Vol. 74, November 14th, 2023 Published a day early online
‘Round Midnight
Starlight and Infinity by the James River
The late freight rumbled up the opposite bank, headlight shining into the country dark, eastbound towards Richmond. My car’s pointed west, back home. Above, the stars shone, forever. Another late night, and Miles Davis on the radio.
The sleepy lights of Appomattox glimmered ahead, ‘round midnight, like the tune playing. Then Tom Waits growled his poetry while more houses slumbered wayside, the occasional gas station keeping the promise of tomorrow burning through the strange time between Saturday night and Sunday morning.
I had been trillions of miles away that evening, gazing through telescopes at the James River Star Party, catching ancient starlight, marveling at the Andromeda galaxy and the cloud bands on mighty Jupiter.
A hundred people gathered to look into infinity. One fellow showed up with his converted school bus/family camper, complete with an astro-mural on the side. Coffee tastes better in the cold, served in Styrofoam, when Orion starts an autumn hunt, and friends remark on Gemini.
I’m back in daylight, but out there, the stars still shine. It’s worth remembering that.
Stay Frosty
The morning ice has returned, bedazzling a mint plant greeting the sun.
Book of the Week
Moby-Dick (Melville) is published stateside on this day, 1851. Now considered the great American novel, it sold fewer than 4,000 copies at first. William Faulkner said he wished he had written it himself.
Speaking of Books…
The signing at Given’s was SO MUCH FUN!
So many friends stopped by, and we had a rousing discussion about Cities, storytelling, and life. And they were nice enough to cue up to get their copies signed. Couldn’t believe my eyes. “Hey, it’s a line.”
Above all, to look out to a group of smiling faces, and to think that Martha’s story continues to echo into the world…well, that’s just cool, man. What an honor.
Thank you.
Ray Charles
“Georgia On My Mind” hits #1 on the charts today in 1960. The state adopted it as their official song in 1979.
Quote of the Week
“Myths which are believed tend to become true.”
–George Orwell
Share Your Story
Got a perfect recipe for Thanksgiving? Send us a suggestion for printing! (And for eating.)
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. #160)
Appearing in the Altavista Journal: Late Night Radio “Stars Falling on a Town Near You”
Howdy folks, and welcome back to the show! This week’s tale involves stars, songs, and a cherished album. For a good late night spin, it’s hard to beat the class of a Frank Sinatra record. My newspaper-famous Grandma Kay sent me her 1957 pressing of A Swingin’ Affair. It’s chock full of charmers, but a real gem is “Stars Fell on Alabama.”
With Nelson Riddle at the helm, the orchestra lives up to the album’s name, and Frank is at his Capitol Records best. (I once put a room full of senior citizens asleep with a painstaking walk through Sinatra’s catalog–in chronological order. It’s hard to tell if I lost the game, or won it. But like then, I digress.)
Before Frank, Guy Lombardo and his brother Carmen made it a hit way back in ‘34. Listen closely. It’s a curious love song, with a celestial origin. They think the tune came from the book of the same name, and that was inspired by the night the sky fell.
The Leonid meteor shower occurs November 17-18. Every 33 years or so, it turns into a meteor storm. Nowadays, we know meteors are comet dust burning up as it zips through our atmosphere. It’s exciting. I saw the 2001 outburst with rates around 1,500 shooting stars an hour, and still talk about it. “Liquid fire, man.”
But in 1833, it’s estimated that 30,000 meteors an hour rained down–and scared the heck out of everyone on “the night the stars fell.” Some thought it was the end of the world, and indeed, it looked like it. Prayers of repentance filled the air, and only the Indians thought it a good omen.
A one Mr. Carl Carmer published a book of essays and stories from the south in 1934, with the title Stars Fell on Alabama. Songwriters Mitchell Parish and Frank Perkins soon penned a tune by the same name, which became the beloved jazz standard, eventually finding its way to my record player.
So, this Friday evening on November 17th overnight to the “wee small hours” (Sinatra pun intended) of Saturday morning, you might see cousins of those stars that fell on Alabama so long ago. There’s still plenty of comet dust waiting for this annual show. While a storm isn’t expected until 2034, it’s still worth grabbing your coat and snatching your hat (okay, okay, I’ll stop) and gazing up for a while. The Leonids appear to radiate from the constellation Leo the Lion, who prowls the eastern skies after midnight this time of year. Look for a giant backwards question mark (“the sickle”) which outlines his mane. You might see a bright greenish white meteor or three streak across the cold November sky as you face east.
Oh, and the best way to look for meteors? It’s simple: stay warm, and don’t fall asleep. I’d recommend a Sinatra record to keep you company.
Catch you on the flip side,
Josh
Make sure to let us know if ever instead of a converted school bus, somebody shows up at one of your future star parties (or book signings) driving a 70's vintage Dodge van with Feynman diagrams painted on the sides.