Falling In Love

Her name was Lisa Beth Cobb, and I saw her for the first time on the archery range of Camp Entwine, my first summer away from home. Her blond hair shone in the morning sunlight. She might as well have taken one of those arrows and shot me right through the heart. I gladly would have died for her on the spot. And, in a way, I did.

My best friend that summer also professed to love Lisa, and on the last day of camp, we decided to ask her who she liked better. I remember standing side by side with David while Lisa, she of the dirty-blond hair and perfect little pug nose, carefully appraised us as if we were two finalists in a beauty contest.

Correspondence

For the first time since I began receiving The Sun, I have let two issues remain unread. My good friend has breast cancer, and I have set aside many of my routine comforts to be with her. She’s going to be just fine, but since her diagnosis I have taken stock of my own life and become more aware of what is really important. I know that some things are not expendable. The Sun is one of those things.

I have read The Sun for six years now, and it has never failed to jolt me back into reality and make me realize that I have not grown numb. In my hectic life there are few things that consistently arouse such an emotional response in me. Every issue of The Sun opens my eyes to new perspectives. People often criticize The Sun for its tendency to delve into the dark side of life. I am thankful to The Sun for its boldness and commitment to presenting all sides of life.

I have just enjoyed the first warm breeze of spring and the February issue of The Sun. And I have wiped tears from my eyes after reading Readers Write on “Falling in Love.” I couldn’t help but cry in response to Sigren Kuefner’s childhood encounter with the Russian soldier who held her and sang to her. And then I cried again as I realized the horrors that other young German girls suffered that night at the hand of Russian soldiers. I also felt joy as I read Shea Settimi’s story of the boyfriend who heated water on the stove and washed her hair when they had no hot water. A simple act in itself, but a symbol of pure love and devotion.

Danna Flowers Unicoi, Tennessee

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February 2003