Issue 20 / 2003
20 / Clarity
Looking back to move forward
This issue features writers searching for clarity in their lives—and the rest of the world—as they struggle to make social and personal changes. “Clarity” includes ten essays by authors taking similarly reflective looks at their lives.
In the lead essay, “Shunned,” Meredith Hall shares the painful rejection by her hometown—rejection triggered by teen pregnancy. In “Rachel At Work: Enclosed a Mother’s Report,” a special assignment funded by the Bayer Corporation, Jane Bernstein seeks a clear vision for the future of her developmentally disabled daughter—and for herself as the responsible adult and mother. In “Nerve Endings,” Lucinda Rosenfeld wants to understand symptoms of paralysis that have suddenly affected her. In “Bibliophilia,” Laurie Graham, a former senior editor at Scribner’s, relives the life and energy provided by all her treasured books, lost in a devastating house fire. Jana Richman finds clarity in the wind and the roar of the motorcycle.
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What’s the Story #20
Last night in class, Jessica, an undergraduate in my creative-writing senior seminar, confessed that she was too depressed to write, and Laura, who had vowed the week before to snap out of her own depression and get back on track, was absent.Shunned
The steep price paid for one night on a beach with a boyWhy I Ride
The fear begins to subside as soon as I’m out of town. The speed of the open road should cause greater fear, but the whir of the engine lulls me into a false sense of safety.I Held Their Coats: A Case Study of Two Jokes
Reader, I, too, wonder about what follows. I wonder what calls a person to think something is or is not funny. What causes us to remember some jokes and to forget others.The Unexamined Life
Several months ago I confessed. It was the end of an ordeal that—exacerbated by adolescent brooding and self-consciousness—lasted much longer than it should have.Breast Cancer #2
It’s 5 o’clock, and the long cases are over. There’s just one more to go—the last of the day. One of my partners throws open the operating-room door and stands facing me with his mask down around his neck, his surgeon s gown backward and hanging open over dirty scrubs, his pants pulled low by double pagers at his waist.“WantAnd So on and So Forth
A woman is sitting on the edge of a bed, loose photographs in her hands. She lays them out on the flowered quilt, studies them as a gambler would, or a tarot reader preparing to interpret the flow of a life.ButNerve Endings
On December 7, 1997, I stumbled out of my queen-sized bed, which occupied approximately half the floor space of my Brooklyn studio apartment, and crashed into my desk, which occupied a good portion of the other half.Bibliophilia
The message on the answering machine comes in a rush. I recognize my mother-in-laws voice but can decipher only the final three words: “Burning. Find Bob.”Unwired
This guy rings our doorbell and offers me $100 for one of the insulators that sit like glass bells on the top sills of our front windows. He wants the blue one, what I would call a Chagall blue, with “No.Rachel at Work: Enclosed, a Mother’s Report
In the spring of 2002, the crocuses pushed up and the daffodils blossomed and froze, and I worried about work—not my own, which I love, but what kind of work my developmentally disabled 18-year-old daughter, Rachel, might be able to do when she is no longer in the shelter of school.OnInterview with Meredith Hall
Meredith Hall chats with CNF about her essays, "Shunned" and "Killing Chickens"