Issue 354 | The Sun Magazine

June 2005

Readers Write

Possessions

Walking around the block after sunset in pj’s and bathrobe, hoarding corks in a million-dollar house, trading wedding crystal for a minitoilet

By Our Readers
Quotations

Sunbeams

I have the world’s largest collection of seashells. I keep it on all the beaches of the world. Perhaps you’ve seen it.

Steven Wright

The Sun Interview

Crimes Against Democracy

Thom Hartmann On Voting Fraud And The Right-Wing Attack On The Middle Class

The unfortunate reality is that about 80 percent of the vote was either taken on or counted by computers that are programmed by private corporations, and these corporations say we have no business asking how they program their computers. These voting machines leave no paper trail. There’s no way to audit them. There’s no proof that if you push button A, the machine records A rather than B.

By Jim Guinness
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

What They Taught Me

If the child is near death from malnutrition, then the rest of the family must also be hungry. According to Malawian custom, the husband eats first, then the wife, and then the children, in order of age. Often no food is left for the youngest.

By Amy Wilson
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Wash Your Bowls

There’s an old Zen story that I like very much: A monk comes to the monastery of the storied Master Zhaozho. Diligent and serious, the monk asks for instruction, hoping for some esoteric teaching, some deep Buddhist wisdom, or, at the very least, a colorful response that will spur him on in his practice. Instead the master asks him, “Have you had your breakfast yet?” The monk says that he has. “Then wash your bowls,” the master replies. This is the only instruction he is willing to offer.

By Norman Fischer
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Driven By Desire

The first sharp pang of desire hit me in the parking lot of my daughter’s preschool. It was a cold winter day in North Carolina, and as I buckled my seat belt, another mother maneuvered her gleaming new Volvo station wagon into the space beside my 1992 Honda Civic. She smiled and gestured for me to roll down my window so we could talk.

By Krista Bremer
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Michelangelo Of The Den

An Interview With John Orange, On His Completion Of The Ceiling Of The Sistine Chapel, A Jigsaw Puzzle

When I first started in the morning, all of a sudden pieces fell into place that I hadn’t been able to find for hours the day before. Anytime you come to it fresh, you see things that your tired eyes didn’t.

By Michelle Orange
Fiction

The View From Here

Later, I didn’t listen to the radio as much. There was less music and more announcements. Again they began to use the insect words to refer to us. My father used to say, “When they no longer speak of you as people, it means they can kill you.”

By Mithran Somasundrum
Fiction

Tilth

A friend at her father’s funeral had warned her, “When grief comes, ride it like a wave, like a childbirth contraction, even though it might feel like it’s pulling you down to the bottom. If you don’t, you’ll pay the price later. And don’t expect anyone to do it for you.”

By Laura A. Munson