Morning News by Jerome Stern

In recent news, sadly, I can now feel the heart of the matter in this passage - and relate to the death that was spoken of.

I woke up to a very disturbing phone call this past Wednesday, informing me that my Grandmother has passed today. The hurtful thing about this whole thing - besides the fact that she is gone forever - is the fact that we had lost contact after Dad got locked up again about 2 and a half years back. I had just recently sent Father a letter(this past valentine's day; first letter sent since he's been locked up - due to the fact I just found his mailing information on OTIS) stating that I felt lost and empty with out that side of my family...and now this news comes to me about a week later. I believe in an awesome God. He is not a God of confusion, and I know for damn sure that everything happens for a reason. My steps are ordered. It was meant for me to contact my father when I did. Even though I didn't know that Grandma' would pass on, the reason behind me sending the letter stands firm. Dad needed to know...he needed to be aware of the fact that I still existed and the fact that I still acknowledge him as my father. He needed to know that he had some one out here that loves him; doesn't think he's a monster - especially after Grandma's death today.

I love you Grandma' Jean...
sorry that I didn't try harder to find you - contact Dad earlier. At least then I would have been able to tell you that I love you, and miss you. I miss you and Grandpa'. The only one left from that side of my childhood; the happy care free side of my past, is Dad. I won't lose him again.

The Talking Cat: from Sharon Krinsky's Mystery Stories

The Talking Cat

I go to a performance. A man is talking about a woman and her cat. After the show, I meet the cat and he extends one of his front paws to shake my hand. He tells me he's happy to meet me and we have an instantaneous rapport. The woman seems jealous.

After reading this I paused, then giggled, and read it again. It's witty. It expresses how self absorbed the human race can be. This woman's cat greets and starts a conversation with the narrator and all the owner can do is grow envious. Why? Because the cat never conversed with her in the same manner?

She's so wrapped up in her self, trying to twist her mind around the fact that her cat has better people to talk to than her, rather than pondering the question of why her CAT is SPEAKING in the first place. It isn't a matter of "Oh my goodness, an animal is talking!" it is more a matter of "Hey why isn't my pet talking to ME?" Unbelievable, and amusing all at once...

THE LETTER FROM HOME: Jamaica Kincaid

This entry in our poetry packet caught my interest, not because of the title or the length, or the way the words flowed but simply because of how curvy and different the letter "I" looked. The text has this vine wrapped around it and the "I" is cursive and delicate to plant's embrace.

So I proceed to read...

Upon finishing the last section, I take another read through and let my mind interpret what it has just been fed.
As the narrator goes through the passage explaining her daily chores, well, stating them rather - there's a sense of time is frozen - still. Everything is serene. The setting reminds me of how you can here a fly buzzing and hit the window when the house a dead quiet. Everything moves in slow motion almost. She has a keen eye and feeling for detail:

"...some handkerchiefs fluttered; the drawers didn't close, the faucets dripped, the paint peeled, the walls cracked, the books tilted over,"

I wouldn't doubt that the narrator also had the ability to feel each follicle of her hair growing out of the top of her head!

I get the vibe that maybe she's floating the life. She poses philosophical questions and allows her mind to drift and wander. I often do this, question my reason for being here. The human race seem to be so wrapped up in materialistic items of the world and daily regimens and routines...but what is it all for? Where does it all lead? I'm sure every being has pondered these questions.

I strive for an above average grade in college courses. Eat healthy. Cater to friends, work, survive sleep, church on Sundays, attain the pleasures and wealth of the earth, strive and try to follow Jesus and his path - the path of righteousness. But when the lights are out for me, what will be the reward? All the things I attained on earth are not capable of being brought into the after life...if there even is one. What was the purpose? What is the point? School, Job, Family, Love, Pay taxes...then Die. Then your just one less character of the soap opera.

You see, this short story simply expresses our expression of the philosophy of life...

Survivors by Kim Addonizo

T cell:
A type of white blood cell that is of key importance to the immune system and is at the core of adaptive immunity, the system that tailors the body's immune response to specific pathogens. The T cells are like soldiers who search out and destroy the targeted invaders.

That's the definition I found on http://www.medterms.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=11300 after reading Kim Addonizio's Survivors. I had to define "T cells" in order to better understand the entry. From my understanding and prior research this entry is about a guy wishing he would die from the disease (AIDS) before his lover does so that he wont have to bare various responsibilities for his lover. I feel sad. The family doesn't approve of their sexuality and it seems like despite their current illness the family's minds are still set - on not approving of their lives together.


I relate to the narrator in more ways than I'd like to admit. I often feel as if my family doesn't approve of my lifestyle as well. I am a christian; non-denominational, however I have a open mind set about life. I'm not quick to judge people, that's not my place. When I get my first place, I will have posters of various bands, The Beatles, Blue October, and expressive paintings. Unlike Mother's house, there wont be crosses around every corner and pictures of family members (that are barely spoken to) clustered around the fire place. Mother wont approve of the set up of my house, she doesn't approve of many things but that's life. I know that she loves me nonetheless. The narrator should live free the last days of his life and not be bothered with thoughts of how his lovers family doesn't approve of this and that. He should keep in mind that real parents love their offspring regardless to their lifestyle. If this isn't the case for his lover he should keep pushing on and be the support that his lover needs.