Friday, May 17, 2019

Missed Connections--a throwback to past writing

This story recently appeared in Spitfire Literary:
https://spitfirelitmag.com/issues/december-2018/missed-connections/


Missed Connections
by Jane Hertenstein

You were ahead of me in line at the Corner Bakery on State and Wabash, getting a salad, and you had on black pants and a very flattering white sweater. I was a few spots back, wearing a black coat, and I’m pretty sure we made eye contact numerous times. I wanted to say hello, but you were with a group of friends and I thought it might be awkward.

Yesterday I was riding my bike down Glenview and someone yelled my name, hey Sonja! Who was it?

Hey there, saw you at the pop machine just 30 minutes ago. You had on a tie-dyed T-shirt and I was sitting at the table next to the window checking you out. You looked and smiled. Wanna chat?

Tim, I said I needed a little time, but it’s been three weeks. Please call.

To the guy I made out with last night at the Fireside Bar—I lost your number. You wrote it on a tiny piece of paper I must’ve misplaced. Anyway, if you see this, I’ll be there again tonight.

We were on the train this morning, same car. You got on at Fullerton and I scooched over, and you sat down. I said nice shoes. You said thanks and read your Red Eye. Are you gay? Here’s hoping—reply, okay?


Ashley’s boss entered the room and she made Missed Connections disappear and reverted to her call center screen.

click the link to finish reading
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Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Ostrog Monastery

I'm bringing back a flash I wrote inspired by traveling. A flash is like a postcard, written to remember our trip and let others know: Wish you were here!
 OSTROG MONASTERY
“Now we climb.”
My husband and I were on a day excursion to Ostrog Monastery. Our tour guide had just announced that the last part of the journey was about to commence.
The bus pulled into a broad parking lot. It was with great relief we disembarked into a thick cloud of diesel exhaust and pilgrim cigarette smoke. “Now we climb,” our tour guide informed us.
I tilted my head. The monastery and cave church blended into the white bluffs above us. Centuries ago, hermit monks had excavated a chapel and living space much like how pigeons or doves build nests in insurmountable crevices impossibly high. Steps cut into the mountainside, zigzagged across the rock face. I hadn’t brought the right shoes.
“On the knees,” our guide continued in broken English.
click to finish reading
https://aboutplacejournal.org/issues/peaks-valleys/section-1-prose-one/jane-hertenstein/

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Monday, May 13, 2019

Bright Invisible--my latest work is available as a chabook

Bright Invisible: Word Sketches from Great Spruce Head Island

a PDF chapbook, This chapbook will appeal to readers of the New York School—particularly fans of James Schuyler and John Ashbery. Great Spruce Head Island has been a source of inspiration for generations of artists and writers. I was invited to GSHI to spend a week walking where Frank O’Hara, Ashbery, and Schuyler walked. Through essays, journal entries, persona letters where I channel James Schuyler, I attempt to experience the island through their eyes. CLICK on image to the right of the page to request *FREE PDF

Friday, May 10, 2019

Bitter Fruit

For the next couple of weeks I'd like to post some old stories from my OTHER WRITING archive.

Here's a throw-back to The Write Room and a piece called Bitter Fruit.

Last summer I worked at a fruit stall at a Chicago green market located at State and Division. I started at the bottom of the ladder, assistant to the assistant peach purveyor; Katie knew her fruit. She always let me know when I was doing something wrong. In terms better suited for the job than myself, I was green.

The Russian ladies shopped for Old Golds, a variety of apples good for cooking. “It reminds them of home,” Paul often repeated. My boss Paul never liked how I stacked, “put up,” the apples. He had a system riddled with contradictions. First he warned me not to over handle the fruit, yet I was required to touch every piece. Once he instructed me to find the small ones and put two in the bottom of a quart size basket, then four more on top of them (that way they won’t roll off, he explained) and then a large one at the summit. Okay. But the next time it was one at the bottom, medium-sized, and then four, followed by one more (Why so big? The customers will think you’re trying to trick them.) I couldn’t win for losing. I don’t even like fruit.

I began to attach narratives to our customers. Just as the Russians were drawn to the apples because they reminded them of home, the gays were like bees swarming the peaches. I let my imagination go. The little old ladies were tempted by the blackberries as if that were their only vice. They carried them home like eggs in their handbags swaddled in plastic bags wrapped twice around. Kids were ga-ga over the blueberries, snitching stray ones off the table and popping them into their mouths. I liked to think their mamas read them Blueberries for Sal.

click to read the rest!

https://thewriteroom.wordpress.com/2009/09/21/bitter-fruit/

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Thursday, May 9, 2019

The Success of Failure


Jean Vanier died May 7, 2019. The way he lived his life and the words he wrote have had a profound affect upon me—and my life choices.

