“Berlin Wall Piece”
by Sam Shepard
New Sudden Fiction (2007)
* * * * (Great) Realistic
A boy attempts to interview his father about the eighties for a seventh-grade social studies project, only to find his father remembers nothing about the times, save the personal stuff – meeting the boy’s mother and the birth of him and his sister. The boy’s sister, however, comes to the rescue with a piece of the Berlin Wall.
I’m noticing a recurring theme, and it is both startling and upsetting: I’m not as smart as I think I am. Like I know there is deeper meaning in some of these stories I read, but I can’t quite grasp it. This story, for instance, ends in a way that hints at its extra layers, and I’m like a climber, holding on by fingertips, straining to pull body over ledge and into understanding and enlightenment. This does not stop me from enjoying stories. I’m happy to find my joy in the wonder of the words, the rhythms of language. I’m seeing the beauty at surface level. (And what does all of this say about me?)
I enjoyed this story for its setting. The eighties were the time in which I grew up, a time I remember not so much for the styles, fads, truths, and reality – although I do remember quite a lot of this upon reflection – but instead, for the personal stuff: the life lived and shared with family. I even remember touching pieces of the Berlin Wall, transported all the way from Berlin to Iowa, rich with history and reality, lingering and labeled back there in the childhood I can recall only when reminded of its existence.
And now I feel a little less upset. Like maybe that deeper meaning isn’t quite so obscure.
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