Phoenix - Spring 1995

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UT KNOXVILLE LIBRARY

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II I III IIIIIII I II IIIIIIIII I II IIIII IIIIIIIIIIII IIII I IIII III III

3 9029 02589508 1 .J(

UT KNOXVILLE LIBRARY

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3 9029 02589508 1

for Gerda Schn'lidt

Torah winds around us in l'leavy cords, long strings of Hebl'ew

"Sh.a bbae,Heslta Amun'a Synagogue"

"'el'••a RaB,.

twine througl'l the Sanctuary of the Si.x Milli~n, wrapping and braiding Jews into the thinl<- rope of God. The Master of tl'le Universe encircles lue, a tallit holy on sl'loulders, l'lolds me close my soul fringed witl'l music, purple velvet rhythm I touch and l<-iss.

Adonai

Adonai

Adonai

sings from the page, the one word I can identify in this ])001<- that opens from left to right.

I form the name with a Gentile mouth, shape praise with crac1<-ed lips let tradition scroll around basl<- in the light of t]'le c1'lOsen.

A rediscovered messial'l reclaims this cl'lild, daughter of redemption.

I sway to a l<-addish in my mind, bid good-bye to the dead part of me, newness, this awakened life .

"Ste" Wer s

II

M lehâ&#x20AC;˘â&#x20AC;˘1 Bft nn ing

"Parlez-vous francais?" Before I can even answer, the host father shakes his head violently at the inquiring dinner guests and shouts "Non!" He then looks very sad and experience a flash in my mind of ll.im suddenly breal.:ing into tears, utterly frustrated and completely destroyed by my lacl.: of coherency in his native tongue. The irony of it

For~

illn Corr Din

aU is that this isn't even my official host family--tll.e otll.er one never showed up at the

ing

airport and I ended up with an "alternate" family. And it's not like I see them a lot, either, because I eat breakfast and lunch at tll.e student excll.ange center. The dinners "at home" have receded into routine, for we have long since run out of vocabulary for the basics--name, major, favorite color. Until tll.is nigll.t, the last one that I will spend witll. them, the last memory of France before I am to return to America telling my amazing tales filled witll. witty cll.aracters and quirl.:y conversation. Another family is invited to

tll.is dinner and they too have their very own exchange student, whose nall1.e is Pippy. "It's not a nielznall1.e either," sll.e whispers to ll1.e with a

ll1.orgue in tears and forgetfulness of the student at the airport gate.

I return to Pippy and her conversation. Her fall1.ily, that other

tone in her voice not unakin to pride. "It's on ll1.y birth certificate."

fall1.ily, they have the advantage now and tll.ey know it. I notice that

Much to her host fall1.ily's delight and ll1.y horror, Pippy can spealz

they are sll1.iling broadly and nodding happily as ' Pippy chats in a

French rather well and succeeds in driving the conversation through top-

delightful All1.erican-accented way. My fall1.ily starts to get desperate,

ics suell. as politics, bottled barbecue sauce, and the wonders of cheese.

and I realize that they are not ll1.ine at all. I belong to thell1., and

While Pippy is tallzing, I start to faze out because of all the wine,

what's worse I all1. allowing it to ll.appen. I have accepted the role

and I begin to study the faces of ll1.y fall1.ily. They are not loolzing at

like a fool. The father suddenly jUll1.PS up, an ill1.aginary light bulb

Pippy anYll1.ore, but rather at ll1.e, and I begin to have the strange sen-

over his head. "This one ... this one can play tll.e piano," he says,

sation that they are hating tne ll1.ore and ll1.ore for not being her, for

pointing at ll1.e with a note of triull1.ph. He has dirt under his fin-

not being Pippy of the Reaganoll1.ics, barbecue, and cheese.

