Ask Wednesday: What happened yesterday that I have to ask myself today, What was it?

By Morris Dean

Absolutely not, in trestina

She answered questions for the interview
and was awaiting the termination
of a quick review by her company.

Tuesday Voice: Christmas in July

"Santa Claus"

By Vic Midyett

To my American family and friends who have never heard of “Christmas in July,” I’ll explain it:

Australia, being in the Southern hemisphere, is now mid winter. While it isn’t very cold where we are in Northern Queensland, it is still an Aussie habit, for some, to celebrate Christmas in July because it’s cool. December is usually not just warm, but hot. The traditional food for the December Christmas is prawns (or shrimp), and an assortment of cold meats, or an outdoor BBQ in the shade.

Fifth Monday Fiction

Rwandan refugee camp in east Zaire

Chapter 1. A Killer Is Born, from the novel The Killer

By Jackie Sims

Sarah Goodly of Northern California came to Africa in order to help those that could not help themselves. The year was 1994, the country was Rwanda. The Hutu President had been murdered, and she and her friends were making plans to leave the country. They had got word at 9:00 pm the 6th of April that the plane carrying President Juvénal Habyarimana had been shot down by a surface-to-air missile over Rwanda's capital city of Kigali. The next day they heard reports of killings, which had began in the capital, and they knew it was time to leave the country.
    They were packed and ready to go by April 8th. There was a van, with driver, rented and on the way to pick them up at daybreak. At last they felt safe The five Peace Corp Volunteers gathered around the table on the porch one last time to share a bottle of wine and discuss the upcoming trip. The night had been calm, there was no breeze, and even the birds were quiet. The five felt comfortable and relaxed sitting around the porch drinking wine with old friends. They had even managed a laugh or two.

Sunday Review: Shakespeare—The King's Man

A Jacobean as well as an Elizabethan

By Morris Dean

Over the years, I'd dabbled in William Shakespeare (1564-1616), beginning I guess with Macbeth or The Merchant of Venus in one of Miss Lois Thompson's English classes in high school. And I seem to remember that a Shakespeare play was included in the first year's syllabus for reading groups of the Great Books of the Western World, which had been published only a few years before I entered high school. Mr. King assembled and led a reading group of six or eight high schoolers, of whom I was one. And, two or three years later, I signed on for a small part in a my residential college's production of The Tempest.

Fourth Saturday's Loneliest Liberal: It's the process

...not the product

By James Knudsen

Math is a funny thing. I have to look at it with a sense of humor to keep from crying. My grandfather, Dr. Vern Oliver Knudsen, PhD in physics, understood math. My father, Vern Oliver Morris Knudsen, BA in Greek, understood math to a lesser degree, but still well enough to negotiate the usual hurdles en route to his diploma. Not so me. The only reason I am able to put two diplomas on the wall...assuming I can find them, is because I discovered a loop-hole I could wriggle through in the form of Philosophy 9, Logic and Reasoning.

Fish for Friday

[Anonymous items from the editor's correspondence]

On July 21 the Burlington[NC] Times-News printed a sample of replies from readers about the July 10 NY Times editorial titled "The Decline of North Carolina." Even readers in red Alamance County soundly approved the editorial: "What do you Say? Responses to editorial by the New York Times about North Carolina." Excerpt from one of the letters printed:

Thor's Day: Planning on dying?

Face the question and move on

By Morris Dean

My wife and I are planning to go on a big trip with a friend next year and, because I genuinely don't think I will ever want to do it again, I remarked, "It will be our last such trip."
    My wife, who seems to think that maybe she will want to do it again, said, "Are you planning to die after 2014?"
    Now, I am usually not very witty when it comes to interchanging with my wife—she out-guns me in the wit department. Witness the question just quoted: Am I planning to die after 2014?
    But on this occasion I think I did pretty well: I replied, "Well, if not before or during, then, of course, after."

