so I co uld in the oo l year. I sat in the hallway and sch the of t res the ited wa I . back s at sch oo l the next year. She wa up ed ow sh yn thr Ka ne. alo playground ic of ways, an d Izzy was rarely the top held back. Kathryn an d I pa rte d conversation. re any of their siblings for mo h · h I haven't seen Ka thr yn ' Sa rah or cl · g ig · than five years. We all we nt ou r sep ara te ways somettme urm them. Ru mo r has it that Sarah t ou ab ing yth an ard he t en' · th e sa me school, and I hav · gm till Iivm Went to• Bri"boh am Yo un g Un ive rsi ty an d Ka thr yn is s · t · agi·ne her hou ' im JUS · can I ttu s.

Sha ter 1n se . c wi th he r bro the rs an d sis alki W ng to those track s ag ain an d again. e th gh T rid e on . k ou n eve ms tra for of As fi s Tr rn -es me, I am still a little afr aid • fiOr cla' sse ive day8 ·· ~ · · city rw e th eek aW train int o l1'J. a e rid I . day a ice rhc a e o f , .. . e nea tly st sid h ·· ,· . pi nn :ho ur t 0 travel fro m my ho me on t eI ea. ¾sst · rhr first c,11 · 111 ssip . to h ., . . ( )n 111 ,•. er •~IV Sit lieca s1.de. st we e th n o l oo sch er c,11 :-;. r my o c ti · 1 rid ~se sec uri·ty see m ·f l ., Jl1 es do iin e ln tha t t sen n : pre c,·i re nes o m ho s i I . to sch l Ir d h ,· P Oo I wear 1eac. akr . ave n0 sk mu tn to agl ten cng lis d me an ea ' . batt · s to , rn erie gh t gu ard m e fro m tho se wh o mi Hdl flfrr

67

. gless or uncomfo rtable conversa titms. l ride this trnn knowing th.n -. .

• . ' . . , more power than 1 do. Because of this, I tear n . l d o not tempt \t tt 11.1s ·t ,·1e ,,. ., ,, t·he orhers do, others who do not know irs history · Most people l know hate the trnins n.nd the delay-s they c.:mse, People don't respect them. T'hey cross the tracks as the h a.rs go down n.nd ph1y that game, the one where ,you park your c u 0~1 the trncks, and n ghost is supposed to move 1t. I do n t do these thm~. \Vhen l :un with som eon(' who does, I smack and kick unttl th ey put the car in morio n . 1\ -t' seen people sitting next to them or walking alongsid e their tracks not kn owing rhat they could easily be pulled undernea th. They acr like they ~re just ;mother machine like the millions of others that invade our lives everyday.

I still live near railroad tracks. My family has moYed four times since we lived in that house in Shattuc. And everv time w e h :n-e mm·ed near railroad tracks. I can't seem to get aw,1y from them . lt's ha.rd for me to sleep without the sound of trllils running through the house. 1 guess it's a little morbid, but 1 am glad. I like to know what's coming.

01 ea11111

\ V (L

.

•

0

,I

lid/ni r•c

Jeffrey William Pechmann

A Memory for Mrs. Neal

I WO

uld like to have heard your faithful prayer . th b lue bulb on as I turned th e menorah 's six

that night I believed such moments transformational.

Br/lflfrr

69

Katt' Drokt

Love Appoint ment We're penciled in for 3:30 Life can sit in the waiting room And read old magazines It can wait Let's not peer through the glass and watch it We'll lock the door.

Bellerive

70

Sarah ,fiddendo,j

Sur la Seine, Paris

Bellmve 71

s u1n1ner / summe r undres ses a culture for wind, the body o f us has c ntrcat·cd the summer w ith sweat-o bliging us it fastens a gleam to our skin like moonlight in wineglasses: our stink

is only a penance for having galloped (though there is no sin in it and our sweat wants nothing and we give our sweat to it) the hot can flower a spring; summer it is listening like a dog beside our lovema kingit is jealous of our blood which loves us

72

7 O!ivia ~e s

still breathe vapors of tea while i press fingers temple.

00 your clockwise, then counter.

lay gray burdens do wn and wrap me aro un d your memones. veiled deep, still

pounding. close almond eyelids and melt into he at of slow friction. deeper, yet silent. speak

through op en lips While silence wh isp ers vapors of time. clockwise

Still

'

counting.

Bellerive 73

Ha!}t1stin Price Carlisle

Flotando*

Esroy aqui perdido, donde me dejaste En medio de olas y torrentes, De bajo de! sol que me esr-,1 quemando.

Sigo aqui tlorondo, donde me dejaste Con los pedazos fracturados del amor Que compartiamos, y los agarro, Apretandolos a mi pecho.

Era tu cnamorado, Ahora abandonado, Luchando para respira.r, Suspirando, cayendo, A.I fin quit.ado Del deseo de vivir. cD6nde escis ahora? i:Duennes tambien sola?

Quiero oir la musica de ru voz, Pero no permito que me mires asi, Vestido de tristeza En la sombra de la perdicion Del alma.

Deiame solo una vez, No me vuelvas a ver, No me vuelvas a amar, Porque la primera vez Mc cost6 demasiado .Mc doli6 clemasia<lo: Prefierr, luchar con las olas 0ue ',e1,11,1ir enarnorado contigo. ~,go ar.1u1 flor.ando Dcmdc me dcjas rc. ·(

•'Tl ·· · s , ,,11 1.~·h bt'CiJll~ 1. e xtatf of Bellerive decidtd to include Flotando only in · ,hn dP ocit the auth or tntenc · ·J . . . . p, rhnst. '" cd it to be rend m that languaJ.!;C. or · -:" . 11ish i11f t·r know Sr>, · 'h .

• I crn 1n ~ng I· ,. r anis > we havt included a summn.ry of tie po I 1 u:1gc. t it I t 1e aurh · ' l ' . · h 1hc nng .

1Jr s >iography. Due to layout constrntnts wH font st11le j8 d'ff. _ .

1 erenr ·, for this poem.

!·

Htlltrive

74

Kate Drolet

Hurricane The storm was rough with rain that fell like lead and wind that gasped and stuttered so harshly

But the lake grew still and serene the air now fresh and clear the grass lies calm, no longer ruffled the dirt, though battered, refreshed My good cry has passed.

75

BellnitJC

L

◄

Cttiirr jtJt<jllfl

LoYe Song of the Spanish Inquisition 1 k,w )"L)U witl1 d1e might and main 11rnr sinks the greatest ships; I lc)\-e mu with the mortal pain

Th:u parrs the rightest lips~ I lon: you with the desperate force That marks a dying hour; All loYe is torture and remorseIt shall my soul devour.

Julie Creech

Death and the Personal Pronoun Before he left me a poem composed of every form he could find of himself hegave and I knew at once he would never return.

For was it not he who had lately explained the significance of personal pronouns in poetry?

Each slashing 'I' a declaration of despair and 'me' the lament of the lost. ..

So like him to leave a suicide note that no one else would understand.

77

Hrlf,,,i,·,·

A CiYilization A::,-kew

78

RobertM· B'· tlSS

Correspondence }Iis letters survive, Aged and yello~ed, to tell us These several thmgs: At school and college he learned Classics: Well enough for allusions about virtue; And Shakespeare: Well enough for quotations about fate; And Scott: Well enough to know who he was fighting, When the civil war came.

But he learned more from the "Spirit of the Age." In 1857 "a lady of St. Louis" came to his college and "showed that woman, Possessing the same powers, the same qualities, As man, Longed for individuality."

She should have it.

So he for himself when, the next year, "The temperance fever rages with the greatest violence."

Emersonian from the first, he wouldn't sign up. .

"Is my virtue," he asked his sister Mary, "only to be secured by an association?"

"I · h th · 0 f being considt is ard to refuse for a person must do so at e pnce ered odd and self righteous." .h nee chided his Mary, already fevered wit tempera , post · unng with lines from Burns: th jfrie gic us "O would some power e g ,, In her hand: thers see us.

To see ourselves as o . .

Quite so.

.

In his:

.

], lt·L•ssrd ft) ,n r ts ··

· I r1saL ...

"I suppose thts ,in · '

it not" ffr //t'fil't'

79

. d _ the river and at rhe war.

History ga\-e stro ng er 1unts, ow n G oo d riddance \.\-as hi~ ref lec uon on secess H>n. ' He \\-oul dn t at firs"t\ go. n 1 . h is that 1 had a braYer hea " rt. diffiden th-, ,i.ll "°15 Later, - · . em ula ted the old tan auc fo r who~e me mo Soon he self-conscious1y rv . _ . · . . ba, -on ets m the sam e cau se are mo vm g rnuthw "A million g1eammg .1 ard , singing as the y tread _ _ John Brown's body li~s a mo uld enn g 111 the graYe But his soul is marching on.

Trul, the world moYes."

Truly the world moved him. At wa r, see kin g a lieu ten anc y, he disc ow recl the ambition of his life: "A tirade may bec om e a small politician but no ma n can bui ld a lasting gam e on such windy words. For my ow n par t I am in my hea rt an earnest man and l think l will live to be an elo que nt ma n, yet tha t is hop ing a great deal.

To be eloquent a ma n mu st be pur e and nob le, gre at in intellect, com bin ing a lively imagination with a wa rm hea rt. I thi nk it is true. Ho w can a man utter burning words of indignation agains t crime unless he has a hig h appreci ation of virtue? I will not pan der to a dep rav ed tas te by utte rin g words in pub lic which I kno w are not wo rth listeni ng to."

He learned a terse eloquence fro m battle. \"'Vhen his friend's ramrod stuc k he helped loo sen it. Th ey adv anc ed two pac es and the oth er fell dead, "shot through the neck." Co uld n't be sim pler tha n tha t. "It is strange one take sa delight in rus hin g on against roa rin g can non and against a sto rm of ball s bur it is the case. I believe war is my ele me nt and I will only come home if proYidence smiles on me ." .

H e foun d vtr tue .

