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The Angle

First Page

32

Last Page

33

Abstract

In lieu of an abstract, below is the essay's first paragraph.

"The bed was hard, the room was hot, she lay there with her eyes closed. Nothing to do-or could do-except remember. Memory-God's gift to the old-what a crock! One of those laughable bromides, as if all memories were good ones. Ah but this one was. She drifted off to the beach; hot sand, the Jersey shore. Daddy's grandfather lived in New Jersey; that's why they had gone for a visit. She had a pail and a shovel. Tin, it was made of tin with fish painted on the side. No plastic in those days. How old was she then? Three? Maybe four. Must dig a deep hole, watch it fill with water. Watch the creatures scurry away when you dug. See the tiny crab skitter sideways, look at the black beetle; pick him up - she wasn't squeamish then-head back to the grownups where someone squealed and told her to throw it away. Who cares? Life is complete and beautiful; fulfilled by a hole in the sand. Adult voices carried by the summer haze, reach her ears."

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