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Word
Worth Volume VI, 2006, Issues are available by clicking on the name of
the month below.
Adobe Reader is needed to access them. A free copy is available
here: |
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Editorials |
Arts
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Columns |
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Funny Pages―Part
II—Marien
Helz |
December |
Joe's Gloves—Charles
Miess |
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Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes enjoyed
meteoric success. The names alone taken from austere historic
figures were sheer genius. Calvin was every child we have known;
he was at once recalcitrant and innocent. Watterson was able to
capture everything that is at once endearing and frustrating
about children. Calvin was also each one of us as a child.
Panels would often open with Spaceman Spiff zooming through the
galaxy only to be captured by an evil alien that turned out... |
Photography
By
Kevin Roe |
Few people today
would even consider having a hemlock for their Christmas tree.
They’re opened and rangy and they begin dropping their needles
almost from the moment they’re cut. The hemlock has a row of
short flat needles on either side of the branch rather than
needles encircling the branch like the more typical Christmas
tree. They are graceful but thin—much like the Charlie Brown
tree. And yet, throughout my childhood I knew of nothing else.
We chose the hemlock because ... |
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Funny Pages―Part
I—Marien
Helz |
November |
Taking a Backward Look—Charles
Miess |
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Newspaper comics used
to be referred to as “Funny Pages.” I’m sure that one could do
a search on the internet and find out how the Funny Pages
originated. My guess, considering that there are political
cartoons from a very long time ago, is that cartoons lampooning
ridiculous political figures came first, and then some editor
with a good marketing instinct decided to add actual comics and
comic pages that would hook young readers and keep them tied to
the newspaper for a lifetime. Early examples were strips like
Mutt and Jeff that lasted for decades. If funny pages
were indeed started to entice youngsters, it worked.... |
Photography
By
Charles Bartolotta |
It's been a long while since I've taken the time to notice the
beauty that I pass by every day on the way to work. Like most
people, my mind is occupied with technical details of my current
project, or the annoying person in the another cubicle, or even
a problem at home. Early this summer, however, I took up bicycle
riding for enjoyment and health. It was those early Sunday
morning bike rides along country roads that opened up a whole
new world for me. I was amazed at how much I had been detached
from nature for so many years. I was amazed that I had missed
what was right in front of my eyes. |
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Poisoned Chicken Head—Marien
Helz |
October |
...of Moral Systems—Rita
Banerji |
One of the books we
had in our house that my mother read to us when I was a child
was about animals....
The most gripping story, however, was about a coyote. She
destroyed the chickens in the entire area, and they could not
catch her. No chicken was safe in its coop. They tried
trapping, but she was able to elude them. They tried putting
poison chicken heads around, but she always knew they were
poisoned. They tried putting some good chicken out and some
poisoned pieces, but she always knew which the bad ones were. |
The Hunter
by
Charles Miess
|
A
question that a Swiss friend recently asked me set me thinking
on the issue of schizophrenia of moral systems. It is now
estimated that about a 50 million women are missing from India’s
population. This is a result of rampant female feticide,
infanticide and the systematic murder of young married women by
their husbands and in-laws for dowry. What my friend wanted to
know was how Indians reconciled this with the basic Hindu
concept of karma?... Therefore I explore the basis of this
schizophrenia in moral systems using various examples. |
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Run, Bucky, Run—Anna Seymour |
September |
The Care of Friends—Graceann
Maciolek |
Nonetheless, they have taken a four-week-old
nursing infant from its mother. It is an outrage that they
would do this―interfering with the natural feeding of an infant
is inappropriate. If the police were serious about protecting
the children, they could put a guard around the house.... The
action seems to be geared toward forcing Phillips into desperate
behavior.
Not only does this make the situation far more dangerous for all
the police officers in the area, it increases the danger for
ordinary, uninvolved citizens. |
Photography
By
Charles Bartolotta |
...A very wise man recently told me
that friends come in varying categories, and I can either accept
them and love them as they are, adjusting my expectations to
their behaviors (as long as those behaviors are not dangerous to
me physically or emotionally), or I can have just a few very
close friends and forget the rest, because there are people who
are not emotionally mature or interested enough to invest the
time and energy in the relationship just because I am. That’s
where the pain comes in—when you are in one category of
friendship, and the person you care about .... |
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The Fruits of War—Anna Seymour |
August |
Do Not Go Gentle...—Charles
Miess |
On re-evaluating the death of two American soldiers
in Iraq who were in the same unit as those suspected of a crime
against Iraqi citizens, an anonymous military spokesperson said
that he thought the killing of the soldiers might be a message
from Iraqi people, “Don’t do this to our women.” That statement
appeared at least twice, on separate days. It was such a stupid
thing to say that it shouldn’t have been printed once.
