Vistas & Byways Review - Fall 2022
  • PREVIEW
  • CONTENTS
    • Fiction
    • Nonfiction
    • Poetry
    • Inside OLLI
    • Photo Essays
  • ABOUT US
  • CONTRIBUTORS & WORKS
  • SUBMISSIONS
  • ARCHIVES
    • Spring 2022
    • Fall 2021
    • Spring 2021
    • Fall 2020
    • Spring 2020
    • Fall 2019
    • Spring 2019
    • Fall 2018
    • Spring 2018
    • Fall 2017
    • Spring 2016
    • Fall 2015
Reflection
 Photo by Charlene Anderson
pREVIEW OF tHIS ISSUE
by matt ginsburg
from the editorial board
Reflections, real, imaginary, and somewhere in between have been a source of literary inspiration since the scribes of Mesopotamia carved the story of Gilgamesh into clay tablets more than four thousand years ago. Since then, nothing has documented human experience better than the world’s wealth of literature. Here at Vista & Byways, the bi-annual literary journal for students at OLLI at SF State, we are proud to contribute to this long tradition.
 
Our current issue features a group of authors whose diverse viewpoints reflect their unique experiences but whose insights often yield universal truths. Works of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction are presented. In these pages, readers will discover the spectrum of human emotions: the pain of loss, the agony of uncertainty, the joys of serendipity and success, and more.
 
Speaking of success, this issue was galvanized by contributions from eleven authors whose work is new to our journal. Saucy, sincere, and sometimes simply silly, their submissions spanned every genre, helping us to produce one of the heftiest volumes in memory. The following writers are new to our publication.
 
Beverly "Bree" Brown
Mickey Eliason
Joyce Hendrickson
Dan Liberthson
Karen Marker
Meta Pasternak
Gail Persily
Dennis Sides
Mark Thoma
Yoka Verdoner
Louise Victor
 
Congratulations! We look forward to hearing from you again.

​
Work was the special subject of our issue. As most of us spend (or have spent) most of our time at work, it is no surprise that we received a bounty of submissions that reflected myriad activities. These poems and stories depicted situations that enable readers to hear what others did to make a living, how they felt about their vocations, and what, if anything, they might rather have done. A cornucopia of experiences was revealed.
 
Recollections of work cause us to examine our own life choices. No matter what we have chosen to do, we share the experience of work and the discussion of it brings us together. In reacting to these tales, readers may find their emotions enmeshed with those of the writer. How can we not empathize when the topic is work?
 
Of course, we also invited submissions regarding any subject and you will find a wide variety of poems, stories and essays in this issue. There are also several photo essays that were inspired by the theme, Walkways, Alleyways and Parklets. However, permit me to remain with the topic of work and highlight two submissions that I found especially moving.
 
In the poem, “It Takes Money to Retire,” Corey Weinstein provided a surprising view of a life spent practicing medicine. Initially, I thought the poem hinted at sanctimony, admonishing the reader that:
 
               Work not a calling is a job,
               Job with little meaning is a drudge.
 
Many jobs, I thought, could be considered a drudge. Healing others is surely not one of them. Was the writer preparing to gloat about his life-saving achievements? I felt uncomfortable; it seemed he was being sanctimonious. However, a few lines later, he warmed to his theme and threw us this curve ball:
 
               Learning medicine was never a calling.
 
Okay, I thought, it wasn’t your dream job, still you were a doctor, the profession I admire most. Is there a higher calling than saving people? There must be a lot of satisfaction in that. And perhaps there is, in fact there must be. But that is not where the poem takes us.
 
               Healing interesting, money the real purpose,
               Meaning in deposited checks and balances.
 
Whoa! The ideals of perhaps the most revered profession, the ideals of helping, healing, and literally saving lives are reduced to something as measly as money. Weinstein’s life work was no more noble than the plethora of professions bent on producing profit. The revelation felt uniquely tragic and yet universally relatable. How many of us have not felt the same thing about a job we had? And even when we love our jobs, a bad day at the office, in the field, or wherever, can yield similar soul-searching. The author’s sincerity cut to the bone, he delivered a gut punch to our superficial sensibilities, and upended conventional wisdom. By the time he was finished, this reader’s worldview, at least a part of it, was temporarily shattered. How can one not wonder, if healing is not an admirable profession, then what is?

