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DOCUMENT RESUMEED 268 575AUTHORTITLECS 209 720Holbrook, Hilary Taylor, Comp.An Exemplary High School Literary Magazine: "RagnarocE"INSTITUTIONSPONS AGENCYPUB DATECONTRACTNOTEAVAILABLE FROMPUB TYPEEDRS PRICE-\ DESCRIPTORSIDENTIFIERSERIC Clearinghouse on Reading and CommunicationSkills, Urbana, Ill.Office of Educational Research and Improvement (ED),Washington, DC.[86]400-83-002549p.; Cover of magazine removed due to poorreproducibility. Photographs may not reproduce well.For other magazine profiles in series, see CS 209701-719.St. Pius E Catholic High School, 2674 Johnson Rd.,N.E., Atlanta, GA 30345 (Magazine only--profile notincluded-- 6.00 including postage).Reports - Descriptive (141)MF01/PCO2 Plus Postage.Competition; Course Content; *Creative Writing;*Evaluation Methods; Faculty Advisers; High Schools;Periodicals; Production Techniques; StudentEvaluation; *Studer.* publications; Teacher Role;Writing Evaluation; Writing for Publication*Exemplars of Excellence; *Literary Magazines;National Council of Teachers of EnglishABSTRACTOne of a series of 20 literary magazine profileswritten to help faculty advisors wishing to start or improve theirpublication, this profile provides information on staffing andproduction of "Ragnaroc E," the magazine published by St. Pius I HighSchool, Atlanta, Georgia. The introduction describes the literarymagazine contest (and criteria), which was sponsored by the NationalCouncil of Teachers of English and from which the 20 magazines werechosen. The remainder of the profile--based on telephone interviewswith the advisor, the contest entry form, and the two judges'evaluation sheets--discusses (1) the magazine format, including paperand typestyles; (2) selection and qualifications of the students onstaff, us well as the role of the advisor in working with them; (3)methods used by staff for acquiring and evaluating studentsubmissions; (4) sources of funding for the magazine, including fundraising activities if applicable, and production costs; and (3)changes and problems occurring during the advisor's tenure, andanticipated changes. The May 1984 issue of the magazine is ***************** ******************Reproiuctions supplied by EDRS are the best that can be made*from the original ************ ******************
"ts )1,fDEPARTMENT OF EDUCATIONUOnce of Educatoonal Research and ImprovementEDUCATIONAL RESOURCES INFORMATION(ERIC)en reproduced asThis document has )1(Wenreceived from the person or organizationoriginating itC Minor changes have been made to improvereproduction QualityPointsolyiew or vinionsstated in this documerit do not necessarily represent officialOERI position or policyAN EXEMPLARY HIGH SCHOOL LITERARY MAGAZINE:RAGNAROC XLmcoCompiled by"PERMISSION TO REPROCUCE THISMATERIAL HAS BEEN GRANTED BY'ZSHilary Taylor HolbrookOCharleen KlistenLLJTO THE EDUCATIONAL RESOURCESINFORMATION CENTER (ERIC)"INTRODUCTIONIn 1984, the National Council of Teachers of English began anational competition to recognize student literary magazines fromsenior high, junior high, and middle schools in the UnitedStates, Canada, and the Virgin Islands.Judges in the statecompetitions for student magazines were appointed by stateleaders who coordinated .he competition at the state level.The student magazines were rated on the basis of theirliterary quality (imaginative use of language; appropriateness ofmetaphor, symbol, imagery; precise word choice; rhythm, flow oflanguage), types of writing included (poetry, fiction,nonfiction, drama), quality of editing and proofreading, artworkand graphic design (layout, photography, illustrations,typography, paper stock, press work), and frontmatter andpagination (title page, table of contents, staff credits). Up to10 points were also either added for unifying themes,cross-curricular involvement, or other special considerations, orsubtracted in the case of a large percentage of outside0rgprofessional and/or faculty involvement.In the 1984 competition, 290 literary magazines receivedratings of "Above average," 304 were rated "Excellent," and 4415Ir'Q