The crime was the murder and rape of a fourteen year old girl, the
murder of her father, her mother, and her five year old sister.
The murderers committed a crime so vile that ... |
Photography
By Armin W.
Helz |
... As with all birthdays, I was
painfully reminded of my mortality, but at this stage of my life
it has taken on a new realism. In fact, it scares the hell out
of me. I’m not sure exactly why that is, because prior to my
being conceived sixty-four-plus years ago I had not even existed
and that doesn’t bother me at all. I wasn’t here for twenty
billion years after our universe began—not until my parents made
that fateful decision. I wasn’t here for the hundreds of
millions of years that dinosaurs roamed the earth. I wasn’t
here when my grandmother first met my grandfather. None of that
bothers me a bit, and I have never met anyone who lamented...
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What Women Don't Tell
Men—Anna Seymour |
July |
My Horizontal Life—Kateri
van Huystee |
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What women don’t tell men is that we
believe deep in the core of us—and want to believe—that men are
superior. And how can we not believe this. When we’re
children, the boys have such energy. They think of games we
love to play, when all too often left to ourselves we push toy
carriages until we become aware of the tedium. When we have
mean teachers, the boys are the ones who have the nerve to disobey,
and then during the summer before ninth grade, they stretch to
the height of men. We return to school to see all the boys we
said good-bye to in June imitating men sometimes with white
collars ...
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A New Beginning
by
Charles Miess
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Each day begins
horizontally in my world. Of course we all begin our days lying
down, but mine just happens to continue on the level angle. I
slide from my bed, into my slippers ... what gives one woman the
notion to climb mountains and another woman the satisfaction of
just viewing them while lying on a blanket with a sketchbook in
her hands? Is it an innate tendency, this dizzy-dancing feeling
that overcomes me when I look up at a towering skyscraper? Is it
a single childhood mishap that haunts me into crawling to the
edge of a cliff on my belly instead of walking straight to its
edge? I wonder. |
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Splendor in the Trees—Marien Helz |
June |
Dog Day—Kevin
H. Siepel |
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There is a glory around us that we often can’t see.
In the spring when birds are migrating north, small feathered
wonders appear that are usually obscured by trees. The beautiful
Cardinal, of course, is around all year and is particularly
striking when it contrasts with snow in winter. The Robin with
its rusty red breast brings joy on its arrival after long cold
winters since it comes with the promise of months of good
weather. The magic golds and bright colors of the warblers
disappear among leaves as spring progresses and only the song
lets you know that marvel is hidden nearby.
I once was walking under a tree where I heard a whole
community... |
The Pipe Dream
by
Charles Miess
|
My wife was the one who wanted
the puppies. She’s the one who pushed to have our cocker
spaniel, Violet, bred. I went along with it. Thought it might
be fun. We had Violet bred in early May, and by mid-July we had
eight purebred cocker pups on our hands—seven females and one
male, some black, some parti-colored, one buff.
I’d been nervous throughout Violet’s pregnancy. So many
things to go wrong. I’d studied up on how to handle
emergencies, copied stuff off the Internet, read it till I knew
it cold. I was appalled at the possibilities. Dogs
must be different from cats, I thought. We’d once had a
...
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The Maypole—Charles
Miess |
 May |
Scents Memory—Graceann
Maciolek |
I had always been a little afraid of Albert
Ostrander. Whenever I had occasion to go out near the
road, he would holler in his gruff voice, “Hey you old Dutchman
you. What are you up to?” I never figured out why he
called me a Dutchman or why he called me old when it was
obvious that he was the one who was old. I also wondered
how he knew whenever I was into mischief—like the time in first
grade when I dashed into the woods from our school bus-stop a
mile down the road. I remember hiding in silence until the
bus finally left, and then the long journey up the dirt road
home. I’m sure I feared the wrath of my mother for
skipping school,... |
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This issue
has won the Apex Award of Excellence for 2007 |
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What I
remember most keenly is her scent. Powder, and soap and,
on special occasions, Chanel No. 5. I would sit at the end
of my parents' four-poster bed, my legs dangling over the edge
and under the quilt frame, and watch my mother get ready for
evenings out. First the foundation garments, then, just
the right outfit. Costume (but never gaudy) jewelry.
