Rick Rofihe's Blog - Posts Tagged "anderbo-com"
NORTHEAST OF EDEN: 11 SERPENTINE TALES by Rick Rofihe
1. I don’t know very much about snakes, just that I grew up far enough north in North America that there were no venomous or constricting snakes around, and that if you saw a snake there was no good reason to be afraid. Still, it can’t be denied that to most people, snakes are startling—you see a stick but then you see it’s a snake. It was startling in the Bible and it’s startling on your lawn.
2. In the country, when my cat killed a bird, I told no one. When he killed a snake, I told everyone; no one ever said I should put a bell on him because he kills snakes.
3. New York City is a scary place. One begins to sense this when taking note of the many pet shops selling 90-cent mice, the preferred live food of pet boa constrictors kept by many New Yorkers. “There’s hardly a block without a boa,” said one mouse dealer. “It’s scary.”
4. G. Gordon Liddy, of Watergate fame, said in his book Will that he didn’t want to be afraid of anything so as to be able to act freely in all situations. However, he was afraid of rats and decided to overcome his fear by roasting and eating a rat. This, like many of Mr. Liddy’s actions, though amusing, and all right for Mr. Liddy, holds little promise for the common, fearful man. After all, won’t anyone who is afraid of say, snakes, probably be afraid to eat one, even a poached one with sauce? Also, do we overcome our fears, or our enemies, by consuming them or their kind? Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev didn’t say, “We will ingest you.” Further, even if you ate one snake, it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be afraid of the next one you saw (or were served).
5. A while back, a small-city newspaper in the Northeast dropped the Doonesbury comic strip over its use of the term “knocked up”. The editors published a lot of letters concerning the matter—one, written by a person who was either a master of irony or really afraid of snakes, was headlined “Afraid of Snakes” and went like this: “Sirs: Yes, sure, keep Doonesbury going. If I want to read it or not it’s still OK. I have been reading your newspaper since 1929. I am really scared of snakes. If I see a picture of a snake in any newspaper, I soon burn the paper or throw it out of my house. If I see a snake on TV, I shut it off. Lizards, etc., are OK. If I see a snake two inches long, he takes his road and I take mine.”
6. My brother, a clothier, tells of a businessman he knew who imported goose down from the Far East to use in the manufacture of ski jackets. The fellow was wearing one of his own products one day when it began to feel askew. He tugged at it—but it tugged right back. He whipped off the jacket, flinging it on the ground—a snake egg had been imported with the down, and had hatched. (When my brother tells this story, he always gets asked: “What kind of snake?” “Did he kill it?” “Did he feel like a father?” “Did the guy make sleeping bags, too?”)
7. Snakes have no eyelids, no hips, no lobby in Washington (some creatures do!) and little support at home.
8.One summer I heard of a rural woman who became distraught upon discovering snakes in her basement. Believing that these snakes were punishment for past sins, she thought to get rid of them by confessing her life’s wrongdoings, for absolution, to anyone who’d listen. Different people told me a few things she’d divulged, always sins like “I was unreasonable with my daughter when she was growing up,” or “I was impatient with my in-laws,”—the forgiveness of which just might not drive out snakes, or even reseal a good-sized can of worms.
9. If you have a psychiatrist and you dream of snakes, don’t tell him/her about it. The symbolism may give you more things to fear.
10. Not too long ago I came upon an unfamiliar term, “land eel”, in a magazine article. I consulted an old fellow, a fisherman, about it. “Land eels?” He gave me a look usually reserved for tourists. “Eels is eels, they all got gills. If they have to travel over land sometimes, they’re still plain eels.” When I asked him why anyone would use such a term, he said: “Probably meant snakes. Some people scared t’see a snake. Some might be scared to write one down.”
11. I was talking to a naturalist from Pittsburgh about snakes and she said there were some dangerous ones in Pennsylvania’s Allegheny Mountains. “Pennsylvania?” I worried. “That’s close. I live in New York State. Are there any poisonous snakes in New York State?” Her facial muscles shifted and she took a quick long trip—two seconds to another time and place; two seconds back—before replying. “My husband lives near Schenectady.”
