For What It’s Worth
Woolworths at Cedarbrook Mall, just outside my home town of Philadelphia, didn’t look like much, but that was beside the point. Back in the Sixties, it was a great place for teenagers like me to visit during trips to the mall, especially the variety store’s record cut-out bin. Filled with carelessly tossed-in crap, near-crap, and the occasional gem, at 33 cents for a 45-rpm single, a buck for an LP, it invited those long on musical thirst and short on cash to find keys to their universe. One afternoon in 1968, I found one of mine, a rare version of Buffalo Springfield’s self-titled...
Read MoreThe Bridge at Restitution
True definition is impossible – at least that’s what I’ve heard. Each pair of eyes defines the world their own way. To my eyes, it was about Jip and The MC (The Motley Crew). To others, it was more about “the times.” Some people are tailor-made for the times. All I knew was Jip came to our school. and it seemed he was instantly an important piece of our puzzle; and we were a puzzle. Jip fit us perfectly: the funniest kid anyone had ever seen and a natural-born leader for natural-born followers. Our times? It was the end of June and the end of a road for...
Read MoreA Case for Wrongful Death
Connie rocked back and forth on the faded velvet sofa in her sister Lois’s living room. It was summer, 1940. “Maybe you’re wrong,” Lois said. “I missed twice. I never missed before.” “You might just be nervous, the wedding coming and all,” Lois said. “I threw up yesterday.” “See there? Could be nerves.” Connie reached over and clutched Lois’s arm. “Tell me what to do.” Lois was a married lady, her big sister. She’d know. “Have you told George?” Connie shook her head. Lois pulled her sister close and kissed her damp cheek. “Good. Wait ‘til after...
Read MoreTraitor
We find the stranger in our ark near East Fence. Me and Ada. Not a real ark, just some old rotted logs and pine branches for a roof. We set up inside after morning prayers. Pretend to off the infected. Patrol doesn’t come by in winter – too much mud – no one crazy enough to go over the mountains, not with all that snow and ice. No one except the stranger. Ada’s snuffling behind me, got the ear of her rag bunny stuffed inside her mouth. Sucking. Always sucking. I jam my long braid down the back of my jacket and squat near the front of the ark to get a better look. I’ve...
Read MoreFeatured Works: Week of Oct 19 (Contemplation)
Amid the global uncertainty of the past several months, we have at times become overwhelmed. For many of us, it has also been a time of reflection and contemplation, as demonstrated by this week’s contributors. “On Gary Hume’s ‘The Whole World’” by Brian Cromwall delves into the all-encompassing qualities of our brains. “Those Unheard are Sweeter” by Thomas DeConna explores the inner world of a man whose deep thoughts are mistaken for shyness. “Somewhere in the Night” by John Hawkins takes a nocturnal bus trip that explores the narrator’s place in the...
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