If

only there

gernail. The other fall1.ily looks ill1.pressed, stopped dead in their

had not been that ll1.ix up at the airport, if only it had not been her,

tracks by his announcell1.ent. Quielzly , before I can object, the piano

if only she had sOll1.ething with which to entertain the guests. I begin

is unveiled and

to feel inadequate and wonder about the fall1.ily tll.at never showed up .

stand still, and I all1. acutely aware of the sweat above the father's

Did they hear sOll1.ething about ll1.e? Did they see ll1.y high school grad-

brow,

uation picture and run away screall1.ing? Perhaps they forgot, or perhaps

slightly ironic expressions of the other fall1.ily. The wine has destroyed

their only child was lzilled in a ll1.otorcyele accident and they ran to the

ll1.y sense of place, and I al1.1. swaying back and forth slightly when I

all1. pushed hastily to the bench. Till1.e begins to

the too-white foundation on Pippy's face, the expectant and

realize that I do not remen'lbel' anything from my piano recital past.

failure, and the next day I return home feeling untalented, clumsy,

It is all a blank.

and strangely liberated.

"Play The Entertainer'!

Play The Entertainer'!

Oh, tl'lat one is

It is raining at the Paris airport, whicl'l seems appropriately obvi-

rny favorite," Pippy screecl'les . Everyone is entbusiastic alJout tl1.e

ous and cute. Tl'le novel of my life can now open witl'l a discussion

cl1.oice, and I do not have vocabulary or the patience to explain tl1.at

of my inner and outer storms in precious literary equilibrium. Pippy

am nauseous, that the entertainer does not want to entertain, that

will read the book and thinl~ "that's so sad, so triste, so je ne sais

hate them and myself and speal~ing in tl1.is foreign language, wl1.ich

quoi--tl'lank goodness it wasn't my life." Funny tl'ling thougl'l, it wasn't

has nothing to do with nationality. I am reminded of why I l~eep breaking up with boyfriends, after they start putting their arms on tl1.e back of my cl1.air at dinner, as tbey come up behind me at rock

my life either.

The night before we brol~e up, one of tbe boyfriends notices that am looking past bis romantic stare, toward the door. He looks very

concerts and bold on tigl1.t as if to say this is mine, lool~ at us but

sad, and I experience a flash in my mind of him suddenly breaking

do not touch us, know that she belongs in my circle in my arms,

into tears, utterly frustrated and completely destroyed by my lack of

not in YOUl'S and not in hers any longel' sl1.e is now part of son1.e-

coherency in his native tongue. He puts his hand on the back of my

tl1.ing larger and better than herself she is my entertainer.

chair tben lool~s confused when I jump up suddenly. "Sometimes," he

I try to play out the tune by ear, but it is a disaster and we all Imow it. My palms and fingers sweat and fall l'ight off the keys or slip and somehow find the wrong note . My foreign debut is a

says, "I tbinl~ we aren't even speaking tbe same language."

"Ruth,. l "emors. t. le""Sm'tA

She scuffs her feet as she walks up the celllent stairs, grinding tl"leguilt frolll the sole of l"ler shoes.

A cleansing act.

A brief glilllPse of victory in a panorallla of defeat.

Long awaited reasons to finally

get on with it.

Another tillle , lives ago, she clilllbed in celebration- now the ascent is bitter.

She hopes that

by keeping her shoes near the ground she'll lllove forward faster.

Friction, sandy-wet roolll-telllperature friction is

wearing at her pride.

She lmows it has to end but there's so llluch lllore she had hoped for and she got so llluch less frolll hilll.

II

Rttchel Sbutton;

for Mind

This is the first lesson:

you are not alone.

When you learn tl"lis, you affirm your life, at a mother's breast Ineathing in warm milk, or years later in an unexpected birtl"lday card from a friend you l"lad forgotten.

Verify yourself.

Your life ripples, emanates waves you could never in"lagine, as you sit in a corner alone, write a poem called "Alone," for a high sclwol lit mag.

You are real, are here, in the paper you fill, your life nwre than abstraction, your life on page

12 of the spring issue,

your life rubbed, polisl"led lovingly by countless fingers until it shines, until they know every inch, every crevice, your contours in every phrase, until they wipe tl"leir eyes with ink-stained indexes and thumbs, look at their own corners, and w],isper, Yes.

You are more visible than you l~now, less alone than you think, your kinetic life as solid as the eartl"l we stand on.

You are there:

in the food you cook,

in the shot you block, in the hideous purple sweater only you would wear, on page

12, in your red jawbreal~er soul

that will shatter teetl"l before it gives way.