​On the lighter side, first-time contributor Mickey Eliason, poked fun at the pajama-clad, pet-promoting, work from home lifestyle that infected so many of us during the pandemic. In, “A Phenomenological Study of Pandemic Work Life: Adverse Effects of Zooming,” the author dug deeply into the data and concocted some conclusions about what all those hours meeting via a computer screen did to us. While her insights were numerous, I found one particularly compelling. Actually, it was downright eerie. Who wouldn’t get a little uneasy from realizing how closely Zoom meetings resemble a séance? The author pointed out these similarities: 
​
People appear suddenly out of nowhere in small boxes on the screen, sometimes as shadowy figures in dimly lit rooms. Common questions on Zoom meetings included, 'Is anyone out there?’ ‘I can hear you but I can’t see you.’ ‘Can someone text Shirley to ask if she will join us?’ ‘I think we’re losing Kevin, he’s flickering in and out.’ ‘Is Martha still with us?’
​
Yikes! I hope that Martha is still with us. But even if she’s not, there were several other observations that brought this essay to life. We were told of a health disorder caused by Zoom. Amazingly, it had evaded the understanding of the CDC, the WHO, and even the omniscient Dr. Fauci. It is called “Never Say Goodbye Syndrome.”  The author informed us that: 
​
​
It is characterized by not knowing when the meeting is over. Is it during or after the prolonged goodbyes? Is it offensive to leave the meeting before the last person has said goodbye? Must one wait until everyone has stopped waving to click on ‘leave meeting?’

​
Hmmm. Upon reflection, I wouldn’t want to be accused of not knowing when to say goodbye. So, I encourage you now to turn the page, or (I hate to say it) scroll the screen, and check out the full extent of what our writers have worked so hard to offer. There is something for everyone. Finding your favorites is sure to be a labor of love. ​


Picture
We have been waiting a long time for Issue 14.
Photo by Barbara Applegate

Preview of this Issue
by Matt Ginsburg
from the Editorial Board

Reflections, real, imaginary, and somewhere in between have been a source of literary inspiration since the scribes of Mesopotamia carved the story of Gilgamesh into clay tablets more than four thousand years ago. Since then, nothing has documented human experience better than the world’s wealth of literature. Here at Vista & Byways, the bi-annual literary journal for students at OLLI at SF State, we are proud to contribute to this long tradition.
 
Our current issue features a group of authors whose diverse viewpoints reflect their unique experiences but whose insights often yield universal truths. Works of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction are presented. In these pages, readers will discover the spectrum of human emotions: the pain of loss, the agony of uncertainty, the joys of serendipity and success, and more.
 
Speaking of success, this issue was galvanized by contributions from eleven authors whose work is new to our journal. Saucy, sincere, and sometimes simply silly, their submissions spanned every genre, helping us to produce one of the heftiest volumes in memory. The following writers are new to our publication.
 
Beverly "Bree" Brown
Mickey Eliason
Joyce Hendrickson
Dan Liberthson
Karen Marker
Meta Pasternak
Gail Persily
Dennis Sides
Mark Thoma
Yoka Verdoner
Louise Victor
 
Congratulations! We look forward to hearing from you again.

1

Work was the special subject of our issue. As most of us spend (or have spent) most of our time at work, it is no surprise that we received a bounty of submissions that reflected myriad activities. These poems and stories depicted situations that enable readers to hear what others did to make a living, how they felt about their vocations, and what, if anything, they might rather have done. A cornucopia of experiences was revealed.
 
Recollections of work cause us to examine our own life choices. No matter what we have chosen to do, we share the experience of work and the discussion of it brings us together. In reacting to these tales, readers may find their emotions enmeshed with those of the writer. How can we not empathize when the topic is work?
 
Of course, we also invited submissions regarding any subject and you will find a wide variety of poems, stories and essays in this issue. There are also several photo essays that were inspired by the theme, Walkways, Alleyways and Parklets. However, permit me to remain with the topic of work and highlight two submissions that I found especially moving.
 
