Red ShiftVolume 3 Issue 1 Fall 2008Creative Magazine

All work printed in this magazine is copyright of the respective artist.The views expressed in this magazine are not necessarily those held by the Executive Board, members of RedShift, or Stevens Institute of Technology.RedShift is named after a poem by Ted Barrigan, who spent part of his illustrious carreer teaching at Stevens Institute of Technology.

Albert Einstein once described art and science as being “branches of the same tree.”Nowhere is this sentiment more apparent than within the pages of RedShift. In RedShift, there are no lines to distinguish artist from engineer, poet from scien-tist, or student from teacher.

It is, and has always been, the goal of RedShift to serve as a place where art and science converge. We encourage, and will continue to encourage, the exploration and presentation of artistic medium. We are, and will continue to be, open to all members of the Stevens Community. We believe, and will continue to believe, that what we do, as an organization and as individuals, is significant and impor-tant.

The RedShift project is indeed an ambitious one. Between these covers, you’ll find only a very small sample of the creative efforts from the individuals that comprise our, perhaps, surprisingly vibrant community. You’ll find stories of love and of hate, poems of victory and despair, and visual displays of beauty and merit. Keep in mind, however, that the stories, poems and images you now hold in your hands are not the culmination of a few hours spent with a pen, camera or canvas, but rather the direct result of an individual need to come to express those many details of the human experience.

It is on that note that I close this letter. Let us remember that if art and science are in fact two branches of the same tree, the human experience, in all of its trials and triumphs, is the soil from which that tree grows. Let us strive daily to foster that growth, and let us learn to truly appreciate the significance of exactly where that growth comes from.

It is now with great pride and honor that I invite you to enjoy this semester’s issue of RedShift.

Best Regards,J. Kyle YandellEditor In Chief

RedShift is currently accepting submissions for the next issue.Please send any submissions to RedShift@stevens.eduYour submission must be your original work, and you must be a member of the Stevens Institute of Technology community.

Contents

Lunatics’ Discourse

Man in the Moon, reveal yourself to me!You retreat by day and advance by nightBut cosmic shadow won’t dispel the light.Show me your secrets so that I might see!

Man in the Moon, remove your ashen mask!You put it on to hide your orange faceLong before we glanced at you from this place.Tell me the tales of your violent past!

Man in the Moon, cosmic ballet dancer!Twirling about in your fiery balletTo claim the stage where you still dance today.Finally, you’ve given me an answer!

Man in the Moon, at long last I can see!Within you conceal a bounty untold—

4 5A great wealth of treasure which may just holdHope for the future of humanity!

Man in the Moon, foolish was I indeed!I wish things could be as they were before—Your secret still safe and no endless war.Hope was felled once more by our boundless greed!

—Ryan Werner

Moth on a LeafBy Barbara Kiersz

The MasochistNostrils curl upward; the putridity “Your scent intoxicates me” Gaze falters, eyes wander to the ground “Venus’ most coveted possession” Joints tighten, muscles deteriorate “May I have this dance?” Skin crawls, hand hesitates “…to hold you forevermore” Lips quiver and blood forsakes “A kiss to keep as memory” Lies pervade and deafen ears “I love you”

SimplicityIt tears away at your bleeding heart Devalues all, just playing its part Flows through your veins takes control In the black of my eyes lies your soul Crawls under your skin, yet never pain Reality distorted, no longer sane Collapses lungs, strips bear your mind An empty corpse nothing new to find A book to read, pages to turn A simple passage, uniqueness never born With the words of a siren, hopeless to fend From sea to rock all mores end

