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UT KNOXVILLE LIBRARY
I
II I III IIIIIII I II IIIIIIIII I II IIIII IIIIIIIIIIII IIII I IIII III III
3 9029 02589508 1 .J(
UT KNOXVILLE LIBRARY
1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 111I
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