Vol. 63, August 29th, 2023 Published a Day Early Online
Almost Labor Day
The day was as hot as the coffee. The mountains on either side of the valley dozed, the thermometer reading ninety I crossed the Shenandoah river. A train waited on a siding, tied down till further notice. I waved at a mile a minute, answering the call of the endless road.
The dashes seemed to fly as fast as the summer did, everything fading into a blue haze that made the hills and orchards and hayfields nostalgic.
I’ve spent most of my career cheering people up. Now it seems a better goal is to meet people where they’re at. We can “figure it out” (whatever that may be) together. Things are too complicated to be all one way.
The day made me melancholy, thinking of how short time is. Then I stopped for coffee, and the cashier looked radiant. It must have been the engagement ring on her finger, and not sorting lotto tickets at 7-Eleven.
My friends say I offer platitudes too easily, so we’ll stick to toasting with imaginary root beer, sitting together, connected by this page, toasting the everything of the day as summer winds down in a quiet way.
Cheers!
A northbound waits for clearance outside of Elkton as I roll south on VA 340.
Quote of the Week
“We are what we believe we are.” - C. S. Lewis
“Hey, I’m George”
A teenager joins a garage band called The Quarrymen. “But isn’t he too young?” The band would become The Beatles. George Harrison was only 15.
Down the Rabbit Hole
Need something curious to chase down? Check out the life and work of O. Winston Link, railroad photographer. His night pictures of the waning era of steam are legendary, and his methods fascinating.
Song of the Week: “Blue Moon”
Who sings it best? Elvis? Frank?
The Marcels? Billie? Dean? Cue up your favorite version, because we’ve got a blue moon in the sky on Aug. 30th. It’s the second full phase of the month, and the 3rd in an unusual 4 moon season.
Postcard Exchange
Who sends postcards anymore? I do! Mail one along, and I’ll send one back. Just got mail from Vegas.
PO Box 783, Rustburg, VA 24588
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 email JoshUrban@protonmail.com
Editor’s Note (I always wanted to say that). The Nighthawk is delivered in print to 25+ retirement communities. They haven’t heard about Cities yet, but:
You haven’t heard that there’s a book signing in Richmond on Sunday, September 10th at 2nd&Charles, and the ebook is now available!
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #149)
Josh Writes A Book: Cities On A Hill
Were you stuck in a retirement home during COVID? I worked in one. Felt kind of like prison, didn’t it? And nobody on the “outside” knew what it was like in the halls. (Relatives were consigned to tapping on thick windows and zoom calls, a special kind of sadness.) My building kept families away for a year. One day, a little lady named Martha asked me not to forget. So I wrote a book called Cities On A Hill. It’s out now in paperback and ebook. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 1:
***
I knelt by the lonely table. Resisting the urge to turn plastic, I concentrated and returned Martha’s gaze through her thick glasses.
“Josh, I had a dream.”
“Oh?”
“I had a dream that we wrote a book together about our time here....And you made a million dollars!”
“Hey, I like that!”
She continued. “Yes, and the publisher called me to arrange a second printing.”
“Nice! Can I tell the room?”
“No, no, it’ll be our little secret for now. Don’t forget about us, Josh, okay?”
Her voice cut through the blur of stress. Her glasses became mirrors, reflecting my face, and the choice between up and down that waited around every corner in the building.
“I won’t. And, if I ever write a book, I’ll dedicate it to you.”
I squeezed the Sparrow’s hand, rose, and went back to the land of polyester.
She went to bingo.
***
People think “oh, we’ll just lock them down to be safe”, but don’t stop to consider what that looks like. All of our days, reduced to a crushing single sentence: “The lockdowns will be extended an additional two weeks.”
What is the price of safety?
The extraordinary grace of ordinary people forever changed me. The book is a witnessing of their days. And perhaps yours, too. People keep telling me “yes, this happened to me.” (Or to their uncle, or mother, or grandfather.)
It’s called Cities on a Hill - 21 months with the isolated elderly, for sale on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, in independent bookstores in central Virginia, available for Kindle and other ebook download. But, if money is keeping you from reading it, drop me a line, and I’ll send you a gift copy.
I’m doing what I can to get the story out there so we don’t do it again. There’s already talk of a repeat. Life is complicated, but one thing’s for sure: doing the same thing and expecting different results is the definition of insanity. The world must know what happened.
This is my part, and my service. Thank you for yours.
- Josh
P.S. A note to Substack readers about these “subscribe” or “Upgrade” buttons. A friend wrote a note saying she was sorry that it wasn’t in the cards for her to do a paid subscription. Oh my goodness! Please never feel obligated, folks. I’ve learned in business that it’s good to have things available, but there’s never a push. Some of the most cringe-inducing 3 AM memories of social mortification involve twisting arms for chump change. Hopefully this disclaimer avoids any future issues with recounting Substack pushing.
I’m so grateful for anyone paying for this, reading this, enjoying this, or taking time out of their busy days to listen.
However you choose to engage, thank you.
And if you’re passing through, and are wondering where you might subscribe for a free or paid option, well, funny you should ask….
(And don’t forget to tell your friends!)