Rick Rofihe is the author of FATHER MUST, published by Farrar Straus & Giroux (Editor: Jonathan Galassi; Agent:Gail Hochman). For a free download of his book of nine New Yorker stories, BOYS who DO the BOP, go to the anderbo.com home page. Rick is the judge for Open City magazine's annual short story contest, the RRofihe Trophy at http://opencity.org/rrofihe.html and is an advisor for the 2011 Vilcek Foundation prizes in the field of literature.
2. In the country, when my cat killed a bird, I told no one. When he killed a snake, I told everyone; no one ever said I should put a bell on him because he kills snakes.
3. New York City is a scary place. One begins to sense this when taking note of the many pet shops selling 90-cent mice, the preferred live food of pet boa constrictors kept by many New Yorkers. “There’s hardly a block without a boa,” said one mouse dealer. “It’s scary.”
4. G. Gordon Liddy, of Watergate fame, said in his book Will that he didn’t want to be afraid of anything so as to be able to act freely in all situations. However, he was afraid of rats and decided to overcome his fear by roasting and eating a rat. This, like many of Mr. Liddy’s actions, though amusing, and all right for Mr. Liddy, holds little promise for the common, fearful man. After all, won’t anyone who is afraid of say, snakes, probably be afraid to eat one, even a poached one with sauce? Also, do we overcome our fears, or our enemies, by consuming them or their kind? Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev didn’t say, “We will ingest you.” Further, even if you ate one snake, it doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be afraid of the next one you saw (or were served).
5. A while back, a small-city newspaper in the Northeast dropped the Doonesbury comic strip over its use of the term “knocked up”. The editors published a lot of letters concerning the matter—one, written by a person who was either a master of irony or really afraid of snakes, was headlined “Afraid of Snakes” and went like this: “Sirs: Yes, sure, keep Doonesbury going. If I want to read it or not it’s still OK. I have been reading your newspaper since 1929. I am really scared of snakes. If I see a picture of a snake in any newspaper, I soon burn the paper or throw it out of my house. If I see a snake on TV, I shut it off. Lizards, etc., are OK. If I see a snake two inches long, he takes his road and I take mine.”
6. My brother, a clothier, tells of a businessman he knew who imported goose down from the Far East to use in the manufacture of ski jackets. The fellow was wearing one of his own products one day when it began to feel askew. He tugged at it—but it tugged right back. He whipped off the jacket, flinging it on the ground—a snake egg had been imported with the down, and had hatched. (When my brother tells this story, he always gets asked: “What kind of snake?” “Did he kill it?” “Did he feel like a father?” “Did the guy make sleeping bags, too?”)
7. Snakes have no eyelids, no hips, no lobby in Washington (some creatures do!) and little support at home.
8.One summer I heard of a rural woman who became distraught upon discovering snakes in her basement. Believing that these snakes were punishment for past sins, she thought to get rid of them by confessing her life’s wrongdoings, for absolution, to anyone who’d listen. Different people told me a few things she’d divulged, always sins like “I was unreasonable with my daughter when she was growing up,” or “I was impatient with my in-laws,”—the forgiveness of which just might not drive out snakes, or even reseal a good-sized can of worms.
9. If you have a psychiatrist and you dream of snakes, don’t tell him/her about it. The symbolism may give you more things to fear.
10. Not too long ago I came upon an unfamiliar term, “land eel”, in a magazine article. I consulted an old fellow, a fisherman, about it. “Land eels?” He gave me a look usually reserved for tourists. “Eels is eels, they all got gills. If they have to travel over land sometimes, they’re still plain eels.” When I asked him why anyone would use such a term, he said: “Probably meant snakes. Some people scared t’see a snake. Some might be scared to write one down.”
11. I was talking to a naturalist from Pittsburgh about snakes and she said there were some dangerous ones in Pennsylvania’s Allegheny Mountains. “Pennsylvania?” I worried. “That’s close. I live in New York State. Are there any poisonous snakes in New York State?” Her facial muscles shifted and she took a quick long trip—two seconds to another time and place; two seconds back—before replying. “My husband lives near Schenectady.”
Rick Rofihe is the author of FATHER MUST, published by Farrar Straus & Giroux (Editor: Jonathan Galassi; Agent:Gail Hochman). For a free download of his book of nine New Yorker stories, BOYS who DO the BOP, go to the anderbo.com home page. Rick is the judge for Open City magazine's annual short story contest, the RRofihe Trophy at http://opencity.org/rrofihe.html and is an advisor for the 2011 Vilcek Foundation prizes in the field of literature.
