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The Sun Magazine

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

A Dictionary Of Childhood

The finest insights of the greatest thinkers — that’s what Irving Weiss was after when he started compiling “A Dictionary Of Childhood.”

A Wyoming Myth

In January of 1966 an old Crow woman, tired of her age and the palsied chattering of her body, walked from Powder River all the way up Crazy Woman Creek into the Bighorns. She thought she would be as the original Crazy Woman, another Indian dying alone in the snow. But when she reached the spot where Crazy Woman had died, the old woman slipped out of her skin and dropped to the ground.

Back To The Real World

Reflections On A Course In Miracles

I have lately been recalling a time in my life when everything in the world felt unreal to me. The sensation took hold in my early teens, held almost complete sway over my consciousness by age twenty, then gradually declined over the following five years. The feeling was at once so subtle and pervasive that it seemed impossible to discuss with anyone; to do so would have meant a public questioning of my own sanity (about which I was then far more defensive than I am today). So the sensation that nothing was real became a secret, as private as it was powerful.

Remember Your Essence

I was on the way to the mountains with my wife for a much-needed vacation — from work, from worrying, from the day-to-day distractions that croon to me of my self-importance, even as they lead me farther and farther from my Self.

Fiction

Chased

He was chaste and chased. Miriam saw the men looking at her as she dove into the swimming pool, her body a golden promise. She felt the pleasant pressure of their desire as she swam, her arms slicing into the water, her legs a delicate flutter, hair streaming behind her.

Flying

We keep trying to find out. We look at the present and wonder about the past, about how we got here. It’s a question much asked; most people don’t think it’s possible to answer. But the answer is simple. It was Father.

The Priest Of Halfway

Jethro Nickel called it Halfway. No one quite knew why; it was a very private thing. It was not halfway to anywhere obvious. It was more than halfway up the mountain and less than halfway to Wyoming. It was not halfway north, by any gauge, nor was it particularly halfway south. It was not halfway to the river, or to Salt Lake, and it was much more than halfway to California. Jethro once said it was halfway humble, which was about as much as he ever said about it, but that was no help; and besides, he was joking.

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

Readers Write

Having Fun

One summer, I indulged myself in a trip to a tiny barrier island off the Gulf coast of Florida. I relaxed and enjoyed myself immensely, but I didn’t discover the full flavor of fun until my last morning on the coast.

Personal Stories By Our Readers ▸
Quotations

Sunbeams

I would like to see a building — say, the Empire State — I would like to see on one side of it a foot-long strip from top to bottom, with the name of every bricklayer, the name of every electrician, with all the names. So when the guy walked by, he could take his son and say: “See, that’s me over there on the forty-fifth floor.” Or, “I put the steel beam in.” Picasso can point to a painting. I think I’ve worked harder than Picasso, and what can I point to? A writer can point to a book. Everybody should have something to point to.

Mike Fitzgerald
Interviewed by Studs Terkel

More Quotations ▸
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