I believe The Sun has run the risk of alienating some of its readership by printing Judith Hertog’s interview with Shaul Magid on the evolution of Zionism and Israel [“Long Shadows,” July 2025] and what I see as its companion piece, Adam Rouhana’s photo essay about Palestinian people, “Before Freedom.” But the greater risk is to remain ignorant, willfully or otherwise, of the reactionary, sadistic, and ideologically driven slaughter in Gaza. I will continue to speak out against these daily atrocities and refuse to join history’s ignominious list of regretful deniers.
Magid’s authoritative grasp of history humanizes the Zionist movement while explaining the monstrosity into which it has been twisted by its extremist proponents. As someone who thought he had a grasp of Middle Eastern politics, I was amazed at how much I had yet to learn.
Judith Hertog’s great interview with Shaul Magid: finally, a view on the Middle East I agree with. I remember 1948 and the founding of a sanctuary for those fleeing Europe, but I can no longer identify with a theocracy of right-wing fundamentalists.
Thank you for publishing Judith Hertog’s interview with Shaul Magid. Magid’s perspective helped me understand further the nuance and complexity of the current conflict. He states, “Our right to live on that land there is no greater than their right to live on that land. This will not be resolved by mass death.” If only world leaders, soldiers, and citizens everywhere would learn this vital lesson.
The images in James Hugo’s “Shimmer” [July 2025] are exquisite, and the touching story of his son’s friend, intertwined with Hugo’s descriptions of the Anna’s hummingbird, left me in tears. The author captures, in a brief essay, the sadness and beauty, fragility and generosity of life.
“Shimmer” called to mind one of my sons’ friends who had similar childhood challenges. Amazingly that friend transcended it all, went to college, and now has a fine career. Still, I cried as I read of the boy in Hugo’s essay and thought of all the others who have suffered in similar ways.
I was deeply impressed by the skillful way Tatiana Swancy wove sobering statistics about Black Americans into her personal narrative in “Driftless” [July 2025]. This kind of data can sometimes take a reader right out of an essay, but she found just the right way to use it to illuminate her experience.
I was struck, too, by the specificity of her images. I’ll be thinking about the smell and touch of her father’s now–lost leather jacket for a long time.
Nick Fuller Googins’s beautiful essay “Our Star” spoke to me. As a kindergarten teacher, when a student had a birthday, I would lead the class in acting out their classmate’s trips around the sun—one for each year of their life. Relating our lives to the movements of the universe expands our outlook.
“Our Star” resonated with me, not because I could ever hope to understand the science of the creation (and demise?) of our solar system, but because of the serendipity it describes: One person meets another in a random circumstance, and they connect for life——however long that might be. It’s the stuff of happy marriages and, sadly, unions that probably should’ve ended much earlier.
As a colored/Negro/Black baby boomer who, at the suggestion of a playmate, once spent two hours in the tub trying to wash the dark off, I enjoyed the Readers Write on “Complexion” [July 2025]. The stories carried me through a self-reflecting journey, which reaffirmed that beauty and compassion go beyond the skin we’re in. We really need The Sun’s substance in these times.
As a bird-watcher, I was thrilled to read Mark Leviton’s interview with Jennifer Ackerman [“Bird’s-Eye View,” May 2025] and learn more about her research and passion for birds.
Leviton’s question about mourning reminded me of the years I lived in rural Wisconsin, where I had a few occasions to observe in American Goldfinches mourning behavior similar to what’s been observed in crows and scrub jays: Goldfinches will stand around one of their own that has collided with a passing car. Unfortunately this is a common end for birds of many species, but I’ve only ever witnessed Goldfinches attending their dead this way—often for more than a day.
Once, a female cardinal flew into one of my windows: also a common tragedy, even with hawk stencils and silver streamers on the windows. I found her lifeless body beneath it and buried her in one of the flower beds. Later in the day a male cardinal flew repeatedly to the ledge of the same window and peered into the house, pecking at the glass as if searching for his mate. This continued for two days. I sadly wondered if I should have left her on the ground and given him a chance to inspect her lifeless body. Perhaps he would have moved on sooner.
I’m grateful to Hannah Gersen for sharing so eloquently her life in the wake of her mother’s death [“Missing,” May 2025]. One of my best friends and I lost our mothers when they, and we, were young. More than fifty years later I still feel my mother’s presence daily. My friend says it’s something you never get over.
Recently my doctor, a woman in her forties, said her mother had died since my last visit. She had done all the necessary grieving, she said, and was getting on with her life. I listened politely, then quietly said, “We arrived from between the legs of our mothers. They’ll always be part of who we are.”
When my friend introduced me to The Sun in the 1990s, I was smitten: black-and-white photography, no ads, exquisite poetry, and lovingly crafted commentaries on this confusing world by folks I consider great thinkers. I’ve been a fan ever since.
Decades later I feel ever-more connected to those who share their ordinary stories in Readers Write. As a therapist, I deeply value every person’s story and encourage them to be told. I give subscriptions to my daughters, now in their twenties, as they navigate their way. I’m grateful for your magazine’s devotion to humanity and connection, and I hope you will always be in my life.
I read Readers Write as soon as my copy of The Sun arrives. Many of the stories in that section parallel the ones I’ve heard during my twenty-three years as a psychotherapist and chaplain in a mental hospital. It amazes me how so many people have not just survived but thrived despite an abusive childhood.
I’ve been reading The Sun for forty-five years or so. It’s been a continuous shaper of my life and my business, and I will subscribe until I’m dead. You folks are quirky. You speak your truths: not one but many. I love the array of formats under one cover. Your magazine reminds me of one of my other reading loves: Steward Brand’s Whole Earth Catalog. The words and feelings in each issue spark my mind to think and open my heart to feel.
