Vol. 39, March 14th, 2023
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Blue Highways
Back Roads and Time Travels
Whoever scoffs at time travel hasn’t been on a road trip in the spring. A calendar becomes abstract in bright sunshine and budding oaks two centuries old.
For a year, I’ve eyed the south road where it splits off from town. Errands always made me turn right, staying local. But on Saturday, the green light on the outskirts waved me into the Unknown.
I followed the old Lynchburg and Durham line through rolling farmland, ancient rocks fuzzy with spring fiddleheads and moss, the early redbud blooming in an ageless dance of seasons. Little towns waved hello, unable to decide what year it was. Coca Cola signs rusted, and children played in parks - just like always.
I stopped in to see a friend. She told me of her travels, weaving tales of Casablanca and snake charmers and Alaska and all the stuff in the world that’s dazzling and should be remembered.
The road home wound through a purple and gold afternoon. Spring of Sometime is here. Ain’t it beautiful?
Happy Birthday, Casey! (1864)
Casey Jones, famed locomotive engineer, died a hero saving his passengers, and is immortalized in song. It’s his birthday today.
Down the Rabbit Hole
Speaking of birthdays: On this day in 1879, Mrs. Einstein delivered an “unremarkable” baby. He didn’t talk till age 4. His teachers thought he was stupid. (Young Albert would set the record straight.) Look into Relativity -Special or General - for a real mind-bender.
Reader Spotlight
Rosie L. loves to paint, draw, and crochet. “I make all my Christmas gifts!” She lives in Raleigh, NC.
Book of the Week: Fahrenheit 451
(Ray Bradbury) Another beauty of a bummer, a breathtaking warning, a masterpiece of literature, a compelling argument to think, not burn.
What’s All This?
The violets are blooming, and a spring snow is falling. The weather may be confusing, but quiet Beauty is a constant.
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #125)
Howdy, folks! Welcome to our quirky tale of Dr. Electro, a reluctant adventurer who finds himself on a quest with his old pal Rutherford to help solve a jewel heist. He’s met a band of helpful hobos (“The Jolly Ranchers”), and the formidable Buckle Bunny Gang. Miss Stella, a spirited fortune teller, whisks them towards Lady Wilkes. She’s expecting help, and interrogating two men she’s caught trespassing on her estate. They start their tale. This is...
The Return of Dr. Electro - #19: How To Make An Entrance
Brakes had never sounded so good. Miss Stella must have learned something comforting from her seances. She drove without fear of the afterlife. After swerves, turns, straightaways, traffic, an eluded police officer, mad cackling, and forty five grueling minutes, the tarot van finally slowed with a shriek of salvation. Her passengers let out a collective sigh. Electro was greeted by forbidding towers, a high gate with a W, and stern iron trees to match.
“We’re here, dearies! What a lovely drive!” Miss Stella jumped out, unflappable. “Somebody be a darlin’ and grab my bag, would you? Thank you, love.”
Rutherford leapt smartly to task from the back of the group. “Of course, madam. And take my arm.”
Electro eyed him suspiciously. He seemed unusually helpful this morning. A laugh rang from the porch, a sound of a thousand bells or an alpine brook. Electro darted a glance. Oh, right. That girl who roped him - and all of us - into this business in the first place. Of course.
Claire stood resplendent on the porch. Sleepless nights can be the ruin or triumph of some women. She was crowned a goddess with tousled hair and gently flushed cheeks.
“Oh Rutherford! I knew you’d help us! And you’ve brought your friends, I see.”
The band of adventurers - Rutherford, Electro, Preacher, Junior and the Jolly Ranchers, Walter with his hat tipped, Charlotte and her Buckle Bunny Gang, Miss Stella - all gazed back. A hush fell on the yard, and in the iron trees, last tatters of autumn leaves rattled in the breeze.
The unexpected and profound silence cracked into three deafening pieces. Lady Wilkes, unaware of her new guests, lost her patience, and chased the two prisoners onto the front porch in a flurry of kicks.
“You betrayed me, you dogs! Your mama should have spanked you more!”
As she hollered, three figures clad in black leapt out of an upper window with a crash, landed on a side roof, and disappeared over the crest.
The crew gaped upward. A blinding blue flash rent the morning. A concussive thud broke a window in the tarot van as an acrid burning filled the air with the smell of voltage and fear. And then, silence. Miss Stella, never at a loss for words, broke it a second time.
“Oh my. I’m afraid it’s begun. Is there anyone here who’s good with electricity?”
To be continued next week...
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