Arianna’s Picks

The pieces that impacted Passager intern Arianna D’Italia, featuring work by Maureen Murphy Woodcock and Nancy Jean Hill.
8 minutes

TRANSCRIPT

On this episode of Burning Bright, two pieces selected by our recent intern Arianna D’Italia. One of them was “Japanese Blowfish and a Wooden Soo-boy” by Maureen Murphy Woodcock that appeared in the Winter 2022 issue of Passager. It’s a story about a smart high school sophomore who has a crush on her biology teacher. Here’s what Arianna said about it.

“I loved how this piece captured the turmoil and imperfection of adolescence while also exploring mental health and the stigma that surrounds it. The scene where a misguided teacher’s harmful ideas attack the main character’s family invites us to reflect on our views about intelligence, inheritance, and family.”

The final bell of the school day had rung, and I was crossing the quadrangle to the hall where I had a locker when Mr. Raney called out. “Do you have a bus to catch,” he asked, “or can you give me a few minutes?” I did take the bus, but I would have walked ten miles if Mr. Raney needed me . . .

“I can stick around.”

Mr. Raney fell into step with me but reached out and grabbed my left forearm to keep me from continuing. I halted at his touch and fought my temptation to swoon myself into a living, breathing stereotype. I did, however, put my shoulders back and lift my chin, thus showing off my perky breasts to their finest advantage. Walter Raney didn’t seem to notice them.

“That was an impressive oral report you gave. You had fresh information and a fresh presentation. I don’t think you lost one student’s attention.”

“Thank you. I went to the library and discovered there was a new book out on Gregor Mendel.”

“You’re bright,” he continued, “and I’m worried about your future.”

“My future?” I was touched. Even though I was only a sophomore, I had a caring teacher worrying about what university I was going to attend, worrying about the career I might choose. My parents hadn’t even given such things a moment’s concern. “That’s very nice of you,” I said. “I’ve wondered, too. Seattle University, a Jesuit education, or the University of Washington for a more secular approach.”

Walter Raney blinked in confusion. “University? Of course, of course,” he said. “But that isn’t what I was leading up to. What I wanted to talk about was your marriage.”

Now I blinked. I blinked so many times it must have looked like my brain was short-circuiting. “Marriage? I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

“Good, good,” he said, nodding with every affirmation. “Good. But when you do find a boyfriend and you do marry be careful.”

I blushed because I thought my biology teacher was going to start giving me lessons on the birds and the bees. “I understand,” I said trying to cut him off before we both were embarrassed.

“No, I don’t think you do. Being intelligent is a responsibility.”

I was beginning to regret letting my bus leave without me. This man was making no sense, or he was going to lead me where I didn’t want to go. But I realized I had it wrong. I could feel it coming towards me. There was insanity aimed my way.

“Why?” I finally said, trying to get whatever was happening over with.

“Smart, gifted people like you have a duty to protect their superior advantage. Be careful who you marry is what I am trying to say. Make sure you pick someone as smart as you. Check out his family before you walk down that aisle. Make sure there are no idiots or morons in his family tree. No nut cases. It is your responsibility as an exceptional young woman to carefully cultivate your offspring by marrying a man with the same pedigree.”

When I could catch my breath I said, “Oh, you are so wrong, Mr. Raney. It’ll be the other way around. He better become comfortable with the shrunken heads that are dangling from the limbs of my family tree.” I inhaled a huge breath, gathered in more oxygen to fuel my anger. “There are a few morons and idiots nestled in there as well. Heck, we even have certifiable loonies.”

Mr. Raney smiled. “Miss Murphy, I am being quite serious.” Something got stuck in my throat. It felt ugly, sad and bitter. I meekly squeaked out, “I know you are.”

Excerpts from Maureen Murphy Woodcock’s story “Japanese Blowfish and a Wooden Soo-boy.”

Arianna said this about Nancy Jean Hill’s poem “Snorkeling:”

“I loved the haunting yet beautiful imagery in this poem, and the way it revealed so much about the speaker’s life without giving too many explicit details.”

When I die, I want my head, with all its poems,
dispersed among the albacore, the best one caught
by a hot fisherman and brought home to his fat wife
who will rave for years about the scrumptiousness
of my verse, the sweet internal rhyme that pleased her.

I want my arms and legs speared by a sailfish.
Carried off at high speeds, finally taken
by a proud gamesman with hungry children
who will eat the meat to fill their empty bellies
though it is hard to chew and the flavor too strong.

My liver, loyal despite abuse,
shall belong to a yellowtail snapper,
swift-swimming golden fish, hooked
on her way to dinner by a ruddy faced,
hard-drinking man who plays five-card stud
every Saturday night with the other local drunks
who hee-haw about sexy women and the good old days.

Gall bladder, pancreas, good-for-nothing
appendix, stomach, colon, all my guts,
should be divided among fishes of deep waters –
blue marlin, wahoo, mahi-mahi –
delicate, white-fleshed, delicious fishes,
strong-strong iridescent fishes, fishes that scour
the bottom of the sea, best served in a sweet and
sour sauce and on an heirloom platter.

I want the hands that traced the lines
around my former husband’s eyes to find
the belly of a serial killer, great hunter,
barracuda, tiger of the sea, eating machine –
the fate of my age-spotted, wanton hands.

And my heart? It will go to the sharks.
Let them fight over it.
No one has ever fought over it before.
They will relish the battle.
They will find it worthy.
It is a tender, delectable heart.

From Passager’s 2022 Poetry Contest issue, “Snorkeling” by Nancy Jean Hill.

To subscribe to or learn more about Passager and its commitment to writers over 50, go to passagerbooks.com. You can download Burning Bright from Spotify, Apple and Google Podcasts, and various other podcast apps. Passager offers a 25% discount on the books and journal issues featured here on Burning Bright. Visit our website to see what’s on sale this week.

Again, thanks to Oberlin College intern Arianna D’Italia for her help with this podcast. For Kendra, Mary, Christine, Rosanne, and the rest of the Passager staff, I’m Jon Shorr.