Ask Wednesday: Sharon MacMillan on both coasts

From here to there and back

By Morris Dean

Sharon MacMillan has, according to her current bio on the Internet Movie Database, "been writing and directing [stage plays] since her move to the East Coast in 2002." We're excited about the opportunity to hear from her.

Two fifths more of fiction

Fifth Saturdays & Mondays

By Morris Dean

Three days ago, on the Third Saturday of this month (July 20), we kicked off a new regular column devoted to fiction with the posthumous publication of Pam Palmer's entertaining story, "How our Thanksgiving goose got cooked." If you haven't read that yet, I urge you to treat yourself to it as soon as possible. We've asked Pam's friend Susan C. Price to please be on the lookout for other stories that Pam might have left behind.

Tuesday Voice: To There and Back Again: Part 1

Ljublijana

By James T. Carney

With all due credit to Bilbo Baggins, the title "To There and Back Again" will work for most travelogues, of which I am creating another to deal with our epic 2004 journey to Central Europe—the first time I had been back since the Curtain fell. I even made it to Prague for a few hours in between airlines so to speak but I was not able to locate my 1967 digs, which were right next to a Russian Tank regimental headquarters. (I always figured the neighborhood was pretty safe.)
    This time my journey was to Ljublijana [Slovenia] (various spellings and pronunciations permissible), Budapest [Hungary], and Košice [Slovakia] (pronunciation), where I saw the rarest of all manufacturing operations—a USS steel mill that made money.

Fourth Monday Susan Speaks: Pammie stories

Pyre for Pammie 3.17.10

By Susan C. Price

Pam was a friend of mine. We met in the early 1970s, working for the State of California reviewing welfare paperwork of the counties. In remembering how and why I was drawn to her, I’d say it was the level and tone of her intelligence, education, and ironic sense of humor (all of which matched mine). Also, I admired and envied her oh-so-chic personal style.
    Her life had many twists and turns, ups and downs, and geographic moves. We managed to stay friends for over 30 years. About 15 years ago, she had a falling out with a friend she had named as executor of her will, and substituted me. By the time she lost her mind, I was the only old friend still in touch, and willing and able to be her guardian as well as her executor. The following is the first in a series. Due to the...um...nature of some of the “Pammie Stories,” as we and she have always called them, they won’t all be published publicly.

Sunday Review: Orange Is the New Black (Netflix original series)

Why I'm looking forward to the next episode

By Morris Dean

In the ten days since Netflix's new original  series Orange Is the New Black premiered with all thirteen episodes of Season 1 ready for instant download, I've watched only four episodes. Unlike many other series I've enjoyed scarfing down in a few days, I've never watched more than one episode of Orange on the same day—each one is about 50 minutes long—and the first time I even watched two on consecutive days was Friday and last night.

Third Saturday Fiction

How our Thanksgiving goose got cooked

By Pam Palmer

“We should have roast goose for Thanksgiving,” Martin said.
    It was 1976 and David, my husband, and I had just bought a house across the street from our long-time friends, Martin and Joan. Two weeks after we moved into the house David left for a six-month stint on a research ship in the Antarctic. It would be my first Thanksgiving in my first house and I felt overwhelmed. Of course, I could go to my in-laws’ house but it was a long drive from Long Beach to Mission Viejo by myself. My parents were going to the desert so having dinner with them was not possible.

Fish for Friday

Miss Liberty leads the people in Bulgaria

[Anonymous items from the editor's correspondence]

Thank you for noting the situation in Bulgaria two weeks ago. Another article of possible interest to your readers is this one about events on the 29th day of the protests: "First Clashes with Police in Bulgaria's Anti-Govt Protests." [More Bulgarians are coming out to protest in Sofia than North Carolinians are coming out in Raleigh; maybe we need a Miss Liberty?]

Thor's Day: Wrong number

By Morris Dean

My wife answered the phone when it rang the first time. Whoever it was, she didn't recognize them. "You have the wrong number...That's okay. No problem."
    It rang again within seconds. Without speaking, my wife hung up. "The same woman. She might be drunk."