In your corner by candlelight, look into the flame, a thousand faces flicl~er back.

This lack of clear division is the gift, the waves washing over waves, the pearl in your iron jaws you often forget.

Take it out now, examine it by the light of a thousand, reify yourself:

You are everywhere.

"R ify' D n, I Roop

" I've spent too much quality time with myself lately," she said.

Her voice more weal~ than renlenilier like someone who migllt drink alone in smol~e-lit bars not for tlle taste only for the effect. know the sound in her voice I've heard it in nly own on nights alone split from friends.

The great coupling of our generation has begun first aquaintances now cOlnrades with whom we once evaded commitments, rings and white satin pairing up and off, playing spin the bottle this time for l~eeps . guess we have too l11uch ainl our wayward bottles never stop spinning content in the thrill of motion, still creating the rules of our ganle.

"Un itled' A c

,.,

i

or mol" Jeffni'e,. vlUiil for chris

am life.

this in itseU is truth, tl1.e morning which shines from both of us is also tl1.e dusk that parts all lovers, ourselves no more than bearers of pain, still too simple to hear.

and yet, this is enough - there is no more of us to play, the song brought from deep within still sounds, cut from flesh too soon and wasted, pierced tluough ligl1.t, trying to reacl1. the last breath between tl1.e trees and stars.

i wear the names you gave me lil~e a string around ll1.y neck, tight so i remell1.ber everyone.

to forget is to lose ll1.y own soul

like a bride of morning whose flowered crown withers at the first star.

but touch me.

you could not give back this dream,

in tl1.e stale hours, i l~iss your picture like an icon,

feel the warmth of religion on my tongue, the candles, tl1.e incense, i beg you .

this, too, is truth:

i am the one they call bernadette, eating the ground to reacl1. your soul, digging and digging, this water magic to taste, the life tl1.at flows from deep with spring aches to be let free to tl1.e light that holds our image in procession.

III

tl1.e silence, tl1.e grass breaks.

i wait -

Maren ConnRry .

nFls",,!. ' S.II'" 0.",,<1,... {PofJa

"Fir t 8irthd y' Li""

짜

I know this story after the fact.

In the middle of July, mamma lool'!s out

from the photograph with eyes as hard as cement slabs, her mouth set tight.

She's holding me up in 11.er arms, her sundress off of one shoulder.

Daddy stands

beside us with a Mona Lisa smile, l1.is eyes glancing away down the sidewalk with a lool'! that isn't hard to read.

That was years before he'd cut his first album.

On a Saturday night

he'd be down to the Red Gate singing and playing guitar.

He worl'!ed all weel'!

climbing poles and running power from Fort Smith to Fayetteville.

He made good money for the time.

And mamma had five more kids

before I was nine years old.

But in this picture, I was the only child.

Some times mamma would go

to the dance where daddy would be up on stage with his band, drinking beers and cutting up with the drummer, talking to the crowd like they was his friends.

He'd say, Where's my girls?

And he'd find me sitting

with Sadie and Rose Lee and Mamma

and he'd sing me my special song.

The back of my bonnet floats white as a cloud against the front of my Aunt's grocery on 9tl1. street.

Gladys liked to write songs and sing them with daddy 's band,

and we all spent our 11.olidays with each other.

She took the picture on my first birthday.

Caught mamma looking pissed-off for the camera, the bacl'! of my 11.ead, and my daddy with his eyes turned away.

II

I gave a rrlOdest thanks that graves aren't dug by hand or he migl1.t have

I i I

wound up smelling lil~e Acldie Bundren waiting for tl1.e spring thaw to come. It was his way though-to mal~e things harder. He always made tl1.ings harder-usually for me.

,I

The first thing I remember thinl~ing as I drove into town was 11.ow everytl1.ing still looked the same-it was just lil~e when I left. Thel'e was Wales Market, there was the elementary school, there was the Town Hall-

:1

everything exactly as I remembered thelu, as if they were as frozen in time as my memories were. Notl1.ing luuch ever did change around 11.ere.