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“Yeah.” They were standing by the tunnel entrance now. The separation between the light platform and the blackened tunnel was vivid. Kasper couldn’t see a foot into the subway tunnel. Not until the tall guy turned on a flashlight. The light cut into the darkness and Kasper could see the concrete walls and iron track. There was another whistle from a subway car. It was louder this time, but was also different from the normal whistle of the cars. It was like there was another sound competing with the car, a deeper, louder sound. “Weird how these tunnels distort sound, isn’t it?” The tall guy asked. Yeah.” The tall man walked into the darkness. Kasper took one more look at the empty platform and then followed him into the darkness. “How far is the panel… switch… thing they want me to look at?” Kasper asked. He had walked only a few steps, but the darkness had already surrounded him. “Really far,” The tall guy responded. They kept walking. All Kasper could see was what the flashlight illuminated. He couldn’t even see the outline of the concrete walls not six feet from him. To offset the loss in eyesight, his hearing picked up. He could make out the faint groaning of the pipes under stress, the dripping of leaks, and more whistles from subway cars. At least he didn’t have to worry about one of them traveling down the track. This station was closed and all trains diverted for the day. The two continued walking. The tall guy was right – the switch box was a far distance into the tunnel. The tall man yelled, “Shit!” The light from his flashlight flew around the tunnel, exposing the concrete walls. “What?!” Kasper yelled. The light repositioned itself on the tall man’s foot. “Ah nothing, just a rat. Big sum’ bitch.” Kasper focused his eyes on the tall man’s feet. There was a large black rat sitting there, about two inches from his left foot. It didn’t seem afraid. “The rats and the pigeons in this city have more balls than the people.” The tall man remarked. He then kicked at the rat. It ran into the darkness and the two men continued, but were stopped only moments later. “Whoa.” They both whispered. By the side of the track were maybe ten rat corpses. They had been mauled, and the ground was covered in brown muck from all the blood. “That’s disgusting.” The tall man said. Kasper looked at the rat corpses. “What do you think did this? A cat?” “Probably a bunch a cats that were really hungry. We do get small animals down here… well, can’t do anything about it ‘cept tell the Transit Authority and I doubt they’ll do anything about it.” “Yeah…” Then it happened again. There was a deep gurgling sound masked by a subway car’s rumble. The two men looked at each other. “Yeah, funny how the tunnels distort sound.” Kasper said. “Yup… the panel isn’t much further. Let’s get this done.” The tall man was correct. They found the panel after traveling another ten or twenty feet. The tall guy pointed the flashlight toward the left wall, and it illuminated a square panel two feet across. The panel door, made of metal, was left open.“I’m guessing the door’s supposed to be closed.” Kasper said. He walked toward the panel and looked it over.“That’s weird. The Transit guys said the panel should have been pad locked. They even gave me a key for it.”“Oh shit. Give me more light.” The tall guy walked closer to the panel, and more was revealed. The interior of the panel was made of nothing but wires, but they had been severed. The wires were crossed and knotted and cut so badly the panel looked like multi colored spaghetti. “This was done on purpose. An animal would have made a nest in here if it had been a rat or bird. And the panel’s too high for cats and dogs to get at. Someone broke into this thing and smashed it.” Kasper said. “And this is way beyond my capabilities. They need to replace this thing. Now let’s go.”