111 retr eat , fro m a bat tle generals 1ost. "FOlir entire regt-r· ments and several fragments cam · the 1.11° ~ e in wit h ban ner s flying an d m ·i\ -1111 perfect order. Th ev were led bv a the 9th I ·11 • littl e red hai red colonel of ) ) . n ttr who had fou ght his way seventy mil es and wh at was mo st hunU.l tand1i.1g~ to u h:1J neg ro den oun cer s the neg ro reg e 00 11 ·un ent s the only two on t11 e exp ". ·t e,Jn1 protected the rear and fou ght the ~ f tl1 boghtet- - Jreb els O bac k.

Som e e ' e'- l,oi~rc · \)les O f h ero1sm rec ord ed in his tor y were pre sente d Th e neg ro · - l n· . · ... . r nt L :i th eu wo und ed com .. pan ion s on the ir sho uld ers and car . d thern ou ne , . c·) -eel 1he cnort _ b 0· l1 legs walk g~~-- _ ~e _who _was sho t ~ro ug h the . 11~1 calv es . ~t.. .~ 1 st ·e.\Jo~ rou.nd h1\:~ ~11 d anc e with hts gun on his sho uld er and h1~ car md g · . :i lark ,ilrl 1. ·c . an d l11s- gre . , , . errv as · at heart tnu mp hin g ove r p ain he 11 W,l$ a~ 111· · ·I•or ., 0 11Cc r11L, , ·l '-h es ai·d \1e, was pow erful sore. Bu t t h'1s 1s · - on e o f man\ . · ·

13(lk riv,-

HO

. •udice was silenced by the logic of f: of pre) . f . acts. And th the champions o an idea enjoyed . ose of been . " a tnutnph greater th us Who had rerial victory. an the g 111a reatest

''The idea" was modern: ,,1desire this union to exist in the hearts of th e people and th· done by deve1opment o f more national soci 1 Id is can only be d 1 a eas. The U . rnade the grandest eve opment of the social p . . nion may be nncip 1e the world ever saw."

For the slaves and for him, too. At war's end h . th ' e was l!1 Montgo "birthplace" of the great rebellion. mery, e

"I remarked ironically to Lt. Hay as he was speaking in tr

. . . s ong terms agamst rreatmg rebels better than our own soldiers 'That it was a part of h Pl . , S .d h 'I t e an of Reconciliatlon. a1 e want them to reconcile -me a while., so say 1 so says all the army, and the leader who does not recognize and act on that demand might as well dig his own grave. The great lesson the south must learn is the equality of men."

In Montgomery, this new politician was elected orator for his division's July 4th celebration. But first "the Declaration of Independence was read. The negroes had been excluded from the Inclosure and I felt as if the words of the Grand Declaration were a mockery here where the haters of human equality are our rulers when Just as the reader reached the words 'we hold these truths to be self evident that all men are created equal' the gates by · I felt as if a load were some means were opened and the black mass came m. taken from my heart." . b R bbie Burns's spawn, His father, who by age and origin might have een a th the had, for n li b t the son wrote a ever embraced emancipation or equa ty, u "When I get home I th fr~ed slaves both south and north, and e vote, :~ave uphill business fo~· will have to be on the liberal side although t~ey w 1865 coming-out ktte1. some time." It was penned like a confess10n, an " T . . d "Negroes.

Wice he crossed out "slaves" and sub s t1tute Wi The worl d moves..

0rds tnatter as much as wars. Things change.

, .. nf .. , 11crre1 :scve1,1 rw, . . arks are taken from .t at ~ rc1-:endrce Lwords and passages 10 quotatio n tn , a studen . ,-,0 \untccrl wa~ 1· 1s Daniel Kerr 1836-1916 written w h en he . h 117th II 1110 • ' ' dier u1 t e College and a sol

oe11e111'.

81

Kale Drolet

Self P o rt ra it

M is so ur i su m m er sk y m in s ar st g tin oo sh fi .

Lighcning bugs are a pi ct ur e of sc at t/r ed s, ke ro st ng vi lo ith w per ection rain Clouds are painted on er ov ft le d an t ea ass an d sw My night smells like gr ng rh yt hm rd, bu zz in g a ch ir pi lor on my self-porI he,u- myself in the ya os qu ito bites are co m en ev d an ts ke ic The frogs and cr . tra.It

ars , the en d of fo ur ye The night is a farewell e. w ha t ho m e feels lik But I'll always know

fld/rrifle

82

Shannon Pendleton

The Other Side of the p ence Weeds have consumed the fishing hole-th b e ench wh . h ere my as been swallowed up b sit to used I and a Y nature and . gran dp neg1ect. a had built that bench for us because it w th dp e~~ ~ ~ Yto keep up out of the mud. I remember how the sunshin h d e a bleached th , il me e d to the same s ver as Grandpa s hair. I used t o run my fingers u . . woo P down the grey pathways m the gram and he would warn me to be ' . an d careful of splinters. many evenings together on that bench, Grandpa and I spent . b fi h the shadows 1ength en as W,,;ting for the cat 1s to lte. We would watch a,.

•

•

the sun la~ down to rest behind the hills. We'd listen to the crickets singing, accomparued by the deep bass rhythm of the bullfrogs. Occasionally, a splash would s~und from across the lake-a fish turning, maybe, or a frog deciding to swim on over to the next stump. Whoever talked about the stillness of the night never spent an hour in the evening sitting beside a fishing hole. Nature has her own cacophony of sounds-the crickets and frogs; the raccoons stirring up the leaves at the edge of the woods; the mournful mooing from our old cow, Della, who was too stupid or too stubborn to come to the barn at feeding time. Grandpa and I just let the sounds wash over us, sweeping away the troubles of our day.

I didn't hear any crickets now. The bench was gone, reclaimed by nature after years of disuse. And there was no Grandpa, either, to help me tie my hook or to console me like he used to, saying, "Don't you worry, curly-girlie, there's always another fish."

The first fat drops of rain escaped from the clouds overhead and landed in my hair, forcing me to turn my wandering thoughts back to th e , present. My daughter Gemma was already halfway down the hill. nd "Mom! It's starting to rain. We better hurry up. Great-gra mas .

go1ng to yell at us if we stay outside in the rain."

a no-nonsense th d .

She was right, 'ddl . of course. My gran mo er was woman. She wouldn't understand why we were standing out m the nu .e Now JJI have to stt D . of wh amn. . . at was qwckly turning into a gully-washer. znszde d /;' hill "I'll be an " zsten to the old bat all efternoon. th d)' 1.. · You go on in Gemma " I called back down e h O use Her auea ' ' comin . th I . · g right behind you " Gemma raced toward e. p srrmgs. . · . sogg w ~ ponytail was sticking to her neck, resembling wet m~ · legs spread ate ed her as she ran. She had a lithe, quick grace. Her ong Belle,ive

83

J ccwere d the d1~tan ce fr o m hill tu ho us e in nu r,n-- ,. . .... ,'-. JI :tl.

1 :-.1 .' lung legs fro m her ta rJ1er. lll Il c'[It t:_.d h.,.r · '.._ lt d '--' l 'd brough t her here ro the farm becau se I hoped tt . , the ,va\· H had helped me when my p arents split. Ir wa~ h.uJ\\ fuuld h l · e- P ht'r 1 • . l)r me tt, ·udge how she ,vas do mg- sh e \\ .o uldn • t eYer exact!

Y o pen un I "· . . · Gemm a didn't get very em o no nal about things. She seemed· t ·tL>cc, rne be h.

1nd evervthing okay, taking eYery thing in st.ride . Sh e neYer comp hu ·d · · 1 t' - Ol)hng f even now, when I'd managed ro drag h er our of the h ouse and ger her snKk in the middl e o f a down po ur. Ir could n't be her ide,l of a fun aftern oo n.

I rook my time strolling down the hill, en jonng the feel o t· rh . . · e t,l U\ sliding down my neck and under the collar o f my shin. Grnnd pa u~ed tu love the rain. He'd spend the aftern oon in his tool shed, working on one of his invent ions. Getting 011! ~l the ho11se. a}l)qyfrom her naggi,{g.

"Ther e's a towel and a robe for you in the mudr oom,'' m~· grand ma called as soon as I opene d the screen door. "Go ahead and lay your clothe s in the sink out there. No sense in drippi ng all the way throug h the house , you know. Gemm a's up in her room puttin g on somet hing dry."

That was my grand mothe r, always practical. \X!hy clean up a mess if you could avoid makin g one in the first place? It was one of rhe ways l took after her, and it drove Gemm a crazy. Like when I'd tell her chat if she'd pick out an outfit for schoo l the night befor e, she wo uldn't end up leaving her clothe s scatte red all over her bed when she changed three times in the morni ngs. "I know, Mom ," she'd say, then roll her eyes at me and flounce up the steps in the way that twelve-year olds do. The next day would always bring the same resul t-Gem ma's roo m resem bling the debris field from a twiste r and me shaki ng my head in disb elie[ I propp ed my two old fishin g poles in the corne r behin d the door.

Maybe we'd have a chanc e to use them later on-G rand pa and I always had good luck fishing in the calm after a storm . I chang ed out of my dripping clothe s and tossed them on top of Gemm a's, then picked up rhe soggy picnic blank et she'd dropp ed on the floor and put it in the sink a~ well. I remem bered when Gran dpa added the mudr oom to the back ~ ~ th e house; Grand ma had insist ed there was no reaso n to have a big unltty s~k out here when she had a perfec tly good sink right in her kitche n. .

Grand pa h d Iist d l.1 a ene to her argum ent nodd ed his head an d t h en jnst:ille ' ·d the sink a ' h ' I ever · 0 . nyway. N ow I bet Gran dma ' could n't imagi ne what s ec \vtthout it. Not that she'd ever admit it.

I was nine years old the spring that Gran dpa built the mudro om, 1 and was mo st of the reaso n he'd built it. I'd come to live w1.rb my .

nu ( ,.111

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andparents the year before, the year my parents separated. never really wanted kids. It w , My parents had asn t really a . . h . when they split up, and 1t was even less of a surp . nse w en the surprise . Y d rne off on my grandparents. Mom was going to S F an ranc1sco to . dt.UilPe flowers in her halt. I guess no one had told her the wh 0 1 e peace-and.. . . wear . .1.;,.,g was over. Dad was high-tailing 1t north with his 1 t a est project, . . love uuii Janet, in tow. Neither one of them wanted a kid along-that would be a

gr

drag.