On Tuesday as accolades piled up at Facebook and social media, I was struck with how much this gentle man impacted others. You see, he dwelled with the least of these: people with intellectual disabilities. For someone destined for greatness and titles, he gave it up to live modestly, sincerely, and without pretense. To give dignity to others.

Jean Vanier came from privilege as a son of the British monarchy’s representative in Canada. After stints in the British and Canadian navies, he considered becoming a Catholic priest. He attended seminary getting a PhD in Philosophy with a dissertation on Aristotle in regards to happiness. In the early 1960s, when he traveled to France to see his spiritual mentor, a member of the Dominican order then serving as a chaplain at a home for people with intellectual disabilities. He found what he described as a “chaotic atmosphere of violence and uproar.” Some patients were shackled. Those who were not did little but walk in circles. Especially disturbing to Mr. Vanier was their screams. The scene was typical of mental institutions around the world at the time.

Thus his life took an unexpected turn—he asked if he could remove 2 of the asylum’s residents and live with them in a small house. It was a peer-to-peer relationship, he saw these brothers as having a lot to offer. He grew as a human being.

That house was the first of 154 communities across 38 countries that today form the network known as L’Arche. In 2015 Jean Vanier was awarded the Templeton Prize honoring “exceptional contribution to affirming life’s spiritual dimension.” Bestowed by the U.S.-based John Templeton Foundation, the prize was worth approximately $1.7 million.

I was struck by reading the various tributes how Vanier lived his life in contrast to society. “We are not called by God to do extraordinary things, but to do ordinary things with extraordinary love.” He valued failure—how opposite is that?

The same day as his death I read about the US College Scandal: https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-47963633
Where parents have done their damnedest to get their kids into prestigious colleges—even breaking the law. It’s all about advance, advance, don’t retreat. Win, win, win. Kids today have to be the best, the smartest, carve out a niche for their college essays by being unique. Well, not everyone can be unique, literally we’d all be unique, and therefore, no one would be unique.

“The fear of failure, of feeling helpless and unable to cope, had been built up in me ever since my childhood. I had to be a success. I had to prove my worth. I had to be right. This need to succeed and to be accepted, even admired by my parents and by those whom I considered my “superiors,” was a strong motivating force in me and is a motivation at the heart of many human endeavours.”
― Jean Vanier, Becoming Human
“I am struck by how sharing our weakness and difficulties is more nourishing to others than sharing our qualities and successes.”
- Community And Growth, Jean Vanier

The upside world of Jean Vanier is that in succeeding we lose, that in failing we progress, can go forward. It is the same paradox found in I Corinthians 1:26-28 Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were powerful; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly and despised things of the world, and the things that are not, to nullify the things that are,…

I’m wondering if in fact we should teach our children the privilege of losing, the importance of failure. The BBC article I linked to above asks the question: How important is an elite college degree? We certainly know it isn’t worth the price. Only the wealthiest can afford a 4-year degree from Harvard, Stanford, Yale.

I remember when my daughter graduated from college and was writing short stories (she still is). She had an acceptance in the inaugural issue of Goreyesque and was offered a public reading at Loyola University downtown Chicago. We were so awfully proud. Afterwards there was a reception. A man came up to us. I expected him to say he enjoyed Grace’s reading or to comment on her story, instead he asked how she got into The New School. He had a daughter/son he’d like to go there. Well, I wanted to say, first you have to get out of the box—but why bother since he didn’t even know he was in a box. He had no idea what was important. Some things money cannot buy.

Jean Vanier knew this and lived his life accordingly.
 

Tuesday, May 7, 2019

Fungus Among Us

For the next couple of weeks I'd like to post some old stories from my OTHER WRITING archive.

Here's a throw-back to Liars' League NYC

The fact that she was a cat lady was the least of her issues
The spokes of her wheelchair were clogged with fur. The big wheels looked like they were sheathed in brown and grey shag carpeting.

Georgina was a cat lady.--click for the rest

https://www.liarsleaguenyc.com/fungus-among-us-by-jane-hertenstein

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Monday, April 29, 2019

New Work out, Colere Journal

New work out today at Colere, a literary journal, you can purchase a copy through Coe College, write to: colere@coe.edu