opening words
Those Winter Sundays
Sundays too my father got up early/and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,/then with cracked hands that ached/from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him./I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking./When the rooms were warm, he'd call, /and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house,/speaking indifferently to him,/who had driven out the cold/and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know/of love's austere and lonely offices?
Robert Hayden (1913-1980)
from Collected Poems (New York: Liveright Publishing, 1985)
[Hayden, a student of W. H. Auden, taught for many years at Fisk University, a historically black college in Nashville, TN.]
JAN/FEB 2001 UU WORLD FEATURES
Fathers, Sons, and Loss
What we can learn about coping with loss, the power of memory, and the essence of good fathering. /BY NEIL CHETHIK
Reclaiming the Best of Fatherhood
Authors Mary Pipher, William Doherty, and Neil Chethik in a roundtable discussion on the ever-changing role of fatherhood. /BY DAVID WHITFORRD
Winter Mind
The woods in winter evoke reflection on the meaning of silence and emptiness. /BY PHILIP SIMMONS
Soul Mates
The 33-year friendship between UUs and the Rissho Kosei-kai Buddhists of Japan. /BY KIMBERLY FRENCH
Cover Illustration by Mark Bellerose |
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