Issue 505 | The Sun Magazine

January 2018

Readers Write

Bad Habits

Sexual fantasies, false pretenses, needless apologies

By Our Readers
One Nation, Indivisible

A More Perfect Union

Tom Hayden On Democracy And Redemption

You can’t just change consciousness and expect that institutions will follow. They’ve got to be overthrown, replaced, altered.

By Tim McKee
The Dog-Eared Page

The Politician

After damning politicians up hill and down dale for many years, as rogues and vagabonds, frauds and scoundrels, I sometimes suspect that, like everyone else, I often expect too much of them.

By H.L. Mencken
Quotations

Sunbeams

As nightfall does not come all at once, neither does oppression. In both instances, there is a twilight when everything remains seemingly unchanged. And it is in such twilight that we all must be most aware of change in the air — however slight — lest we become unwitting victims of the darkness.

William O. Douglas

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Eclipse

To distract myself from the fact that my dog is dying, I check the headlines. This is August 2017, so the news is not good, but it keeps my gaze from drifting over to my dog’s curled-up body, trembling on his bed in the corner. In a lot of ways, reading the news is like watching my dog die, just easier to bear.

By Dan Musgrave
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Best Lack All Conviction

In The Paper’s Midtown Manhattan office, the long fluorescent light fixtures contained the silhouetted carcasses of cockroaches that had died making the journey from one end to the other. The carpet was a Rorschach test of spilled cola, coffee, and cigarette ashes. This was where I worked for the better part of a year.

By Jacob Scheier
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Dark Houses

Gingerly, creeping, my mother drives her “safe” back way home, winding through the subdivisions bordering downtown Orlando, Florida. The little truck doesn’t have air conditioning. I stretch my arm out the window as if I might be able to feel the Spanish moss hanging from the trees like witch hair.

By Heather Sellers
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Queen of Hearts

Rule #20: Never bring a book to work. It makes the customers think you’re better than them. It doesn’t matter what you’re reading. It doesn’t matter if you’ve finished cleaning all the glasses and it’s a quiet Monday afternoon — leave the book at home. You’ll know this when your father comes behind the bar looking pissed and tells you to come into his office.

By Kathleen Hawes
Fiction

What We Lost

We were losing parts of ourselves. A reporter discovered a trove of ears in a burlap sack. The leader said the papers were lying, and we weren’t sure what was rumor and what was fact. What happened to me, what happened to my neighbors — that wasn’t enough proof of all we had lost.

By Brenda Peynado
Poetry

Mindfulness

I practice a very special / form of mindfulness / called not-minding-ness. / This has brought me peace and purified / my soul to the point that it is almost / possible to live with me.

By Kurt Luchs
Poetry

Ode To Fat

Tonight, as you undress, I watch your wondrous / flesh that’s swelled again, the way a river swells / when the ice relents. Sweet relief / just to regard the sheaves of your hips, / your boundless breasts and marshy belly.

By Ellen Bass