The fresh snow gripped tl1.e tires of m y rental car and almost pulled rounded tl1.e corner on to Union Road towards the

Ine

cemetery. It had been a long time since I drove under New England conditions and to mal~e it WQ1'se I was in a hurry. I could not get a flight out of Atlanta until U1.e very morning of the funeral and I only 11.ad two hours to make the drive from Logan to Wales. I'm a Goddamn liar. could have been there yesterday afternoon-in time for the wal~e last night, but my cowardice I~ept me away. I did not want to see anyone I knew and I was positive they could care less about seeing me. I could hear it all now-bombarded by annoying "where have you been?" questions . I wasn't going to answer any of tl1.ose today if I could help it. I didn't have any answers worth hearing anyway.

Neil Young was singing "Needle and the Damage Done" on tl1.e l'adio as the entrance to the cemetery came into view. Neil Young-Jesus Christ that brougl1.t back some memories.

If

my brother and I ever 11.ad one thing

in cornmon-besides tl1.e desire to see the other in pain-it was our love of Neil Young. I can't tell you how many times he beat my ass for playing his Neil Young albums. It didn't stop me though-I just l~ept doing it and doing it and doing it. I don't have a clue as to what I thought I was going to accomp lisl1. by it, but tl1.en he always said I was a sucl~er for punisl1.ment. I remember after every tear-filled noogie and groin crunching wedgy my brother would say, "Don't ever thinl~ I'm going to let you win. "

Lil~e it was a damn contest or something.

In tl1.e fall of

1978

my brother and I went to one of Neil's shows

together-I think it was probably the "l~ust Never Sleeps" tour. What do

luean tbinlz? I lznow damn well it was. He was two years older

turned Neil off and stepped out of the car. T]"le cold immediately

tban I and bad bis license. Along witb tbat l"le bad weelzly pos-

slapped me across tl"le face-for Cbrist's sa]ze I didn't ]"lave tbe

session of a '72 Pinto my fatber bad relmilt for l"lim. Every time

clothes for tbis anymore-tl"le Soutb l"lad made me soft. Lilze

be used to drive out of tbe garage, I used to pray be would get

everytlung else in Wales, tbe stone wall tbat surrounded t]"le ceme-

rear-ended so tl"le Goddamn tbing would blow up-just lilze Milze

tery was just as I l路emembered it-not a single stone or patcb of

Wallace had said on "60 Minutes."

moSs out of place. Believe me, I lznew the wall pretty damn

Anyl"low, while I was condemned to tl"le coucb witb Mom and Dad watching "Welcome Back Kotter" and "Barney Miller," he was

good-Dex made sure of it one Halloween.

My friends and I bad gone out to wrealz tbe normal amount

driving himself to tl"le Garden to see Led Zeppelin or Peter

of bavoc required of tl"le ho]iday, and one of our favorite biding

F rampton or somebody. The luclz of being born fil路st. Anyway,

places to tluow eggs from was bebind the cemetery walls. We l"lad

guess somebody who was supposed to go with him must l"lave

just gotten set up for

baclzed out because he aslzed me to go witb him wben Neil

came up tl"le road. I immediately squatted down as far as I could

Young came to town. He said, "Kid,"-l"le always called me "Kid"

on the wall. A voice rang out from a bull-l"lorn saying, "We know

because I detested it-"bow would you lilze to go to the concert

you lzids are in there. Just come out and you won't get in any

witb me?" I knew exactly wl"lo be was tallzing about and had it

trouble."

been anybody but my ]Jrotber I would bave jumped up and shouted "Yes", but it wasn't anybody else so I said "Dex, cut the shit." lie loolzed at me smiled, "Kid, I got one extra ticket and

if

it

the festivities wben a blue and red light

I had watched enough episodes of "Starslzy and Hutcb" to lmow wbat tbat ]mllshit meant-so

crept up tbe wall and then

made a run for it. tl"le spotlight was right on my l)ack as I

ain't you tl"len it's somebody else. So do you want to go or wbat?

duclzed and dodged my way througb the tombstones and dived

I ain't aslzing again." Fully expecting

bead first over tbe ])aclz wall of the cemetery into tbe woods. It

to receive a "Tougl"l shit"

or a "Do you really think I would bring you buttbead?", I

would have been tbe stuff of legend had I not landed directly in

answered "Yes." He smiled at me again and said, "Now was tl"lat

a briar patcl"l. I was still piclzing tl"le damn things out of my l"lide

so tougb puss-face?"

an hour later wben I wallzed back into my house.