2earned "Superior" ratings from state contest judges. On the basisof a second judging, 20 of the superior magazines received thecompetition's "Highest Award."As a special project, the ERIC Clearinghouse on Reading andCommunication Sk'l's has selected 20 magazines from thosereceiving "Superio,ratings to serve as modele for other schoolswishing to start or improve their own student literary magazines.The profiles of these magazines are based on the facultyadvisor's contest entry sheet, the judges' evaluation sheets, andinterviews with the faculty advisors. Where possible, themagazines themselves have been appended. Information for orderingcopies of the magazines is contained at the end of each profile.3
3RAGNAROC XSt. Pius X Catholic High SchoolAtlanta, GeorgiaPrincipal: Reverend Terry YoungFaculty Advisor: Charleen KlisterStudent Editor: PatricK BrisbaneRag na rok /'rag- na -rak /n [Old Norse ru.a rok, Twilightof the Gods]: the cataclysmic recreation of thethe earth; formation of a col4pleted whole fromdiscordant parts.St. Pius X Catholic High School is a four-year school locatedon the outskirts of Atlanta. Its 83 students are drawn from asix county area, and from a variety of economic and racialbackgrounds. St. Pius has published its student art and literarymagazine, Ragnaroc X, for 15 years, and according to CharleenKlister, the faculty advisor, "the definition of 'Ragnaroc' onthe title page describes the staff's spirit as well as theartistic process and the finished magazine."THE MAGAZINE FORMAT: A COMPLETED WHOLEPrinted on white linen paper and white linen cover stockwith center-staple, Ragnaroc X measures 11 x 8 1/2 inches wide,and has 40 pages. The cover is embossed with a female profile.The air brush and pen original of this illustration appears in4
4the magazine as well. The magazine's name appears in black 72point Linotext typeface. Ms. Klister, the magazine advisor, notesthat the embossed illustration is one of only a few in Ragnaroc's15 year history: most often the cover is plain, with raisedtitle.The text within is printed in 12 point Aldus typeface with32 point titles. Authors are in 8 point Aldus italic, andshort stories have 30 point initial caps at new paragraphs. Themagazine's center page is printed in purple, with Linotext titleand initial caps. Black and white artworks throughout themagazine include pen and ink, pencil, and charcoal drawings,photographs, and linoleum block prints.PRODUCTION: EVERYONE DOES EVERYTHINGMs. Klister started the magazine in 1969, at the suggestionof five sophomore students who said they would like to see someof their friends' works published. Although production work isnow done in an elective course, up until 1985, Ragnaroc's staffof 16-18 students met entirely after achool hours. The staff isopen to anyone interested, and encompasses all levels of artisticand academic achievement. Ms. Klister observes a magazine policyof "everyone does everything," and sees her role as that of aconsultant. Her primary objective is to teach the staff decisionmaking skills, and when need be, to ask questions that will helpthe staff arrive at a decision, but the students themselves makefinal choices.All writing and art are contributed by students, and allproduction work--editing, design and paste-up--is performed by5
students, with the following exceptions: for the 1984 edition,two pieces of faculty writing were published, and the advisortyped one piece of copy and acted as a third proofreader for fivepieces of copy in the galley stage, at the request of the editor.Printing is completed by an cutside contractor. As per staffpolicy, each member is responsible for contributing his or herall to every phase of planning, production, financing, andpublicity. Exceptions are typing and copyreading.SUBMISSIONS: QUALITYBetween the months of Septembe.' and February. the staffencourages students to submit writing and artwork for publicationin Ragnaroc by means of PA announcements and posters. Staffmembers also ask English teachers to remind students of theopportunity to submit. For the 1984 issue, students submitted 293pieces of writing and 103 pieces of art and photography. For someissues, the staff advertises for faculty submissions, althoughresponse is low. Two faculty works were published in the 1984edition, however, on the same basis as the student contributions:staff diC not know which pieces were written by students andwhich were written by faculty.When faced with decisions between variety and quality, thes' .ff chooses quality. Because all work is submitted by students,there is no guarantee that any art and text will ever complementeach other. "When the ingenious staff cannot match the two, it ispleased to print the art or text for its intrinsic value."Ms. Klister notes that about half of the submissions aregenerated by class assignments. Most of the poetry is personal
