3 Years in the 'Burg

A Doubleheader Nighthawk

Vol. 136, January 21st, 2025 Published a Day Early Online

3 Years in the ‘Burg

Today is clear, with a piercing light, a day to think about people, about America, and what that means to us. Usually, we talk about pine trees and music here, but on this auspicious double-header of American occasions, the topic seems worth a mention.

Among all the good people I know, the only consistent theme is the difference of opinion. And their decent hearts. People care.

The dawn is bright and cold over the ridge. I’ve been watching the sky dance with Long Mountain for three years and a day. The move from the city feels like a lifetime ago, and this new chapter seems a decade: hay bales, guitars, stars, tractors, woodworking, bees, The Nighthawk, and our talks.

Most of all, people, man. In general. The more I talk to them, the more I like them. They all think differently than me. The (appreciated) threat of spitballs keeps me in check when I share a dumb idea, which is how it should be.

As MLK Jr’s legacy continues and the 60th inauguration of an American president happens, I know my friends will have a range of thoughts.

Ain’t it grand? We’re the United States of America, not Agreement. On this chilly day, it sure is nice to walk forward, together.

United. Americans.

God bless ya.

Hollins Fun

Big thanks to Dan Smith and Liz Long for the invite to speak at the 2025 Roanoke Regional Riters Conference (typo, but that’s what it should be called) at Hollins University this past Saturday.

The topic was short form (blogging, essays, articles), and the time was: FUN. I made sure to say my piece early, leaving plenty of time for discussion and the sharing of ideas. As hoped for, the talk felt like hanging out at the gym. I was lucky enough to chat with the powerlifters.

A mah-velous discussion….

(Thanks to Kristine Carter for the cool photo.)

Happy Birthday, Hercule Poirot (1921)

Agatha Christie’s famed detective makes his debut in The Mysterious Affair at Styles (Christie’s first novel).

Song of the Week

“America the Beautiful” (Elvis Presley)

His ‘68 Special features a stirring rendition of this patriotic classic.

A Cosmic Magic Trick

The Moon made Mars disappear on 1/13, blocking it out for an hour. Dig the view of both through a backyard telescope.

Carol’s Appalachian Word of the Week

Crick (creek). “Don’t you be down there playing in the crick, you hear me??”

Quote of the Week

“Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four. If that is granted, all else follows.”

― George Orwell, 1984

Write to Us!

The Nighthawk is a new old-fashioned way to connect, published weekly. You’re invited to write back, or just enjoy reading. Let’s have some fun! It’s a social paper! Send stories, etc to: PO Box 783, Rustburg, VA 24588 or Joshurban@protonmail.com

Letters from Josh

(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #221)

Appearing in the Altavista Journal, etc: Old Old Time Rock ‘n Roll

Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show! If New York mayor Eric Adams has a tough job now–imagine Gotham at the turn of the 20th century. It’s rumored there were a hundred thousand banjos in NYC alone. Talk about problems.

But seriously, folks...As 2025 dawns, things are strange at Urban HQ. Yes, I still love playing heavy metal electric guitar, but–I’m learning the banjo. It sounds terrible.

(Among other odd events: I think the measuring cup for the new pressure cooker got mixed up. It seems to be from the laundry detergent container. It isn’t accurate. Or a full cup. But I digress.)

The old music is calling me. The forgotten songs that ghosts would dance to where the cabin used to be–those seem worth knowing about. They are the echoes of America, the foundations of a sound that’s ours. The Past, and music of the Past, is a big, gnarly topic. Where do you start? Blues? Ragtime? The history of Appalachian music? The instruments? A historic marker along Rt. 24 points to Joel Sweeney and the tale of the banjo. African in origin, the banjo started a complicated chapter of American music right here in Appomattox.

Signs and books are helpful, but when it comes to things made by living, breathing people, stories are better. I called a pal, and he told me the thing about a hundred thousand banjos in the Big Apple back in the day. Then the idea hit me: ask more people. Start collecting stories.

We’re modern. We have cell phones and television and don’t need to tell stories and maybe don’t have any to tell. But I don’t believe that.

I read George Orwell’s 1984 in high school, but it went over my head. I finished it last week as an adult. This time, it knocked me over. How did he know?

Every so often, something rattles my cage, and I run around telling everyone, especially if I’m the last guy to the party. I hope you’ll excuse my enthusiasm. Dig this:

The main guy, Winston, lives in a bleak world entirely controlled by the government. The TVs watch, the neighbors watch, the children watch, and Big Brother never sleeps. Winston’s job is to alter the records of the past so it agrees with the Party line. He finally gets curious, wondering what the past was actually like, but can’t find anyone who knows. The lies start to grow thin. As Winston discovers his humanity, he’s caught by the Thought Police. They break him. Erased and redrawn, he finally believes that sometimes that 2+2=5. The book ends in tragedy. He feels true love in his heart for the Party’s counterfeit god, Big Brother.

Oh man. How did Orwell know about these times? More importantly, in this age of AI and faceless surveillance, what should we do about them?

For some strange reason, hearing the old stories and learning the banjo seem like a good place to start. They’re so...human. They “keep it real, man.”

So, if you have an old story that should be told, be it about music or moonshine or your great aunt Betty, drop me a line. I’m eager to hear. And play me some of that old old time rock ‘n roll.

–Josh