N eil was in rare f01"m tbat night and my brotber and I

Dex was sitting in front of the television set watcbing some

danced and sang out loud togetber -drunlz out of our beads on

Abbott and Costello movie and eating a bowl of popcorn. He had

a ])ottle of Jim Beam we bad snuclz out of Dad's liquor ca])inet.

stay in for not talzing me to basketball practice, baving decided to

God knows booze never tastes as good as wl"len you're underage

spend the afternoon witb his girlfriend instead.

and can get arrested for drinlzing it. On tbe way home frolH tl"le

-How was frigl"lt nigbt, Kid?

concert-my bead still ringing from tl"le booze and tbe billion

-Just great Dex. Talze a loolz and figure it out yourself.

decibels from tbe amps-I could bave SW01"n my bwtber said, "We

-Jesus Christ Kid, you loolz lilze you got chased by t]"le cops 01"

l"lad a good time tonight, didn't we Kid?" and even if be didn't

something.

say it I answered, "We sure did Dex." It was one of t]"le only

I lmew immediately wbat had happened.

time s my brotl"ler and I were at tbe same place as teenagers and

-Dex, you're a fuclzing assl"lole!

were not about to rip each others throats out.

-Kid, you better watcb your moutl"l or I might have to wash it

I parlzed tbe car at tbe bottom of the cemetery's driveway,

out for you.

He turned his head away from me to watch the television.

convenient excuse.

The service was typical- "asbes to ashes ", roses on the coffin,

Not really knowing wl1at tbe 11ell I was doing, I ran at him and puncbed 11im right in the nose. Tl1e bowl of popcorn flew into

tears flowing from every one's eyes-except, U1at is, from mine

tbe air.

and surprisingly, from Samantha's. It was all over quickly enougl1

-You stupid little shit! I thinl~ you brol~e my fud~ing nose.

and Dad began speal~ing to me.

Before I Iud a chance to do anything else-preferably run-he

-For God's sake you couldn't get here on time for your own

was on top of me and I was taking numerous blows. I tried to

brother's funeral.

get him off of me but 11e was just too damn strong. He was

-Dad, don't start wiU1 me. Traffic was backed up

always too strong. As the blood flowed out of my lip and nose

-Shut up. I don't want to hear your excuses.

III

Boston ...

I shut up. My mother came over to me, I 11ugged her and

that night, and botl1 my eyes dosed slmt you would have thought by looking at me that I had fougbt ten with Ali. He was invinci-

she cried a bit on my shoulder.

ble. I never would bave guessed U1en that he would be dead at

-See you at Auntie Dee's?

thirty-two . My God, he was a brute .

-For a little while, Ma. I have to fly out tonight to teach in

I walked up the steep hill of the cemetery still tasting the

the morning.

mental sting of tl1e cuts 11e inflicted that day. As fate would have

- Well at least you'll be there for a little while. Your brother

it-and I'm sure so would be-I slipped on a patch of ice under-

would appreciate tbat.

My skin began to crawl. I hadn't come for 11im. My mother

neath the snow as I approached the funeral goers, and fell down to my knees-my sunglasses sprawling from my face. He had done

abruptly turned and walked away from me as Samantha

it again. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. He had successful-

approached us .

ly embarrassed me-for the last time. It was then that I noticed-

- I guess your luother doesn't want to see lue.

among all the heads turned towards me-her face.

-I'd say so.

