Table of Contents


Views and Mechanics
Publisher's Note
Editor's Note
Review of A Man Without a Country
Review of Gail's Place
Review of Three 1-Act Plays
Review of Yesterday's A Dream
Crossword
(Solution Posted in May. Printable version in pdf format of journal.)
Jan/Feb Crossword Solution
Creative Nonfiction
Imagining Nora
By Lisa Norris
Loving the Fat Girl
By Christina Fisanick
Nate's Fish and Poultry Shop
By G. David Schwartz
The Folly of Valentine's Day
By Andy Martello
Poetry
Hawk King
By Wanda D. Campbell
After the Rain
By Wanda D. Campbell
You Cannot Fold the Flood.
By Mariela Perez-Simons
And Darkness Fell
By Beth L. Block
Demise of a Family Resort
By Carolyn Howard-Johnson
The Asparagus Cutters
By Joe Wilkins
Fiction
Voices
By Ed Boyd
Little White Sambo
By Brett Alan Sanders
Dies Irae
By Timothy Reilly
Follow
By Dawn Paul
Crumbs
By Kim Tremblett
Cover Art
Photography by Seth Brown
About the Contributors

© 2006, River Walk Journal and respective authors and artists. All rights reserved. Do not use or reproduce without permission.

River Walk Journal, Inc.
Board of Directors

Chairman - Elizabeth Ross
Vice Chairman - Joseph Koch
Secretary/Treasurer - Geri Stock-Ross
Editorial Director - Patti Kurtz, DA
Literacy Director - Bill Mausteller
Policy Director - PA State Rep. Jess Stairs
Advisory Board
Chairman - Patti Kurtz, DA
Asst. Chairman - Dan Lachenman, PhD
Samuel Hazo
Christopher Leland
Edwin Yoder
Joseph Bathanti
Journal Staff
Publisher - Elizabeth Ross
Editor-In-Chief - Joseph Koch
Sen. Fiction Editor - Patti Kurtz
Sen. Poetry Editor - Neeldhara Misra
Sen. Creative Nonfiction Editor - Brenda Coxe
Contributing Editor - Robert Dittman
Publicity Director (PA) - Geri Stock-Ross

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River Walk Journal, Inc. is a non-profit corporation run entirely by volunteers. For information about volunteer opportunities and internships, visit http://www.riverwalkjournal.org/volunteer.html.

Becoming the Archetype

I spend too much time in bars.

That isn’t an admission of consuming too much alcohol, essentially because the glass sitting next to me at this moment contains diet soda. The fact that I find myself writing in a bar while my son is in preschool is still bothersome. There is the stereotype – looming large over my head - of the writer or reporter spending countless hours in a “second office” that is invariably a dimly lit watering hole not far from “the office.” True, that archetype is male, but here I am with the worn out suit jacket, shirt that has seen better days, laptop on the table, and a lit cigarette sitting in the ashtray next to me.

People nearby are seemingly oblivious to my existence, except for occasional furtive glances while my fingers fly over the keys. Dietary choices are the center of their conversation, and they probably have no idea that what I am typing has anything to do with them.

Because I have been spending so much time in these kinds of places, I’m becoming acutely aware of why the reporters and writers, real and fictional, have found homes here. There is the anonymity of the new location, which is what I’m enjoying now. In spite of the fact that this particular bar is in my hometown, I am unknown here. Over the past year, I have been here a handful of times, and never during the day. The fact that I am sitting here working has caused the staff to be more attentive in service, without being overbearing – they don’t want to interrupt my train of thought, I presume. That may change if I continue coming here on a regular basis, but such changes would take weeks or months to appear. For now I am just a woman working on a laptop. One day I may let out the secret that I’m a writer and publisher or be noticed here by someone who knows me.

Another bar in town is quite the opposite of this one. Instead of hard wood floors, trim, and bar, it is finished with 1960’s style Formica on the bar, and commercial carpeting over creaking floorboards. It’s closer to my home, the drinks are cheap, and it’s a perfect example of why Kerouac advised against getting drunk outside of one’s home. I can’t help thinking of the place while I sit here typing – something I would never do in that other bar, simply because it wouldn’t be worth the headache. I’ve read books and papers in that other bar, and been informed by the other patrons that the place isn’t a library – one building in town that they recognize only the exterior.

The answer that has been eluding me for some time is much simpler than I realized – I read and write in bars around here to keep from drinking too much. It helps to have something to distract one’s mind while in the company of people who consider the morning paper heavy reading.

Hunter S. Thompson had it right: “I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone, but they’ve worked for me.” For a socially liberal anarchist in a conservative small town that thinks it is liberal because most of the voters are Democrats, avoiding both the drugs and alcohol would definitely precipitate violence against the natives - or at least insanity. The hardest drug I’ve ever used is marijuana and I haven’t had a hit in years – nor do I have the desire for it. I settle with alcohol, avoid the violence, and resign myself to the concept that I will always be considered at least a little weird until I move to a place where the natives are wackier than I.

Elizabeth Ross

Disclaimer Note: The views and comments conveyed in this article are exclusively those of the writer and in no way reflect, in whole or in part, the official or unofficial views, attitudes, or beliefs of River Walk Journal, Inc.