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The Sun Magazine

The Sun Interview

Acts Of Courage

An Interview With David Schiffman

SCHIFFMAN: What I remember about growing up in that neighborhood was enormous security. We didn’t lock the door to our house for twenty years. There was a feeling of knowing your own place, and there was a cast of characters that had its own flavor. There was a consistency and dependability to life in those times which I don’t think is too common anymore.

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Path Of Compassion

Thoughts On Spiritual Practice And Social Action

How can we reconcile the question of service and responsibility in the world with the Buddhist concepts of non-attachment, emptiness of self, non-self?

Bedtime Reading

Soon after I met the man who is now my husband — it was our second date, I think — Peter explained one of his chief requirements in a woman: “Let’s go to the library. We’ve got to be able to read in the same room together.”


Suitcases Of Baby Food

I wait for my father at the airport, as usual. He is almost two hours late, according to his itinerary No. 48. I should be used to this routine by now. For years I have waited for him, regularly, outside the customs area of the International Arrivals Building at Kennedy Airport. He has never arrived on schedule. But I am still impatient and anxious. I still watch those blue metal doors religiously, as they swing open and shut, spitting out one baggage-laden passenger after another. And every time they open I crane my head yet another time, expecting him to appear, as usual.

The Pulse

One day the old man brings in a dish of oatmeal to feed the lump of flesh which had once been his wife and discovers that she is dead. He is numb. How can he be otherwise? Florence died long before the breath went out of the mass that now lies so still in his bed. He had begged her to stay with him but could see that she was powerless in the grip of a tide that was pulling her away. They had not even talked for two years. Sometimes he would hear her murmuring his name to herself but the eyes that met his were empty of recognition.

*NOTE: Original copies of this issue are no longer available. Unbound, laser-printed copies will be provided for print orders.

Readers Write


We lived on the edge of a woods in South Carolina when I was a little girl. Through the woods and past the big pasture there was another woods, smaller than the first, and that’s where the Blackerbys lived.

Personal Stories By Our Readers ▸


That is what learning is. You suddenly understand something you’ve understood all your life, but in a new way. There’s a pressure on us all the time to go on to something that seems new because there are new words attached to it. But I want to take words as ordinary as bread. Or life. Or death. Cliches. I want to have my nose rubbed in cliches.

Doris Lessing
The Four-Gated City

More Quotations ▸
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