WHERE'S RICK ROFIHE?
Open City Magazine's Tom Beller searches Manhattan for Anderbo.com's Rick Rofihe... http://www.thomasbeller.com/miniro.AVI ...and finds him!
BOYS who DO the BOP
Nine short stories by Rick Rofihe acquired by The New Yorker in a 3-year period, all edited by Pat Strachan http://www.anderbo.com/bop9.html
THE COPS AND I—a Disorderly Memoir by Rick Rofihe
(An earlier version of this appeared in the now-defunct SPY Magazine; an illustrated version can be found at mrbellersneighborhood.com.)
THE COPS AND I—a Disorderly Memoir
1971. When I was still a student and first visited New York City, the couple at whose place I was staying suggested we take a walk to the piers near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. While we were crossing the roadway there, where the signs clearly prohibit pedestrians from crossing, a policemen who saw us yelled, “Get out of there, you fucks!”
1978. Soon after moving to New York, I parked my car, with its still-out-of-state plates, in Times Square (in what was clearly a no-standing zone) because a couple of visiting friends wanted to get out and look around. I was leaning on the car door when a policeman on horseback came riding by. While I did my best to appear an innocent tourist, he looked at my plates, then at me and said, “Move it, you fuck.”
1987. Recently, I told a teenager who was smoking a cigarette in an elevator that he should put it out. “You a cop?” he asked.
1981. When, in a supermarket checkout line, I suggested to a fellow who had butted in front of the woman ahead of me that he move to the back, the woman turned around and said, “So, you’re a cop?”
1983. Shopping with a friend at a used-clothing store, I found, among the $180 “Genuine Swedish Army Issue” long, lined, black leather coats, a similar NYPD coat for $80. It was in perfect shape and it fit just right. I sought out a salesperson and asked, “Why is it so much cheaper?” “Nobody knows from Swedish army officers,” said the clerk, “but a cop coat…”
Undeterred, I asked the person I was with, “Should I get it?”
“Are you crazy?” she said. “It makes you look like a cop.”
Shortly thereafter, a man I know found himself walking beside what he described as a beautiful young woman in midtown one day. He said he couldn’t help being confused by her appearance. She was wearing rather delicate shoes, an expensive watch, a finely tailored skirt and blouse, and good jewelry and was carrying a partially wrapped single long-stemmed red rose—all right so far, but she also had on what looked like an old, short leather police jacket. My friend became even more confused when she kept looking his way and smiling.
“I felt like Gee, I should respond,” he told me, “but instead I crossed the street.”»
“You thought she was a cop, right?” I guessed.
“No,” he went on, “It wouldn’t bother me so much if she was a cop. I was thinking, What if she’s also the friend of a cop?”
1980. Driving in Manhattan one day with a fellow I work with, I stopped at a light alongside a two-man patrol car. “Pigs!” my co-worker, a veteran of Berkeley student-radical days, blurted out, loudly enough that I was thankful that both of their car windows and ours were closed. I told him that I’d read that these days young Lower East Side felons refer to the police merely as “pests.”
“Well,” he sneered, “what do you call them?”
1982. A neighbor of mine who makes large, colorful masks figured that the pre-Halloween weekend would be a fitting time to sell his product, and that the sidewalks of SoHo, with its upscale crowds, would be the perfect place. But he had no license, and the police caught him and confiscated his masks. As his wares were being loaded into a police truck an officer told him that besides having to appear in court and face a probable $100 fine, he’d have to come down to the station and pay $65 to get his masks back.
“Sixty-five dollars!” exclaimed my neighbor. “A guy I know only had to pay $20! Why is it $65 for me?”
The cop could have explained that the retrieval fee was $65 when the vendor sells in an area where selling is prohibited, as my neighbor had done, whereas if the vendor is merely selling without a license, the fee is $20.
But the cop didn’t.
“Because,” he said instead, looking at him, then over at the masks, “because I don’t like your faces.”