8 9Tunnels

Kasper walked down the subway entrance with a coffee in one hand and a toolbox in another. Everything about the subway had been engrained into his memory – the walls dirty with graffiti, the lights humming above, and the dirty floor. He continued down the steps while drinking his coffee. The liquid was black and scalding hot, as he didn’t have enough time to add sugar or milk this morning. The Transit Authority had called him early in the morning and demanded that he get his ass out of bed on his day off in order to fix something that broke in the subway system. They didn’t tell him exactly what the problem was, only that they needed an electrician to check on some wiring. Not wanting to be fired, Kasper did as he was told – he got out of bed, threw on the Transit Authority uniform, and ran to work. Everything was normal this morning. The sun had just started casting light upon New York City, and Kasper had been forced underground, into the darkness of the tunnels beneath the streets. Everything was still dark, dirty, and loud. The only difference this morning was that this subway station was closed. There would be no one else on the platform today except Kasper and whoever else was unlucky enough to be working with him. Kasper passed the ticket booth and toll. The iron gates had been left open and there was yellow caution tape around the banisters. He pressed on and made his way downstairs to the platform itself. The platform was the largest part of any station. The raised expanse covered two sides, with the railway in between. The only items on the platform were benches, bolted to the concrete floor. On one of the benches sat a tall, thin man, fast asleep with his head back. He looked to be forty or older, with graying hair and very pale skin. The man was a Transit Authority employee. Kasper knew because he was wearing the same uniform. Kasper sighed. He wished to be asleep. Wishful thinking, however, was useless. He took another sip of his coffee and walked forward. How the man could sleep in these tunnels was beyond Kasper. The platform itself wasn’t very safe. There had been plenty of muggings, murders, and accidents in the subway. It was also cold, and very loud. Even with no trains passing through, Kasper could hear the metallic behemoths moving across the tracks further down in the tunnels. There were also the various other sounds, such as the humming lights, the wet drip of leaking pipes, and the amplified echo of every mechanical noise associated with the subway system. Kasper walked toward the sleeping man and then shook him awake by smacking him on the head with his coffee cup.“Wake up. It’s too God damn early to slack off.” The tall guy snorted and opened his eyes. He looked at Kasper with a grim expression. His eyes were bloodshot. “Lemme sleep…” he groaned. Kasper replied, “No, get up, and now. I had to come in to work on my day off to fix whatever’s broken. Now show me where it is so I can fix it and go home.” The man sighed. “Fine…” He stood. Kasper heard the familiar whistle of a car traveling through the tunnels. The sound echoed, and there was a slight gust of wind. Kasper looked at the platform again. It was still dark, still dirty, but somehow felt different from before. The tall man scratched his head and started to explain the situation. They both began walking toward the left subway tunnel. “There’s an electrical switch along the wall in this tunnel.” The tall guy started, “The switch monitors the track, to make sure nothing’s wrong with it. Some kind of fancy system to keep accidents from happening. Each switch sends a signal to the Transit Authority office. Last night the switch on this section of the track just stopped. It didn’t go off. It just stopped transmitting a signal.” Kasper asked. “So why’d they call me? I’m an electrician.” “Well, the switch boxes are just big piles of wires. It sounds complicated but the thing looks more like a fuse box than a fancy alert system. They probably called you ‘cuz they wanted an electrician to look at the wires.” “And you’re here to show me where it is?”