.

First my mom tned her parents, but her dad told her she needed to own up to her actions and. face ~e consequences-namely me. Trying to convince her parents was like trying to row up-stream in a leaky canoe 50 she called my dad's parents and poured on the waterworks. She begg:d them to take me, just for a few months until she could get on her feet.

Then she tried her best sugar-and-spice voice, telling them how she'd always loved them even more than her own parents. It was a load of hooey, and my grandparents knew it.

I remember standing by the pay phone outside the diner, holding my breath and praying my grandparents would say "yes." No way did I want to get on a bus with my mother-and I wasn't too sure she'd take me, anyway. I was only eight, but I had a keen sense that if my grandparents said "no," my mother was likely to leave me in a gas station restroom somewhere. Lucky for me, they never even hesitated. As soon as they could slip a word in between all my mother's jabber, they said "yes." An hour later I was waving goodbye to my mother from the front seat of Grandpa's rusty old Ford truck. That's when my real childhood began.

Grandpa spent my whole f1rst month on the farm teaching me all about fishing. Grandma used to remind him that I was a girl, for goodness' sake. She hated when I'd come in from the fishing hole, halfcovered in mud and smelling like bait. She used to complain bitterly about rne tracking mud through the house across her wood floors, so th e ·· spring Grandpa announced that he was going to build th e foll owmg mudroom so she wouldn't have anything to complain about. Not that she ever ran out of things to complain about. She'd had Grandpa and me, hadn't

she?

I shook off the memory as I headed into the kitchen to make in the world, b myself a cup of tea. Grandma made the best herba1 tea ags f ll . d .th her own secret u of dri d e tea leaves from Hansen's Market m1Xe wi bl t1 · better for end of d · d rte herbs and flowers. I'd never found any 1 mg ftgh . l:!ng off a chill. , 11 d from the front . ,, . , «Th lk e Waters already s1mmermg Grandm,t ca. e roon... 'd like to ta. , to . , . ''! ''Ma ke yourself a cup and then come on ID here. I Be/Je,ive 85

elf' as I g or ugh r ro m ys I tho ·. . ,'t want to talk to y ou? . . . ;r I don ,f; you. ver san on since d I'd bee n avo idin g this con Well, w.'Jat 1.J d l ' . the cup boar . t y three days ago . I t tsn t oar. to figu re out w.Luat f . mug out o I h d come to s a a ness, but when dd busi her of a7!J e wer I and e }ak that z Gemma and aabout-n ot talk to d she wante cial bag s out of the canisrer and . that ever stop her?bed one o f Gra ndm a's. spe I grab I war che d for a it. r ove er wat our ed sim me nng . my mug th en p . 10 thro ugh the color ooz ed out of the bag and spr ead b, put it moment as the rown . cu like oil spreading on water. m y hea d aro und the ing pok ed, ask "Do you want a cup?" I p dle poi nt m. Gra ndm a gla nce d up fro m her nee roo t fron e doorway to th . ver the rim of her glasses. an d eye d me O g her hea d toward din nod ed, · "I've already got some," she ans wer , tho ugh ." the end table as she said it. "Th ank you my we t tea bag in the I went back to the kitchen and tos sed lop of hon ey to m y cup and garbage under the sink, then add ed a dol w it. I just nee ded a little time to grabbed a spoon. I was stalling and I kne ryth ing to m y gra ndm oth er. I figure out how I was going to explain eve , wit h m y wh ole life a mess, and I hadn't wanted to come back her e like this at had hap pen ed. Mo stly, I jusr didn't know how to start explaining wh d I could do without a'!)' of her patented didn 't want to hear "I told you so." An

"

advice, too. t nev er put any stock in Grandma was the type of wo ma n tha k of com mo n sen se advice. nonsense. She was a virtual self-help boo r Sun day serv ice not to shake People in church used to wait aro und afte out my gra ndm a and ask for her hands with the preacher, but to search cen ter aisle afte r the last hymn opinion. She'd sit in her pew nex t to the shu ffle d tow ard the door. Every was sung, smiling and waving as peo ple and wai t for one of her brothers or S_und ay with out fail, she'd sit pat ien tly pew in fro nt of her and start sisters in Christ to slip sideways into the uld · e abo ut som e pro ble m or oth er. Gra ndm a wo 1 in ing talk voic ow a . e the n tell the person nd nod and tut- tut thro ugh the tale of wo a liScen situ atio n. Wh en .Gr and ma gave exa~tly what she would do in the sam e . th at Brother . h the sam e dig nity and aut hor tty advice' she always spo ke wit · e, I used to . serm ons . Bac k wh en I was nlll • his wh en d elivermg n used Joh . . th smartest e · be st n to h er In mu nny gra sit and liste my k thin and awe . k on. the hy In the w ld BY the time she was don e gi·ving her ta e woman d ring w or · · . · e. won and d situation th advice hea her g din nod left was -see ker t1Jlg h h ' e chea f . . . 5wgle s e adn't tho ught O f th at. Fro m bus me ss to bab ies - rotnf, evetY sp · ouses to ve ge tabl e gar den s-m y gra ndm a had a solu tion or Bellerive

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I . the First Bapti st congregaao of y bb A r ea D e th n. . . life. She wa s1 dm a co ul d sp ou t an e . 1 edia G full of nq c op bJe J11111 -un or prob em s ra n .

F 11 " . s always gr eener,, accordin Pro wa s as or gr e Th s. de g -d . rerbs an d plat:1.ru an d op en in g wm s or do s. g in ow os !es ~ pr o, cl s ay w was al uldn't fix all t1se · ..1 ..... a' and G od d c ." on de rin g why she co w UJ f aD el Gr ys 1~ un 1o I 0 my As I go t older, r er y time I ever asked Ev y._ nc t~ fic ef e m h , problems with the sa I'd just be en handed a c eesy e lik g in el fe ft le as ce I w .h . !11} dn a for advi nf uc iu s sa ys, "T ho s e w o Co ? ran 1 ry et om ge ith cookie. Tr ou bl e w theorem." g [orcune ta nd th e Pyth ag or ea n rs de un ss le am re yd uch time d , more and da irls w ho sp en d to o m '~G , ys sa a m nd ra G bies." ~:yiriend rroubles? an yt hi ng in life bu t ba ith w up d en r ve ne worrying about boys . as ki ng fo r he r advice d pe op st st ju I'd . He , lly Eventua co ul d tell him anything I . pa nd ra G ith w t out. I It was di ff er en he kn ew I'd figure it at th e m ll te en th d, syou, would just listen an d no A t least one ef us misse to. lk ta to e m r fo re to wished that he w er e he at Grandpa. up, just w ha t it was th g in ow gr as w I n he w It was ha rd to figure, to have that much in ed em se r ve ne ey Th to ge th er . ra nd pa kept my gr an dp ar en ts ec t to death, while G bj su a ry or w d ul co le Grandpa common. G ra nd m a themselves out. Whi ng ki or w of ay w a d ass. believed that things ha d ab ou t refilling the gl rie or w a m nd ra G ll, a's father, saw the glass as half-fu dp ar en ts m et Gemm an gr y m e tim st fir e d I were I re m em be r th movie . G ra nd m a an en te d ba a of t ou t gh cle, Jake. It was a sc en e ri iveway on his m ot or cy dr e th up g in rid e m ke ca orld in the garden w he n Ja like th e en d of the w ng di un so d an e tir s ba ck e in no spitting gravel fr om hi at m y face an d told m ok lo e on n ke ta e'd on two wheels. Sh th e idea in your head. t ge en ev u yo 't on m a' am . D dy uncertain terms, "N o 't tell he r th at I'd alrea dn di I " y. bo at th he re w ith eady told You are no t go in g an yw st th re e weeks. I'd alr la e th r fo nd ke ee w been seeing him ev er y "Can I Grandpa. ou t of his workshop. ad he s hi d ke po d My gr an df at he r ha , sir." help you, young m an ?" talk to you ab ou t Sara to re he I'm n, ea m "Yes, sir. I ." tte r ju st co m e on in My hearu]t "Well, th en . Y ou 'd be in pp ea r to the shedk. in late J Y· sa di ke Ja d an pa nd rd Watched G ra B ra nch Cree as y dr as t ou ab ·,J; as Wa s pou nUJ11g an d m y th ro at w ' t going to pull en ar ds ee "Wh at are yo u w ai tin g for? Th es e w h th e t m fro ed eniselve s,,, G ra nd m a sn ap pe d at me. rg 'd d e em • es ha· d go ne by be fo re th ey T enry m in ut d . the gr ou nd an W sh d ymg u st as e . I tri ~d to ca tc h J ake's eye, bu t he w n fli uf sh g his feet n er vo usly.

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J

p

◄ "H 1,, Grandpa said, "this young man here is named J k aze , th , ac son .· . d him to supper. I'm sure ere 11 be plenty of fo 0 d .: , d I've 111v1te , .

1or 0 an . d 't mind. I expect we 11 be heanng a lot about i..:_~ f ne more if you on .

J.UIU rorn ' dd hter so we may as well get to know him ourselves " Th our gran aug ' d . · at . bout Grandpa-he never ma ea Judgment about was the tlung a , anyone until he'd given them a chance to prov~ themselves: Id already told hirn e last time we'd gone fishing. I told him there was a bo I about J ake th Y d that he was smart and funny and rode a motorcycle and I was really like , , him· Gran dpa sure Gran dma would have a cow when she found out about . had suggested that I invite Jake out to meet them and things would work 0~

.

Supper that night was an awkward affair. Jake practically tripped over himself trying to win my grandma's approval. He'd complimented her cooking, her hair, and her home. She'd pretended to ignore him, but she whispered to me as we cleared the table to beware of a silver-tongued devil.

