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Archives for November 2020

November 24, 2020 By Suzanne Farrell Smith

Sickly Sweet Companion

Sickly Sweet Companion

bunny mousse recipe in old cookbook

I wanted my co-editors to weigh in. “Which one is the creepiest?” I texted. Answer: THE BUNNY.

Presenting our publications with companion pieces—a photo, song, video, whatever supports and expands appreciation for our authors’ work—has been part of our vision for Waterwheel Review from the start. And next to discovering remarkable work in our submissions queue, finding and making these companion pieces is my favorite part of the job.

Sometimes we land on the right piece in collaboration with the author; other times the perfect song or video or image presents itself with a simple Google search. I have paired writing with creations by a friend, a son, and, in the December 2020 issue, my sister Deb. Occasionally a piece emerges from the oddments of personal experience. In the case of Creepy Bunny, deeply personal. And deeply odd.

W.A. Schwartz’s “Wish” shook me up. It’s all of 91 words, but it feels bigger than its small size. One sweet little scene in 91 words. A sweet scene that turns strange and then, by the end, sickens me. That particular combination of sweet and sick… I knew exactly where to look for a companion piece.

After our mother died, my sisters and I faced the herculean task of her house, built by our newlywed parents in the early 1970s. I say herculean because Mom kept everything she touched, especially after our father died in 1983. Much of the stuff was relatively easy to assess, categorize, and dispatch—give to loved ones, sell at auction, donate, trash. Some, we divvied up during long, boozy negotiations. The leftovers, out of grief and exhaustion, we stored for future reckoning. 

round jello mold with ice cream cone hat like a clown

That time arrived with the pandemic. In March, I started sorting. And all the determined, head-down plodding through the leftover bits and pieces of my childhood home led to Creepy Bunny. In a nod to Catherine Schmitt’s “The Family Dollar,” also in our November issue, and to offer a proper sense of Bunny’s provenance, a list of a handful of the items I sorted:

~Advertisement for a crocheted Victorian-era tablecloth.
~Empty paper bag from Vality Department Store.
~Canceled check paid to my nursery school in 1981.
~Pamphlet: “Your Mysterious Cat.”
~Article: “New cookie recipes feature raisins for chewy goodness.”
~Lined paper marked by a single long-division problem.
~Show times for the Old Country Cloggers.
~A Dear Abby column that states, “Only divorced women are addressed as ‘Mrs.’ followed by their first names. A widow keeps her husband’s name until she remarries.”

And: Amazing Magical Jell-O Desserts.

orange jello flat circle with creepy fruit for face

Flipping through the Jell-O recipe book, I saw creepy. And sickly sweet. Ill-advised recipes, bizarre photos, clown-like expressions, persistent calls for corn syrup… I got a disturbed feeling from that recipe book. It slants what should be sweet treats into here’s-candy-get-into-my-van nightmares. And that’s exactly the feeling I get when I read “Wish.”

I chose the three worst recipes and snapped photos for my co-editors. Check out the honorable mentions “Funny Lemon Freeze” and “Jellied Joker.” For creepy, Bunny stands above. Marshmallow rabbit head impaled by toothpick whiskers. Torn purple gumdrops for vacant eyes and a red blob for the mouth. Mired in a glass of green pudding and set against a pattern of… Santas riding motorbikes? “Bunny,” texted Claire, “is creepy as fuck.” Cheryl added, “The toothpicks make it look like it’s been stabbed through the face.”

handwritten note from a mother to daughter

A good companion piece both supports the publication it appears with, and interacts in some small way with the issue’s other two publications and their companion pieces. For me, Creepy Bunny’s connection to “Family Dollar” is this: If I wanted to make Bunny Mousse, a dollar store would be the quickest, cheapest way to pick up the ingredients. And this picture of a comically awful dessert meant to be fun for kids fits the nod to tilted, murky, half-remembered disappointments and confusions of childhood in Mary Warren Foulk’s “Corralling”—another sweet little scene that ends in something sour.

My mother has been gone for five years. I’ve reduced the leftovers to seven or eight bins, which still test my attention and energy. Now at least one of those bits gets a new life. Because my mother just reached across time and space to give me this small gift, her note stuck to the front: “I found this cookbook among mine. It was a gift to you when you turned 5. I’m sure you will want it.” As it happens, I do.

Suzanne Farrell Smith

Filed Under: On Companions

November 1, 2020 By Cheryl Wilder

Editor’s Note Issue #3

November 2020

Editor’s Note

cheryl wilder smiling outside closeup

It’s November of a leap year. November of 2020, the year “Blursday” became a colloquialism. November: the month that turns us toward late fall. The days don’t grow shorter as much as they turn darker. Since mid-March, I’ve spent most of my time at home. Even so, I welcome the season’s encouragement to hunker inside or around a fire in my backyard. 

It’s also an election year. Dualism dominates news and conversation. We’re either for or against, championing this or that. Duality is necessary. Ideas and values need to be distilled into categories in order to cast our votes. 

But for me, the language of election season is difficult. I like the “or” space, the gray area between two things. It’s a place to slow down, and witness the nuances of moments that make up daily life. With so much going on this year, and big decisions being made, it’s hard to get to the “between” space that is my respite.

Thank goodness I can find those spaces elsewhere. 

In the November issue, our authors find the friction, exhilaration, and tension in the gray. They show our everyday moments—from playing in the yard as kids to where we shop for groceries as adults. In these small spaces, they gently lead us to question, what is at cost? 

I haven’t done much since the pandemic began, but Blursday is one marathon day after another. Most everyone I know is extra tired this year. For this reason, I look forward to winter, the season of dormancy, when activity naturally slows. Election season will be over. 2020 will come to a close. I’m hoping for a lot more gray space to fill my days. But if it doesn’t, I know where to find some.   

Cheryl Wilder

Filed Under: From the Editors

November 1, 2020 By Cheryl Wilder

Who made it? Issue #3

Who made it?

November 2020 | Issue #3

With “Corralling” by Mary Warren Foulk

self portrait photo of author's shadow against rock and sand
Self-portrait photo by author.
“Midlife Crisis” by Faith No More.

With “Wish” by W.A. Schwartz

acrylic abstract painting of angel with long blue hair
From a private collection, Angel in mixed media on paper (acrylic, India ink, gesso, oil pastels, colored pencils, tile mortar) by friend of the author, Tom Lavie.

With “The Family Dollar” by Catherine Schmitt

abandoned dollar store with church in background
Photo of abandoned Family Dollar in Maine by author.
text of Henry David Thoreau's views on economy
Quotes by Henry David Thoreau.

Acknowledgments

Grass photo by FOX from Pexels.

Roulette wheel background photo by Virrage Images at Bigstock.

Bunny Mousse. Amazing Magical Jell-O Desserts, General Foods Corporation, 1977. 

Maine dollar stores map from “Dollar Stores in Maine” by C. Milkowski, University of Southern Maine.

Filed Under: Who made it?

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