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Kasper was eager to leave the dark tunnel. Something felt wrong, felt bad. He had been working this job for twelve years and never had a problem being in the dark, but now… it was different. “Alright, we can leave, but let’s lock the panel.” The tall guy spat. His voice was quick and irritated. He felt the same thing, the same sensation in the tunnel. “Alright,” Kasper grabbed the metal door and slammed it shut. When he closed the door, his jaw dropped, and some color left his face. On the panel were three gigantic horizontal lines which cut through to the other side. They were claw marks. “A cat don’t do that. Nothin’ does that…” The tall man whispered. “Let’s leave.” “That’d be a good idea.” They both started to walk away. They weren’t running. After all, why should they? The panel was broken, someone broke it intentionally, but… there is no animal that can leave claw marks in metal. Someone had probably used a tool and broken the panel. No need to run from that. And the dead rats? Just a cat, dog, or other animal that made its way into the subway. The mysterious sounds? Just distorted subway cars. There was nothing in the tunnel. Nothing. And because there was nothing in the tunnel, there was no need to run. And then Kasper tripped over a good reason to run. His foot hit something very heavy and solid. He cursed, and the tall guy moved the beam of light over to where Kasper was standing. Kasper had tripped over a man. Judging by the dirty coat and various layers of clothing, he had probably been homeless. Now, he was a mauled corpse. Bones were protruding from broken skin, the blood had coagulated around the body, and his face was gone – torn clean off, revealing only bone. The tall man started to whimper and Kasper felt nauseous. Then came a sound which was NOT a subway car. It was loud and low of pitch. The sound was somewhere between mammalian and reptilian. The tunnel no longer distorted the sound and both TA employees knew that the source of the noise was behind them. They turned, their eyes wide, breathing fast, and they saw it. ‘It’ looked nothing like any animal Kasper had seen. Its head was sticking forward, and was diamond in shape. Its skin was more like an exoskeleton, and white in color. The length of the head was about three feet long, and along either side of the diamond shape were three black eyes, six in total, in two rows. The mouth was open, and Kasper could see a black tongue and multiple rows of sharp teeth. Whatever the head was attached too, the darkness surrounded it, and Kasper could not see. The beast roared and Kasper could feel heat from its breath. It lunged and bite the tall guy’s arm. With a hold on the unlucky man, the beast then picked him up and shook him like a rag doll. The man screamed and the flashlight fell from his hand. Darkness consumed the tunnel, and Kasper felt a warm, thick liquid splash across his face. There was no more time to think. Kasper started to run. He ran faster than he ever had. He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t make sense of anything. How was any of this possible?! How could something so big, so… alien live in the subway tunnels? There was a pounding sensation in his head, and his chest felt tight from not being able to breathe fast enough, but he kept running. He ran towards the light at the end of the tunnel – the subway platform. If he could just get to platform, he could then run up the stairs and out of the subway, he would be safe. Over the pounding noise in his head he could hear ‘it’ behind him. Done with the tall man, it was moving toward its next meal – Kasper. He could hear its roar, the slamming of its feet echoing in the tunnel. It was getting closer and it was running faster than Kasper. No! I can make it! I’m at the platform, I can make it! Kasper thought. He was so close! He ran out of the tunnel and into the bright platform. His eyes hurt from the change in light, but there was no time to wait for them to adjust. Quickly, he climbed from the tracks onto the raised platform. He ran towards the stairs and began to climb. Halfway up the flight of stairs, ‘It’ ran out of the tunnel. Illuminated, Kasper could make out the body. The creature was twelve feet long counting the tail. The entire body was white and covered in the same exoskeleton as the head. The being stood on two powerful hind legs which were as tall as Kasper. There

were two thin but long arms on the fore end of the body, and they both ended in long, sharp claws. Kasper made it to the second floor, which held the toll booth and entrance. He could hear ‘it’ behind him, roaring, its feet slamming on the concrete. Kasper ran past the tolls and up the last flight of stairs, back into the sunny sky and the streets of New York. As he ran up the still dirty stairs, there were people by the entrance. They walked past, uncaring, doing whatever they did on a normal basis. In the mass of people by the closed subway entrance was a cop. Kasper ran to him. The policeman looked at Kasper’s face and said, “Are you ok?” Kasper grabbed the officer by his shirt and shook him. He yelled everything, and the explanation streamed into one word “There’s-something-in-the-tunnels-and-it-killed-someone-please-help-me!” The officer shook Kasper off and said, “Slow down. You’re bleeding,” while pointing at his face. “Now, who killed who and where?” Kasper felt his face. He then looked at his hand, which was covered in red blood – the tall man’s blood. Kasper tried to calm down. He spoke slower, “There’s something down there, in the subway, and it killed my co-worker. It followed me…” And then there was a loud crash, and the sound of twisted metal. Kasper saw one of the banisters of the toll booth fly into the wall at the bottom of the stairs, and then ‘it’ stuck its face into the stairwell. The officer and Kasper looked into the six black eyes. The beast looked back. And then, it was all over.

Life’s not a fucking Disney movie

That’s what we love to say about how our life seems to be,

The grown up and jaded kids,

that were practically raised on Disney movies

That there will be no prince charming, or happily ever afters

Just nothing but big green ogres and a life of low jobs and high taxes

But try telling that to the band of lost boys

dreaming to make it big and fly to those stars

just so that they will never have to grow old

because they know what they’ll lose to adulthood,

and know that their dreams are,

just about all they got in this world

Or to the kid around the corner

Who’s spent his lifetime in a paralyzed body

And surviving on the parts made by a great man’s hand

Just wishing to be like all the other kid’s in the world

So he could feel like he’s real and grow to be a real man

and that he could be seen as a lot more

than just the sum of his parts

It had been years ago.I was seven years old.A landscape white with snow:I was alone and cold.