Grandpa was easier to win over. He recognized the look in my eye whenever I talked about Jake. I guess he just figured that trying to stop the two of us from being together would be about as effective as trying to dam up a stream with a single bag of sand. Anyway, Jake and I were inseparable by that fall; Grandpa had accepted the situation with good humor. Grandpa and I didn't fish quite as often, and sometimes when we fished Jake came along. Grandpa never acted like he minded, but I could tell sometimes he missed having time for just the two of us.

My grandmother never cared for Jake and never had a problem telling me so. His name was never Jake when she talked about him-he was that no-account boy, that hoodlum, that mangy-headed devil. On my wedding day, I'd smiled at Grandma in the mirror as she fixed my veil.

She'd kissed my cheek and smiled at me, and I thought maybe everything would be okay. Then I'd overheard her in the hallway talking to her friend May. "Honestly, I don't know what that girl is thinking, throwing her life away for a boy who doesn't have the common sense God gave him. I guess she'll juS t have to learn this lesson the hard way." ~ow here I was, standing in my grandma's kitchen thirteen years 1 _at~r,htrying to figu _ re out a way to tell her she'd been right all along. A nd zsn ts e;ust r. : Ii . f, G'ra d · going to ,ove hearing it? As if she hasn't alreacjy got it figured ottf-JiJt/..7 n tpa gone there wou!i I 't b d ther choice. It · ,_,.k ,c.n e a'!Y reason for me to come here unless I ha no O . . zsn t tz e the two 0 r , . fi .•a virzt.

"S 'J us got atong well enough for me to ;ust come 01 · ara, dear are y O k . in here, would you?" ' ou ay? Is your tea ready yet? Come on Bellerive

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ht for a momen t about making some I cl10Ug . excuse. I could t dressed and JUSt not come back down · 5 to ge · 1t was a tern ·go upstal! . tead I squared my should ers and pulled m b . Pt1ng but ws idea, For goodness , sa k e, I'm th.zrry-one years old I thY ro he a little tigh ter und me. . ' oug t to myself ar0 what

she thinks? . "I . k lf ho cares"I'm coming , answer e d , as I pie

·

ed up my tea.

Grandm a laid her needle work aside as I settled m lf . on the end fa I'd always hated this couch. When I was littlyse I of the so . . e a1ways felt like climb up on 1t. Even now, as an adult my feet barel h d to I had ' Y reac e the floor. 1 curled my legs up undern eath of me and pulled the e dge o f my be down over my toes. ro "Jake called," Grand ma said.

50 much for beating around the bush. I stared down at the hardwo od floor and waited.

"I told him you were fine, that you and Gemm a were outside. I cold him you would call him when you came in."

"Sure. I'll call him later, after supper. I'd rather wait until Gemma is in bed."

"If you think that's best ... "

No, I don't think that's best- I think the best thing would be if I never had to speak to Jake again. "It's just easier that way. I'm sure we'll say things that Gemma doesn't need to hear."

"Gemm a's not nai:ve. She'll have a lot of questio ns."

"Gemm a already has a lot of questio ns, and none of them are ones I have the answer s to just yet."

We sat in silence for a few minute s. I turned and looked out the window. The rain was sliding down the glass, giving the world outside a wavy appearance.

"Grand pa loved days like this-h e loved the rain."

"Yes he did " Gra~dm a s~ed up at the picture on the mantle. Gra ndPa smiled back at her, and she studied him for a momen t. ''Y . t he could waste our grandfa ther loved the rain becaus e 1t mean . away an f . . k . on this or that.

N a ternoon out in that worksh op of his, till enng one of th . . " at stuff ever amoun ted to anythm g. . _. I 1 I thought 1 Sh . rett)' muc 1 , tg ' l about that for a momen t. e was P · . . .I a )<iut one h. ~ . . ·h lied it. He'd lll\' L'ntt:c a Pol h t ing- (7randp a loved to tmker, as s e ca d . _ le ._ vo11 e olde h .

I ·I ing ro s s1mp , . 0 . did , r t at made ca rryin g two o r t iree fj.ts, , I v 1 ,nadc nt have t O · r\ •d up C,nllH I • our b worry about getting your Im es rnng c · . .·11 0 11 when ench to ~ \Ve fi h out there in hi s wo rk sh o p- the benc h we, 11scd · , r dug dnwn ls ed. H 'd , . her ua rdcn t 11,1 10 e made Grandm a a tool ro use r-, Jl tf/r,it'I'

89

into the earth and pulled dandelions up with their

long tapr oot attached.

"I wouldn't say none of that stu~f amo unted to anyt hing. He made you that dandelion cool, remember~ And our pole tote? He mad that. He made a lot of things out ther e tha t we used ." e "I guess he did. And that dandelio?, digger sure cam e in handy, didn't it? We had a lot less weeds after that. ''Yep, and a lot less dandelion wine, roo."

It was an old joke between the three of us. Grandpa always joked how he was trying to grow enough dandelio ns that we could harv est them for a cash crop and bottle our own wine out of them . He'd e--,-en tried to make some wine once, but even after mon ths and mon ths of aging in the fruit cellar, the brew never tasted drinkable. T he next spring he'd inYented the dandelion digger.

Grandma smiled, then shook her head at the mem ory.

We enjoyed a comfortable silence, each of us lost in our own thou ghts.

"Sara, do you want to talk to me abou t wha t's happ ened between you and Jake? I'd like to help you."

"What's to tell? You were right, marrying Jake was a mistake. I was young and I thought I knew wha t I was doing.

As it turn s out, you were smarter than I gave you credit for." The re-I 've said ivhat she 1vants to hear. Let her gloat and get it over w#h.

"You were young and in love. You had a baby on the way. You did what you thought was best."

I stared at my grandmother, waiting for her to drop the other shoe.

"I guess you were expecting 'I told you so?"' She look ed at me over the rim of her cup, then set the tea asid e and reached for her needlepoint.

"You and Jake were mea nt to be. I believe that beca use Gemma is proof. However the two of you end up, you came toge ther in the first place because you loved each other. I never dou bted that." ''You're right, we did love each other. And whe n we got married I th~ught we were always goin g to love each other.

We were going to be ~lissfully hap py- a perfect, happ y family. We were goin g to have a cute little house, with a perfect little yard and daisies that bloo med in the summer iu st like yours do. I just thou ght that Jake and I would be toge th er forever."

"You 1 . a ways did have your head in the clouds and your · feet six inches off the g d h a .

• , .. roun w ere Jake was conc erne d. Sara, marriag e 1sn t lways d~1s1es and sunshine and happ y days."

1

know that, Gra ndm othe r. I've been mar ried for thirt

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een

. have manag ed to learn that much in ail thi s tune " ·ears- I .· "Good. Then you've learned half of what lite is : all abou t·" .k I rolled my eyes an d pie ed up my tea · Thi s was more lik · e H-no t . the "I told you so" I'd been anticipating , but a sermon non th gwte e e1ess.

"Sara, do you remem ber the first time your gran dfather and I . " cycle;> motor his on out you take Jake let • agree d to that 1·t recall I too. fit, a d pitche You "I sure do. was Grandpa who . . . stood 1n .the corner shaking your head · Just You 1t. to agreed ally , ac tu , telling the three of us that wed regret it."

"Well, I was worried, I'll admit that. But do you remember how your grandfather got me to agree?"

"Ho:v could I forget'. I've never seen anything so funny in my with life-Jake riding down the driveway and heading down the bluff road Grandpa on the back! He said he'd check things out first and make sure Jake knew what he was doing and drove safely before I could go riding on with him. Do you remem ber the look on Jake's face when Grandpa put the extra helmet?"

'1ake looked like he'd eaten something that didn't agree with him-h e turned red, then purpl e, then green . Only a young man in love to would suffer carting an old coot like your grandfather around in order earn the right to take his girlfriend for a ride."

"I guess you're right about that. It certainly wasn't what Jake expected when Grand pa said he'd get you to agree to let me ride that

thing."

"Well, it's exactly what I would have expected. Your grandfather always did want a motor cycle ."

I looked over at my grand moth er with one brow raised. .

"I can't imagine Gran dpa with a motor cycle."

"Me neither, but he always wante d one. It just about broke his heart when Jake sold his and boug ht that old truck instead."

I took a sip of my tea and conte mplat ed an image of my back granclfather roaring down Main Stree t with my grand mothe r on rhe of a bike. I couldn't even think about it witho ut laughing out l~u~.

~alt- . ll "You and Grand pa would have made quite the biker l11s overa s. in dpa . . .

"V gran your and apron my m d-me mdee res, Bad t0 h b h. " side . . t e one, right? No wond er you're laug mg. om Thts a was h .

I studied my grand moth er from across t e ro ·she 11a dn't been f d . d why k d at me with o her th t I'd ere won I e. befor seen really never a th·1 · s easy t 0 ta lk to all those years I was growm g up. She Joo e a sad srnil e. ''It's nice, isn't it, being able to talk like th is?"

L

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ise d, that's all." a mo me nt. "I 'm a litt le su rpr • mg no t to ior try ly, tab or sidered th at mf co un d the ro om un d I co n ' . . we d tal ke d tog eth er' We bo th glance It aro ha d be en a lon g tun e sm ce r un ea sy truce. h other's eyes. an yth ing to br ea k ou·th say to ot . · meet eac bo th rrybmg n the bu ffe r be tw ee n us, an d W1 ou t him we re we an d we ha d always ee n d he r thr oa t an d glanced d a tal Gr an dm a finally cle are G ran P_ grated like me ta1 on me . ha t ha pp en ed ?" ke are ov er? . W Ja d an u yo . re su u . over at m e.ara, are yo us t on e thing "5 -J up en pil ing be ve ha s ng thi ess gu I .

