（外文电子版资料）Christopher Barzak - Plenty.pdfVIP

Plenty By Christopher Barzak 28 May 2001 Although I hadnt seen my friend Gerith in years, I wasnt surprised to receive a letter from him, asking me to come home. Gerith had been sending me these requests every year or so after I left Youngstown, most of them chronicling the misfortunes of the old neighborhood where we grew up. From Geriths descriptions, not much had changed for the better. Each day the city disintegrated a little further. People who had once been important to us disappeared without warning. Often he would ask about my life now that I no longer lived there. Are you okay? he wondered. Are you happy? And each time I would answer: I have a secure job, I live in a great city, I have a girlfriend who loves me more than I love myself. I have plenty. No matter how I answered them, though, Geriths letters filled me with a sense of guilt. Whenever one of his letters arrived in the mail, Id put it in the pocket of my jacket for a while and forget about it. Then, after I got up the nerve to read it, Id sit down and laugh or cry with nostalgia for the old neighborhood. Even though Id spent most of my life trying to escape Youngstown, the place was still my home. Geriths letters reminded me of that. This time, as always, I hoped Gerith would allow me to finally make a clean escape. I wanted him to tell me that the South Side had received funding for rebeautification, that the shelter where he worked had enough food and beds, and that life in general was an eternal flame of mercy and generosity. Instead, his news left me reeling: Mrs. Burroway has died, David. The funeral is Saturday. I hope youll come home for it. Immediately I had a vision of houses, stripped and gutted, left behind by the dead. Id already made plans for the weekend, so I spent a few minutes unmaking them. There was the financiers dinner on Friday, and on Saturday Id promised to meet Karen for lunch. Shed been wanting to speak to me about our relationship. I called