A promise from motherTo return very soon:We embraced each otherAnd she set out at noon.

I sat beneath a treeWaiting for her return.Where she had come to beI very soon would learn.

I set out on my ownAs far as I could go.Mother did not reach home.She had died in the snow.

For an exit I soughtFrom winter’s icy jawsAs I came to be taughtTo know nature’s strict laws.

How did this all happen?I kiss my daughter’s head.The tale begins againAnd soon we may be dead.

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Try telling that to that shabby street rat

Living with little more but his sad street rags

Whose knows that his only hope

to make it any life better than his own

Is his wish for a way not to become just another

Byproduct of the dark life of the place he calls home

It’s easy to just believe and say that

“Life’s not a fucking Disney movie

That Life’s shitty, dirty, and it sucks”

“You’ve got to be here for yourself, because no one else will

be

And that we’re basically fucked”

But if it is truly is this shitty

Then why don’t we just try to do something about it

And hope to try to make it better for all of us

Cause life may not be a Disney movie

But that does that mean we have to just give up?

In the Hamlet

The pigs don’t mind my speeches but my mother shrieks- whether I be or I am or I wait, the grave waitswhile the chores won’t

14 15

I sit on this train with thoughts of the past and present flooding my head, drowning me in a torrent of sensations. With every moment a new sight is welcomed nothing can stay the same when I am moving. Reality itself fails to catch me; yet, it still follows bending to my every move. As it bend so does the train that that carries me to my final destination, swaying and shacking as it creates, for me, a new Reality, a new beast. The man of the Styx controls my arrival and without hesitation drags along my worthless corpse. My eyes tear as the thought of returning home strikes my mind. I cringe; is it possible that I really have more then I can bear. Are the souls that create the surface on which I travel my equal? Have they just been overridden, overpowered, and erased from existence. Has Reality caught them, consumed them, digested their essences and then defecated their remains out onto the surface to be, from this point on, nothing more than fertilizer. I also fear them because they are now part of the beast. They scream my name and urge me not to resist, all the while reaching out to me, grasping with decayed hands.

SparrowsMy grandfather,he loved sparrows and used to sit on the front steps of his housewith hard bagels and stale bread,waiting for them to nervously drop down from the trees.

There was this one bird(or many birds switching. I couldn’t tell the difference)that would hop over the cracked stone and chipped paintto stand next to him

with a head tilted sideways, confused as I was.Funny how you remember thingslike old men with brown bread crusts and bagel rindsfeeding the sparrows and talking to them instead of to me.

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Flight in life Prof. M.G. Prasad, Mech. Engrg. Dept.

It is an awesome experience to fly high,As we feel seeing through God’s eyes. On ground, the things huge as we see, But from flight the same seems tiny.One wonders! What is big or small?It is from where one views, says it all As the birds, showed the way to flight, Then we need the skill and courage to fly.In our life too, it is joy to fly,As we go up in the spiritual sky. As on ground, worldly gains seems big, But from spiritual heights seems trivial.For spiritual flight we need pure mind,Seek the Loss of Ego and Grace of God. As the pilot lifts the plane high up in skies, Oh! God within, lift our mind to spiritual joy.

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I wanted just one dream but I couldn’t close my eyes they remained open viewing the world seeing it for more than it is and less than it could be burning a hole through space and time holding everything in place with just one gaze with one blink your heart races the blood crawls through the veins in your right arm. forcing you to exist preventing you from living with one tear, your knees collapse your body can no longer support your weight you fall the earth, it watches you as well waiting, watching, waiting, watching reaching out to you waiting to consume you you keep falling the blood keeps crawling the earth keeps consuming the horror, the horror you die I watch I live

The Hands of Time

Gears turn on with a rhythmic “tick-tock”;There are never idle hands on a clock.