"I do n't know mo ne y, ab ou t Ge mm a, We've always fou gh t, ab ou t er on top o f an o th • 'd fight the n we 'd ma ke up. Th en we 'd fig ht again w'e , _ have abou t ever ything• w, it ta ~ g at all. Th at should qu t ju~ he y da e on e~ Th . and make up ed of t I JUSt fig ure d he wa s as ttr bu g, din en re we s ng thi t been my clue tha . I was so a rel ief no t to arg ue an ym ore ch su s wa It s. wa I as ng hti the fig called ng ! W ed ne sd ay ev en ing he mi co d en the see en ev n't stu pi d- I did ht we me an ym or e, tha t he tho ug ho ng mi co be 'd he nk thi and said he did n't needed a break." we re in so mu ch tro ub le. " u yo of o tw the a ide no d "I ha uld d ab ou t it. Yo u sai d thi s wo "Well, do n't so un d so su rpr ise d Ja ke -y ou Yo u ne ve r ro ot ed fo r me an ! day ing dd we my on ht rig ha pp en right." ne ve r ma ke it, an d yo u we re 'd we d sai ays alw u Yo ! fail wanted us to of res en tm en t ca me po uri ng ars ye en rte thi d, rte sta re On ce the wo rds we e it to her. out. lf she wants the truth, I 'II giv sh ran k ba ck in he r ch air as d an ite wh d ne tur er oth dm My gr an e rea ch ed for w. He r ha nd tre mb led as sh blo a ing ck du re we she h ug tho he r needlepoint. r me . Yo u'r e rig ht; I wa sn 't eve of t tha ht ug tho u yo a ide "I ha d no ca us e I did n't love you or be 't sn wa it t Bu e.

Jak d an v~ry, supportive of you you to ng s wo rk. I jus t did n't wa nt thi ke ma to u yo of o tw the didn t want de ." make the same mistakes I'd ma n of my gr an df ath er again, the o ot ph the at up d ke loo e . Sh fi wo nd erf ul boy. He co ntlnued · "Sara, wh en I was 1fteen I me t the mo st st girl in the made me laugh · W h en h e ki sse d me I felt like the luc kie 1 en I was on Y wh · ed 1 rri h ma t go ad we he d s an wa e, I nl rld. wo ov er ee s m lov . we O Y l, oo 1 sch . t ou ab I ch n mu he W so n sixtee was a gir we did n't wo rry d. w b . yo ur an te to ge t· ma rri ed an d h ave ab1es an d hu sb an ds . I ma rri.ed b th : ndf gra e to I ing go I ays ab s aJw wa re I we d an a er, . re tha t we su Y ute so d together , an in love' an·d· h appy. S ou nd s fanuliar, do es n't it? " 1o,red "B ut you an d G rancIpa 111ere always tog eth er, an d he always yo u." had ver ' ne I "'7 d an I r, he I fat e. nd tru a gr t's ur tha s, yo 1.e · a ways lov ed i:

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to dou bt that he love d me. But vou aren 't th re,1::-on e onh- one ·h . ed of holding eYer ythi.ng toge ther-. Yo ur grand · ~ o eYer got nr " pa and Jake had a lot . common .

ID 1 got up from the cou ch and walked over t th dpar ents ' fo rrv-fifth anru. versarv portrait sat 0 e mantle ~1 in fr gran . · ~ Y ..

On the left was ID) grad uau.on pho .to. O n the . a ame 1Il the center ngh t was a .

- . picture ot Jake d me on our we dding d ay. T h e two pho tos o f an me h cl b . . . a een take three week s apart. In my wed ding pict ure my gran dfather and J k n onh·. . a e are nding close toge ther an d 1aug hing at the cam sta era. I'm ~: 1:_ .

Su.w .mg up at Jake with my heart m my eyes, and my gran dmo ther dour as e,·er · . kin. ' , l S 100 me with an expr ession o f co nce rn o n her g at face .

"If you wer e unh app y all thos e years with Gra ndp a, why did you stay.~" "Because I cou ldn' t ima gine my life with out him being part of it."

"Th en why are you trying to mak e things soun d so bad now that hes, gone.~" She stoo d up and wal ked tow ard me. "Th at's not what I'm trying to do. I loved you r gran dfat her." ''You love d him? My God ! All you ever did was nag him. He couldn't please you if he'd jum ped thro ugh hoo ps of fire. Neither one of us could ever do any thin g righ t arou nd you.

The way you acted, sometimes I won der if you eve r love d us at all!"

The m ome nt I said it I kne w I'd pus hed her too far. I wanted to lasso the wor ds an d pull them back , but it was too late. Her face turned as red as a child's balloon , and she sho ok with indi gnat ion.

"Do n't you dare stan d here in my hom e and say that to me. I loved your gran dfat her! But you only kno w wha t he was like with yo~ you don't kno w him the way I did! He was n't always an easy man to live with. We had prob lem s, just like eve rybo dy else . We foug ht an~ ma~e up more times than I care to thin k abo u t! You r gran dpa got to be JU~t lik~ Jak e-he didn 't argu e any mor e. He didn't argue, he juS t st0PPe d lis~e rung to me at all. It hur t that he quit trym·g to talk thin gs out, tbat he'd 1~st · ' · ignore me! But I stayed with him, and I just kep t trying to ta1k t~ himA' d even h I . . w en kne w he was n't liste rung. I stay e d b ecau se I love d him! dn as £ ·f I'd never love or you -you wou ldn' t hav e this plac e to call hom e 1 you."

d I wan ted to go to S her, to tellheh sat dow n in the cha ir, sud den ly de fl ate · . th er that I was sorry. The wor d s h ung ther e m my mou ' . on my lips. I swa llow ed. ''Grand ma I ' . . .,, d "D on't . . . " She sho ok her hea d at me and wav ed h er han ·

trernbled

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I stood there, feeling sick to my stomach-f eelin lik g e I had th h I'd b . . wh en I was rune, w en , . een careless and dropped G randma' e t1111e . favonte crystal vase. I knew Id Just broken something fragil e b etweens us, and I wanted desperately to fix it. I walked over to the window a~kwardl y-I wishe~ I could just sink between the floorboards and before it wa disappear from her sight. I had to say something s too 1ate ' . . " .

What did you mean when you said Jake and Grandpa had a 1ot· lt1 ,, common?

"I meant that both of them were dreamers -good at ide as but not at doing. How many projects did your grandfathe r start and then never get around to finishing?"

I thought about it for a while. "He finished the mudroom," I told her, as if to prove her wrong. I hadn't wanted to say it, but it was true. ''Actually, I asked Brother Frank and his son from church to come out and help your grandfath er with that because it was the only way I could be sure that we wouldn't end up with half a room on the back of the house. I did some housewor k for them while Sister Pat recovered from that back surgery, remember ? It was a fair trade."

I dug my hands down into the pockets of my robe and waited. I could sense that she was just getting started. I wasn't sure if I was going to get a sermon, but I was pretty sure I'd be getting some of her patented advice, at the very least. At least she} still talking to me.

I leaned against the window sill and looked outside. The downpour had stopped just as suddenly as it had started, leaving the petals of grandma's daisies, dressed in rain droplets that shined like sequins. ''You know, I always envied your mother."

I jerked upright and spun around to face my grandmother. Of all the things I'd expected to hear, that was definitely not on the list. My mother didn't care one damned bit about me and the old lacfy knew it. I opened my mouth to tell her to go to hell, but she went on before I cou!d spe~k. our th "I did envy your mother. She had an unhappy marriage Wl Y dad. He was just like your grandpa, flitting from one thing to the next as a firm th t something caught his attention. Your mother just didn't have , ur father a . enough grasp on him to make him buckle down. It wasn t yo respected 11er.

1 I' ·h found filed for divorce, it was your mother. For that, ve a ways 5 5 She did a lot o f things wrong, but she wasn't happ y, and at lea r . e p ' rilling to g:ivc u . ~, a way out. She loved your father a lot, but sh e wasn t \: h1111. with be t d O lf . . . defend everyt hmg she'd dreamed o f for herse rn or er 1L1 wou )'ou ]ieve b ' 1 · I . h er, apparent y.

"O r f,or me, ett can t e . t her for her to me!" 't respec . d 1 on · "I know your mother abandone d you, an d Bellerive

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d

ld leave th e wa y sh di .. •nco ncei\-a ble to me tha t she cou d and nor · Ir s 1 eve r forgiv e her' for your sak e e0 . u J do n't thi nk I'll I[ . r your father ate , o . s m y son . I kn ow you think the. y nev l c. . e\-en tho ugh he wa d etch er, r the y gave you th e bes t the y kne w ho w- th ey gave youer ove l b I wouldn' t be shuffleda P ace to rou. u P where you we re ov ed -w he re you · around all grow. u ,, (he c:une. was right b · di dn't make it Tears filled m y eyes. I kne w she ' ut It hurt any less. . · ak de ou r fair share of mis h you wit es t "Your gra nd pac and I ma . ' " ed. tter t really ma tha d ng thi any 1or nte wa er nev bur you had eve ryt hin g I wa nt ed groWJ•ng up, but ht. I had n't She was rig , . . had two people wh 0 1oved me and Id gs. thin nt rta po un st mo the had 'd .

I . ug ht abo ut Ge mm a • I wanted th e tho I ht. ng up me ng bn to t bes did their . . . he rt wa sn' t sure I could still give it to Jus I . gu-1 le litt same thing for my I wa sn' t sure we had any common rt, apa far so wn gro had I and e Jak ground left, aside fro m Ge mm a.

Jake. You have to decide for "I can 't tell you wh at to do abo ut t. Bu t you're no t going to settle yourself wh eth er to fish or cut bai . An d if it's really over, then you him to talk st lea at n't do you if anything Oth erw ise , you're no t being fair to need to decide tha t pre tty soo n.

Gemma." tha t before she went on.

She gav e me a mo me nt to digest ngs in thirteen years of marriage. ''You said you 'd lea rne d som e thi e ays sun shi ne and daisies. That's tru You learned tha t thi ngs are n't alw t. It's a lot like fishing. You just tha n tha it to re mo re's the but , enough be rew ard ed. " never know if all yo ur eff ort will wo rry, there were always more "G ran dp a use d to tell me no t to fish."