Sl1e was as beautiful as ever. Noticeably older-it appeared not

-No reason to l~eep up appearances anyn10re witl1 Dexter gone .

ever ything in Wales was unaffected by time-but she wore it even

-Nope, there isn't.

better U1an she bad her youtb . She was dressed exactly as I

- ... How tl1e bell are you, Pete?

would have imagined-in an all black leisure suit. As I lool~ed at

-I'm well Sam. But how are you doing?

her-half-heartedly searching for my Ray-Bans in the snow-the

-I've had a while to prepare . He'd been sick for months you

years since I saw ber last seenl.ed an eternity. I fumbled to my

know.

feet and found my way to Mom and Dad, who were standing

- I l~now.

opposite Samantha. To a casual onlooker it might have seemed

-

strange to see tl1e in-laws standing so far away from the widow

Cluist's sake 11e was dying.

during the service, but to anyone who l~new the story it was com-

-Sam ... he wouldn't of wanted to see me had I come . You l~now

pletely dear. Mom and Dad had always blamed Samantba for the

that as well as anyone.

rift IJetween Dex and me. It was never her fault thougll.. I'm sure

Then why didn't you come visit him in the hospital Pete? For

No Pete,

don't lmow that. I don't know tl1at at all, because

Dex and I would have found some other way to hate each

he would have never told me. He never said one single damn

other-to not speal~ in almost a decade. She was just the most

word about you .

If

- And why would he? We said our final goodbyes a long time

-That girl cost you your brother, Pete .

ago .

-Ma, Sam didn't cost me Dex ... the simple fact is tll.at Dex was a We talked- standing over the grave of my brother- and I felt

stubborn asshole, I'm still a stubborn asshole, and we were both

as good as I had in many years . But then she had always JJeen

assholes long before we ever met Sam.

able to make me feel good. Dex had been a lucky luan.

-Pete ...

- Pete, he left something for you bacl~ at the house . He had so

-Ma .. .I'll talk to you in a weel~ or so.

m uch time to plan for tll.is tll.at he pretty much put everything he

I wall~ed away from my mothel" and met Samantha halfway.

owned aside for somebody. I don 't l~now what it is because ll.e

-Are you tal~ing off?

wrapped it up in a box.

-Yeah.

just found it in the closet yesterday

with a note saying "For Pete." If you have a minute we could

- ... Pete, you tal~e care of youl"self. O.K.?

picl~ it up at the house .

-You too Sam.

- T h at sounds great Sanl..

-Pete .. .It's been great seeing you.

I would have told her my name was Pippy and danced a jig just t o spend a few more minutes alone with her. She was that l~ind of woman. I drove ll.er ovel路 in my rental and she wall~ed

she ll.adn't ...

Sam ... 1..

Before I could get the words out she was gone. They had stucl~ in my throat. Again.

It took a lot of tall~ing at the airport to get them to allow

into, then back out of the house she had shared with my brother

me to carxy on the box-undel" the condition that I open it

carrying a large box covered with Christmas wrapping paper. I got

immediately. I sat in my window seat and began tearing off the

out of the car and tool~ it out of her hands expecting it to be

wrapping. It was a Cl"ummy 路w l路apping job, just 1i1~e I would have

heavy but it was as light as if it was stuffed with feathers. I

expected from him. I l"ipped off the top of the box and thrust

began to open it, but Samantha put ll.er hands on mine and

my hand into a mass of StYl"ofoam. I l~new what it was as soon

stopped me.

as I touched it. My brotll.er's ol"iginal

-Pet e , don't open it now. If your don't mind, I really don't want

Sleeps" by Neil Young. I almost thought he was going to jump

to see wll.at's in it.

out from somewhere and slap me upside the head just for han-

S mart woman. Knowing my brotll.er's fondness for me, it

1979

copy of "Rust Never

dling it. It was all coming bacl~ to me now. I guess I wasn 't the

could be a bOJllb . I placed it in the trunl~ of the car and drove

only one who remembel"ed tll.at concel"t as sOIuetll.ing important.

u s b oth to Auntie Dee's. I only stayed for an hour before it was

For the fil"st time since I heard about m y brother's sickness , I

all too much for me . Too much talk about Dexter. How sick he

,started to cry.

w as , how long he fought it, how valiant he was. I had to get out

-Goodbye, Dex.

of th ere before I went mad. They weren't saying anything I didn't alr eady lmow. He fought for and won most everything

he had

I slipped tll.e album out of the covel" and opened the dust

jacl~et . I slowly pulled the album out of the dust jacl~et-cal"eful颅

ever wanted. A perverse tll.ought strucl~ me that it might have

ly-as I ll.ad seen my brother do a million times to protect the

been wonderful to see my brother beaten-just once-even by ill-

record-when something caught m y eye. Scratched-not scratched,

ness . Lord knows he saw me beaten enough. Samantha must have

but carved with loving care across the entil"e face of tll.e album

seen m e saying goodbye to my parents because she started to

was the word "Kid." He was rigll.t, I never was going to win.

come over to us. My mother looked at ll.er angrily.

