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ISSUE:  Spring 1997

A sinecure of fashion. That’s
what he was before the illness.
I like that word, sinecure. Sometimes
I think I’ve been waiting for the right moment
to use it. My father used long words
and difficult words when he censured
us. Like the time Andy and I
took the tire out and rolled our neighbor
Johnnie inside, an annoying
three year old. The tire took off down

the street, crossed in front of a moving
car and crashed against a tree.
My father said (and I was five
at the time) our judgment
was derelict, devoid of . . . etc. I loved
the alliteration. He also capitalized
many words to place emphasis
on the first letter. They said
he had melena and


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