Nonfiction Commons^™

Are We Worthy Leaders?, William T. Sharp

Manuscripts

Today as never before America stands as the champion of democracy. Again we have successfully defended our democratic ideals against the forces of oppression. Not only have we protected them for ourselves, but it is now our aim to spread this freedom to the less fortunate people of the world who have never enjoyed it before. Our ancestors drenched this land of ours with their own blood in order that we might be a free nation. Now it is our noble purpose to make this freedom universal.

Before we set ourselves up as an example, let us look over our …

My Most Enlightening Teacher, R. W. Conerty

Manuscripts

My profound apologies go to all my academic teachers of the past, because of all the men and women who have earnestly endeavored to help enrich my meagre store of knowledge, none could I classify as enlightening as when I first went away from home and met the wisest teacher of all I'd met, namely, life.

Annie, Elsie Stefan

Manuscripts

"Ya'd goods on the fo'th floor please. 'ello? No, I'm sorry, we 'aven't any gingham today." On learning that L. S. Ayres' has no gingham, you put the receiver down, but your curiousity still is not quite satisfied. For that melodious, half exotic voice on the telephone leaves you wondering and puzzled as to its origin, and you resolve to satisfy your curiousity the next time you visit the yard goods department. There, answering the telephone and working in the inspection desk, you will find Annie Crich.

Reunion, Janice Skinner

Manuscripts

It was a typical college reunion. The class of '31 was packed into alcoholic layers around the smoke crowned bar. The smell of good bourbon was filtered with laughter and blended with those odors women buy at from two to twenty dollars a dram. Typical.

Daisy Wings, James L. Adams

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

A Half-Spread Wing, Allyn Wood

Manuscripts

Sunday. Breakfast and lunch eaten; a magazine read; the apartment tidied, as a man alone does it, with deliberate delicacy. There is something exotic in his movement, and about the room, which is produced by the placing of ordinary things; and everywhere is evidence of a long and careful striving for homeyness as a spiritual ideal. Where eyes have met the lonely space of walls, pictures hang - but do not look at them: he seldom does. Squares and rectangles become companionable, and being so familiar, are scarcely seen, their purpose forgotten. So that when he desires space, with an …

Truth And Dare, Barbara Gene Lucas

Manuscripts

The June sun beat steadily down upon the gravel school yard as the children ran out to play for the last time before vacation. The little girls with their hair flying dashed helter-skelter over the playground, and the boys brought out their baseballs. On one side of the yard in the shade of the library building stood a row of ten-year-old girls. They were members of "The Gang," an elite club composed of Republicans only and those who could stand to have their thumb bent backwards without flinching. In front of this rank stood the leader with her hands on …

The Spoon, Mary Alice Kessler

Manuscripts

Mary closed the big wooden door carefully and waited for the click that locked it. She walked slowly across the gravel schoolyard, kicking the largest rocks with her foot. She counted each step ... one ... two ... three ... four. On fifty, she climbed over the low iron fence surrounding the yard and stood quietly as if she were listening for something.

The Woman And The Working Girl, Jean Farson

Manuscripts

Brynn hurried along the sidewalk. She could hardly see through the slippery, foggy shadowy her way air that enveloped East Barnes Street. A fine rain still came down in a slow monotone, and nothing in the city of Wellington seemed to be dry at all. Brynn cast a glance at her watch, and quickened her steps, her green transparent raincoat crackling, as she hurried to catch the eleven o'clock bus. Mr. Dwyer shouldn't have kept her working so late on a night like this--

Sea Song, Jan Skinner

Manuscripts

The boy should have been hurrying home from school. The sky was dark with that peculiar greyness that foretells a storm, but the boy, tall and lank, was ambling along the sidewalk, looking up at the moody skies eagerly, expectantly, as if he was about to see a friend.

Rhyme For A Volume Of W. H. Hudson, Allyn Wood

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No abstract provided.

Pastorale, Mary Alice Kessler

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CHORUS:

We chant of an age

A trim, nervous

Time Squared into precise line,

Sheer mathematics, a flawless steel claw.

This is the time of soaring monuments

This is the time of formulae pyramids

This is the time of shining mechanism

This age is dwarfing its sire.

Front Matter

Manuscripts

No abstract provided.

Volume 13, Issue 2: Full Issue

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No abstract provided.

Vignettes

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No abstract provided.

The Village Store, Bill Osborn

Manuscripts

I sometimes wonder if my great-grandfather would recognize our village store. To be sure, the size and general shape of today's shop would differ little from the one he knew, but might he not be surprised to see the fire-engine red of the Coca-Cola signs plastered abundantly over the dark brown clapboards?

Grandmother Looks On, Rosemary Ronsheim

Manuscripts

Pretend for a little while that you are seventy or eighty years old. Put yourself in the position of your grandmother who has come to live with you since grandfather died. It is seven-thirty in the morning and you are sitting in the living room. You have probably received a brief "good morning" when you stepped into the kitchen and may have been brushed aside as someone leaped to save the burning toast. You very sensibly have announced, "I'll go away until the children are off to school."

Teeth Tales, Virginia Rodman

Manuscripts

False teeth and the fashion of filling teeth were known even by the ancient Egyptians, but the science of dentistry is a fairly recent one. Just as far back as colonial days when life was centered in New England, the care of teeth was very crude as compared to modern methods.

My Father, Kathryn Alfs

Manuscripts

My father is five feet eleven inches tall. He has large grey-green eyes, a somewhat too-large nose, a medium sized mouth, and a very square jaw. His physique is typically middle-aged. After being teased to destraction about being built like a butter-churn, he now wears. a corset with the fond delusion that it pushes his stomach into his chest and looks youthful. Aloud he swears it is for his posture. He now resembles a top-heavy butter-churn.

Gentlemen, Be Seated, William Miller

Manuscripts

I'm a little devil. Every morning I walk a block to the bus stop preceding the one in front of my house so that I can get a seat. I feel sure my neighbors give me icy stares as I sit comfortably with my nose in a book. I never see them. Yesterday morning I was too late to walk -to the other stop, so I stood while the lady next door sat in my seat and smiled at me with sarcastic little daggers throughout the fifteen-minute ride. She probably thinks I have no conscience, but I do and I …