6writing, while most of the prose submissions stem fromcoursework. She also notes that, due to changes in the freshmanand sophomore writing curriculum, submissions from these twograde levels has decreased somewhat.FUNDING: FIRST PLACE AWARDRagnaroc receives 700, approximately 26 percent of its 3,500 budget from the school, and 9 percent from monetarydonation- of patrons and sponsors. Advance sales of the magazineaccount for 38 percent of the budget, and for the 1984 issue,another 3 percent came from a competition in which Ragnarocreceived First Place award as the best magazine in DeKalb County.The remaining 24 percent of the budget comes from studentfundraisirg activities. In addition to bake sales, the staffsells flowers twice a year and sponsors a Christmas dance as well.In 1984, the staff served an "Italian Dinner" for lunch in theschool cafeteria.Ragnaroc is produced at a cost of 7.75 per copy for a printrun of 425, and is sold for 5.00 at publication. Thesubscription price is 4.00. Approximately 38 percent of expensesare recovered through sales. Complimentary copies are distributedto surrounding parishes, communities and local services.CHANGES: ELECTIVE COURSERagnaroc is now produced during class time in an electiveEnglish course on literary magazine production. The course isopen to any interested students at all four grade levels. Ms.Klister acknowledges that the course format poses grading
7problems that she did not have when the staff worked after schoolhours.Ms. Klister, however, still adheres to the "everyone doeseverything" policy in the class, and continues to teach thedecision-making process. Despite the change to a class format forproduction and the problems it poses, RagnEroc remains aninnovative and competitively excellent magazine.**Copies of Ragnaroc X may be obtained fromSt. Pius X Catholic High SchoolN.E.2674 Johnson RoadAtlanta, GA 30345Cost: 6.00 (includes postage)8a
F4RAGNAROC XMay, 1984Ragnaroc, Volume fifteen, number one, is the literary-art magazine published annually by the studentsof St. Pius X Catholic High School, 2674 Johnson Road, N.E., Atlanta, Georgia 30345 Ragnaroc is amember of the Scholastic Press Association, the Southern Interscholastic Press Association, and theGeorgia Scholastic Press Association. All work is submitted by the students of St. Pius X CatholicHigh School and is selected anonymously for publication by the magazine staff.Rag narokrrag-na-rNkin ION ragnarhk,Twilight of the Gods]: the cataclysmic recreation of the earth; the formation of a completedwhole from discordant parts.9
Table of ContentsArtAir BrushF ru MarstoPhotographcoverPencilMatt Lvta4PencilMatt Lucas194Julian Delgado22, 235Mixed Mediumloll?! awn()Colored Pencil24LinoleumSandy Steinhauere LinoleumCatherine Young26PhotographShawn StandardPencilEric Marcum7Thomas Peters27Pen and Ink7Pen and InkEd Delgado28ChalkJonathan BrisbaneCharcoal8Catherine Young30Scatchboord ReproductionKevin RichardsonQPencilKevin Richardson32LinoleumDavid Garfen10Colored PencilEd Delgado35Air BrushPat rick WhalenPencilMatt Lucas.13Eric Marston36Colored Pencil15Colored PaperJulian Delgado37PhotographGwen Westfall17PhotographThomas Popp,38PhotographEric Marston17Colored PencilJohn Clair.wPencilEric Marston1810102Mark Born,tewIllustrationsMichael Merk/e39
