DON’T GO ANYWHERE by James Hanna

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Since retiring and moving to Florida, my wife, Mary, and I have become news junkies. This is not because we have more time to fill, but because the news has acquired the fascination of...

RE-READING THE LADY CHATTERLEY TRIALS IN NEW YORK AND LONDON AFTER 60 YEARS ...

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RE-READING THE LADY CHATTERLEY TRIALS AFTER 60 YEARS The three versions of Lady Chatterley’s Lover that DH Lawrence wrote in the late 1920s are each progressively more anally erotic. And that eroticism in the third...

THE DINNER TABLE by Frances Guerin

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The Dinner Table By Frances Guerin Dinner at 29 Alpha Road was a formal occasion. My family sat around an antique oak table in a wood-panelled room every night of the week. The ten-seater table was the...

BIG AND BIGGER LIES: Did We All Just Fall Off the Turnip Truck? By...

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Recently I came across a magazine that featured photos of postcards inmates of the Nazi death camps at Lublin had written in the early 1940’s. The inmates were urged to send postcards to their...

DOLPHINS, AS A METAPHOR By Justine Cadwell

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DOLPHINS, AS A METAPHORby Justine Cadwell  A dolphin’s smile is the greatest deception. It creates the illusion that they’re always happy. – Ric O’BarryWhat would it be like to sleep at the bottom of the...

KNEADING OUR WAY HOME by Kris Haines-Sharp

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Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That’s how the light gets in. Leonard Cohen I bring the side of the pan down hard on the butcher...

GETTING COCKY by Mary Ann Koruth

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My uncle raises chickens for eggs. To facilitate egg production, he bought a rooster. The brood runs around in the grass in the back of his house, which was my grandmother’s before it became...

THE TRANSCENDENT POWER OF BROTHERLY LOVE by Allen Maller

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God made human beings because God loves stories. (Elie Wiesel) There are all kinds of stories. Some are taken from reality and processed through inspiration, other rise up from an instant of inspiration; and...

ISOLATION by Cassandra O’Sullivan Sachar

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Isolation Cassandra O’Sullivan Sachar At 10:00 a.m., the tiny Alaskan village still sleeps in this unrelenting daylight. Not one walker crosses my path on my trek to the black-sanded beach; a hulking dog, wolf-like and menacing,...

THE SOWBELLY TRIO by James Hanna

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My wife, Mary, and I sit on the front porch of our Florida home. Mary is feeling nostalgic, so she asks me a syrupy question. I never feel very comfortable when Mary asks me...