Spritzes of Aqua Net, and then the make-up regime, which was
really quite simple. Powder, a bit of blush, a dash of
mascara, and then, most carefully, lipstick. I still have
one of my mother's circa 1955 lipsticks, and I take it out and
inhale its aroma when I want her near me.
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Secretaries—Marien
Helz |
April |
Lily—Charles Miess |
That the secretarial
position has been typically viewed as a lowly one has been well
documented by such movies as Nine to Five and Working
Girl. Clerical staff is a low rung on the supervisory
ladder and as a result can be a stressful position with various
people in levels above taking out their frustrations on those
who are perceived as incapable of striking back.
It has always struck me as strange that people would take out
frustrations on those on whom their ability to function
rests....
I once had a secretary who worked for me
exclusively. Diane could do anything. |
A Review of
Larry Unger and Ginny Snowe's
New Album
by Aurelia Carter |
Why anyone would ever want a Jack Russell Terrier for a pet is
beyond me. They are bred to hunt and dig and bark and yap and
to be annoying and obnoxious. There is only one thing about
them that might be considered a positive attribute—they’re
cute. I could think of no other reason why my daughter Katie
would get that kind of puppy. She called this little pest
Lily. Lily was mostly white with caramel ears and mask and a
contrasting streak of white extending from the top of her head
to her jet-black nose. Yes, this little high-strung
poor-excuse-for-man's-best-friend was cute, but that's all I
could say about Lily. |
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Rediscovering Rupert
Brooke—M H Perry |
March |
A Crick Ran through It—Charles Miess |
Rupert Brooke has been
rediscovered on a number of occasions since his death in 1915.
There are two primary reasons for this not remaining in the
forefront of literary consciousness and those are his poem “The
Soldier” and his charisma.
For a poet, charisma has
short-term advantages but long-term liabilities. Initially, it
brings
the kind of consideration that allows the individual to stand
out, get noticed, and get published. Long-term, it makes
academicians and critics over-look the poetry, prejudging it to
have been written, not by a poet, but by a personality.
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Poetry
By Rupert Brooke |
...I begged and pleaded and I promised (cross my heart and hope to
die) to keep her away from the crick. Ethel finally gave
in and dressed Sharon in her puffy little snowsuit until she
looked like a pink beach ball.
We couldn’t have been
out more than ten minutes when I had not only forgotten my
promise, but had forgotten about Sharon too. I was
throwing sticks into the rushing water and watching them race
away when I noticed a little pink cork bobbing downstream in the
middle of the crick. It was Sharon...
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Eloquence and
Truth—Charles Miess |
February |
Meeting
Moynihan—Marien Helz |
The founders
of our nation knew how to use the power of the English language.
They knew how to organize words in wonderful ways to persuade,
enlighten, and delight us. Certainly part of it was their ability
to think clearly and concisely. Clear thinking is a prerequisite
for clear writing. Clear writing then becomes the foundation for
expanded thinking, leading to more eloquent writing. True
eloquence, however, ...
This month we have commentary on the
editorial by Adam Miess |
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Photography by
Armin W. Helz |
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In recent decades, it’s
been something of a luxury to have political representatives whom
you can, not only trust, but perhaps even be proud of. That’s why I
thought that it was particularly nice upon moving to New York State
to have Daniel Patrick Moynihan as my senator.
I mentioned this
recently to my long time friend and former college roommate, Katie,
whereupon she responded, “You met him. You met Moynihan.”
“I never met him.” . .
. |
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Discourse and
Debate—Marien
Helz |
January |
Winter Reverie—Charles
Miess |
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Discourse
is the exchange of ideas in which the object is to employ a
dialectic in order to discover Truth through a point,
counterpoint method. In discourse, the concept of winning in
conversation is absurd because the only victory possible is getting
closer and closer to the truth, or a partial understanding of the
truth, by examining ideas newly generated as the discussion leads
higher and higher toward understanding as if the two sides are
ladders balanced against each other and can only be ascended by two
at once as each side climbs closer to the goal. |
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Photography by
Rita Banerji |
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I have
been fascinated by technology for most of my life. I remember
another early morning in October of 1957 when my dad and I stood
side by side and watched the rocket casing of the first man-made
satellite, Russia’s Sputnik I, move in silence across a star-studded
sky. I remember my awe of Sputnik as keenly as my disappointment
over America’s first attempt to put a grapefruit size satellite into
orbit two months later. The small pencil-like Vanguard rocket
lifted several feet above the launch pad and unceremoniously toppled
over and fell to the ground in a fiery explosion. |
