Nov/Dec 1999

e c l e c t i c a
s a l o n


(These are excerpts—click on the title to view the whole piece!)

The Wooden Bucket

As much as I've come to look forward to my Thursday night diversions, I have no desire to expand to other nights of the week. I won't be growing a handlebar mustache, buying a maroon leather sport coat, carrying around my own singalong CDs.

Tom Dooley


Mystic Chords of Memory

...maybe it was the second Spinks fight when THE GREATEST took back his title for the unprecedented third time and I did not cry or almost cry—but whooped and jumped and for a startling but fleeting instant, before I could stop myself, met my father's eyes with incredulous and unapologetic joy and we were glad to be together feeling flushed and alive...

Stanley Jenkins


Losing My Voice

By the time you read this, I will have spoken aloud, in my own voice, for the last time.

Paul J. Sampson