Women Who Have Power Are Always Feared.

Everything Is Randomly Connected.

So Much Of The Literature We Had To Read For High School English Class Was Filled With Victimized, Tragic, Symbolic Women Who Spurred The Plot Forward With Their Inevitable Shunning/death/shunning-followed-by-pregnancy-followed-by-death Timelines.

Life Don’t Come To You, Memphis. You Gotta Take It. We Have To Take It. Because Ain’t Nobody Handing It To Us.

Evie Hadn’t Always Felt That Way. For A Year After James Had Died, She’d Cupped His Half-dollar Pendant Between Her Pressed Palms And Prayed Fervently For A Miracle, For A Telegram That Would Say Good News! It Was A Terrible Mistake, And Private James Xavier O’neill Has Been Found, Safe, In A Farmhouse In France. But No Such Telegram Ever Arrived, And Whatever Possible Faith Might Have Bloomed In Evie Withered And Died. Now She Saw It As Just Another Advertisement For A Life That Belonged To A Previous Generation And Held No Meaning For Hers.

We Sit And Listen And Are Enthralled Anew, For Good Stories, It Seems, Never Lose Their Magic.