Commentary
Whenever I leave for “home” my grand daughter says, “No, Grammy, New York is not your home, this is.” And yes it is so. This is my home now and I am glad for it, blessed by it, revel in it, can’t wait for the day to begin, can’t get enough of it. And never, ever do I look back.
As one old enough to be entitled to a senior discount (for cash) at Shirley’s Hardware, the activity of sanding new drywall corners at the top of a stairwell is likely to provoke some philosophical musing. So it was that on the Friday after Thanksgiving I was ruminating on the nature and meaning of that holiday.
My name is Jessie Chandler, and this week I have been chosen among my classmates to be the editor of Sophomores Speak Out. I’ve enjoyed reading the thoughts and concerns of my fellow classmates and have found them very revealing. With a large class, it can be hard to connect with every person, but having the opportunity to read their writing has provided me with a stronger connection to every one of them.
Opening New Doors
Green side up Knife goes in Cut it clean Top shell off Thumb on guts One smooth swipe
Death Takes a Holiday
From Gazette editions of December, 1934: