BARRY1
The reserve room was the reading room where books were put on “reserve,” by certain professors, to be available for students enrolled in specific courses. Those books were not to be checked out.2
One did a lot of homework, certainly a lot of reading, in that particular library. The students generally found frequently in the reserve room were the more studious ones, the ones with better grades; the students who took themselves and their college education somewhat more seriously than the ones in the cafeteria or the ones playing bridge, even though Barry spent his share of time playing bridge, as I recall.3
I first spotted Barry in one of Hunter College’s reserve rooms. It was second semester; we were now upper freshmen. I recognized him from my sociology class. You couldn’t really fail to notice him. He had blazing red hair, kept to himself and sported something more than a scowl, coupled with an expression that simply couldn’t be taken seriously. It was a quizzical look followed by no response other than one, apparently harboring some annoyance, which seemed to say: “what?” even though he had plainly heard and understood the sociable question; a query that only confirmed our reading assignment, which I repeated, completely disregarding Barry’s hostile glance. Others had found Barry’s gesture of annoyance daunting over the ensuing years, at least less than amicable, and had taken him seriously, resulting in a rather small circle of friends.4
After discovering that we had both concluded a more than successful first semester at the college with surprisingly high indices, (surprising to ourselves, although this shouldn’t have astonished Barry who had come from the Bronx High School of Science) I found myself in this rather diminutive circle of Barry’s friends. Despite my other "exclusive" circles, into which Barry could never be enticed and into which he never ventured, his little group constituted my close friends and Barry my closest friend.5
I tried to initiate Barry into some of the activities and organizations which had aroused my interest and which had brought about some joys and excitement. As a freshman I had joined the campus theater and had a small role in William Saroyan’s Time of Your Life. Good naturedly, Barry joined the next year and had a role in William Inge’s Picnic. I don’t recall that he particularly had a "picnic," but neither did I have the time of my life in Saroyan’s play. In any case, it was the last public performance for either of us at Hunter; but we had tried. The old college try.6
We chose classes together at the start of each semester, neither of us really knowing what we were doing or having any clear, focused idea, on where we were headed. Barry and I chose the major of journalism in our junior year. Why, we did not know, certainly not like classmate Jack Neufield, but I can recall objecting to Dr. Alice Griffin’s somewhat simple assignments claiming to speak for the entire class (which, although the claim, as well as my objections, may have been true, it was foolish of me stating it publicly). When I looked to the class for affirmation, everyone’s eyes were cast downward; Barry moving the carriage on his typewriter, ringing the bell. He did it twice.7
Toward that summer Barry and I decided to enlist in the Marine Corps Platoon Leader’s Class. An anomalous high blood pressure reading prevented my being accepted that year. Barry made it through the first summer, and then washed out because of a slipped disc. But I often noticed the little Globe and Anchor pin fastened on the inside of his wallet.8
I can recall our stopping in to a neighborhood Bronx tavern on 207th street one Friday afternoon to celebrate something by sampling a couple of martinis (one each). We had never had martinis and had no idea what these attractive and sophisticated cocktails tasted like but there they were, clear gin to the brim, "straight up" in those glasses, complete with olive. It was one of the worst drinking experiences I can recall as the two of us sat bravely, game, over warming glasses of what tasted like rubbing alcohol. After more than an hour neither of us could bring ourselves to finish. It is said a martini never disappoints. These two did, that afternoon.9
The two of us definitely fared better with beer. On Friday nights we met at a place on the lower east side of Manhattan called Central Plaza. There were single girls there and plenty of beer…by the pitcher. We mostly took part in the beer. But each Friday, during classes, Barry and I would glance at one another and one of us would console the other with a momentary escape from the onerous class tedium and the promise of the night to come, briefly stated by the code word: “Central!” 10
We should have stuck with the beer, but in our last year, after the frolicking senior boat ride, Barry and I decided to drown our joys, and sunburns, and learn about the pleasantly tasteless and reputedly, relatively harmless, hangover-free, vodka. This of course, was an error, which we learned about only after decimating an entire fifth between us. The debacle took place in my room, which my mother, I can recall, tried to air-out by opening a window at one point. She had no idea what was going on and I can remember lapsing into a paroxysm of laughter over this, just before passing out. My father seemed to have a better idea of what was taking place, which he did not altogether appreciate, blamed the still conscious poor Barry for it and to my stumbling red-headed, red-faced friend’s chagrin, saw him to the door. It was not one of my father’s more understanding or chivalrous moments. Not one of Barry’s best recollections either. 11
Before we graduated from Hunter, Barry and I tried to discern where we were headed as we sat in his old blue Ford. Neither of us could come up with any kind of definable sketch of a plausible life. So we tried another venue.12
We went out to Jones Beach…one night! We decided to spend the hot summer night on the beach, philosophizing, looking for the answers to our future in the overhead stars. The dark discussion was broken up at one or two in the morning by a post-midnight swim. We swam out in the fairly calm and warm ocean waters easily enough, nicely relaxing, stroke after stroke, ducking the slight waves, under and over…over and under…farther out, this way and that; very macho. I can vividly recall one of that late night’s clear epiphanies as I surfaced, ready to head back to shore. Where was the shore? Where was Barry? Where were the lights? There were no lights. Each direction looked the same: Totally black! I remember thinking I had 360 options to choose from, at least 180 of which would not be to my advantage. Fortunately one of my picks brought what appeared to be a phantom shore, but was, in fact, the real beach, and an emerging Barry took shape. But the experience had made a point. Life and the future are precious and tenuous. Best not to lose sight of either…keep them in focus.13
Barry and I both took teacher education exams and Barry went into teaching, which we all considered a safety net of sorts, but which Barry knew was perhaps the noblest profession. He wound up teaching not his majored-in English and Journalism, but his native, innate math…and taught at schools where the caliber of students was not quite Bronx Science level. I held on to my license and never taught secondary school.14
After graduation, I embarked on a trip to Europe but the image of both my parents, standing alone, forlorn on the docks, as the French Line’s Liberte set sail disturbed me. I asked Barry if he would come with us to see me off, even though he was understandably no great admirer of my father. He said he would. He did. One of the last images I remember that day was of my buddy Barry jumping up and down on some agglomeration of dock-bound steel containers, wildly waving good-bye…my parents standing there quietly.15
Barry married Myrna, had two sons, Glenn and Steve, lived in New Jersey and later moved to North Carolina. 16
It was on our way driving to Florida that my wife and I stopped off to say hello to Barry and Myrna. It had been a long time. He hadn’t been feeling especially well and was going to address the problem. My last image of Barry was of his bounding up and down, arms akimbo, waving left and right on the road, signaling us on toward the pre-designated place of our meeting. We sat at a neat, quiet, elevated table, had our simple beer and burger plates and then, after lunch, split up in the parking lot. That was it.17
Barry didn’t take well to the surgery he underwent and became more and more ill. One night Myrna called and said, in the simplest and yet most profound terms possible: “Barry died.”18
It is not a year but it will never be understood. It’s one of those open riddles. 19
I see Barry sporting his defiant look…I hear the typewriter bell ringing that afternoon, the word “central” with its cynical promise whispered, the arms frantically waving. I see us quietly seated in a car trying to focus on where we were going…and what it was all about. It’s all together, on one image. And I can see the North Carolina parking lot. I see me swimming in the dark. Still. 20
Author notes
Option #4
A contest entry
- Frustrations, anxiety, death, depression.. by RedHearts.
330 points, ended June 30, 2008, 24 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Brothers in Arms by Stegofreak.
450 points, ended July 17, 2008, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - getting older by Amb0r.
250 points, ended September 8, 2008, 11 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Make Me Cry by Ayesha Raees.
410 points, ended November 12, 2008, 12 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - A Void of the Soul by NightTerror.
240 points, ended December 30, 2008, 19 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - The Good Ole' Times by Dovina.
275 points, ended January 26, 7 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Rip My Heart Out by Corpses.
175 points, ended January 27, 40 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Emotions-how well can your stories express them? by Cupcake14.
205 points, ended May 22, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - I Want Story On Friendships.. by Glitflyer.
170 points, ended July 30, 18 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 69 of 69
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Nice. One night Myrna called and said, in the simplest and yet most profound terms possible: “Barry died.” Man, I would just hated it if someone just boldly said, "someone died," to me. The ending was just beautiful! Thanks for entering my contest! =^^=
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Hello Gary!
Interesting piece. I like it. Ending was rather unexpected but in a pleasant way. I loved the emo bit in this. I also feel sorry for you losing your friend. Story kept me reading and made my eyes wet. All in all, a nice piece to read. Thanks for sharing.
Farhan
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A Warm Recollection
My Dad was a doctor. I asked him once what he disliked most about medicine. This man who used to go out at all hours to deliver babies, had 2 practices miles apart from each other, for the first 10 years of my life he was a bit of a rumor since I saw him on Wednesday afternoons and Sundays. I was surprised when he said "It's the patients who die when there doesn't seem to be any reason for them to die."
You guys packed each others parachutes in those formative years when friendships are so meaningful and seemingly more special than "adult" friendships which can sometimes depend more on a job or children the same age.
I'm sure Barry would thank you for this story. It's plain you loved him warts and all.
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I liked it.
Although the story seemed to follow a generally calm plot, the ending was unexpected and the story in general was very well-written and interesting. -
Pretty good, there was a lot of emotion, and I really like that. Nice job!
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Nice emotions you put in the story!
Great job..
You might want to be a bit more detail but its nice..
Good Luck in my contest!
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mmm good details! nice work. =)
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Oh, that's just too bad. But you had a good long life together, and you survived that beach!
Best of luck in the contest! -
This was a good write but I sorta just didn't connect with what you were saying. Anyhoo, I am terribly sorry you lost Barry.
Good luck in the contest. 
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I have but two critiques. The first is paragraph 11. "recollection's" should be "recollections". The phrase "blue old Ford" is a bit awkward in paragraph 12, perhaps change it to "old blue Ford"? Just a suggestion there. Other than that, I feel like some of the others that it dragged just slightly, but it was a wonderful tribute to your friend. You described the relationship you two had quite well. Good job and good luck in my contest! -Liz
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Thank you Liz
I guess this is why God made editors! You are certainly CORRECT on both catches. Fixed! (I have no excuse as to how they insideously snuck in!) Thanks again,
GA
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Awes poor Barry. This was very well written and I can see the experiences clearly in the text. Thank you for writing and entering in the contest and good luck with this and all future writing.
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hah, yet another good one, I really did like this one mate, very good.
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This is really good but it didn't draw me in, I think it could have had a little less detail and a little more action. But good job anyway.
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great detail through out the story but i feel it draged a little.
Very good and thank you for entering
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Whoa
This so awesome. The detail is remarkable. Great job.
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Wow...
First of all, I'm sorry that you lost your friend. By the way you described him, I could feel that you had a lot of respect for him, and also that you cared deeply for him as your best friend.
School is always a great place to make new friends. When I went to college last year, I had the best roommate. But unfortunately I had to take myself out of the school, and I don't see her anymore. But we still keep in touch.
This was a really touching story, and told so well.
Thanks for your entry!
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HThis is very good. I like reading this. Its a bit sad but very well writen! Thanks for entering!
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I liked this. Its very well written and very touching. However I'm curious which question it addresses- if you could please put that in your AN
thanks. Thanks for entering!
WritingFree -
This was a very insightful story. You characterized Barry very well and I enjoyed reading about it. Thank you for entering.
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This is a great write. It's very sad and powerful.
Just one piece of constructive criticism, a few of the lines were worded very strangely, though I can't quite put my finger on it.
Also, the quote is "Those you've known and lost still walk behind you." There's more to it, but that doesn't bother me.
Anyway, great write, thanks for entering!
~Memoirs
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"When I looked to the class for affirmation, everyone’s eyes were cast downward; Barry moving the carriage on his typewriter, ringing the bell. He did it twice."
Loved that one, but as with all your stories I've read so far the whole story is like some kind of jar of concentrated fantabaloulasticisticness. The quote you gave me on my contest is also even better in its context. That whole "Swimming in the dark" part just blew my mind. This might be my new favourite, I just need to let it sink in before I can be sure.
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Please place the quote that this was inspired by in your AN next to the option number.
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great job!
super realistic!
thanks for entering. -
Well Written.
Good Luck!
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This is a very well writen story indeed. You carried it through masterfully from the reserve room through his death it was very understandable and perfectly edited. I can not relate to this for I have never had a friend that I really became close to and thus I do not comprehend the idea of one dying. I do however recognize good wiritng and this is deffenetly it. A wonderful story by an excelent writer.
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wow
what a wonderfully described tale! I loved it! It has an amazingly slow yet magical rhythm to it that made me quench emotionally. Wonderful and beautiful. I loved it.
I guess when we grow up, friends live sepaprate livs and then one day, we will recieve a call "she died," and we may not cry because of that time gap but we will feel that bad nostalgic feeling.
I hate nostalgia... it makes me yearn for the good old days.
Though I am the one to talk...I am only 14. *shrugs*
is this fiction?
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i like this but i gotta go this is interesting i hope yuo add more! i know this is a short comment but i gotta go sorry!
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ok... umm what option did you choose, for real. Other than that, you need to extend the story a bit more so there won't be a rushed ending.
gday mate!
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G'day!
I have NO idea which contest you refer to. I don't know what you mean by: "for real!" And I must heartily disagree with your suggestion that the story is incomplete. The conflict was resolved, the epiphany reached, the truth that is all we can know revealed. Curtain. The story is complete. The story, such as it is, is over. There was nothing "rushed" about it. Perhaps itis you who are rushing. Read it carefully...again.
Oh...gday, mate!
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Green cheese? Lol. Poor Barry. The ending seems kind of rushed. Anyways, thank you for entering.
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wait yea which option did u choose?
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This is really great! You made the characters come to life and the Plot and Story-line just popped out at me! Just one question, though. Which option did you choose?
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This is so well written. Good luck in Me and Danica's contest!
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Very well written and very sad. You made your characters interesting, you made me want to know them, and this isn't such an easy thing to do, so well. Barry's death was so sudden, though... but maybe that was just the way the pieces of the story fit together. But well done! You did everything I asked you to and it was good, so nicely done!
Best of luck in the contest!
Chrissie
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This was very well written. It was sad and very descriptive. Good job!
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Well, I felt Barry's death was too sudden. I mean one moment they were eating together, laughing and being the best of pals...and then the other...
I guess this is what someone's death feels like.
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P2 and P3 are kind of awkwardly worded and/or somewhat unnecessary.
Great job on descriptions and details.
P9 I enjoyed mainly because of the joyous mood it set up in the first half and the sudden drop to a negative mood in the second half.
Go through the story one more time to catch minor, minor details.
Um, otherwise I felt like it's a great piece but at the same time I feel like something is missing/off?
And I would like to ask what category for my contest this story went into. -
Man, that was good. Kept my attention the entire time. You made me want to know Barry personally. This was an excellant story. Thank you so much for entering. Good luck. GOd Bless
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this is really good. I'm so so sorry...believe me when I say I've been there.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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Really touching
Hi Gary,
This really good as all you stories are..