oetrAllM IiM'The Lover"Jeannine MarlarMy Cracked Pen Breaks"Dan Grill"I'll Be Much Better"4447713141432MinimaCole 011ingi;Laurie JosephCole 01 lingerBelinda Walker25Ed DelgadoJerome KramerPat AdamsYvette Fletcher12Jerome Kramer14"I Was a Teenage Leftist"35"St Pius Chronicle"35Dan Grill"Snow Purple and theSeven Little Pigs"Patrick Brisbane.Kelly Clark36Patrick Brisbane,16181920"An Interview with me Von Klip"37Jerry V. Kramer22"Beauty Drug"37Ed Delgado26"Mr. Asia"39Audio/Visual"Laura Richardson1134"Faded Day"29Mandy Morrison33"State"298"The Saga of Little RedRonnie the Hood""The Ex-Lovers"An Agent of Selection"MinimaLaura RichardsonJoe Healy"Late Summer Fall""Beastly Beauty"24Exam Week"Jeannine Marlar32"Compassion"17'Conversation (With Myself)"Kelly ClarkMike Torino6"The Biography of Katie Kaiser""Perhaps"'15Executive Futility"Cole 01 linger32"Truth"I Stand"Jeannine MarlarEd DelgadoLynn Dobson"Love That Has No Objectivity""Sacred and Profane"Lost"Jo Ellen McFadden31"1983"Great-Aunt Isabel"Michelle Kleinhan,'CamhioLaura RichardsonL714 rie Joseph5"Yesterday's Hero""The Visitor"Song of a City"Jeannine Marlar31"Rage"Scotland's Loch"Parry van HamondKelly ClarkMoll!, Pitra"In All This Rain""Ex Post Facto"Conflicting Worlds"Amy Conroy"Discovering An End"31"Death by Male"'The Open Door"Cole 011ingerGeorgia SatteleProseEd Delgado33"Backroads"29.11Kelly Clark383
My Cracked PenBreaksOnce when I was two or threeI fell in love with wordsAnd found a loverwho avoided meAnd rent my lifeto shardsA gigoloa siren's wailAn insubstantial spriteHe runs from meduring the dayMy pen is crackedI have to do my homeworktonight with this feeble penAfter school: Dread!Same shaky routine,Family constantly uptightMother always worryingabout me.He sings to me at nightLet me take care of myself.Why not?Of course, I can.All right, maybe not all the timeand you know I need you too.I'm sorry about those things.Please don't do this. I onlywant to be more indepen.He sings of passionsings of loveOf deathinsanityIs another of his favorite songsThen night turns into dayAnd off he runsthe impudenceOf thisyoungpoltergeistIs equalled only by the loveBetween us asIwaitJeannine Mar larVerbal struggle; bitter fight.Where will I live?People hurt.Feelings shatteredMy per is brokenDon GrillThe Open DoorAfter all the doors are slammedand all the rejections have been laid downand lights dimmedand commotion quelledand angers soothedand tears driedthere is always a placethat one can hideand hereone doesn't have to hide.The door is always openat home.Cole 01 lin gerPencil by Matt Lucas412
Discovering An End4Molly Paraii 7 joey,give Pooh Bear back.You're hurting him!" I tuggedon Pooh's legs as Joey heldPooh's head tight. We wrestled backand forth until Pooh's legs were nolonger part of his body. 'Joey," Iscreamed, "Pooh Bear's dead!" Andhe was.Mom told me to clear up Pooh'sstuffing out of the carpet. I thoughtof it as Pooh's blood. While pickingup the stuffing,Bear's funeral,Iplanned Poohbut the funeralitself wasn't anything like I hadpictured. Instead of having thefamily gathered in the backyardover his grave, Mom dropped himin the trash can and said she'd getme another one. "Another one?"I questioned. "When somethingPencil by Matt Lucasdies, we get one alike in return?"It was the first deathIWe were on our way backhadknown, and it was nothing like I: ad imagined. I grew to forget PoohBear, and tried to understanddeath.ii.olly, yon baby, you stillbeliev- in Santa?" Julieand Jennifer askedteasingly. "We have something toshow you." They took me down tothe basement. I didn't even recognize the place. It looked like Santa'sworkshop. I was confused andwondered why loads of toys werealready there. "Molly, Mom andDad are Santa," Julie and Jennifersaid surprisingly."1 don't believe you!"Iyelledback. My eyes watered.Santa not real? For years I'dbelieved in nothing but an imagina.y character. The realization ofthis hit me hard. I cried because Ilooked at the situation as a death.The death was of childhood. .from church. We hadn'teven made it up t:.e driveway when Julie hit it. The sound ofJulie's yelling and the young puppy'scrying still echoes in my mii.cl.sometimes. Julie co'ildn't handlethe situation, so she ran into thehouse, leaving Jennifer, Joey, andme ':o Ilea, .e mess. I reached fora buceet ann. hose to wash theblood down the street. My eyesbegan to water for Julie and the"I don't know how to tell you this.I guess the way it was told to mewould be the best manner." Icringed at the thought of bad news,wondering if I were strong enoughto handle it. My moth'r's eyeswatered as she told the news of myfather in the same manner thedoctor told her I caught only onephrase and blocked out the rest."Your father's, dying," she said insuch a gentle voice. Three harshwords, spoken ;n such a gentle way,small puppy. Death had come intocontact with me. I saw somethingthat were sure to change my life."He has four to six months left,"real, alive, and yet so young die.My tears washed down tie streetMom told us. In apse months I feltwith the puppy's blood as his bodywas moved into a small cardboardbox.My mother called us to ameeting around thebreakfast room table.There were three empty seats forthe family had started moving . n.as thoughIwas the one dying.Death was close, and it was leavinga different feeling. A feeling ofanger. It left the reminder of howI thought of death before. .As the casket was lowered intothe ground, Pooh Bear, Santa, andthe young puppy were buried alongocwith my father.513
