In her Readers Write piece on “Graffiti” [October 2025], Celia Barbour mentions that her sleepaway camp’s outhouses were called “kybos.” She writes that the name was “one of those camp-lore terms whose origin is shrouded in mystery.”
At our boys’ camp in Ontario we have called the outhouses kybos—which stands for “Keep Your Bowels Open”—since the camp’s inception in 1947. In fact, we used to have a kybo chart in every cabin to make sure the boys were using it daily.
Elizabeth Hawes’s essay “Eight Tenets” [September 2025] is well- constructed, funny, and profound. I’m grateful to her for connecting with us, and for all the new ideas now occupying my brain. I also would like to relate the following anecdote to her:
I always read in bed at night. Sometimes my six-year-old daughter lies next to me and asks me to read aloud to her. She seems to like the sound of my voice, even if what I’m reading goes over her head.
I told her I was reading an essay written by a prisoner and then went on to read some of the qigong tenets out loud, including the section in which Hawes talks about the words she finds most beautiful. My daughter, whom I thought I had lulled to sleep, sat up and said she thought Tic Tac is actually a much nicer word than feather.
What was keeping her awake was the thought that this author is in prison. “But what did she do?” she kept asking. I repeated that I did not know. Then I reread some parts I loved, especially the ending, to my husband, a jazz musician.
Finally my daughter said, “Maybe she stole a clarinet. Or a raisin.”
The Sun continues to guide my life in both spiritual and not-so- spiritual ways. Most recently I’ve drawn inspiration from Bonnie Johnson, who writes how, at eighty years old, she still puts on her panties standing up [“Getting Dressed,” September 2025]. She notes that a friend’s mother had once declared, “As long as I can put on my panties standing up, I know I’m OK.” This morning, at the tender age of seventy, I followed her lead.
Lily Geismer’s analyses of the Democratic Party’s failure to win over American voters [“Opportunity Knocked,” August 2025] might have been relevant fifteen years ago, before Donald Trump entered electoral politics.
When a man with a criminal record, who makes the kind of statements Trump has made, wins the popular vote, the United States has entered a new reality. Fact-based economic strategies are out the window when dealing with a national cult. Like Jim Jones’s constituency, too many people are happily drinking the Kool-Aid.
Why did Trump succeed when the Democratic Party failed? Perhaps a psychological assessment would be more revealing. Trump presents the appearance of strength, confidence, and certainty that most people don’t see in themselves or in anyone around them. And he unambiguously espouses American exceptionalism. Of course, the illusion of his appeal doesn’t stand up well to an honest appraisal.
A genuine “opportunity knocked” with the early success of Bernie Sanders’s primary campaign in 2016. Sanders inspired the working class with real proposals instead of the Democratic Party’s usual empty promises. The Democratic establishment’s undemocratic maneuvering to undermine Sanders created the frustration and disillusionment that led desperate people to believe Trump’s lies. Thanks to the Democratic National Committee and corporate Democrats, we now have President Donald Trump.
I was disappointed by the Sunbeams selections in the August 2025 issue. The trope that politicians are all liars is itself a manifestation of the lie that we have trapped ourselves in. Such skepticism prevents us from envisioning leaders who might earnestly serve their communities, and from seeing that many people in government already do. Repeating these generalizations denies the dedication of those who serve with a sense of purpose and hands the mic to the liars we’ve come to expect.
Many multigenerational recipes have backstories as interesting as the recipes themselves. Sara Spurgeon’s essay “ Start with Overripe Bananas” [August 2025] reminded me of a faded newspaper clipping I found in the well-worn Bible given to my grandmother by her mother in 1911. It was a recipe for a “Biblical Cake,” the ingredients for which were referenced in Old Testament verses.
The recipe begins with the quote, “Behold there was a cake baken” (1 Kings 19:6). It continues: “Flour, 3 ½ cups (1 Kings, 4:22).” Butter (one cup) was found in Judges 5:25, and eggs (six) in Isaiah 10:14. If the baker followed Solomon’s advice for bringing up good boys (Proverbs 23:14), then he or she “will have a good cake.”
Apparently, in the Old Testament, there are no verses mentioning baking powder (two teaspoons).
Sara Spurgeon’s essay in the August issue is one of the finest pieces of writing I have encountered. My wife, not usually a Sun reader, loved it too. Spurgeon’s framing device, alternating between her family’s narrative and the making of a beloved banana bread, is brilliant. The tradition of love and care—and of women holding things together—shines through. Pain is held alongside compassion, and love twines around the trauma.
I’ve been reading The Sun since I was a tween in the early nineties. In recent years I’ve noticed the voices you’re publishing have expanded to represent a wider breadth of humanity. It is wondrous, rare, and, in these scary times, radical. Please keep it up. I’m cheering you on.
While reviewing my credit card statement today, I was surprised to see that my print and digital subscription to The Sun cost only $52 for the year. I even checked The Sun’s website to confirm the price. How can this be?
While I don’t know how you keep the price so low, I do know that the magazine is worth far more. The cover of the August 2025 issue alone, with Cindy Murray’s photograph of a woman offering a ridiculously tall ice-cream cone, has felt priceless to me. I’ve picked up that issue again and again just to experience that image—the smile it brings me, laughter tickling my chest. Thank you. I donated today so that more people can experience the wonder of The Sun.
Daniel Ritchie was right to wonder. With costs going up, we are having to implement a modest price increase. Starting this month, a one-year subscription is $59, and a single issue is now $8.95. As a nonprofit that carries no advertising, we depend entirely on our readers to sustain us, and we thank you for your continued support.—Ed.
Several years ago, my then-boyfriend introduced me to The Sun. I will never forget the first article I read—an interview with Steve Silberman about autism [“Misdiagnosed and Misunderstood,” March 2017]. When my boyfriend and I moved in together (and, soon after that, got married), we called your office to combine our subscriptions. It felt like we had won the lottery.
Sometimes I would leave notes or underline parts I enjoyed for him to see. What I did not anticipate was how our shared subscription would follow him when he left me, moved into his own apartment, and had his mail forwarded. The magazines I loved disappeared, and the contents of my mailbox became a boring pile of bills.
But not this week. To my utter surprise, I opened my mailbox to find a shiny copy of The Sun waiting just for me. It felt like a small victory in what has been a period of neglect and betrayal. The Sun remembered me.