Ages wax while other ages wane.Bright stars fall while others rise to fame.As the hour hand buries the arcane,The minute hand shuffles shells in its game.

The hands of time can push us together.The hands of time can pull us all apart.The hands of time will go on foreverAs long as they can still shatter a heart.

What is Life?Prof. M.G. Prasad, Mech. Engrg. Dept.

Perennial relevance of the question This question is not new and will never become obsolete as long as there is, at the least, one being who can ask this question. This question is one of those questions that have many answers. The infinitely large possible answers to this question exist because there are billions of people to answer. Also, a given individual would give different answers at different stages of his or her life. Another interesting thing about this question is that it is relevant to all those living at any time. In spite of its overwhelming relevance, may be that question is not getting enough attention and thinking effort by all. This brief article provides a human view of Life. Let us consider an answer. ‘Life is infinite number of path bounded by end conditions of birth and death’. Then, what is birth?’ and ‘what is death?’ become important questions and are related to the title question. Probably, an understanding of answers to the title question on life would also shed light on questions relating to the end conditions namely birth and death. The Bhagavad-Gita, (a philosophical classic in Sanskrit language from ancient India) which deals with all aspects of life, says whatever is born has to die. This means that the death is inevitable end of what is born. Also, what is inevitable and unavoidable can only possibly be understood. It is for this reason thinking on life becomes meaningful for an action plan can be conceived, altered and carried out, if possible. Ervin Schrodinger remarks in his writing that ‘there is nothing over which a free man ponders less than death; his wisdom is, to meditate not on death but on life.’Fixed-Fixed Vibrating String Model: A system approach The large number of possible answers to this title question on life can be seen as parallel to the vibrating modes of a finite length string with fixed-fixed end conditions. These end or boundary conditions are unchanging whatever may be the mode of vibrations. The various paths of life can be compared to these various vibrating modes with given fixed end conditions of birth and death. In this model a comparison of the system natural frequencies to various intrinsic personality patterns in individuals which when matched with external excitations can bring out resonances or high-energy vibration modes. Thus the parallelism between a vibrating string with fixed-fixed boundary conditions and life with birth and death end conditions can be used in expanding the thinking horizon through this system approach.A generalized model The vast philosophical and social literature (in Sanskrit language) of ancient India has addressed this title question on life again and again and the answers can be summarized in generic model. This question as being asked by humans, the model also refers to humans. Life of any human being in normal course can be seen to compromise of four states in life namely; 1) Child and youth, 2) Adult, 3) Contemplative senior years and 4) Final years. This order of stages is important and generally applicable to anyone in normal course. The first stage deals with younger years of student life and focused education when discipline and self-control are the most important tools. The education and knowledge absorbed in this stage becomes the foundation for a meaningful life. The second stage of adulthood builds upon the previous stage where rightful desires pursued and enjoyed include commitment to married life and family values in the framework of the society. The third stage deals with senior years of life when contemplation and introspection are emphasized. The fourth and last stage of life refers to final years of grace and peaceful thoughts. This four-stage model of life is generic and does not imply that it fits each and every individual. In fact, the mystery of life is that it cannot fit into a single model. However, this question still remains.