've cau ght a keeper. Remember, "Th at's tru e en ou gh -ev en if you th ect, and th e o er exp to at wh ing ow kn t no the in half the fun of fis hin g is er ge t any of the fun at all if you nev half is in the fight. Bu t yo u do n't even fish." · d ow an d put her hand .on myd ,, G ran dm a wa lke d ov er to the wm 0 Wh at ever you decide to · should er. " I ,ll hel p you ho we ver I can , Sara. .th her hand on my h w, Wl nt, mo me we sto od tog eth er like tha t for a e t sed m y cheek, the n looked out kis and er ov ned lea She er. uld s~o WJndow and smiled. · 't it?'' rig ht · · ·" 0 "G ran dm a, I'm sor ry. I had no der the bridge_ ~~,:sng me to let "N you did n't. Bu t it's wa ter un 'd 1·t as 1f w.LU.J.n ned back h tur Sh ' sat she e loo ked me rig ht in the eye asc- . ess but s e it be.

I h s. ted, wa nti ng to ask for her 1orgiven ' e 1ta

°,

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roward the ,vindo~t bef ore I cou

ld say anythmg.

•~'elL now, it loo ks like a beau tiful afte

rn oon for starting the garden . Th e groun~ sho ul? be n~ce a~d sof t aft er that s~ower, Maybe l'll take Ge mm a out with me . 1f tha t s alright wu h you? A little frt~sh air might be goo d for her." She pat ted my arm, the n walked toward the hall wav · calling upstairs to my daughter. A few mi nut es late r I watched out th~ window as the two of them hea ded across the lawn, Ge mm a Wlth a ~ho \rcl in her hand, and Gr and ma with a tray of tom ato plants.

I waited until the y disappeared together aro und the side of the tool shed, the n I hea ded upstairs.

I was halfway to my old room wh en I heard the pho ne ring.

Bel//lriiJe 96

Bellerive would like to congratulate the winners of the Pierre Laclede Honors College A\vards for E,xcellence in Writing 2004 - 2005

Bobby Meile for "Reciprocal Inquiry'' Submitted in Robert Bliss's Symposium

J.B. Carroll for "Chemistry of General Education" Submitted in Robert Bliss's Symposium

Zach Meyer for "City of Storms" Sub1nitted in Birgit N oil's Seminar

Jeanie Meyer for "Second Hand Smoke" SubmJ.tted in Nancy Gleason's Independent Study

Bobi?J Meile

Reciprocal Inquiry Mathematics and_ P~osophy-~ o branches of learning that in both their form and function Su h ear to be polar opposites . . .

• c a apP d-white relationship does not exist, though. The challenge li · black-an . es in the relevance and connection between them. Such a study needs a fin ding backdrop to work upon. This will b e provi.d ed_by s~owing my . troduction into these fields and how my previous instructors have :fluenced my thinking on these subjects. Then it is possible to see how not just my education, but General Education, affects the interplay between math and philosophy. At this point, a serious look at how these disciplines interact can commence.

Mathematics is the subject that I gravitate towards most naturally.

Therefore, my high school math teachers were important factors for my success in the subject. I had the talent and the desire to understand. They renewed, focused, inspired, sharpened, and guided this raw ability to my current level of knowledge, skill, and intuition. All five of my high school math instructors made it a social subject, both with group work in class and with an intimate relationship with the formulas, equations, and theorems. In The Math Gene, Keith Devlin asserts that a good mathematician is one who forms an intimate understanding of the relationships between symbols (261 -262). My personal interests, coupled with the activities given to me by my instructors, created this crucial bond between symbols that allows my familiarity with mathematics. This dos eness is · vital · to a deep and insightful study of mathematics · an d a1so to a stud Of · · Y 1t 1n relation to other subjects.

Knowing the relationships between mathematical ideas, however, is not .enough , especia · 11y when studying mathematics · m · re1anon · to o th er subjects I · • · · with · those relations · h'ips an · t is necessary to yearn for familianty d to grasp h . .

A wh< . t e implications generated by these connections. nyon_e . al , J desires to study deep into mathematics must b ecom e immersed 111 tts )stract l I at B, w~r1d. I n my essay "My Learning," I noted, "To get into Calcu m dlev11le W st .

•, re fo ur Ptere . . e , yo u need to b e fairl y dedicated, b ecause th ere a ~u1s1te c d' · triathei . ourses to enter th e class" (1). H ence, my de icatton ro· . · h l dev nat1cs was, partially created by my extensive htg sc~hoo \ curriculum. .

0 ted a lot 0 f · li d t conon0 lle deep .

Ume to math em atical study, so I feel ob gate · th itsetf w:r l11to e subject m atter. Or I would feel o bligated if th e_ study s not en1· bl . oya e. H owever, my extended expos ure h as intrigued my

101

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:-choladr interest. The more I know, the more I want to kn . . . . . . . ow. This teedmg cunosity gives me an advantage 1n m,- pursuit of . self. . . . re1ating math philosophv. I look for connecuons because I am mterested - th and · mere~ · transformations to both fields o f srudr ung Senior year seems like a late start when it comes to th d _ .. . . _ e sru '" of hilosophv and cnncal thinking.

H owe,·er, this was when I was · _· P . · . . gi, en a formal 1ntroduct1on to these perspecn,·es. It als o was a premature introduction to consilient knowledge, because ffi)' philosophical cour se was World History. Throughout the year the instructor, Mrs. Heddens a philosophy major with over ten years of teaching experience, paid ,special attention to the great thinkers of each time period. The emphasis was on Socrates, Confucius, and the Enlightenment rather than on dates, locations, and trivia. This class is still my chief philosophical influence. It weaved moral paradoxes and intellectual dilemmas with major historical events around the world. Its consilient nature enriched both the history and the philosophy involved and opened the door into further speculation between other subjects.

My high school experiences in mathematics and history typify the goals of General Education as a whole, even at a college level. These courses seek to enrich specific areas of study while strengthening, although sometimes inconspicuously, the ties between disciplines. In particular, many classes try to impart what E. D. Hirsch calls cultural literacy. That is "the network of information that all competent readers possess" (2).

Although Hirsch focuses on cultural literacy in reading, it also plays a vital role in every other sphere of learning. In mathematics, for example, the most basic forms of this type of literacy are the symbols for numbers, addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, along with their . applications. Without these core components as a form of cultural literacy, it is impossible to talk about mathematics as a precise method. · discuss ions .

Cultural literacy becomes even more important ill between subjects. As I said earlier, philosophy and history ~t~rconnect: many vital ways. Philosophers did not live in a vacuum; their ideas shap and were shaped by events that occurred around them. For example,.

E . . .th their ideas, __,uropean philosophers helped start the French Revolution Wl but many French philosophers also died because of the Philosop ~~ expressed. Science also defines pieces of history. If science played noth . h. . h ment e part In 1story, there would be no explanation for the Enlig ten ' ld I d t. ·, 1 . . h t the wor . n US na Revolut.1on, or the expansion of humaruty throug ou Th . h e no cause, e important events and eras across time would seem to av to becaus-e an un d erstandmg · o f scientific advances ·d · necessary and 1 eas is understand their influence. Knowing the history of science shows hoW Bel/en·ve

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. c ors like religion, either facilitated or hindered tech no1ogical . . . side iact ' c In various disciplines common ground must be found b e1ore our . . b . ogress. i:: pr Jere understanding can e gamed. Cultural literacy, in on e 1orm or difr: their· on knowledge connect that bridges the eates cornP 1erem another, er . . . . b . . aths of study.

P General Education, sm~e 1t 1~ ~ ~ed with cultural literacy, ·des concrete examples of mterdisc1plinary connections. These proVlections and their guiding principles are gateways into even more . b f . c conn Humanity's lex and relevant we s o m10rmat1on and. causation. . . . . comp wa upon the environment is a complex relationship mvolving large 5 studies. Political decisions, economic attitudes, amoyunts of alternate ecology, biology, environmenta lism, and history all have a say in how current and future actions and events form and impact everything around them. Another example of General Education's influence comes from Keith Devlin's The Math Gene. To explain the genetic, biologicai and evolutionary origins of mathematica l ability, he utilizes the fields of linguistics, genetics, biology, evolutionary theory, history, animal studies, and mathematics. The evidence crosses across discipline boundaries and strengthens the argument as a whole. This generally happens when multiple areas of expertise overlap and justify a theory (Wilson 58). With General Education, it is possible for many educated people to eventually understand such complex issues, despite the number of relationships involved. This is why newspapers are a viable source of information.

Since all of these different problems involving these different specialties can be understood connected and solved then it should not be too ' ' ' difficult to join the forces of mathematics with those of philosophy.

Now a serious look at the correlation between mathematics and P~osophy can begin. This is not a one-way relationship. Therefore, it will be helpful to look at each trend separately. Philosophy offers several merh?ds and ideas to mathematica l thought often speculates on the queSt:1ons that the more concrete sciences may not have answered.

A~th0 ugh this ruminative questioning is generally directed at the physical . sciences . . ' it gives a needed boost to all areas of learnmg. th b . Knowledge and understandin g are scant when considering e d f·-11 . . as1s for th e usefulness of mathematics. This basis, for now, aus un er th • . k · · e Junsdi · ction of philosophy. Mathematics works, but why it wor s ts a rn · · 11 b t no · Ystery· Th· . is question may eventually be answered empmca Y, u clea 11 · · Philr soluuon is· currently available. This absence of msight ·a ows·th little osophy t 0 speculate upon the foundations of mathematics wi restr · thematics may . · is It aint. be pr0 unportant to note that this does not mean ma hown that h . .

Ven unfo un d ed . Experiments and observat10ns aves Bellen've 103

ful cool in describing the real wor ld. It is the . th t pow er . hil h math 1s e mos . . f " hy'' that is illusive.

P oso p y can provide · uesu on o w · naggmg q til t least un som ething more accurate .1s foun d. answers, a .f th ness is unk nown, it is obvious Even 1 ere·ason of its effective . . .

• nces are drenched m mat hem aucs . Seve ral subJ· ects that the phys1ca 1scie . . ' . uld not be credible sciences at all with out mathem atics ' like physics, wo . · Some o f the mo S t complex systems and ideas are exp ressed . . · all A few people hop e to find equ atio ma th ematlc ns that can explain Y· . . ·cal law know n. Wit h such lofty aspirations to consider ever y physl . . ' mathematics sometimes needs phil osop hy to act as a gmde when numbers and variables alone do not suffice.

