Issue 246 | The Sun Magazine

June 1996

Readers Write


Jeanne Moreau, a shattered jaw, a face lift

By Our Readers


Beauty is one of the rare things that do not lead to doubt of God.

Jean Anouilh

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Cantor’s Birthday

Before they kissed, they cried. With her head against his shoulder, they ended the war. With his lips brushing her eyelids, they ended the war. With her fingers mapping the lines of his face, they ended the war. With his knees tucked into the hollow of her knees, they ended the war.

By Nina Wise
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Losing Gretchen

Had I known she was so large and that her leaving would create this cavernous emptiness, I would have fallen to my knees each morning and worshiped her. I would have strewn flowers at her feet, and I would have cherished every smile, every glance from her eyes, every word from her lips.

By Tom Crider
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Home Birth

Afterward, no one present recalled my pausing. It was brief, practically instantaneous, but it was one of those moments that open vertically, perpendicular to time, and encompass worlds.

By Charles Goodrich
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

On Being Beautiful

I’m beautiful. It’s lasted quite a long time, this beauty of mine, but it won’t be lasting much longer because I’m forty now, as I’m writing this, forty now and probably by the time you read it forty-one, and so on and so forth, and we all know it ends up as worms or ashes, but for the time being I’m still beautiful.

By Nancy Huston

Burt Osborne Rules The World

All day long, on that day in the sixth grade when my life changed forever and the world became a better place, everything had been smelling and tasting like overcooked eggs.

By Edward Allen

At The Window

I am standing at the bay window in our living room, watching my son walk down the street. I am Nathan Gold, son of Morris, father of Jeffrey. I am Nathan, son of Rose, husband of Jacqueline, father of Jeffrey.

By Andrea Gollin