This analysis leads to the heart of the question namely what is life in terms of its objectives? The same philosophical literature referred above (in Sanskrit) can be summarized regarding this important question. The life has four- fold objectives which compliment the single goal of anyone’s life which is ‘ to be happy’. The four-fold objectives of life are: Knowing Dharma is the first objective, where Dharma refers to the laws of life at various levels such as physical, mental and spiritual. Also, it refers to the laws of nature and cosmos. These laws guide one to choose the righteous and beneficial path that brings peace and happiness (in the long term), which is the chief goal of life. Based on the first and important step is the second objective namely pursuit of wealth and power for both common good and individual good. Then the third objective refers to enjoyment of the rightful desires and the final objective is to realize the state of equanimity and inner peace and tranquility. It is important to note that pursuit of right knowledge and means (Dharma) is the most important as it leads to the chief objective of tranquility through the essential paths of desires and wealth. The fulfillment of the chief goal in life namely tranquility occurs only when Dharma as referred above co-exists in the process of achieving wealth and enjoyment of rightful desires. Thus the generic model does attempt to provide an answer or a directive to the title question.If-Then ModelThe following If-Then table is based on the Bhagavad-Gita is reproduced below from an anonymous reference. If life is a … Challenge, then Meet it Gift, Accept Adventure, Dare Sorrow, Overcome Tragedy, Face Duty, Perform Game, Play Mystery, Unfold Song, Sing Opportunity, Take Journey, Complete Promise, Keep Love, Enjoy Beauty, Praise Spirit, Realize Struggle Fight Puzzle, Solve Lesson, Learn If life is a… Goal, Achieve it.

Concluding remarksThe title question ‘what is Life? Still remains. However, another generic answer is, Life’s purpose is to find the purpose and meaning of Life. One way to do this is to keep expanding one’s thinking and horizon of vision from small to big to bigger and then to biggest picture. This long and deep effort provides experiences of Life. The intention of this brief article is to make one go beyond the ideas given here. I wish to conclude by saying ‘Learning has a beginning without an end whereas ignorance has no beginning but an end.

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Bright sky,blue sky building shutters panic sets in.... confusion abounds. Should we go up should we go down should we we go in or out... Building shutters again, Confusion abounds... Our world comes crashing around. Silence and fright over comes us May God help us.

The cliffs form sharp contrast, To shining gold hair,

The river flows gently,Past a scene far from bare,

If there were words to describe,My thoughts sitting there,

I would still be struck speechless,By your soul-grasping stare.Your eyes tend to grasp me,

The way they can care,They tell me “don’t worry”,

I’ll always be there,We walk through the darkness,

Seeking peaceful air,I’ll be holding you tightly,Making sure it won’t tear.

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I remember, I thought the truck had broken down again.We were between towns and in the middle of nowhere when my father switched to the brake. As the roar of the wind through the open windows quieted, he pulled the truck off to the side of the road.

I waited for his rough voice to begin cursing, for his rough hands to find a wrench.Instead, he shifted in his seat and rolled his cigarette between his fingers outside the window.

There was no breeze that day, and the southern summertime heat quickly settled into the old Chevrolet. My father, perhaps noticing my youthful impatience, gave a slight and solemn nod forward. I craned my neck over the dash and, seeing nothing to explain our situation, turned again to my father. He sat motionless, cigarette out the window and eyes straight ahead. I stretched a little further and saw that another truck, much further down the road had also pulled to the side.

He sat still and quiet in a manner that told me I should do the same. I worked to keep my legs from fidgeting and my eyes from rolling. I began taking a careful inventory of the various bits of rubbish speckling the floorboard.

I had begun sweating, and my legs were sticking to the seat. I was growing weary of counting the plowed rows of cotton in bloom.I noticed the procession just as I had thought my forceful patience might soon leave me.

They drove, single file, in a long line of blinking hazard lights. They crept forward, slow and steady. It became clear to me what was going on, as I recognized a hearse at the head of the line.

My father took another drag off his cigarette and sighed out a cloud of smoke.

That must have been thirty years ago.

Today, my father and I are on that same road. It’s cooler today than it was then, the sky is more gray and the hot season has long since passed. The fields are barren this time of year.

It had started a few years ago, when the cancer had begun to outgrow his lungs. I watched the man that had taught me how to throw a punch, to weld, to fire a rifle slowly crumble until it was clear that the man I once saw as invincible wouldn’t be getting back up this time.

Now, we’re creeping forward, slow and steady, in a long line of blinking hazard lights.Now, I see an old Chevrolet pulled off to the side of the road. There’s a silhouette of a man, and a cigarette out the window, and an impatient bob of curly young hair peering over the dash. The man sits solemn and silent, and I now finally understand who my father had stopped for.

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