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Into the Classroom

By Sarah Junek

 

They plod through ditches, instrument cases swinging in the mist, sometimes as early as 7 a.m., hours before school. Where not long ago Indians hunted buffalo and a young girl drowned in the creek that later took her name, they walk with their iPhones, past small houses where immigrants from Mexico or further south have settled.

Star-Crossed Soldier

By Vivian Morrow Jones

 

The beach is silent after the thousands of troops have trampled ashore and made their way inland. Waves cover the sand, recede, and wash away the memory of boots and khaki, helmets and guns.  Stories of valor and cowardice follow the troops awhile, but the stories are soon hidden away and eventually lost.

Families have secrets. Governments have secrets. History has the most secrets of all. I’m after the secret of a West Texas boy who was silenced during a war half a world away and half a century ago.

Just Keep Moving

By Christina Hughes-Babb

 

A hot pin pierces my frontal lobe and the pain ripples outward. My ears throb, my heart pounds and a wasps’ nest awakens in my gut.

Something deep down begs unconsciousness, but my merciful, chemically induced slumber has ended. I am on my side, skin and bones shivering on a concrete bunk in a place I have been before. Sounds of angry chatter and slamming doors — doors that lock from the outside — seep into this cruel consciousness.

You are a lousy piece of shit, the voice inside my head says.

Growing Up With Silvia

By Stella M. Chavez

 

My earliest memory is of my mother on the telephone, crying. As she sobbed, I walked into my parents’ bedroom, opened a drawer in the cherry walnut dresser and pulled out a handkerchief. My mom says I regularly took her handkerchiefs, sometimes heading straight for the dresser at the sound of the telephone ringing. I was only three or four years old. I don’t think I understood why Mom was always crying. I just knew she was hurting.

Foreword

By George Getschow

 

“I believe that words count, that writing matters, that poems, essays and novels – in the long run – make a difference. If they do not, then in the words of my exemplar, Aleksander Solzhenitsyn, the writer’s work is of no more importance than the barking of village dogs at night.”

—Edward Abbey, The Writer’s Credo

 

Isabel's Warmth

For The Warmth of Other Suns, Isabel interviewed more than 1,200 people over 15 years to tell the saga of the Great Migration, the exodus of 6 million blacks from the South. 

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