It reminded me of my college and school life.
Thanks for entering my contest!
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That guy in the picture, is Barry right? He's not scowling! I can't imagine him scowling, he seems pretty friendly. ^_^
This piece somewhat scares me though. I can't and don't want to think how it'd be if one of my few friends die someday.
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Wow, this story is really comfortable to read, and I am sure that it must have been just as comfortable to write. It makes me think that you were talking to a friend.
I love the overall meaning in the story, the love, the friendship, and the companionship. I just love it.
I hate it when a friend is sick, and have been through what it feels like when a friend is close to dying or is on his sick bed. It just breaks my heart, and I am glad to have clicked this link, and read this story.
I am going to tell you that you have lots of talent, so keep up the good work! I hope you continue to write, and I wish you lots of luck at story write.
MagicMonster00M: Keep on writing, if it is what you do best.beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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great story, you made it sound like you were sitting comfertably with a friend and telling him of the past. In the end it kind of reminded me of my friend who is ill, and has been in bed for the last year. You have a real talent for writing, keep it up.
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It reminds me of the story of what potentially could of cost me my own life meaning if it had of turned different than maybe I would not have be born in the first place...
I love the overall meaning behyind it; a friendship, a love, a companiosnship that will always stay in his heart. Yet he must enter the word without him; without his true freind.
I myself have been through the heartache of loosing a good friendf to illness, but to many. And it puts a prespective on the way that I live now days... Though sometimes it is hard. I can gaurentee they would want you to live on and be happy.
I thought it to be a great read. One of power, one beyong potential... It captured my emtotions somehow and actually bring a tear to my eye.
Well done~
Gary
Blair
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Another comment, separated by another amount of time.
When I finished reading this, I couldn't help thinking of Mort of Magic. This is another wonderful story of companionship, and it's very affecting, to me, as it nears the final paragraphs because I can see what's happening. Gary, you're stories are amazing. You obviously have experienced many things.
Andrew TH
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Excellent story. The character you described seemed like a real person. With your character description, ou seemed to make him come to life in the story. You described this with emotion and a lot details. I liked this. Take care.
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This story is like a version of what everyone goes through in life; meeting a close friend and making memories with them, slowly and sadly growing apart, and then waking up one morning to find that they have disappeared. And you wish things were different, because what you remember is only half of the memory.
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Nice
If this story was not a real person, you are an amazing writer. It is not often that so much heart get's pored out for a character; that I actually feel like I want to know someone I read about.
I think you have a gift for memoirs. And that is a gift, because memoirs are hard.
You could do a nice book simply based on your character sketches. Keep up the good work.
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Sad. Somehow I guessed Barry was going to be dead by the end of the story. He sounds like a nice guy.
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This was great and well written. Was sad when I found out Barry died.
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Commentary
There's something about the monologue and dialogue that really captured me in a way that is normally hard to do with stories. Kudos for that and keep penningbeginning: 4, language: 5, plot: 4, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 4.
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This is my favorite of all of your stories so far. I really got to know Barry, and I was a little dissapointed when he died. You wove a nice little tale that can pull readers in and take them along for the ride. I just have one question for you: are all of your stories true? If they are then you have an intersesting life and you seem like an interesting person, although I would also infer that you have felt a lot of sadness because of all the people that die in your stories. Great job with this one!
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You were right
Your stories are like deceptive feathers that are actually lead weights. They bring you slowly but always hit home and the heart. The characters are amazingly real, approachable and solid. And the feelings you get when reading it are more of a glipses into your actually memories rather than hearing *reading* something.
The martini line made me laugh
the ending made me sigh.
Don't know you you do it GA but please don't ever stop!
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Man I just look at a martini and feel a little queezy, I totally indentify with that experience, I don't really understand why people like them, I simply assume cool factor. That James Bond, I'm never coping him again.
I like the part about being lost in the sea, about bad options and good, very effective. How life is so easy to loose.
