Stories That Should Never Go Away

I remember stories. I remember titles, first sentences, initial paragraphs, sometimes fragments of entire sections within—and lines from the ending, too. That's the way my memory has worked, as a reader, and as a writer, since I was a kid. And some of the stories that have affected me, shaped me, just aren't accessible on the Internet, and specific memories are all I have left of them—a sentence or two. Since I graduated college, I have occasionally searched online for some of these stories, hoping someone has, for some reason, decided to put one up. This never happens. Well, it never happened, until the other day, when I found the text of "Eating Jack Hooker's Cow", a story I'd only read a couple times, when I was in my early 20s.

Using that story and subsequent debate as inspiration, and with Ben's blessing, I'd like to start a recurring project here that would bring stories back from the dead. Stories that have not only stuck with me, but anyone else, or anyone out there, for whatever reason, from any and all publications -- stories that have either not been available online for years, or have never been available online, because the internet passed them by, or because the outlets that gave them life never saw fit to go back into the archives and make them digital. I want to honor their existence by bringing them back so that new eyes can find them, old ones can see them again, with the hope that maybe others can take something from them, like I did. I'd also like to try and get the people who wrote them to look back, as their words have been granted a kind of resurrection.

I really believe there are stories that should never go away, like these have.

The first one that randomly crossed my mind appeared in Life magazine, in 1991. It's by Gary Smith. I read it once, in college; then I lost access to our library Infotrac and have never been able to read it again. I remember a sentence from it: "The capital of Arizona is Phoenix." The other day, I thought: that doesn't make sense. I should be able to read it. People should be able to read it. Everyone remembers "Shadow of a Nation", a story he wrote that same year, which won the National Magazine Award for feature writing and is online and in book collections. But hardly anyone remembers this one, which is smaller, certainly, but still ambitious and poetic, and worthy of being read. It was also was nominated for the National Magazine Award in the very same category that year; Gary was about to become a journalism equivalent of a household name.

This story that should never go away is called "The Little Girl in Grave 1565" and is reprinted here for the first time, maybe ever. Gary briefly looks back after the piece.

The Little Girl in Grave 1565 Life November, 1991

For 47 years after she died in a tragic circus fire, no one knew her name. This is the story of two people: one obsessed with finding out who she was, the other wanting only to forget what happened.

By Gary Smith

In a housing complex for the elderly in Easthampton, Mass., lived a lady in her eighties with sharp and clear blue eyes.

The capital of Alabama is Montgomery.

Her life was busy for a woman her age. She still worked two half days a week as a clerk at a dress shop. She edited the church newsletter and pitched in at Sunday school now and then. She helped a neighbor who had no use of his right arm to write his checks.

The capital of Alaska is Juneau.

She drove herself to the store for groceries, to the doctor and dentist and laundromat. She did the crossword in the Daily Hampshire Gazette in the evening while she watched TV and kept a magazine open to read while she ate. She said, "It takes up your mind."

The capital of Arkansas is Little Rock.

But sometimes at night when Mildred Cook lay down and there was nothing, finally, to do, thoughts tried to enter her mind, and so she began reciting. The capital of Arizona is Phoenix. Half-formed thoughts, too terrible to contemplate: Why did I take them to …? The capital of California is Sacramento. If I had pushed and shoved, like others did … The capital of Colorado is Denver. I should've held onto her hand … The Capital of Connecticut is … But it was only a circus … The capital of Connecticut is … a circus …

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