THE COPS AND I—a Disorderly Memoir
1971. When I was still a student and first visited New York City, the couple at whose place I was staying suggested we take a walk to the piers near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel. While we were crossing the roadway there, where the signs clearly prohibit pedestrians from crossing, a policemen who saw us yelled, “Get out of there, you fucks!”
1978. Soon after moving to New York, I parked my car, with its still-out-of-state plates, in Times Square (in what was clearly a no-standing zone) because a couple of visiting friends wanted to get out and look around. I was leaning on the car door when a policeman on horseback came riding by. While I did my best to appear an innocent tourist, he looked at my plates, then at me and said, “Move it, you fuck.”
1987. Recently, I told a teenager who was smoking a cigarette in an elevator that he should put it out. “You a cop?” he asked.
1981. When, in a supermarket checkout line, I suggested to a fellow who had butted in front of the woman ahead of me that he move to the back, the woman turned around and said, “So, you’re a cop?”
1983. Shopping with a friend at a used-clothing store, I found, among the $180 “Genuine Swedish Army Issue” long, lined, black leather coats, a similar NYPD coat for $80. It was in perfect shape and it fit just right. I sought out a salesperson and asked, “Why is it so much cheaper?” “Nobody knows from Swedish army officers,” said the clerk, “but a cop coat…”
Undeterred, I asked the person I was with, “Should I get it?”
“Are you crazy?” she said. “It makes you look like a cop.”
Shortly thereafter, a man I know found himself walking beside what he described as a beautiful young woman in midtown one day. He said he couldn’t help being confused by her appearance. She was wearing rather delicate shoes, an expensive watch, a finely tailored skirt and blouse, and good jewelry and was carrying a partially wrapped single long-stemmed red rose—all right so far, but she also had on what looked like an old, short leather police jacket. My friend became even more confused when she kept looking his way and smiling.
“I felt like Gee, I should respond,” he told me, “but instead I crossed the street.”»
“You thought she was a cop, right?” I guessed.
“No,” he went on, “It wouldn’t bother me so much if she was a cop. I was thinking, What if she’s also the friend of a cop?”
1980. Driving in Manhattan one day with a fellow I work with, I stopped at a light alongside a two-man patrol car. “Pigs!” my co-worker, a veteran of Berkeley student-radical days, blurted out, loudly enough that I was thankful that both of their car windows and ours were closed. I told him that I’d read that these days young Lower East Side felons refer to the police merely as “pests.”
“Well,” he sneered, “what do you call them?”
1982. A neighbor of mine who makes large, colorful masks figured that the pre-Halloween weekend would be a fitting time to sell his product, and that the sidewalks of SoHo, with its upscale crowds, would be the perfect place. But he had no license, and the police caught him and confiscated his masks. As his wares were being loaded into a police truck an officer told him that besides having to appear in court and face a probable $100 fine, he’d have to come down to the station and pay $65 to get his masks back.
“Sixty-five dollars!” exclaimed my neighbor. “A guy I know only had to pay $20! Why is it $65 for me?”
The cop could have explained that the retrieval fee was $65 when the vendor sells in an area where selling is prohibited, as my neighbor had done, whereas if the vendor is merely selling without a license, the fee is $20.
But the cop didn’t.
“Because,” he said instead, looking at him, then over at the masks, “because I don’t like your faces.”
Ben Sonnenberg Jr., GRAND STREET Founder...
I read with interest and regret today in The New York Times of the passing of a former editor -- a very influential editor -- of mine, Ben Sonnenberg Jr., who founded and edited the excellent literary journal, Grand Street.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/26/boo...
I was lucky enough to work with Ben on two of my stories, "Born Here", now republished at
http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/ric... and "Quiet", now at
http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/ric... (and which was a Best American Short Story "nominee".)
Later, Ben generously blurbed my FSG book of stories, FATHER MUST.
Grand Street was an uncommonly, at least to me, (and this was my experience WAY before I was in it) INVOLVING publication -- I would, mentally, at least, DEVOUR its pages with gusto.
-RR
June 26, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/26/boo...
I was lucky enough to work with Ben on two of my stories, "Born Here", now republished at
http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/ric... and "Quiet", now at
http://www.fictionaut.com/stories/ric... (and which was a Best American Short Story "nominee".)
Later, Ben generously blurbed my FSG book of stories, FATHER MUST.
