—Coffee Break—
Musings
By Cynthia Sabelhaus
This has been a difficult spring. We lost Ralph’s
mother. That seems like a strange way to state it, but that’s how it
feels. One day she was there, calling, telling us about her dogs or her
garden or her aching back, and the next she was gone.
Ida Sabelhaus was a remarkable woman.
She married young, became a mother, and then at a time when most mothers
didn’t work, she pursued a career in computers. I can only guess what
her friends thought, since nobody had heard of a computer back then. She
not only worked with these newfangled gadgets, she worked at NASA in the
heyday of the space program. It must have been an exciting time for her,
as it was for the country.
It’s hard to say something original
about death because it is, after all, our most common experience after
birth. We may not all fall in love, marry, have children, or work at a
job, but we will all die, as will everybody we hold dear. An unexpected
death makes us more aware of the preciousness of life, and it shifts our
priorities from the silly, day-to-day concerns to the important things.
At least for a while…
Ida was a remarkable woman. We miss
her. I wish I’d had my priorities a bit straighter while she was here
and had gotten to know her better.
Ralph pointed out something I’d forgotten over the
years of publishing Calliope. In Greek mythology, Calliope
(pronounced in English: ka-LIE-oh-pee) was the muse of epic poetry,
daughter of Zeus and Mnemosyne, and is best known as Homer's muse, the
inspiration for the Iliad and the Odyssey.
Calliope the muse is always seen with
a writing tablet in her hand. At times, she is depicted as carrying a
roll of paper or a book or as wearing a gold crown.
There are other uses for the word
Calliope. There’s the hummingbird and the musical instrument known as
the steam-driven piano. Calliope is the name of a
well-respected history
magazine for kids from 9-12. It’s also the name of East
Stroudsburg University's official literary magazine.
I believe our founding mothers and
fathers had the muse Calliope in mind when they named our SIG
newsletter. A few years ago, I asked whether we should change the name
to avoid confusion with the other like-named ‘zines. You said, “No!” I’m
glad you did.
I first ran into our patron muse at
the Louvre in Paris. Later, standing on the roof balcony at Musée
Dorsey, I found a statue of a woman, larger than life, looking out over
the Seine. I don’t know whether the artist meant her to be Calliope, but
from the moment I saw her, that’s who she was to me. The photo on the
cover of this issue is my rooftop Calliope.
By the time you receive this issue,
the fiction contest will be over. After a slow start, Sandy told me she
had over 20 entries. Thanks to everyone who participated.
The nonfiction contest is also
closed, but the critique portion will be accepting entries until August
15. Go to our web site and read some or
all of the entries. Write a short critique of approxi-mately 500 words.
Notice I’m asking for a critique rather than a review. A review is
designed to provide a knowledgeable opinion—a dispassion-ate appraisal
of the work, free to shred it to pieces and declare it unworthy. A
critique provides constructive criticism aimed at helping a writer
improve the piece and perhaps all those writings that follow. Please
consider writing one or more critiques. The best will win prizes and be
printed in Calliope.
We’re in the waning days of Spring. I
hope you find time for fun this summer…time to smell, touch, water,
pick, and enjoy the roses. I’ll shoot for an early August publication
date for the Summer issue.
--Cynthia