Episode 43: Family Matters

This week’s episode of Slush Pile sees the editorial table discussing George McDermott’s “Frames Per Second” and Gabrielle Tribou’s “The Loneliness of Mothers.” On this episode, we also say goodbye to Sharee Devose as PBQ’s Co-Op and welcome Joseph Kindt as the next… This week’s episode of Slush Pile sees the editorial table discussing George McDermott’s “Frames Per Second” and Gabrielle Tribou’s “The Loneliness of Mothers.” On this episode, we also say goodbye to Sharee Devose as PBQ’s Co-Op and welcome Joseph Kindt as the next, but don’t worry–Sharee has an open invitation to join us for any future podcasts we record, so she’ll be around! As lit lovers, our conversation trying to find the right word to describe Joseph’s training experience led to some hammer banter about Game of Thrones character, Gendry, before starting our editorial meeting with George McDermott’s work. George McDermott has been exploring the Merry-Go-Round Effect. Many years ago, he left high school English teaching to become a speechwriter and screenwriter. Some years later, as a sort of penance, he became a teacher again. Most recently, he’s co-authored a book with a woman who was a student in one of his eleventh-grade English classes. He’s hoping that traveling in circles can add up to progress. See more @ www.gorge-mcdermott.com; www.facebook.com/WhatWentRight and Twitter: @McDwrite We really enjoyed reading George McDermott’s “Frames Per Second.” Tim Fitts enjoyed it so much, in fact, that he is tempted to steal some of the lines. Then, speaking of plagiarism, Jason mentioned a recent plagiarism scandal involving a former Canadian Poet Laureate taking work from Maya Angelou and Tupac Shakur! Naturally, then, Marion transitioned us to talking about Cinema Paradiso’s25th anniversary, and talks of obsoleted technologies led us to our vote! Listen in to hear the results before we moved on to Gabrielle Tribou’s “The Loneliness of Mothers.” Gabrielle Tribou Gabrielle Tribou currently lives in Hue, Vietnam. When she’s not working, she splits her time between the different cafes in her neighborhood, visiting an average of three per day. She’s a fan of vegetables and public green spaces. “The Loneliness of Mothers” got us into deep discussion about the role of mothers and parenting. After two poems dealing with various family matters, we shared stories about our parents, and Kathleen and Sharee bonded over a friendly parenting tip for all to enjoy: Take your kids to The Home Depot! Tim reminded us not to forget to get some Honeycrisp apples while they’re in season, and Jason shared a list of good reads for you to look into. Tune in to hear all about it. Present at the Editorial Table: Kathleen Volk Miller Tim Fitts Sharee DeVose Jason Schneiderman Marion Wrenn Joseph Kindt Production Engineer: Joe Zang --------------------------- George McDermott Frames Per Second Sorting old photos and cans of home movies she comes across a yellowing shot of a laughing girl her younger daughter the one who moved to Arizona or who knows where ’cause truth be told they haven’t talked in a very long time About ten in the picture probably ten when they sang together every day before the eyes the defiant shoulders the silent years when it seemed they met only on stairways passed only in doorways and the cameras were pretty much packed away She puts the photo back safe in its folder opens a can and threads the projector and the reel of film flickers to life ratcheting through from moment to moment enough pictures to create the illusion of motion enough motion to create the illusion of progress playpens and sandboxes bicycles and then the interstitial flash of white just six or eight light-struck frames dividing what came before from what will follow Gabrielle Tribou The Loneliness of Mothers is louder than any afterschool clamor. The mother hears it in early fall. One lane over: an Escape’s exhaust is bleeding, mixing into air, thin city air, hot with end-of-summer heat. Strum of a stilled, unmoving carpool line. The mother’s child, in the school, doors away, will soon be late for the meet. The mother hears it at the dinner table, in waiting rooms left to wait, left to listen to clock scratching, stranger to the strangers she created once, at night, during many nights, at morning, midday, among angry sheets, or no sheets, dog brushed from bed, pawing behind closed door, the first baby asleep, sleeping, and later, held to breast, howling for warmth, that intangible, ungraspable mother warmth, gone before you know it. Outside, car doors grunt and close, children disappearing within. Along the horizon, meek clouds disperse. Hold her, in the echoing emptiness of her darkened house, in the thin-stretched minutes of carpool lines, at the sink, between the scrape and rinse of dishes; Listen to her when she speaks, to her repeated stories, those rehearsed and practiced complaints, and handle gently the bolted fabric of her days.