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“Parting Words from Moristotle” (07/31/2023)
tells how to access our archives
of art, poems, stories, serials, travelogues,
essays, reviews, interviews, correspondence….
By Michael H. Brownstein
The picture book below was written to encourage young children to enjoy reading. I decided to use five- to seven-year-olds from the nearby Robert Taylor Public Housing Projects to illustrate the different verses. Because Chicago had an annual strike just about every year, when I began teaching at Farren next to the Robert Taylor Public Housing Projects (at the time, the largest public housing in the world), I established a not-for-profit, The RAMP (Reading and Math Program), so my students would not miss any school. After the strike ended, I decided to keep the program going as an academic after-school program, started writing grants, hired some local teenagers to help out, and discovered I had an aptitude for grant writing. The Geraldine Dodge Foundation paid me a thousand dollars for the manuscript and then sent me the entire press run.
Ken Satterfield, a librarian at the Missouri River Regional Library, has produced a recording of his expert reading of the book:
By Michael H. Brownstein
When my county became a red zone in the wake of the pandemic, I already knew the answer. Of course, this is my personal opinion. I live in the entertainment zone of my town. This means bars and restaurants with bars. It does not mean theater or dance or creativity. It simply means places for people to drink and get drunk. One of the managers of one of the businesses came down with Covid-19. He was driven to the hospital by another employee – neither wore a mask. He stayed home a couple of days and then he began going outside. He even entered the bar where he works. Even now he does not look that healthy.
By Michael McLoughlin
[Editor’s Note: With the publication of his story today, we welcome Michael McLoughlin as the latest columnist to join our staff. The story also launches his column, “Songs of an Irishman.” His entry in the sidebar tells us a bit about him. Thanks to Columnist Roger Owens for introducing Michael to us.]
About four or five years after my father passed away, my mother found a poem in the newspaper about how one’s name is passed on from father to son and we should keep our name clean and not let it fall into disgrace. She asked me to make an enlarged copy for her at work, which I did. I kept a copy myself and put it above my desk at work. I read it, and then just forgot about it, and it hung there among the many other items pinned to my board.
