Vol. 53, June 20th, 2023 (Published online a day early)
A Year of Connecting
A year ago, feeling sorry for myself, I read the news.
“State of NY Gives Robots to Lonely Senior Citizens.”
What? I leapt up. As long as I can write, people will have someone real to talk to. And so The Nighthawk was born. (Send me a letter anytime. That’s what the PO box is for.)
This Saturday morning found me irritated. My cell phone service unexpectedly switched off auto billing (they told me, but it got by me). I pressed 1, 0, 0, 0, finally connecting to a rep.
“Hello, this is Lawrence.”
We got it straightened out, and he thanked me for not being a jerk.
“Been a rough week with the new rollout. Whatcha got planned for the weekend?”
“Celebrating father’s day!”
“Congrats!”
“Oh, I don’t have kids.”
“Why not?” He asked me .
“…Haven’t met her yet.” Suddenly, in a faceless landscape of approved phrases and menu options recently changed, real talk. Lawrence is doing what I’m doing with this paper: keeping it human. We talked, he gave some advice, we laughed.
The menus might have changed, but our need for connection hasn’t. Keep shining.
Happy Belated Father’s Day
Toasting all the dads, and memories of dads. Thanks for the stories, lawn mowing, life lessons, and hat matching. You’re so appreciated.
(With my dad, Sunday.)
Quote of the Week
“Always bear in mind that your own resolution to succeed is more important than any other one thing.” - Abraham Lincoln
Happy Birthday to the Telegraph
Samuel Morse patents the telegraph this day in history, 1840.
1st issue of The Nighthawk prints this day, 2022—a day for letters.
Down the Rabbit Hole
What do you think is important for living a good life? Got any ideas or advice to share? We’d love to hear your thoughts. Write us at: PO Box 783, Rustburg, VA 24588
Song of the Week
Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. You’ve heard it a million times. I was raised on it. But like pizza, it never gets old. Give it another spin, and marvel at the beauty.
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. #139)
Howdy, folks! Last week on Dr. Electro, Ordinary Man relishes telling the crew his evil plans. “ I’ve been stockpiling the Cherished for years. Memories in boxes, love in art, sanity in literature, refuge in music. It’s nearly time to destroy it all. And then I’ll reinvent Modern. The era of the Sensible, the Reasonable, the Bland is at hand.”
“Excuse me, sir” Electro interrupted. “Why is the floor shaking?” This is…
The Return of Dr. Electro #31: Crash Boom Bang
“You don’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation” Ordinary Man sneered. “I’m about to reinvent the world, and build it better.”
“Yeah, but...the floor is shaking” Electro reiterated, with only a hint of delight at his impudence. High above, there was a distant crash or two.
“And what’s my stolen Citrine got to do with all of this?” Lady Wilkes demanded. “That gem belongs to me, you know. Many fine memories are tied up in it.”
“EXACTLY” Ordinary Man spat. “Now you’re getting the picture. It’s a touchstone of sentimentality. I had to steal it. I will destroy it, and with it, those memories.”
Lady Wilkes drew herself up, eyes shooting fire. “Now you listen here, young man.”
Preacher, watching the exchange quietly, drifted over, and muttered to Electro “Man, you’re right, the floor is shaking. And check out this panel I found.”
Electro barely breathed, easing back to where Preacher pointed. Ducking into a side alley, he found himself face level with another gray switch panel. ON OFF DELIVERY DOOR.
“Why not try it? They’ll notice we’re gone any moment now” Preacher whispered.
“Watch this” Electro’s eyes gleamed as he quietly, oh so quietly, unscrewed the front panel. “I’ve got an idea.” Around the corner, Ordinary Man and Lady Wilkes traded barbs. In the distance, another crash. Electro felt the sweat bead on his forehead. Click. The cover of the electrical box slid off. He took a breath. “Here goes nothing.”
With a flick of his wrist, the screwdriver was jammed across the bare wires inside. Another blue flash, another sickening buzzing hum. The darkness fell on the room like a hammer.
“What the..?” Ordinary Man howled. “Who did that?”
Another crash overhead, and a splintering sound, followed by a revving engine, and then another. The cacophony grew, lights piercing the blackness across the vault.
“Well I’ll be!” Walter cried. “Headlights!”
They were joined by a second pair, roaring, crashing, careening, smashing, snarling across the underground warehouse, rapidly towards them. Fumes swirled in the confusion.
Electro squinted in the gloom. The screwdriver, still jammed across the wires, begin to glow red. Guess I’ve got to take a chance for the team. Another deep breath, and he snatched it out of the deadly current, glad of the wooden handle. The lights flickered back on.
A pink van skidded to a halt, pushing a stack of boxes. A familiar voice rang out. “Miss Stella at your service. Who’s Ordinary Man? My tarot cards told me he’d experience a change in life path today. And with Mercury in retrograde, well...”
...To Be Continued Next Week....