Topics | Crime | The Sun Magazine #5


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Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

You Always Call On A Sunday

You are not ashamed. You are stunned: By this new thing that he left behind, that spread through you like blood in those hours he was with you. By how easy it is to die.

By Jackie Shannon Hollis March 2010
Readers Write

Narrow Escapes

A noodle shop in central Burma, The Phil Donahue Show, the Tet Offensive

By Our Readers January 2010

Mitzvah On Saturday Morning

You’re on 14th Street headed west / to buy a new seat for your bicycle. / In Casper, Wyoming, a hospice nurse / backs her car out of your parents’ / driveway.

By Meg Kearney October 2009

Somewhere In His Eyes

Somewhere in his eyes I see the five-year-old that he once was. I see him in the back of a kindergarten class, pacing, unable to sit down. I see him at home, leaning on the arm of a chair as his daddy blows marijuana smoke into his nostrils. Later he staggers around the room, making the grown-ups laugh.

By Gary L. Lark November 2008


I was walking down Fifth Avenue today, and I found a wallet. I was going to keep it, rather than return it, but I thought: Well, if I lost $150, how would I feel? And I realized I would want to be taught a lesson.

Emo Philips

April 2008
Readers Write


Five packs of Red Vines, Uncle Wiggily’s Garden Patch, Jackie Robinson

By Our Readers April 2008
The Sun Interview

Both Sides Of The Street

Connie Rice Lays Down The Law To Cops And Gangs

When you sit down with the Bloods and the Crips as Bloods and Crips, you just reinforce the symbols and ethos and dynamics of the gang. You need to take them as individuals and talk about their leadership in the neighborhood, their roles as men in their community, and what they can do to reduce the violence. You get them to take on responsibility. Then you have them at the table as community leaders — not gang leaders. The gang doesn’t get mentioned.

By Diane Lefer April 2008
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Letters Of Light From A Dark Place

Things go wrong. Call it entropy or original sin or plain old human suffering. Once it gains momentum, life can go downhill at an astonishing rate. Bad decisions are famously blamed, and one I made thirty years ago eventually led to a twenty-two-year prison sentence, which I’m still serving.

By Saint James Harris Wood September 2007
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Bang, Bang, In A Boy Voice

In 1984, the year vigilante Bernhard Goetz shot four black boys on a New York City subway car, I was nine, and I loved to ride the subway by myself. The dingy trains were spectacular space rockets to me. When I rode them, I wasn’t just going to Queens to visit my grandmother; I was saving the galaxy.

By Akhim Yuseff Cabey July 2007
Readers Write


The “racetrack,” a click, the Zen of shooting

By Our Readers July 2007