An Armistice Day Nighthawk

Vol. 126, November 12th, 2024 Published a day early online

Is That My Cat?

The snowbirds are back. Dark-eyed juncos, if you’d like to be precise. Summer spent in the cool alpine breeze of northern climes, they’ve returned to winter here in the southern woods and fields. I sipped a cup of joe, and wandered through a chill morning in the back yard, listening to the new arrivals. Suddenly, I noticed I was being watched by two yellow eyes, set in a furry blot of ink perched on a log. Sure hope that’s not a bear cub. I drew closer. The eyes watched, burning. Then the cat turned and ran. I tried to call him back.

Pspspsps! Kitty! Pspspsps! He kept rustling away through the oak leaves. I gained the high ground. He stopped, looking. Then he leapt through the fence–or, tried to. Woah, that’s a chonky boy! The hole, big enough for a young cat, rejected him in humiliation, only letting his head through, bouncing him back into the leaves, forcing him to scurry in a hurry across the street. Oh, the indignity. Oh, the hilarity. Do I have a cat? (He’s probably the neighbor’s, but I’ll keep you posted.) Another sip of coffee, and I ducked back inside, grateful to ask the trivial questions of a civilian.

It’s Veteran’s Day. These luxuries aren’t accidental. Let’s not forget the ultimate sacrifice of the fallen, the hard work of the veteran, and do our part for peace.

WAR IS OVER

The world plunges into euphoria on the first Armistice Day, 1918. We now observe it as Veteran’s Day.

Song of the Week

“When Johnny Comes Marching Home” (Glenn Miller)

This WWII-era version of a Civil War tune will have you tapping your toes–and thanking a vet.

The First Armistice Day

It took place in 1918, marking the end of WWI, becoming Veteran’s Day in 1954.

Carol’s Appalachian Word of the Week

Kindly (kind of): “That green scarf is kindly a better color for you.”

Quote of the Week

“Civilized men sleep soundly because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”

–George Orwell

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. #211)

Appearing in the Altavista Journal, etc: Night Driving

Howdy, folks, and welcome back to the show! A bald eagle. There! Flying low over the traffic in Richmond on Election day. Stopped at a light, I watched him wheel over the intersection, as if he knew he was the national bird.

That evening, some retirees lined up at my astronomy program. I helped them over the bumpy ground, holding their hands as they leaned in for a view of the crescent moon through the telescope.

There’s something about looking at space that makes me appreciate Earth all the more. Maybe it’s the people here. One lady was moved to tears.

“It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen it like that.”

I squeezed her hand. “Right?”

More people looked. We marveled at the heavens. Then I drove home along the lonely country route.

It was warm enough to roll with the windows open. The wind roared in, bringing the smell of the fallen leaves and pine forests. Houses jumped into view, illuminated in puddles of porch-light silver and gold, then retreated into the rear view mirror. The early winter stars glittered through the branches as I traveled through little towns and battlefields and past the parked logging trucks. I cranked the Tom Waits tunes and thought about the day, the people, and perspective.

The election is over. Some are happy, some are sad, and we march on. I have my personal opinions, but prefer to leave ‘em out of this. (Besides, who cares?) The focus here is always on my friends, family, and neighbors. Now we can get to work.

What will we do, besides rejoice that the political ads are gone? It seems to me that there’s a lot of extra rubble to clean up. The national media has done a fine job of making us hate each other. But, that’s the magical thing about people: We talk to each other. We see through lies. Sometimes, we even listen. I think the future is bright. We’re better than the TV makes us out to be.

We either live together, or we don’t. I’d like to build something together. So I’ll be driving more night roads, and talking to more friends. Do you have a pal who thinks differently than you? Give ‘em a holler and say hello. They could probably use a boost. Or maybe not, but one has to try. I’ve already been annoying mine, but I hope they know it’s with the best of intentions.

Finally, I’ve been digging perspective. It’s so easy to get wrapped around the axle of emails, opinions, and issues. Then I look through a telescope at the crescent moon, or smell the November wind blowing in the window–and remember.

It’s good to be here on Earth, with night driving and friends that disagree. Here’s to doing some good work together.

Catch you on the flip side,

Josh