Grand Street was an uncommonly, at least to me, (and this was my experience WAY before I was in it) INVOLVING publication -- I would, mentally, at least, DEVOUR its pages with gusto.
-RR
June 26, 2010
SIX QUESTIONS for Rick Rofihe...
From Jim Harrington @ http://sixquestionsfor.blogspot.com/2...
Six Questions for Rick Rofihe, Publisher & Editor-in-Chief, Anderbo
http://www.anderbo.com publishes literary fiction up to 3,500 words, poetry, and "fact" up to 1,500 words.
SQF: What are the top three things you look for in a story and why?
RR: I want a story to start with either a little bit of action and go quickly to some background, or start with some brief background and then cut to some action. I want to know who the story's protagonist is, and what his or her "conflict" is, within the first half-page. Then I want the rest of the story to narrowly follow whatever its beginning is.
SQF: What are the top three reasons a story is rejected, other than not fitting into your answers to question one and why?
RR: A story might be too long—and in some cases, too short—for its actual essence. Also, a story that bites off a little and efficiently chews what's bitten off is better than a story that has a big scope but doesn't fully explore the questions it poses. And then there are stories that might have great endings, but present a tough or unsatisfying slog getting through the story's beginning and middle.
SQF: What common mistakes do you encounter that turn you off to a story?
RR: I see a lot of stories that start off in bars—those stories never seem to work. And a lot of ones involving pets—animal stories don't seem very promising. First-person stories in which the narrator's name isn't somehow revealed—those can be frustrating (though I did such myself in a story, "Elevator Neighbors", which appeared in The New Yorker.)
SQF: Do you provide comments when you reject a story?
RR: Everyone on the masthead is invited to comment on fiction stories which are under serious consideration. I share those comments among everyone, and if the consensus is to accept the story, or accept it with revisions, the author would be shown appropriate excerpts of our comments. For non-accepted stories, unless someone at Anderbo has a prior relationship to the author, we never provide comments.
SQF: I read a comment by one editor who said she keeps a blacklist of authors who respond to a rejection in a less than professional manner. I'm sure you know what I mean. What do you want authors to know about the stories you reject and how authors should respond? Along this same idea, do you mind if authors reply with polite questions about the comments they receive?
RR: There are simply too many submissions for myself and our all-volunteer anderbo.com staff to deal with to get into any back-and forth, polite or not, with a writer whose work we are not accepting.
SQF: What one question on this topic do you wish I'd asked that I didn't? And how would you answer it?
RR: "Rick, do you agree with the writers Margaret Atwood and Lorrie Moore who each would suggest that it's much more important for you as a story-writer to express the story than to express yourself?" (Yes, I do.)
Thank you, Rick. We all appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to participate in this project.
Six Questions for Rick Rofihe, Publisher & Editor-in-Chief, Anderbo
http://www.anderbo.com publishes literary fiction up to 3,500 words, poetry, and "fact" up to 1,500 words.
SQF: What are the top three things you look for in a story and why?
RR: I want a story to start with either a little bit of action and go quickly to some background, or start with some brief background and then cut to some action. I want to know who the story's protagonist is, and what his or her "conflict" is, within the first half-page. Then I want the rest of the story to narrowly follow whatever its beginning is.
SQF: What are the top three reasons a story is rejected, other than not fitting into your answers to question one and why?
RR: A story might be too long—and in some cases, too short—for its actual essence. Also, a story that bites off a little and efficiently chews what's bitten off is better than a story that has a big scope but doesn't fully explore the questions it poses. And then there are stories that might have great endings, but present a tough or unsatisfying slog getting through the story's beginning and middle.
SQF: What common mistakes do you encounter that turn you off to a story?
RR: I see a lot of stories that start off in bars—those stories never seem to work. And a lot of ones involving pets—animal stories don't seem very promising. First-person stories in which the narrator's name isn't somehow revealed—those can be frustrating (though I did such myself in a story, "Elevator Neighbors", which appeared in The New Yorker.)
SQF: Do you provide comments when you reject a story?
RR: Everyone on the masthead is invited to comment on fiction stories which are under serious consideration. I share those comments among everyone, and if the consensus is to accept the story, or accept it with revisions, the author would be shown appropriate excerpts of our comments. For non-accepted stories, unless someone at Anderbo has a prior relationship to the author, we never provide comments.
