Dispatches | Page 27

The Road to Thunder Bay, Pt. 2

November 28, 2012 Dispatches

This is the second part of a three-part dispatch. You can read Pt. 1 here. The final installment will be published in January.

We were still night owls then, seldom rising early, but after the night we spent in Duluth, we wanted to enjoy as much time there as we could before hitting the road again. We woke at first light, dressed without showering, and drove back to the waterfront. The sun was rising on the lake, and we walked to the end of Canal Point where the lighthouse stood silhouetted against the water turning gold with the new day. It was it was in the low 40s, and we took turns posing, shivering and smiling while the other took a picture.

Gas Lines

November 21, 2012 Dispatches

By JUNE GERVAIS

We see the first one in Bellport, eight o’clock at night, and we don’t know what it is. We’re driving along a two-lane highway on the south shore when we come upon it: a caravan of cars idling in the shoulder, taillights scarlet in the dark. “Should I be driving in that lane?” my husband says. Seeing no construction signs, we drive on. We pass a mile of cars. Then we see the gas station at the head of the line. It’s been three days since Sandy hit.

Their Names

November 14, 2012 Dispatches

By ROLF YNGVE

I told Christopher, the wall passed through here. We stood on the sidewalk and looked down at a plaque set into chic, new cobblestones.

Berliner Mauer 1961–1989.

Nothing But the Sea

November 7, 2012 Dispatches

By HANNAH GERSEN

I live a few blocks from a cruise ship terminal. When ships dock there, they tower above the nearby buildings, which top out at four or five stories high. At night, their decks and windows glitter in neat rows, like high-rise apartment buildings, as if downtown Manhattan has suddenly been pulled close. When the ships finally depart, their horns boom dramatically, out of place in my quiet, unassuming neighborhood of Red Hook, Brooklyn.

My Greek Epiphany

October 31, 2012 Dispatches

By JULIA LICHTBLAU

EXODOS. I deciphered the Greek letters, extrapolating from the Cyrillic alphabet learned in college Russian. Exodus! A hairy Charlton Heston parting the Red Sea in The Ten Commandments popped into my mind. A domestic Moses, my husband spurred our lagging, quarreling kids on to baggage claim and immigration.

The Road to Thunder Bay, Pt. 1

October 24, 2012 Dispatches

By JAMES A. GILL

This is the first part of a two-part Dispatch. Pt. 2 will be published online in November.

She slept for the first two hours of the trip, and when she woke up, the first thing she said was, “When we get back I want a divorce.” We were headed north with the hopes of going to Canada for no other reason than to say that we’d left the country. We’d decided on Thunder Bay, Ontario, because it was the closest destination across the border from our home in southern Illinois. And now, it seemed, the trip was doomed before we’d covered half the length of our own state.

Redressed

October 17, 2012 Dispatches

By KRISTA LEAHY

Cold beer, slippery hands, cigarettes no one (everyone) wanted,

Uneasy Sleep

October 10, 2012 Dispatches

By YVETTE CHRISTIANSE

Who was it that cried out? This cry,

a call that opens night

breaks out like a bird

breaking to greet dawn, or

the arrival of a high tide

that brings schools of fish

whose scales make the waters

glint and shimmer, glint and shimmer.

I Want What Comes After

October 3, 2012 Dispatches

By KELWYN SOLE

I want what comes after:

the first lifted bucket’s clang

once the rooster’s all crowed out,

a keen thirst for fresh water

as sequel to that sound

Where I Write

October 2, 2012 Dispatches

By NICOLA WALDRON

Writing in Place is a column in which authors published in our print and web pages tell us about their writing spaces.

I write in a glass-sided room, an addition to a 1950s brick bungalow, southern style. From the threshold that once led to the outdoors, it’s just one giant stride to my desk: space enough to tap at a keyboard, or lie down; for books and papers to breed, but not for dancing (a tiny tango when someone says yes).

All posts tagged: Dispatches

The Road to Thunder Bay, Pt. 2

Gas Lines

Their Names

Nothing But the Sea

My Greek Epiphany

The Road to Thunder Bay, Pt. 1

Redressed

Uneasy Sleep

I Want What Comes After

Where I Write

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