TIl.at sonuvabitch.

'Of

r Born" ton

hL,lne" This is a story something lil~e Beauty and the Beast, witllOut then'l in it. is about lines between tl'lings.

Kim fJnton

This

Lines of poetry, of drawings.

Lines we wait in or cross, and lines we tl'linl~ of crossing everyday.

He told me this story one nigl'lt, after love, in the

darl~.

It began

snowing and darli! in Newton, New Jersey white house white snow darli!

the father carne horne, drunl~ again.

Maybe tl'le son has sl~ipped

school, or maybe l'le had committed some other minor indiscretion tl'lat doesn't matter because tl'le story is the same.

The mother

tried to protect her son for a moment but turned away.

Unable

to turn the anger on herself, unconditional love found a condition.

The father ended his tirade of fists in the bathroom

where a daughter had drawn a bath, held the son under

blood

water

two things beginning of life

Even in bed, so many years past, he shivered in telling the story.

Under the water he lmew wl'lat wanting to die felt like,

a feeling he'd been trying to outrun ever since.

If this story

were true we would go badi! to Newton at Cluistmas, and when we left, it would be snowing, it would be darli! .

The father

would lean to me, I would turn my face away, the li!iss good-bye landing dry on my cheeli!.

"S/nglng battle cries" Molly LewIs

sweating grunting To

er, we blaspheme

the scared inside of you.

We were not meant to be

sear

the bou

rampage the bar

of

the physical and spiritual we refuse to let Wrel\ching afte

In the morning we with scrapes pride in the hurt that

I c

your n

lilze the purple heart that .

I- ~~ -~and Dr. Reese's wife, a dental hygienist, was excited. The politi-

!

cian/ grocer was bent on sinl~ing Knoxville's fluoride plan.

1

He

found and published some pictures of cows subjected to mas-

I

sive doses of fluoride. "I swear it lool~ed as if the cows were grinning. They had these hideous mouths with these awful looking With the chair propped on two legs, he leads discussions on literature

spans

Library,

Chancellor

just

scared

the

hell

now

the

people

III

won the battle of the

normal.

doing

Dr.

Reese traced his

fluoridation and grinning cows six years after corning to UT.,

most, teaching.

part tirne in the graduate

Dr. Reese went to

and became Associate Vice

as an undergraduate.

Affairs.

was at the University of Kentuclq

Of this

Then

he

On his becoming Chancellor:

A t UK, Reese had the chore of te men English.

of

After that, Mrs. Reese was ready to pack up and

Dr. Jack

is

out

remained.

perspective on all types of luer

Knoxville."

He

from

In a hidden

Deliverance.

Hosl~ins

that

teeth.

was the previous chancellor , which I do not understand, I

" It's not fun teaching

That lasted sixteen years.

don 't care." Now Reese considers

teach; "That actually

because he gets to teach and

later than I intended, but

ly good students and that's a

of circumstances. "

to

In 1961, Dr. Reese and his

his career as English professor,

Knoxville,

English professor

Tennessee.

Reese

again,

Reese's

drove through Knoxville

published in the Phoenix.

His

Carolina from Kentucky.

in

and

"big time ugly"

tured in the Winter 1985 issue

this town. their horne.

All of a

sudden,

Reese remembers

bacl~ in those days.

times the going-ons in Knoxville Show.

1979,1981

heads the College Scholars prosays that it is "a good way

to UTK students: " If you're

Knoxville that kept circumstances

Griffith

Spring

students. "

There was a colorful

Andy

the

One

Knoxville officials wanted to add

or progralu or an advisor or facin the right direction."

It is an

Dr. Jack Reese at the University