THE SHINING
Miami Herald, The (FL)
November 16, 1986
Author: GENE WEINGARTEN Herald Tropic EditorA year ago this week, I invited readers to submit guest columns. The best one was to replace my column in our last issue of the year.
We received about 90 manuscripts. Some were odious, choking with xenophobia and racial hostility. Some were earnest but banal. A handful were quite good. And then there was the winner, a three-page submission by a guy who worked in a drugstore.
This was how it began:
Every New Year's Eve my father would blow out the windows of our station wagon with a shotgun and every time he'd give our ever-changing insurance agent the same line: "Hey, a year is a personal thing." And he was right, but he wasn't covered; not until he gave them a better story. Then he'd sit us all down and say, "We have to cover ourselves. It's a new year. Anything can happen . . . ."
Anything, indeed. Even the discovery of a poet, hawking Odor Eaters at the five and dime.
Terry Shine's column argued that retreat is a sane means of survival -- retreat from the world into oneself and one's family. I thought it totally overpowering.
Herald reporter Mike Wilson, a gifted writer himself, was so moved he drove to the drugstore to shake Shine's hand. It was an unusual confrontation. I'll let Wilson tell you about it:
"He was stacking NyQuil on the shelves. There I was, telling this guy I thought he was another T.S. Eliot, and he was quite polite but I could tell his mind was on pharmaceuticals."
Terry Shine didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Still doesn't. But at our insistence, he obliged us this year with a few short pieces. You may remember them. They were stunning. He wrote about man's ambivalence to war (. . . I don't consider myself young, but in a country where wars define periods of time better than decades do, I am a baby. I know as little about war as Gomer Pyle, but I do know the more pollution in the air the more beautiful the sunset and I know there is a horror and a glory in war, and I am envious.) He wrote about his Most Unforgettable Character (. . . Frank entered a party as if he'd driven through the picture window in a red convertible and squealed to a stop half an inch from the hostess' fanny. He covered you like the debris from an explosion . . .) He wrote about the rape and murder of a teen-age baby sitter (. . . Where do you let an unknown villain settle? Does he become the face you don't recognize in your dreams or the stranger who drives down your street and uses your driveway to turn around . . . We ram our cars into these people and exchange licenses; we open doors for them; we tip them. But, in the night, all we can do is lock our doors to them and pray all the hate and disgust that's been rolling off our backs up until now doesn't get the chance to stick . . .)
Through it all, Terry remained an enigma to us. Where did he come from? Where is he going? What the hell is he doing stacking NyQuil?
My associate, Tom Shroder, became obsessed with this. He asked Terry to write us a piece called "Why I Work At The Drugstore." Terry said sure.
The story isn't easy reading. It's not for everyone. It's for people with jobs, and people with families, and people who sometimes look at themselves and ask, Is This It?
I think it's for you, friend.
Shine never wrote a thing for publication before last year. What he has written since is remarkable. And it makes me wonder . . . Are there any other T.M. Shines out there?
So I'm putting my last column in 1986 up for grabs again.
Deadline: Dec. 3. Subject: anything you feel strongly about. Address: Tropic Column, 1 Herald Plaza, Miami, FL 33132-1693.
Give it a shot. It's a new year. Anything can happen . . .