Issue 206 | The Sun Magazine

February 1993

Readers Write


Ninety clear glass marbles, a suicide note, a deathbed confession

By Our Readers
Sy Safransky's Notebook

February 1993

For the World

The hurricane knocks down everything in its path. We give it a name.

By Sy Safransky


If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find in each person’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Letter To The President

The American system is intended to find the candidate who most wants to be president. The parliamentary system elects the most qualified candidate; the American system elects the most ambitious one.

By Sparrow
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Fence Posts

Visiting my hometown of Daruvar, Croatia, in 1986, I was taken aback when a friend told me, “Go back to the States! We’ll have a war here. Serbs have lists of all the Croatian households. At night they will slit our throats.” I thought he was crazy. Now I think I was crazy not to see the warning signs.

By Josip Novakovich
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Answering Phones In A War Zone

Bryant-Maddox makes war. It’s hidden under files of paper covered with legal jargon and beneath sappy 1970s love songs droning from ceiling speakers. It’s hidden under the respectability of secretaries and file clerks and men with ties who go to meetings.

By Tracy Springberry
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Way Of Peace

Wherever we may live, each of us is aware that there is an ever-mounting confusion in the world. This loss of orientation, this degeneration of values, is not restricted to any particular class or nation. Wherever we live, at whatever level of society, we are aware of conflict and misery that seem to have no end.

By J. Krishnamurti


I stood up and reeled. Blood washed from my brain. My vision began to shrink, and the people in the room seemed separated from me by some fold in the air. 

By Karen Bjorneby

Zen Masters

I left college to seek enlightenment. I went to live at the Golden Gate Zen Center, a Buddhist community midway between the Haight and the financial district.

By Graham Leggat

Stones: A Love Story

When Izzy gets to the boardwalk, she thinks about turning back. Maybe he won’t remember her, maybe he’s forgotten it all.

By Eileen A. Joy