In the poem, “It Takes Money to Retire,” Corey Weinstein provided a surprising view of a life spent practicing medicine. Initially, I thought the poem hinted at sanctimony, admonishing the reader that:
 
               Work not a calling is a job,
               Job with little meaning is a drudge.
 
Many jobs, I thought, could be considered a drudge. Healing others is surely not one of them. Was the writer preparing to gloat about his life-saving achievements? I felt uncomfortable; it seemed he was being sanctimonious. However, a few lines later, he warmed to his theme and threw us this curve ball:
 
               Learning medicine was never a calling.
 
Okay, I thought, it wasn’t your dream job, still you were a doctor, the profession I admire most. Is there a higher calling than saving people? There must be a lot of satisfaction in that. And perhaps there is, in fact there must be. But that is not where the poem takes us.
 
               Healing interesting, money the real purpose,
               Meaning in deposited checks and balances.
 
Whoa! The ideals of perhaps the most revered profession, the ideals of helping, healing, and literally saving lives are reduced to something as measly as money. Weinstein’s life work was no more noble than the plethora of professions bent on producing profit. The revelation felt uniquely tragic and yet universally relatable. How many of us have not felt the same thing about a job we had? And even when we love our jobs, a bad day at the office, in the field, or wherever, can yield similar soul-searching. The author’s sincerity cut to the bone, he delivered a gut punch to our superficial sensibilities, and upended conventional wisdom. By the time he was finished, this reader’s worldview, at least a part of it, was temporarily shattered. How can one not wonder, if healing is not an admirable profession, then what is?

2

On the lighter side, first-time contributor Mickey Eliason, poked fun at the pajama-clad, pet-promoting, work from home lifestyle that infected so many of us during the pandemic. In, “A Phenomenological Study of Pandemic Work Life: Adverse Effects of Zooming,” the author dug deeply into the data and concocted some conclusions about what all those hours meeting via a computer screen did to us. While her insights were numerous, I found one particularly compelling. Actually, it was downright eerie. Who wouldn’t get a little uneasy from realizing how closely Zoom meetings resemble a séance? The author pointed out these similarities: 
​People appear suddenly out of nowhere in small boxes on the screen, sometimes as shadowy figures in dimly lit rooms. Common questions on Zoom meetings included, 'Is anyone out there?’ ‘I can hear you but I can’t see you.’ ‘Can someone text Shirley to ask if she will join us?’ ‘I think we’re losing Kevin, he’s flickering in and out.’ ‘Is Martha still with us?’
​Yikes! I hope that Martha is still with us. But even if she’s not, there were several other observations that brought this essay to life. We were told of a health disorder caused by Zoom. Amazingly, it had evaded the understanding of the CDC, the WHO, and even the omniscient Dr. Fauci. It is called “Never Say Goodbye Syndrome.”  The author informed us that: 
​It is characterized by not knowing when the meeting is over. Is it during or after the prolonged goodbyes? Is it offensive to leave the meeting before the last person has said goodbye? Must one wait until everyone has stopped waving to click on ‘leave meeting?’
​Hmmm. Upon reflection, I wouldn’t want to be accused of not knowing when to say goodbye. So, I encourage you now to turn the page, or (I hate to say it) scroll the screen, and check out the full extent of what our writers have worked so hard to offer. There is something for everyone. Finding your favorites is sure to be a labor of love. 

3

FICTION

NONFICTION

POETRY

PHOTO ESSAYS

INSIDE OLLI

Picture
Vistas & Byways Review is the semiannual journal of fiction, nonfiction and poetry by members of Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) at San Francisco State University​.​
Vertical Divider
Picture
Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at San Francisco State University (OLLI at SF State) provides communal and material support to theVistas & Byways  volunteer staff.


cONTACT THE v&b
  • PREVIEW
  • CONTENTS
    • Fiction
    • Nonfiction
    • Poetry
    • Inside OLLI
    • Photo Essays
  • ABOUT US
  • CONTRIBUTORS & WORKS
  • SUBMISSIONS
  • ARCHIVES
    • Spring 2022
    • Fall 2021
    • Spring 2021
    • Fall 2020
    • Spring 2020
    • Fall 2019
    • Spring 2019
    • Fall 2018
    • Spring 2018
    • Fall 2017
    • Spring 2016
    • Fall 2015