Overall your story makes me want to go out and do some living, if living didn't cost I would so do that, but my summer job ain't so bad so i will just try to live lots doing that and make heaps of interesting friends.
I think you capture university really well, I know so many people who have no idea what they are doing, it is perfect.
The swimming in the dark bit at the end, nice summing up, that little reminder at the end, very nice indeed.
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"This was a very well written story."
I so agree!! Its like this book could only have one copy (as in published), and it would get ALL the attention. That means GOODBYE HARRY POTTER and hello... BARRY!! XD congrats. I'd give you applause but I used up all of my free ones.beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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You drew me in, by the neck
and held me absolutely spellbound. That doesn't happen often to me. A deceptively simple story, and written with great skill and deep feeling.
I had no inkling of the ending, I was so involved, and you shocked me. I would have liked to meet Barry.
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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This was a very well written story. I see now what you meant by caring for the character; I too was sad when Barry died in the end. And it happened so sadly as well, it left a void wondering about what he had undergone. What surgery had he had that he didn't take well to?
A very loveable story, you showed the true heart of Barry.
: )
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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you did a good job of portraying your friendship with this unique person. I haven't had to deal with true loss yet, and I'm not looking forward to it. But this story reminds me that I need to cherish what I have now, because it could just as soon be taken away.
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I liked it very much. Your stories are written from personal experience, which makes them realistic - more so than many of the others I've read. Your characters are always very well developed and real.
It's a shame that Barry died; while I was reading this, he kind of reminded me of one of my own friends. This was a gentle reminder that someday, my current friends and I will come to a point where we will grow apart... and become just like Barry and the narrator. It's a truly sad thought! But that's life, isn't it?
Although I wasn't quite sure what the overall moral of the story was, I liked this message: "Keep life and the future in focus because they're important". It's so true, and many people just don't see it. They have potential, and they're wasting it.
Thank you so much for sharing this with us!
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I imagine most of us who have lost friends can empathize with your character.
The development of your characters is well done. The reader can see Barry in his role as the studious and slightly disagreeable student befriended by the more outgoing narrator.
That Barry doesn’t fit into the same type of personality as the narrator is apparently what draws them together.
There seems to be an instant connection that tightens into a bond as the young men make it through the college years, changing and maturing.
Then their choices of careers differ and they make moves that separate them, so that what had been the closeness of daily living becomes distant spans of years between encounters. I imagine most of us who have lost friends can empathize with your character.
By the straightforwardness of the writing, where you describe events but don’t analyze what they mean to the narrator allows the reader to come to their own conclusions.
One finds humor in the memories of shared experiences like drinking bouts, girl hunting, and classroom antics. Regret in the memories of lost time where friendships slip into the past. Sadness in the realization that death comes and all that is left are the memories.
Geri
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, characters: 5.
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A story that goes full circle
I enjoyed the story and the descriptions. Even though the story seems to go full circle it leaves a lot of unanswered questions about life ,destiny and lost time.
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Drink a toast to Barry
This was really, really good. I loved the descriptions of Barry and the other characters and how realistically you explained two college kids trying to find purpose in their lives. I even felt sorrow when Barry died, even in such a short story, so props to that! The only thing that I can't figure is why the ...moral? you mentioned at the beach scene wasn't continued at the end, unless that isn't the moral. Is the narrator still searching for purpose? Was Barry at the time of his death?
Wonderful story, GA.
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This was an interesting story, one that I found simplistic in the very best way a story can be.
People want to remember their friends not as sickly old men on their death beds, but as the wild youthful figures that they spent so many good times with.
I think This is what the narrator is doing, because if he lets the memory of Barry sick and weak, the happier ones, the ones of drinking and swimming and waving might just seem that much less vivid. He may remember them, but they would always be followed by the thought that he had grown ill, and he had died. If you let the bad in, the good will always be tinged with the malevolent.
