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The Sun Magazine

Fundraising Appeal

Friend Of The Sun

When a socially committed friend lamented recently that she was “awfully busy these days,” I reminded her she’d been awfully busy for years. She laughed good-naturedly, then told me I had no right to talk.

Good Days, Bad Days

Here, as everywhere, there are good days and bad. The bad days: more bills than checks in the mail; some discouraging moment annexing the next moment and the next, whole hours slave to a mood — that we’re small and forgettable, not worth the price, or that we are but since so few people know of us what does it matter?

A Letter to Our Readers

I arrived earlier than usual the other morning to clean the office. Being alone here, with a can of Comet and a sponge, I was reminded of where I work. The walls and floors and forgotten corners came alive, not as mute backdrop but as things in themselves. This is important because, for me, The Sun isn’t just the ideas in its pages but also the shelves that need to be dusted, the plants that need to be watered, the sink that needs to be scrubbed. If I get lost in the abstractions, and ignore my surroundings or sentimentalize their neglect, I’m hardly being faithful to the spirit of the magazine.