Last week’s blog, “All Aboard!” sparked some fond memories of train trips of yore. Streetlight would like to share a couple such reminiscences. I was what they call a train “dead head” which means I could ride trains for free because my attorney father was employed by the Southern Railroad Association. I was a freshman in college (1957) riding the train alone from Columbia, SC to Boulder, CO where I was joining three friends to set off on a six week drive discovering the West. I had a Pullman room, those wonderful rooms that … Continue reading Riding More Rails…→
Recently scanning for a train schedule, I was surprised to discover an advertisement for “The much-anticipated Amtrak Writer’s Residency.” Amtrak as literary inspiration? Well their menu does include “Fresh Sandwich du Jour,” “Salmon with Chablis Sauce” and “Chicken Apple-Maple Sausage.” And, it seems that 24 writers can taste such treats while riding the literary rails and writing about it. Amtrak will pick up the tab for a long distance, round-trip ticket and provide the lucky writer with a private sleeper car complete with its own desk, bed and window to document America’s passing scene. Winning … Continue reading All Aboard!→
The closing of Charlottesville’s Chroma Gallery has me thinking about the business of art and the making of art. (recent blog: https://streetlightmag.com/2014/01/20/breathing-room/) For an artist, nothing replaces the value of being represented by a gallery, unless it is to have work chosen by a museum. It is a vote of confidence, a means to connect with an audience, and a way to earn money, when it works. You have a show, sell, and then go back to your studio, make more art, and show again. When a gallery closes, this ideal system goes away. But … Continue reading When Criticism Counts by Margaret Bardwell White→
In the last week’s blog, Memoir/Essay Editor Susan Shafarzek’s question, “What do I mean by STREETLIGHT?” triggered in me a memory of growing up in Memphis and our neighborhood streetlight that drew us kids into its circumference of light after dark, after suppers and through the long damp summers. The streetlight’s slender concrete pillar shot up into the humid night sky and illuminated the two-lane street and cracked sidewalk. Under this streetlight, we would gather and begin our games, swap tales, fictions and non-fictions of ourselves and others, mash-up songs, re-tell jokes, push and shove, be … Continue reading Red Light Green Light→
When we say Streetlight what do we mean? Anyone who’s thinking of submitting work to this magazine, anyone who’s thinking of looking at what’s inside it, might want to know the answer to that question. It’s one we’ve been tossing back and forth, here on the editorial board, and so I thought I might carry the discussion a little further into public parlay. What do I mean by street light? To put it another way, what is it I think we think we’re bringing to light here? Obviously – if you take a look at … Continue reading The Street Where We Live→
I worked in college admissions for a number of years and in all that time we never “rejected” one single student. Honestly. Instead we “denied” admission to them – thousands of them, most of them. Deny does sound gentler than reject. In fact, just reading the definition of reject makes me wince: “Dismiss as inadequate, inappropriate or not to one’s taste”… “fail to show due affection or concern for…” But, of course, no matter what we called it to make ourselves feel better, the impact was just as harsh. One of my tasks … Continue reading Saying No→
Amending Gray When does the snow begin to fall? I try to witness the change as the theme of this season grays. Bolts of felt clouds roll across the heavens, a basket of straight pins spills into the night, and I’ve been sewing a lot of gray, not to be somber, but to sway light as mist, soft as the winter coat of a wolf. Snug in my velvet jacket, fleece slippers, cotton sweats, their subtle weaves showing— not that I want anyone to notice me, to see what I wear sitting alone at … Continue reading Amending Gray by Anne Bromley→
Desert Desperado “Sometimes a person has to go a very long distance out of his way to come back a short distance correctly.” —Edward Albee What I wanted was a resurrection of love a love bearing all the gravity of one’s lifetime What I remember is being dead for all purposes the glint in my eye a sore memory of hope and regret Nothing else visits my imagination at this time the heavy smell of urine transforms any moment into being 28 and caught way beyond redemption strung out two nights in a squalid concrete … Continue reading Desert Desperado by Cara Marinucci→
“So, what do you think?” said Don. He’d hoped Alison might bring it up this time but she was staring out the big windows toward the marina, one of several on Venice Island where they were staying. He followed her gaze to anchored boats bobbing in the onshore breeze. Alison came to, shifted her attention back to him. “I guess that little Cape had possibilities.” She took another sip of the Sangiovese the waiter recommended, surprisingly good for such a well-priced wine. “Cape?” Don wasn’t versed in architectural styles. Curb appeal, price point—this was language … Continue reading Phoenix by Juditha Dowd→
Growing up in Waynesboro, Virginia, a small town which photographer Stacey Evans describes as a mix of rural, urban, industrial and suburban landscapes, she remembers watching trains speed by and wondering, “’Where are they going?’ I wanted to go there too. Even now whenever I hear the train, there’s the mystery and romance of going somewhere.” In her late 20s, Evans started riding trains South and North to visit family and friends, and en route, noticed with increasing interest, the variation in the land. “I was really mesmerized by the changing landscape — the … Continue reading On the Move: Art by Stacey Evans→
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