The most illustrative example in mat hem atic s is the concept of infinity and its applications. The very idea of a sym bol with out end or measure does not seem to fit in with the rest of mat hem atics, at least when it is first introduced. In "Int ima tion s of Infmity," seven different types of problems concerning the never-ending are show cased. They cove r infinitely small differences, the leap of faith betw een numbers and complex concepts, infinite processes, and othe r question s pose d by infinity. Each solution follows a different view abo ut how infm ity functions (Weller et al.

741-750). With so many ways to look at infmity and since som e of the viewpoints seemingly contradict each other, it beco mes difficult to divin e what goes where with which prob lem and why.

Since infinity is a cognitive process, it is not expressed as explicitly as othe r processes in mathematics.

However, regarding it with the right philosophy can provide insight into how the many difficulties may be solved. Philosop hy can be the driving force behind abstract ideas that mat h cann ot acco unt for alone.

With this philosophical analysis of mathematica l ideas comes another benefit. Complex ideas that are originall y expressed as special symbols can be clarified and justified by using phil osophical thought and wording. Philosophy is a wor d-or ient ed endeavor . With careful phrasing, it is possible to rework a mathematical proc edu re into written language. ~n fact, no mathematical idea can be considered com plete, or even true , until it has been transformed into a formal writ ten proo f. Combining mathematical logic and logical argu men t creates this powerful proo f . t (Devlin 270). Although the initial logic of the equations may seem ~viden or true, this cann ot be rightfully dete rmin ed unti l all of the justificatwns are given. This vital and rigorous process is carr ied out with the he~p of philo sophy. It brings the proo f from the abstract ions of mathematical . . notation . to the abstractions of the writ ten word. Wit hout Philosophy to c . t . periorm this process, mat hematics would not be the stable, re liable sub)ec it is now.

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. admit that my correlati I am more than .willing to ons going from f . h to rnathemaucs are o ten tenuous. I do not £ 1 th ee at this is •th th •d . }lilosop Y e i ea itself, but rather a la k O f kn p d b any problem Wl owledge c .

M hil use Y hi y p osophical training has b erience on my part. ca gh a een . . d exp an 0 1history class and my pnvate musmgs, so it is understand bl th

a e at my · · th nding of ma emaucs is greater than that of philosop hy. My . . . . . understa . through m th philosophy mfluencmg relauonship the f a emat1cs shall . . studYO c re present my case with greater clanty. . there10 Mathem~ucs, as_ a structured field of study, gives philosophy something to philosophize about. Hao Wang, a noted philosopher and mathematician, claims that "we should pay sufficient attention to the data on which wear~ to_ refle~t and not to philosophize over thin air" (S).

Mathematics, with its vaned assortment of information, provides a substantial basis for philosophy to work upon. Philosophy unrestricted is philosophy astray. Much like theoretical mathematics, unfocused philosophy has no real connection to the real world; it can speak about all possible worlds. To give philosophy relevance, it must connect with other subjects to be guided. Mathematical concepts, such as set theory and infinity, serve as inspiration and guidance for philosophy. The results of this inspired search may then reciprocate back to math, and thus cause this process to begin again.

Philosophy: the land of words and thoughts. Mathematics: the land of analyses and relationships. Words and thoughts can be analyzed.

5cho

Words and thoughts have relationships. Hmmm ... Perhaps mathematics can be used to regard some ideas in philosophy. What can be gained from such an inspection? Expressing qualitative ideas in a quantitative form gives them a new perspective. Words and mathematical symbols can, as I said earlier, both express the same concept but in different ways. Seeing a philosophical proposal in terms of mathematics makes the similarities and . differences between the subjects more apparent smce they are dealing with th e same object. This creates clarity and consilience by showing th e .

connections between disciplines.

The best way to illustrate this connecting concept is to give a . . h ' 1 question I wish hil sunpl . e example and analyze the results. The p osop ica Th Case for Faith by f • to consid · . th e er lt1 mathematical terms is derived rom Lee Str0 b 1 not contradict e d . . e · He 1s attempting to show that science oes · hilosopher, • · Idea of G · od working miracles. William Craig, a Cht1St1an P h · 1 · possible, says: w en asked 1·f • . uld scientific evidence makes mirac es 1ffi Then I wo · tI O nly if you believe that God does not eXlS · · · Bel/e,ive

105

agree-the miraculous would be absurd .. But i~ there is a Cre_ator who designed and brought the universe mto bemg, who sustains its existence moment by moment, who is responsib le for the very natural laws that govern the physical world, then certainly it's rational to believe that the miraculous is possible. (qtd. in Strobel 35-36) This brief argument seems like an oversimplification at best. The conflict between science and religion has existed for centuries. The logic for powering this explanation seems circular and self-reliant, but the actual nature of this potential flaw is illusive. This is where mathematics can play a role.

Religion, being the touchy subject that it is, could use some of the distance afforded by a mathematical perspective. In math, variables represent unknown quantities that we wish to learn more about. For this example, the two main propositio ns that Strobel's argument hinges upon can be stated as thus: 1) Does God exist? 2) Are miracles feasible? I will label these questions 'a' and 'b' respectively. Craig concedes that without a belief in God miracles are impossible. Once God's existence is established, though, miracles are easily explained. Using the variable notation that has been established, the following relationships are formed: 1) a-b=0 2) ba=0. These equations represent the statements that God's existence hinges on being able to show miracles are possible, and that the validity of miracles depends on God existing to make them happen. If one is not true, the other proposal falls through: subtraction at work.

A simple manipulat ion of each equation gives the definition a=b (a-b+b=+ b or b-a+a=+a ). Since a= b, 'a' may be substitute d for 'b' (a=a).

By subtracting 'a' from both sides of the equation, all variables are removed and 0=0. It seems clear that some form of a conclusion has surfaced from the mathemat ical manipulations. How does it relate to the original philosoph ical question? The search for an answer took the form of two variables. Since the variables are still unknown, no defmite conclusions can be reached.

This form of questionin g must be used very carefully. It is easy to misread the outcome of the computati ons. In this case it showed the philosopher's circular logic. The problem's solution was based upon unfair assumptions. It does not say that this proves or disproves anything concernin g the existence of God or miracles. Just because zeros appeared does not mean God is immediately challenged and usurped! It demonstra tes that some part of the questionin g process, on either tl~e mathematical or philosoph ical side, went awry. The technique of using

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. c roulations to analy ze quali tative prob lems must be em 1 d . ove ior . f 11 ua11t1ta ti.on beca use of the pit a s of thou ght that accompanypitoye q eat cau . f~-1 . \vith gr !though this meth o d 1s use w, 1t shou ld only be used on . fore, a .1 . '[here . le ideas to avo1.d poten t1a error s 1n thoug ht. It is most . ely sunP . relat1V treated as a supp1emen t an d a gmde to more traditional ful when . . helP f. uiry. This new persp ectiv e 1s a comp leme nt to philo soph es o inq (11.0 d Y, eplacement. not a r Mathematics and philo soph y are conn ected in their searches for One subject can be loose ly trans lated into the language of the other. th cru • ections that have been estab lishe d also help illustrate anoth er The conn . . . . t" J•oining diffe rent disci pline s toge ther prod uces conc epts that cross concep · . h . . . undaries and establish trut m many s1tuat1ons. Th e study of different bo . subjects, like math and p hilosop h y, may at ttmes seem a fragmented quest for answers. In the end, howe ver, indiv idual thou ghts come together to form knowledge that estab lishe s itself as fund amen tal and inspi ring. The study of connecting disciplines enric hes this unde rstan ding and broadens it to encompass all of huma nity and the world.

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\\ -arks Cited

Oedin, Keith .

. How ~larhemarical Thi nkin g Ihe ~fa rh Gene. _ \ -e T :1 -e G o ssin . Gre at B ritain:

N um b ers _--u. £ yoh-ed and \XbY v

~

r

Weidenfeld and Nicolso n, 2000.

Hirsch, E. D. Jr.

Cultural Lite raq-: \'('h at E \-erY _-\m eric an ~ eed s to

1'.now.

New York: Random House, 1988. i\Ieile, Robert. "My Learning". Sch ool E ssay. 19 Aug. 200 4.

Strobel, Lee. The Case for Fait h. Lon don : Run ning

P ress, 2000.

\Vang, Hao. Fro m Mat hematics to Philoso phy.

N ew

York:

Humanities Press, 197 4.

Weller, Kirk, Anne Brown, Ed Dub insky, :Micha el McD

ona ld, and Cynthia

Stenger. "Intimations of Infi nity." N otices of the

_A..\IS 1. . 51.7

(2004): 741-750. N otic es of the AMS . Am.eric an

~Iathematical

Society (AMS) Full Tex t Journals. UM SL Lib., St.

Louis. 12 Oct.

2004 <ht tp:/ /ww w.um sl.e du:2 124 / noti ces/ 200

407 / fea

dubinsky.pdf>.

Wils on, Edward 0. Consilience: The U nit_y of New York: Vintage Books, 1998.

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Knowledge.

Biographies J(elli Allen is a senio r ~d Engli sh majo r w~o is inspir ed to write by . except orgar uzed sport s, econo rrucs, and rodeo s Kelli ll everychUlg , . . rea y

. earing floor- length velve t capes and never mtend s to grow up Sh enjoys w . . . . e .b herself 10 three word s as bellib one, ephet ic and quodl ibet · desert es . " ., Her favorite quote is by D_Ylan ~hom as: I looke d mto the abyss anan. and the abyss looked into me. Neith er liked what he saw." Kelli advises: "Art should only be offere d respo nsibly . Every wher e you go, there you are-b e careful how you repre sent yours elf."

Olivia Ayes, a first seme ster gradu ate stude nt work ing on an M.F.A. in creative writing, says writin g is "my attem pt to conne ct the rando mnes s floating aroun d my head. " A little know n fact: Olivia used to have pet spiders as a kid, but she is now petrif ied of them. In three words , Olivia describes herse lf as alive, imper fect, and perfe ctioni st. She has been published in Bellerive and Litmag. Olivia loves a quote by Phillip Bailey : "poets are all who love, who feel great truths , and tell them; and the truth of truths is love."

