All in Essays
“As a college kid in the 1970s, I first heard about Cambodia when the American military bombed it ferociously and “secretly” on the justification that such measures were necessary to the war effort in Vietnam. I was later deeply moved by the awful story of the regime of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge as depicted in the movie, “The Killing Fields.”
“The first thing is the light, opaque like glacial runoff. At first, I don't even recognize this murky peculiarity as light, but I can see that it is somehow framed, organized…. After some time, it occurs to me: it's a window. The thing hovers, open to the stars of a moonless night, or maybe the faintest infusion of pre-dawn.”
“I stand in the calm of my kitchen at home, now that the whistle of the teakettle has been silenced. Although I am awake, I am not yet sharp in my mind. Tea will help: the momentum of the boil flings itself at my sleepiness even as it slows when I lift the kettle from the burner, tip it, pour water from it over the teabag. Steam spirals, like prayers on the wind.”
“When I was a kid, there was always something I thought I needed. My birthday and Christmas were harvest days. Later, when I could earn my own money, I realized with joy that I could accumulate things all by myself. When I bought a dish drainer, some pots and pans, silverware and plates and glasses to outfit my first apartment, the checker whistled and said, “looks like someone’s setting up a household.” What a feeling of pride and maturity swept over me!”
“Us and them. They're easily recognized. They all have numbers. In fact, they have several numbers, starting with the county call number on down through the address, date of birth, and medical insurance number. These numbers make the people aspect of emergency medicine tolerable so the rest of the job can be enjoyable.”
A muzzle flash lit up my tent. The shotgun erupted again without warning, from just a few feet away. Flattening myself to the ground, I remember three rapid-fire thoughts: “I don’t want to get shot!” Then: “I’m the medic. I don’t want anyone to get shot.” And, as another blast shattered the night, and men shouted and raced across a meadow littered with volcanic boulders: “Someone is at least going to get cut or break a leg on those rocks.”
It was midafternoon Wednesday in January when the phone rang. The winter light through the windows was clinical white, and I was alone in the house. It was the doctor… “ Just wanted to let you know...” he began. I could sense warmth in his voice, a smile. I sat up straighter, pressed the receiver against my ear. “Your pregnancy test was positive.”
“Sweat stings my eyes, and my breath comes hard at 4,100 feet, but damned if I'll quit sawing. Muscle burn in my arm and shoulder confirms the toughness of the foot-thick cedar crushing the barbed wire fence that we're here to fix… "You want a break?" calls Jim from upslope, where he and his wife, Peg, are grappling with a tangle of wire. Behind them, the fence line threads to the horizon. After this section is repaired and restretched, we'll follow it up…”