In All This RainLynn DobsonI,im, are you coming orless from running.As I think this, horror hits bothMom's and my eyes at the sameinstant because she lets out a smallwhimper and runs from under myarm. She races into the room andnot!""Yea, yea, 'course I am.Do I have much choice? Let me justget my coat."HONK, HONK, HONK!"My gosh! Some people haveI can hear her scream once she getsabsolutely no patience!"Where did I put my coat? I had itinside. I stop just outside the door,when I got home but now I can'tHONK, HONK, HONK! Isurehope it's in the car!Man, what a yucky day! I don'tthink it's stopped raining for fourdays straight And they haven'tbeen just drizzle rains either. We'retalking downpours. If this doesn'tlet up soon, we might have to startwork on the U.S.S Ark #2!"Did you remember to let thedogs back in?""Yes, Mom. How could I forget?You've only reminded me seventimes, not including now."Ihate sounding so terrible, but Ijust can't help it. This pastmonth has been so rough on allof us. Ever ;ince they took Dad outof I.C.U. and put him into a roomwhere he could have visitors, wehave been making this trip to thehospital every day. And it is the tripsthat are the worst. Seeing Dad isokay although we can't really stayfor too long. At least he is lookingbetter. But the -Ides there areunbearable. The tension can be cutwith a knife. Nobody is the same.A joke is taken seriously. and realityjust can't be laughed at. And Godknows we can all use a laugh.e pull into the parkinglot, and the usua! man issitting in the usual boothwith the usual smile on his face.His name is Sam."How's your husband doing?"Sam asks with just enough emotionnot to sound concerned."Oh, about the same, thanks,"Mom replies with a smiling sigh.I can't help wishing that peoplelike Sam didn't always have to feellike they have to care. The hypocrisyof life is sometimes enough to makeme sick. As we get out of the car, Iforget that I don't have a coat on.Linoleum by Sandy Steinhauerafraid for the first time to see myown father."He had another cardiac arrest,and we just couldn't bring himbackThe doctor's voice trails out1 get it for that too"If you would have just hurriedup!"the door. "We did our best, but it"If you hadn't been s. impatient!"It jt.st never seems to end.1 he nurse at the desk greets ushappened He didn't suffer."He didn't suffer. Great. He leftthat up to us, too.with another one of those Samsmiles and inquires about my father.Mom gives the stock answer again,and we walk on.Hypocrisy ishere to stayThe gloom of hospitals seems tohang in the air. Emergencies areconstantly popping up, but no oneis ever supposed to know just howbad things are. It seems like the onewas just so sudden. It was even toosuddenfor him to know whatMom stays in his room for awhile and says her goodbyes, but I say mine fromthe floor outside his door. I want toremember him as I knew him best.The doctor brings Mom to thedoor, and I rise to replace his handon her shoulder with mine. Heguys that just tore around withthat stretcher. Honestly, no onespeaks to me, but I only turn withmy mother and walk slowly away.No, it really is she and I againstthe world.We pass by the same nurseswith the same Sam smiles on theirfaces as we leave. Doesn't it everseems to have time to slow downend?place that would have to have thetruth is the one place that hides itso well. Everyone is always in sucha hurry at hospitals, like those twoAs we walk back to the car, Iany more.Mom stops off at the bathroom,so I just wander around. As morbidas hospitals are, they are awfullyfascinating at the same time Likeall those gadgets and etc. that aream drenched clean through to mysoul. I think I'll never be dry again,inside or out. It doesn't really seemto matter anymore because it justkeeps raining00used for etc. and etc. You can't helpbut find it interesting.1/ T7 eady7" Mom comes out ofthe bathroom."Sure," I say with myfirst smile of the day and put myarm around her shoulder. It's youant' -.1e against the world, I thinkas we round the corner and headtowards Dad's room. I freeze as hisdoor comes into sight. That samestretcher that had almost run usover is outside his door, only thistime they are putting all the apparatus back onto it, and the guys looktoo exhausted to have been breath-14
