Beacon Dispatch

Fiction: The Liberation of Gabriel King

by KL Going

(for ages 8 to 12)

Chapter  1 – Under the Picnic Table 

My best friend Frita Wilson once told me that some people were born chicken.

“Ain’t nothing gonna make them brave,” she’d said. “But others, they just need a little liberatin’ that’s all.” Least that’s how Frita told it.

If you’d asked me before the summer of 1976, I would have told you I was one of the chicken ones. If you could count on anything it was that I, Gabriel Allen King, didn’t do anything scary. I didn’t climb out too far on the branches of the pecan trees or ride my bike on the same dirt road the truckers used. I didn’t pick up ugly looking bugs that might have pinchers or walk too close to the cotton fields if anyone even hinted that the cows might be loose. Most of all, I didn’t intend on going to the fifth grade ever.

Fiction: Lucky Green

by Charles R. Smith

The following excerpt comes from my novel-in-progress titled Chameleon. While it is based on many of my experiences growing up in Compton, California, it is still a work of fiction.

The chapter excerpted here begins with the boys coming out of a kung fu movie.  Three of the boys continue to make sounds and noises that they heard earlier that same day. The source of the noise comes back to haunt the fourth as his love interest runs into him and chats him up on the street.  Even though this is well into the novel, it reads very well on its own. So...enjoy!  -Charles
P.S. Feel free to visit me and my other books at www.charlesrsmithjr.com

Memoir: Josie Teaches Me America

by: L. Kharshiing

“Young lady, I’m going to the A&P,” announced Josie.
“All right, mommy,” I replied. “What will you buy today?”

“Ummm, pizza and ice cream,” said Josie. Basket in hand, she set off for the living room. The A&P was by the window, the toy store by the TV, and the pizza parlor near the bookshelf.

For eight months I was lucky enough to babysit for this adorable little lady of four. “Mommy and child” was one of our favorite games. We also had a “riding on the bus” game, where we lined up the chairs to make our “bus.” And we played the “doctor and patient” game, which Josie loved, especially when the “doctor” heard the pizza in her stomach complain: “What, pizza?” I’d say as Josie giggled. “You don’t like Josie’s tummy? It’s too dark in there?”

Fiction: The Cold

by Jeffery Battersby

Edmund Graves stumbled from the entrance of his workplace toward the train station that stood one hundred steps across the street. His hands, un-gloved, fell loosely into the pockets of his overcoat in an attempt to shield them from the bitter January air. He pulled his head in tight against his shoulders and moved quickly toward the train. At the same time he made an effort to avoid the crumpled envelope that, a few moments earlier, he had pushed to the bottom of his left pocket.

Beacon Voices: Jo Pitkin

by Kazim Ali

Jo Pitkin, a Cold Spring resident, is a poet who has published in many national journals, including Ironwood, Nimrod, and Quarterly West. She received her MFA from the renowned Writersí Workshop at the University of Iowa and was the very first paid staff member of the acclaimed poetry press Alice James Books. Kazim Ali, whose second book, The Far Mosque, will be published by Alice James Books in October, recently sat down with Jo at ChThonic Clash Coffee House to talk about poetry, publishing, and the Hudson Valley literary scene.

Jo, the first question that naturally crosses my mind is “why poetry?” You work professionally as a free-lance writer, writing educational textbooks and biographies for use in school, yet in your artistic expression you turn to poems. Why not fiction or memoir or any other genre that seems to be more widely read by the general reading public?

It’s funny because in a way I can’t ever remember not writing poetry. From early childhood it seemed natural to me to use language this way. A lot of it is about the way you actually see the world—in bits and pieces, in impressions, in emotional responses. It’s not about narrative. Experience, for me, isn’t necessarily linear. It’s true that my teachers in school and later in college definitely pushed me towards the form of poetry, but I think that is because this is the way my senses naturally work: it’s a shorter form, it’s more about immediate emotional expressiveness.

Letter to the Editor: New Library Worth the Cost

John Steel wrote a letter to the editor in last month’s Beacon Dispatch about the upcoming referendum to create a new Howland Public Library.  As President of the Board of Trustees, I have been asked to address his concerns. 

First of all, this project will cost taxpayers an estimated $9.2 million, not the ‘almost $11 million’ that Mr. Steele states. The City of Beacon has pledged to acquire the properties behind the current library for shared parking between the library and City, and a good deal of this cost may be met through a considerable grant that will be provided to the Library, therefore relieving taxpayers of this burden.  Other public and private grants are being aggressively pursued.

Editorial: A Home For Writing

There’s a symbiotic relationship between the visual and the literary arts; a kind of psychic tie that’s similar to the relationship between quartz and gold. Simply, if you see a vibrant community of artists it’s very likely that just beneath the surface you’ll also find an equally vibrant collection of writers, poets, and playwrights. But, while it’s easy enough to see the work of many artists at galleries throughout the City, unless you’re looking for them, you might never see or hear the work of the writers and poets. Over the past several months we’ve included works by a number of writers that are in some way linked to the City of Beacon. This month we’ve chosen to devote an entire issue to writers and poets who, in one form or another, call Beacon home.