Robert M. Bliss goes by both Robe rt M. Bliss and Bob Bliss. Acade mic marks: B.A. in Histo ry (1965), M.A. (Ame rican History, 1967), and a PhD (American histor y with Amer ican litera ture, 1983). As an histor ian and academic admin istrato r, he admit s that inspir ation come s from "thing sI see or read which (seem to me to) requi re re-ite ration or comm ent."

Little known facts? By his own admis sion, he enjoys tying flies, cooki ng curries, kicking cats, and he aspire s to be a novel ist when he grows up. Robe rt uses "tired and emot ional " to descr ibe himse lf, and he has been previo usly published in Bellerive. Addi tiona l impo rtant inform ation: "I Go Pogo. "

C~a~ Crabtree is curre ntly pursu ing a Bache lor's of Science Degre e i~ Cr11n.1nal Justice and a mino r in Psych ology . He is a memb er of th e Pierre Laclede Hono rs College and plans to gradu ate in 2006.

Julie Creech is work ing on a Bach elor of Gene ral Studies wi th an

. ernphas1· · C • s in reativ e Writi ng and Phot ogra phy-p re L aw. "I 'am a. semi- . profes•· l . t" e philosopher . Siona photo graph er specia lizing in Fashi.on, a parttm . . . f. , spec1alizi . . .· Ii.zing m sugar- ree ng in nonse nse, and an occas ional dnver specta . . "I RedBu ll"B , ."

J rewil ltellu s. d , · ecause she refuse s to reveal any secret s,. ul . ·k of on t kno h . . . . . t r creative wor w ow it is for most writer s, but mspir auon ° Bcllni1e 1

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. bit of a tricky thing. So me tim ' kind for me, is es ins piration a an) ' d t for no rea son at all, at oth er . ks run es she vi.sits pee eal hea ou b her e ther . _ li . bec om es unb ear abl e, alm ost as tf she wo uld like tecause cl1 am of vm g eP comfort me (or re min d me co feed my cat) , and she occ asio nally ap o . . rs because I ,ve enc oun tere d som e am azm g ger uus or bea uty tha t wakespea 11 up an d puts h er in a playful mo od. Wh en she com es, tho ugh Writin er . ph otograPhy or painting etc. .. bec om es a thi ng tha t I mu st do' rathergthor . . . 1 have to make. It is difficult, but a ch 01ce no t 1mposs1ble, for me to dr an . her out when I need her to hel p me com ple te som e ass ign me nt, but it aw is a delicate process tha t mu st not be pus hed or rus hed . My inspiration is something of a flaky little bitc h."

Susan Crowe is a sen ior ma jor ing in Ar t His tor y. She explains: "Writin g is my way of pro ces sin g inf orm atio n. It hel ps me to clarify and communicate my tho ugh ts and ideas."

On e we ird / unk now n fact about Susan: "pe opl e thin k I am a liberal, but I am actually a conservative."

Creative, flexible, and org ani zed is how she des crib es herself, and she has been published in the Bre ntw ood Hig h Sch ool new spa per , The Eaglet, and the newspaper at St. Lou is Co mm uni ty Co lleg e at Me ram ec, The Mo ntage.

Susan's favorite quo te is fro m Ae sop : "Sl ow and stea dy win s the race ."

She also believes tha t Mu rph y's law is always in effect.

Zachariah Ed wa rd Crow, a jun ior stu dyi ng ant hro pol ogy, is inspired by many things. He believes all goo d wri ting ste ms fro m em otio n. Zach aspires to wo rk as a pro fes sor or En glis h tea che r in a foreign country someday. Words wit h wh ich he wo uld des crib e him sel f include "ever hungry, ever tired, and sed ate d." He wa rns tha t the wo rld is coming to an end, and advises Bellerive rea der s to pre par e the ms elv es.

Ha l Justin Price Carlisle, a jun ior ma jor ing in Spa nis h, says "sudden . waves of feeling; goo d or bad " ins pir e him to wri te. Ha l was an apprenn ce electrician for alm ost two years, use d to ow n a fer ret and several snakes, an d. is now a vegan, tho ugh he gre w up on a far m and use d to hun t · Hal war ns: "A li po ce stat e is com ing . If you stay ready, you d on't h ave to. get ready. Do n't take the bir d flu sho t: it will be you r bes t chance of getnng ·· 1 Slck·" H· al has bee n pub lish ed in Bra . h Sch 0 0 in Stew and the Waterloo H ig newspaper, and wh en he gro ws up, he wa nts to be at peace.

1n the po ·011 of . ,, . · em "Floattng , the nar rat or atte mp ts to con tra11 . des perau lostn his 1 us d yet g over. ~fhe per son a que stio ns wh ere . ht be, an the lov er at the same ti mtg · 'fhe d me, oes not wa nt to see the per son . r to reUfllteagain

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f floating in or on water continue throughout the poem . unages o . . . hi , and 1t .th the persona mamtairung s preference to struggle with th closes W1 e of his loss. waves Drolet plans to become a mother, graphic designer, travel writ il . th er, o . ter J. azz singer, commuruty eatre actress, newspaper copy editor pain ' A . ' ' outdoor adventure seeker, menca s n~xt top model, pro-soccer player, and natural blonde by age 25. She believes her mass communications degree from UMSL and two years on the Bellerive staff will facilitate these goals. Sensory experiences inspire h_er, and _Kate has a~ unnatural adoration for words. She loves randomness, list-making, her socially unacceptable friends and, above all, her goofy family.

J(ate

Claire Jacques, a member of the Pierre Laclede Honors College, is currently seeking a Bachelor's of Fine Art degree in Studio Art at Ul\1-St. Louis. Claire is also minoring in Art History. She plans to graduate in

2006.

Bobby Meile is a sophomore and his major is A Secret. Assignments, he says, inspire him to write and he intends to be a professional student.

Bobby in a few words? Reclusive and amnesic thinker. He quotes Edward 0. Wilson: "No shaman's spell or fast upon a sacred mountain can summon the electromagnetic spectrum." His bit of randomness: "Zombie Colonel Sanders and aliens from within the sun will soon join forces to invade Rhode Island."

Jeanie Meyer is a senior majoring in English working toward supplemental certificates in Writing and Honors. The Bellerive staff would like to note that "Second Hand Smoke" was not only selected for the publication, but it also won The Pierre Laclede Honors College Award for Excellence in Writing. Jeanie would like to add that the story "Carpet" is a product of Shelly Fredman's Collaborative Writing Class.

Sarah Middendorf is pursuing her Master's in Business Admini sttation_ aucl exercised patience with our staff regarding her photographs of Pans.

We had to ask for duplicate copies of her submissions due to a clerical error, ancl while we received the second copies near the end of our subnussi d fi this issue of ~ns process, both of her photographs were se1ecte or Bellerive.

Jeffery W'lli 1

· h h rows up. am Pechmann wants to be comfortable w en e g Bef/e,ive

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. d . ribes him.self as '·Ill at ea se,' ' and he ~-d . ·h cl wnte r esc . .

This publis .e . . rner ines s. His fa,-o nte quo te com es fromur1Ds . · milli.• literary ms pl!anon 111 hild scaring, ' Ir 1s as eas) c io r a o n peop l anuan DeR oths c ' . cl Alex.an er . e to be ,, Jeff eF ,-alues Bellenve read ers eno ugh to un · · 1s for one.

1 , wrong as 1t Parr him elf- his ankl es do n t march . this odd fact abou t s .

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dlet on is a seni or. She is m ajor ing in English and rnino .

Shannon Pen . . . h She says she cann o t desc n.b e h erse lf 10 thre e words nng in Philosop Y· · · d · ' :vords would be cons tant ly chan gmg epen ding on her mood because th e \ · d c · d like to thank her swe ethe art, Rica r o, ior · mak ing sure she She wo ul · ·th . out f the hou se ever y mor rung w1 h er co 1ee and her sanin· makes 1t o ..

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Stacie Pop e is currently purs uing a B.A. in Ger

the Pierre Laclede Hon ors College.

man and is a mem ber of

Kate Stein is getting a PhD in Mol ecul ar and Cell ular Biol ogy and an M.S. She holds graduate degrees in Eng lish and Wri ting. She is previously published in American Short Fiction, Black Warrior Review, and Delmar. Kate in three words: "serious, happy, reliable." She says: "I thin k writing gives me a better understanding of mys elf and othe r peo ple. And I lm-e language; words well-wrought can mak e me swo on or wre tch. " She also loves to talk about the weather. Of wise and inte rest ing things she has heard, her favorite is from a Heb rew song: "Th e who le wor ld is a very narrow bridge. The mos t imp orta nt thin g is nev er be afraid."

Matthew R. Trost grad uate d with a B.A. in Eng lish , a \Xlriting Certificate, and a Pierre Laclede Hon ors Coll ege Cert ifica te in 2005 . He is currently w?rking on a musical play / political thril ler en title d, "Ho w to Get People to 11st~n to_ Your Problems," feat urin g anth ropo mor phic fast food products.

He lives 1n New York City. (Really.)

Missy Yearian · • 11 ls teehruca y a seni or but she' ll be at UM SL un til she dies.

Currently seekin ' . g severa1certi.ficates and an Eng lish degr ee, sh e wa nts to wnte when she gr S up. he also wan ts to visit art mus eum s. To quote Joan D1.d.ion "I ows · h ' writ ·d She ates peas and h b e to figure. out wha t I'm thin king " Missy sal · . ' 111 traffic to .d ar ors a vom it-ph obia . She also jum ps out of c_ars d avo1 wasps and b . . . 11 addicted onvate ' d bl ees. Self -des cnb ed as poli tica Y rn . she ' an unt Mi d warns Belli ' ssy a vises the mas ses not to vote Repu blicanlike ro enve readers . . . note that "Car et" . ab out t h e evils of capi talis m. She wou ld .alsoWrit:Ulg class.

P ls a prod uct of Shelly Fred man 's Collaboranve Bellerive

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, D':tJ1.faeralty of