Issue 212 | The Sun Magazine

August 1993

Readers Write

Ten Years Later

A sister’s grief, an aging woman’s grace, a rape victim’s triumph

By Our Readers
Quotations

Sunbeams

The study of crime begins with the knowledge of oneself.

Henry Miller

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Natalie

There is no simple way, no easy or uncomplicated way, to look into the face of a filthy old woman on the street. We are frightened or saddened or repelled, feel guilty if not resentful, and then we avert our eyes.

By Ann Nietzke
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

A Brutal Sadness

Capital Punishment And The Politics Of Vengeance

Robert Alton Harris was gassed to death at sunrise on April 21, 1992, the first person to be executed by the state of California in twenty-five years. The execution ended fourteen years of legal wrangling over Harris’s fate, capped by four overnight stays of execution.

By D. Patrick Miller
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Only Child

Alzheimer’s sneaks up on you: a forgotten appointment, a misplaced handbag, a spoken sentence that makes no sense, an inexplicable burst of anger, the nagging fear that there may not be enough money for you to live on. The early signs of Alzheimer’s seem to be just natural signs of aging.

By Carrie Knowles
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

At Seven

My own experience was going from grace to more grace. I felt only the love. All the other — the sin, the penitence, the being out of grace — was something my mother tacked on. That could never take root in me. The experience I’d had was so much more real and marvelous than anything I was supposed to believe.

By Cait Stanley
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Letter To Maxim

The story of you is starting in me again. When I think of you, I see a road, a long gray stretch of lonely two-lane highway, a yellow stripe painted down its middle, a road in the middle of nowhere.

By Alison Luterman
Fiction

Uncle Ruff

I was not hallucinating. Here was time incarnate, bareheaded, wrapped in heavy bib overalls and flannel, and moving in a lithe, short-stepping dance about the concrete ramp.

By John Baird