LW)**e 'Linoleum by Shawn StandardConflictingWorldsAs I sit here,stranger to their world,I see sn,all bitsand piecesOf various lives.I waitfor those I amFamiliar with.I wait,to return to myFamiliar world.The clothes and conversationare strangeTo me.My uniform looksout of place.Some smile,some laugh.Pencil by Eric MarcumSome don't even noticethis strange girlInvadingtheir world.Amy ConroyScotland's LochShrill calls rent winter's deathly silence,The warbler heralds the epochal ebb and flow.Frozen rivers splinter and thaw,Waters course in a thunderous tumult.Icicles, like fingers, loosen their gripUpon naked boughs, naked limbsTo be clothed in the season's virginal fashions:Rebirth of Scotland's Loch.Patty van liamond157
Yesterday's HeroJoe HealyThe crowd was the usual size,not very big. A mild breezewas b:o. , ilg in from rightfield, and the night had a lazy kindof warmth.The club had acquired him at thetime with Willie at first. Willie hadmoved to first base a few years agoto compensate for his aging legs.His moments of glory had been inri., htfield. A young kid with asm. ltimillion dollar contract playedtheie now.lefties. he ,At next to the newremembered another rookie someyears ago who had the same hotdog personality.Willie didn't talk much to thenew kid. He didn't talk much toanybody anymore. Most of hisfriends were retired now. He wasa stranger now where he had beena star. People found Willie keepingto himself mostly.A seasoned veteran from Phila-delphia was at first base tonight.the game progressed,Willie's team had lost aAsthree-run lead and waspresently tied. The contest wasreaching its final stages. The pitcherhad become tired and Willie knewthat he wouldn't last much longer.A lefty and a righty had beenwarming up in the bullpen andwere ready now. Willie rememberedthe times when pitchers almostalways pitched the whole game.Today's kids aren't tough enough,he thoughtWillie was tough. He had puthis body through some gruelingtests but had always recoveredwas sprinkled with gray. The longersummer nights and years of travell-ing had begun to show on the oldwarrior's face. This wasn't thesame body that had won him threebatting titles and various GoldenGlove awards.The pitcher miraculously pitchedout of the jam he created, but hewas the third batter due up thisinning. The other team had justbrought in a lefty The managertold him he would bat for thepitcher.This was the fourth managerthat Mille had gone through withthe team. This manager was ,hreeyears Willie's junior. With the restof the players, the younger ones, hehad the arrogance of one who isgiven too much power. He treatedWillie as some kind of foreigner.Willie had been through much moreJonathan Brisbanethan he had, more than he couldrelate to. Knowing that any sortoi relationship would be artificial,the manager never made mucheffort at establishing a friendshipwith the veteran.8batter of the inning failed in hismission to reach base safely, butthe second succeeded.Willie warmed up with theweighted bat in the on deck circlewhile waiting for his name to befrom the fans. Years ago theywould have stood and anxiouslycheered as the public addresssystem heralded that gloriousname.Willie stepped toward the plate.He rook a few practice swings ashe peered at the third base coach.He dug in his back foot and focusedon the pitcher, another old warriortrying to regain the fame of hisyouth. Willie knew he was fightingfor a lost cause. His fastball hadlost its zing, and his curveball nolonger broke as sharply as it oncehad. Sure, he was still etfectivebut only effective. He would neveragain be a hero.from them. The bruises hurt morenow, though. Little things demand-ed greater effort. His ankles andknees were blanketed in tape. Hisbelly had