Best Quality Glass Company, New York - Sharon Sheehe Stark

Sharon Sheehe Stark - ??

I’ve looked into my cellar and I have seen an intruder. Yes, just as in this story, the porthole into the cellar is just a sliver of mirror reflecting back an image of myself that I find distorted and almost unrecognizable – a vision of another person...covered in coal dust – cowering in a corner, shamed, bound by sin.

But I’m trying hard, and I wrestle with this intruder everyday until one day, hopefully I will defeat him completely.

The ability to recognize this intruder is a step, and knowing him and gaining knowledge of him will allow me to develop a plan towards his eventual defeat.

“In the most important questions of your life, you are always alone. No one other than you can understand your true history, your life story, as it develops. The essence of true life is your attitude, during the different stages of your life, toward your spiritual self, and your ability to follow that voice living inside you.”

June 2. Wise Thoughts for Every Day - Leo Tolstoy

Reunion- Julie Schumacher

Julie Schumacher – December 2, 1958

This short story was Schumacher’s first published story, and it was so strong, it was chosen by two editors for this anthology – and as trippy things go, it is the first of two stories in this collection with this title.

It really is a fine piece of work. It has a depth within the sentences that give the story so much more than what you first encounter.

The final paragraph is especially stirring if your relationship to your mother is similar to the narrator’s.

My mother is going through a particularly interesting part of her life now. She retired from teaching 2^nd grade last year after 30 years of faithful service. She now spends about 20 hours a day taking care of my step-father who is very old and suffering from his age.

Now, those 20 hours aren’t spent at his side...but when you have an elderly man who calls out to you for no reason but to know that you are there...you are pretty much by his side most of the time. She works to keep the house orderly and the gardens watered. It’s difficult because as she will admit, her mind is distracted by a million things a minute.

She has help from care providers and we do what we can, when we can.

We took her out this past Saturday for a little shopping trip and lunch. Actually, she took us out – I drove. She bought Mirela a ton of clothes as well as a Glider and ottoman for the baby’s room.

She found the time in her life and money to do this for us...even in her place in this world now.

She’s a good, no great mom.

Victrola - Wright Morris

Wright Morris - January 6, 1910 - April 25, 1998

I don’t care much for dogs. I grew up with a series of dogs but was never really attached to any of them. They were just – there.

A dog on a leash. A burden or a pleasure?

I’ve recently come to the realization that the relationship I have with my father is similar to that of this story’s main character’s relationship with his dog.

Perhaps this was not Morris’ intent – to use a man’s relation to his dog to allow the reader to reflect on a relationship with a human – but, this is how it came across to me.

You see, I am the human, and my father is the dog.

My father is not a burden like a dog but my relationship to him and my personal view of him is just like Morris creates between “The man” and “The dog”(dog’s name is Victrola).

I feel that I won’t fully appreciate the relationship, if it can even be called a relationship that we have until he is gone.

I’m still working through things with him and his Alzheimer’s won’t make it any easier.

It’s tough, and going to get tougher.

Graveyard Day – Bobbie Ann Mason

Bobbie Ann Mason - May 1, 1940

Bobbie Ann Mason returns and we find her once again offering a story on relationships.

You know, I’m struggling to get anything out of this story. I have this feeling, and it’s bad, that it is a story written for women. I think I approach all stories fairly and look at them through an honest eye...but this one, I just can’t get anything out of it. Perhaps in a few days.

Sur - Ursula K. Le Guin

Ursula K. Le Guin - October 21, 1929

Exploration.

The feeling that I get when I head out the door every other day for my morning run is that I about to embark on an adventure that will be like none I have every set out on before.

Sure, I run basically the same routes, but there are so many variables that come into play during these mornings, that every run is different.

The good chemicals usually hit me around mile five, and that’s when my thoughts sharpen and I discover answers or uncover new questions.

The past 2 or three years, mental exploration has really captivated me. Exploration of my mind – my consciousness.

These stories have assisted me in unlocking memories, thoughts and feelings that I had previously thought lost to time.

The stories have allowed me to discover and reflect upon opinions of others as well as strengthening or changing my own opinions on any number of subjects.

I don’t need to travel to distant locations (although it is nice) to discover what is inside of all the little craters of my mind.

When I am older, I too will unlock a trunk and be able to pull out letters describing my adventures – adventures that no one knows I am on...adventures taking place at this very moment.

“Sur” was one of those stories that initially did not care for. It took some additional thought and consideration before it grew on me. It reminded me also that I need to slow down when considering what these stories have to offer and to be sure to look around each corner for their lessons.

The Professor’s Houses – Ursula K. Le Guin

Ursula K. Le Guin - October 21, 1929

Do we live in the houses we physically occupy or do we construct living spaces that are far from the reality that we exist in?

I do my best to be as grounded in reality as I can. M and I share this and I think we do a good job of balancing each other out and keeping each other in a “reality” that resembles “reality”.

My personal opinion is that there are too many people – whether through their own doing or through damage that has been done to them by another, who live in houses that are constructed in fantasy.

Furthermore, it’s sad to see the result of these people when their fantasy houses are destroyed.

Their house could be a marriage, a relationship, a job, a financial situation, a child, an ethic even a personality that they have crafted.

But, once again, this is what makes us human...this strange behavior.

Scales - Louise Erdrich

Louise Erdrich - June 7, 1954

I have spent the last nine years of my life sitting in a somewhat comfortable chair in a climate controlled office surrounded by hundreds of books and piles of newspapers, facing a computer screen, tapping in letters and numbers into software and applications, drinking coffee and tea, eating hot food as the world outside of my office continues to spin and others live lives much more uncomfortable than mine.

When I was younger, I thought about what my life was going to be like when I was...well...this age.

I figured that I wanted to be in an office doing office work rather than outside digging ditches. I wanted to be my own boss and have the time to do what I wanted to do.

Well, I have that. I’m not my own boss, but I have an extraordinary amount of freedom in my work.

I have settled down and am quite comfortable in my work.

These short stories allow me to experience life outside of my comfortable office window. “Scales” took me to a part of America that most of us rarely think about. It caused me to reflect on my own life and work and realize how fortunate I am to have been given so much in my life. The color of my skin, the country I call home, the opportunities I have been afforded, the knowledge I have gained...all of these and more add up to where I am today and where I will be tomorrow.

“Scales” caused me to look at those people, workers, who sit at scales day after day...or stand and sit in mind numbing jobs and wonder where in their lives they took a path that placed them where they are.

There is a neighbor of ours who works at a little restaurant down the street form our home.

He is my age and spends from 10:00 until 9:00 in the evening at the restaurant working. After that, he buys a 12 pack of beer and from what I can tell...consumes the entire half case. Empties fill the trashcans between our places.

He wakes up the next day and does it all over again. Is he happy? Is this what he thought he would be doing while I was thinking the same thing 25 years ago?