SQF: I read a comment by one editor who said she keeps a blacklist of authors who respond to a rejection in a less than professional manner. I'm sure you know what I mean. What do you want authors to know about the stories you reject and how authors should respond? Along this same idea, do you mind if authors reply with polite questions about the comments they receive?
RR: There are simply too many submissions for myself and our all-volunteer anderbo.com staff to deal with to get into any back-and forth, polite or not, with a writer whose work we are not accepting.
SQF: What one question on this topic do you wish I'd asked that I didn't? And how would you answer it?
RR: "Rick, do you agree with the writers Margaret Atwood and Lorrie Moore who each would suggest that it's much more important for you as a story-writer to express the story than to express yourself?" (Yes, I do.)
Thank you, Rick. We all appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to participate in this project.
Anderbo Indoors -- a Rare Anderbo.com Summer Reading at KGB Bar
Anderbo Indoors -- a Rare Anderbo.com Summer Reading at KGB Bar
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid...
Date:
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Time:
7:00pm - 9:00pm
Location:
85 East 4th Street (between Bowery/3rd Avenue and 2nd Avenue) NYC
Description
Wednesday, July 28th, 2010. 7-9 pm, free.
Readers will include:
>> Carolyn Silveira, who currently works at the Freelancers Union in Brooklyn. She studied literature and creative writing at the University of Chicago and has worked in publishing and public radio. She is an Associate Editor of Anderbo.com, where her short story "How James Franco Became My Boyfriend" is at
http://www.anderbo.com/anderbo1/afict...
>> Adam Gallari, who is currently working on a novel and pursuing a PhD at the University of Exeter in England. Originally from New York, he holds an MFA from the University of California, Riverside, and his essays and fiction have appeared in The Quarterly Conversation, The Millions, therumpus, and LIT. His debut collection We Are Never as Beautiful as We Are Now was published by Ampersand Books in April. His short story "Chasing Adonis" is at
http://www.anderbo.com/anderbo1/afict...
>> Anna Lisa McClelland, who has written and performed in comedy shows and plays in London and New York. She wrote the adaptation for The New York Times best-selling writer Nuala O'Faolain's "My Dream of You", and her own one-woman show "Anonymous" has been produced at Theater for the New City in Manhattan's East Village and at various comedy theaters in the US. Her novel-manuscript excerpt, "My Accidental AA Meeting" is at
http://www.anderbo.com/anderbo1/andex...
>> & maybe a poet or three...
http://kgbbar.com/calendar/events/and...
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid...
Date:
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Time:
7:00pm - 9:00pm
Location:
85 East 4th Street (between Bowery/3rd Avenue and 2nd Avenue) NYC
Description
Wednesday, July 28th, 2010. 7-9 pm, free.
Readers will include:
>> Carolyn Silveira, who currently works at the Freelancers Union in Brooklyn. She studied literature and creative writing at the University of Chicago and has worked in publishing and public radio. She is an Associate Editor of Anderbo.com, where her short story "How James Franco Became My Boyfriend" is at
http://www.anderbo.com/anderbo1/afict...
>> Adam Gallari, who is currently working on a novel and pursuing a PhD at the University of Exeter in England. Originally from New York, he holds an MFA from the University of California, Riverside, and his essays and fiction have appeared in The Quarterly Conversation, The Millions, therumpus, and LIT. His debut collection We Are Never as Beautiful as We Are Now was published by Ampersand Books in April. His short story "Chasing Adonis" is at
http://www.anderbo.com/anderbo1/afict...
>> Anna Lisa McClelland, who has written and performed in comedy shows and plays in London and New York. She wrote the adaptation for The New York Times best-selling writer Nuala O'Faolain's "My Dream of You", and her own one-woman show "Anonymous" has been produced at Theater for the New City in Manhattan's East Village and at various comedy theaters in the US. Her novel-manuscript excerpt, "My Accidental AA Meeting" is at
http://www.anderbo.com/anderbo1/andex...
>> & maybe a poet or three...
http://kgbbar.com/calendar/events/and...
Charlotte Curtis was the first to edit and publish me....
I'm forever indebted to my original editor -- the late Charlotte Curtis of The New York Times. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oVAEQa...