That's my take on it, anyway, and I thought this was an absolutely amazing story. I really can't think of anything to critique.
beginning: 4, language: 3, plot: 4, ending: 5, dialog: 2, characters: 5.
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Sorry for the loss of your friend. This story is a well written tribute to the friendship you shared. The swimming at the beach scene was particularly striking, it can be used as a metaphor for many different things, but the lesson is quite universal, take nothing in life, or life itself, for granted. The image of Barry jumping up and down is wonderfully drawn.
I have but one suggestion. Where it reads, "My last image of Barry was of his jumping up and down, arms akimbo, waving up down on the road, at the pre-designated place of our meeting. We sat at a neat, quiet, elevated table, had our simple beer and burger plates and then, after lunch, split up in the parking lot. That was it.17" I would have expected a sentence or two in between these two sentences contrasting the last image of him jumping so long ago with how he seemed or looked (different? same?) at that last meeting.
All in all, an excellent read. Thank you for sharing, I think everyone can take something away from this.
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Nice little story, Gary. Kept simple, I guess, so that others can see parallels with their own relationships.
Very nicely written - even though it's a year gone by, I'm sorry for your loss.
Thanks for sharing
GoNE
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Interesting read.
Before going into the underlying theme, I would point out a few places that could use clarification.
“Jack Neufield ?”
“Dr. Alice Griffin’s somewhat simple assignments, claiming to speak for the entire class ?”
“It is not a year but it will never be understood.”
The setup for the summing up statement, “Life and the future are precious and tenuous. Best not to lose sight of either…keep them in focus” could use a few more words.
Everyone’s life has times represented by a few words that can only be felt by the person that experienced. them … “sitting in the car” … “jumping up and down” "ringing the bell” … The words are codes which only the person who experienced the moment they represent can truly understand. They are often accompanied by “what if” thoughts.
During a lifetime, there are periods that stand alone like almost different lives that the person has lived, time in some branch of the service, high school years, college years, raising a family. Each of these periods has their codes. For people like me, different assignments and different countries I have lived in. Each of these has a different set of people, places, and events.
The final paragraph listed the codes that the previous paragraphs elaborated on.
Reflections on the past, are truly meaningful only to the person who has lived what they represent.
beginning: 4, language: 4, plot: 4, ending: 4, dialog: 4, characters: 4.
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Lou,
Thanks for reading this. I can appreciate most of your comments...I thought some of the "codes" were more or less universal. (I guess less! lol!) But just to clarify...Jack Neufield was a well known journalist, I guess not THAT well known. He wrote the Robert Kennedy book, which he was working on just about the very time Kennedy got shot. He was a classmate. Jack also worked on the N.Y. Village Voice for years and was a great political commentator. Dr. Alice Griffin was editor and chief of Theater Arts Magazine in N.Y....but not as well known as Neufield, although I didn't think it was necessary to the story to know that,which is why I didn't mention it. The rest I thought was apparent. "Not a year" referred to Barry's death. Still "not understood." Who can understand?
I do disagree with your thought that "life and the future" being tenuous and best kept in focus could use more words. I thought too much was explained in that passage as it is. I mean, c'mon...one has to leave SOMETHING for the reader to figure! And, really, I think with a little work or imagination, one can very easily put themselves in the position of the story teller and figure out the rest! Really. Sitting in a car...talking about your life? You never did that? Jumping up and down? Never did THAT?
The bell was merely noise...a clownish commentary on my clownish comment. I thought it was obvious. I can't chew EVERYTHING up. Wouldn't be my kind of story otherwise...in fact, it wouldn't be much of anything. Perhaps you're getting used to writing for younger people.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Lou.
GA
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Ahh thats quite sad that Barry died. Maybe theres some point in there, to not take life for granted. I throughtly enjoyed it!
beginning: 4, language: 5, plot: 4, ending: 5, dialog: 4, characters: 5.
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