||Foley's Pond -- Occidental Hotel -- Spokane -- The poet -- Herb and Rosalie Swanson at the Cocoanut Grove -- My old boss E.J. once told me he was famous for goofy hats -- At the kitchen table -- Grand Pacific Hotel, Chicago, 1875 -- Railroad Men's Home -- Plaza Revolución, Mexico City, 6 a.m. -- Horace and Josephine -- I was six, maybe seven months old -- Pampkin's lament -- Lincoln -- Last car over the Sagamore Bridge -- Nathan Leopold writes to Mr. Felix Kleczka of 5383 S. Blackstone -- At the end of our street was a commune in a log mansion -- Detamble -- Dyke Bridge -- The mayor's dream -- Fourteen-year-olds, Indiana Dunes, late afternoon -- Denny Coughlin: in memory -- The divorce -- 1979 -- The Vac-Haul -- The time I said it was only an emotional affair -- At the Fairmont -- Roman morning -- Eisendrath -- Woman in a Dubrovnik Café -- Reverend Hrncirik receives an airmail package -- Call these the meditations of an overweight junior lifeguard -- Waukegan story -- Lubyanka Prison, Moscow, 1940 -- February 26, 1995 -- Late dusk, Joslin, Illinois -- Renters -- On the 14 -- Longfellow -- Paddy Bauler in a quiet moment -- Geraldo, 1986 -- Harold Washington walks at midnight -- From the collected stories of Edmund Jerry (E.J.) Hahn, Vol. IV -- The gate -- A couple of years before I was born -- My mother stands by the window -- It may have been in The Wapshot Chronicle -- The moors of Chicago -- Belief, 1999 -- Irv Pincus used to steal lamps from Kaplan's Furniture -- Shhhhhh, Arthur's studying.
|| "In Last Car Over the Sagamore Bridge, Peter Orner zeroes in on the strange ways our memories define us: A woman's husband dies before their divorce is finalized; a man runs for governor of Illinois and loses much more than an election; two brothers play beneath the infamous bridge at Chappaquiddick. Employing the masterful compression for which he's become known, Orner presents a kaleidoscope of individual lives viewed in startling, intimate close-up. Whether writing of Geraldo Rivera's attempt to reveal the contents of Al Capone's vault or of a father and daughter trying to outrun a hurricane, he illuminates universal themes. In stories that span considerable geographic ground--from Chicago to Wyoming, from Massachusetts to the Czech Republic--he writes of the past we can't seem to shake, the losses we can't make up for, and how our stories help us reclaim what we thought was gone forever."--Dust jacket.