become a dominantfeature, and his once black hairPct and Ink byscore still tied. Extra inningsseemed very likely. The firstannounced. When he was introduced, just a faint applause roseWillie had the night off again.These days he started only againstrookie pitcher just brought up fromthe AAA farm team. Willie wasn'ttoo familiar with the rookie, but hepossessed a certain cockiness whichWillie found entertaining. HeThe last inning found thebeginning of the season to splitThe first pitch was a curvethat Willie missed by a foot.It wasn't as good a pitcl. asit was a bad swing. Willie steppedout of the batter's box. Could hestill produce, or was he merelyfooling himself? Was he living inhis past?He stepped back in. The nextpitch sailed outside. Willie awaitedthe next pitch with a grim face. Itwas a letter-high fastball that Williesent to the base of the left centerfield fence, just under the 411-footsign. The centerfielder raced toretrieve the ball as the runner,once on first, touched the thirdbase bag. The centerfielder lobbedthe ball back to the infield. Any playat the plate was just wishfulthinking.As Willie approached secondbase, he breathed a sigh of relief.A handful of his teammates ran outto greet him. A boyish grimacecovered the old man's face. Hejogged back to the dugout with asense of accomplishment.The pitcher took off his gloveand carried it in his other hand.He walked, head down, to thedugout. Willie caught a glimpse ofhim. His smile shrank a little. oo16
Pencil by David Garter:1810
Love That Has No ObjectivityMandy MorrisonIsat on the corner of my grand-mother's bed at the nursinghome, listening to her reminisceabout her childhood.A funny feeling came over me asI took notes on my grandmother'scase with my grandmother's wo,k.Getting up early to go out in thefields and pull up the dew-coveredweeds from between the cornstalks, helping plant crops so herfamily would have food in thelife! Love that has no objectivityha3 been our bond. That , was herwinter, and loading the wheat orNow I was listening to her objec-on her chores as part of theirtivel and the difference in ourlivelihood.favorite, neither she nor I noranyone else in the family doubted.worlds glared at me. Not only wereour clothes different; our wholechildhoods, because of time andmaterial wealth, were miles apart.I began to jot down the types ofluxuries that I possess at the ageof fifteen that she never possesseduntil she had had children my age.Grandma didn't have a choice ofher clothes. She wore the one pairof shoes she owned to school andchurch, and when summer cameshe went barefoot. I can choosebetween my Docksiders or myCampsides in the morning to wearto school. I choose between myAsahis or my Adidas for P.E. Twowoolen shirts and a designer cottondress I have to my name, and Iwould gladly exchange them forthree pairs of Levi jeans. Yet, mygrandmother owned one dress,which she took pride in wearing tochurch every Sunday even thoughit was made from the bag that thechicken feed came in. When I wasfive I wore overalls like a conductorof a tr. 'n would wear and thoughtthey were super neato because theysaid OshKosh on the large pocketacross my chest. Waking up withthe sun, Grandma would slip onher overalls that she wore out inthe fields every day to pull a%meds,and they would be washed at theend of the week.Whenthe corn onto the horse-drawnwagon were just a sampling of thejobs she did. Her family dependedcommented. "That"Man,"would have been hard! I'm glad IIdidn't grow up then."Laughing at my horror, or per-haps at my laziness, she replied,"It wasn't so hard. It kept us out ofmeanness." She stared at the chairacross from her and said, really tono one in particular, "I'm rightglad I lived through them times!"We both sat on the bed in silence,and I heard her words ring in myhead. l wondered how anyone couldappreciate living the life she did.From the time we were able torun and catch a ball, my sister andI would play tag, football, kickball,and race our matchbox cars
Pencil. Pen and Ink. Eric Marcum 7 Ed Delgado 28. Pen and Ink Chalk. Jonathan Brisbane. 8. Catherine Young 30. Charcoal Scatchboord Reproduction. Kevin Richardson. Q. Kevin Richardson 32. Pencil Linoleum. David Garfen 10 Ed Delgado 35. Colored Pencil Air Brush. Pat rick Whalen. 13. Eric Marston 36 Pencil.
