Vol. 45, April 25th, 2023
The Spirit of Music
A man in tattered clothes pushed a broom out from the wings, an out-of-place janitor sweeping the stage before the show....or? The house lights went down. He paused, and started to drum a beat with his feet, then the broom. More grungy characters emerged from the set of industrial junk, joining in a growing symphony of rhythm. The famous touring show of Stomp begin to rock Lynchburg. They played brooms, buckets, shopping carts, sticks, trash, 55 gallon drums fashioned into rhythmic stilts, threw luggage in deft choreography, flicked zippo lighters to a beat, spoke not a word, and floored us.
The audience sat front-row to a dream. Something came alive in the light and shadows, the pattering of sweat-drenched beats, the involuntarily tapping of our toes along with the magic. What is this “spirit of music”? I don’t know. Maybe it’s a mystery of being human.
Sometimes it comes to visit when I listen to a piece alone (dig the Beethoven suggestion this week), and others it’s a communal experience. What does music do for you?
Down the Rabbit Hole
If you’d like a topic to research this week that ties into the spirit of music idea, plus human morality, check Jon Haidt’s “The Righteous Mind - Why good people are divided by politics and religion”. It’s an excellent read on the topic (and vital in these polarized times).
Reader Spotlight
Nancy L. has met nine US presidents, and shook hands with Johnny Cash. She lives in Culpeper, VA.
Happy 33rd Birthday, Hubble!
The world’s most famous space telescope launched today in 1990, and is going strong.
Stellar Furnace
The Hubble snapped a lovely photo of NGC 1672, a galaxy over fifty million light years away. New stars are forming in the pink glows!
Song of the Week
Beethoven - Piano Concerto No. 3 Composed in 1803, and premiered by Ludwig himself as the soloist (he improvised the cadenza), this sublime piece will make you glad to be an earthling. Can you dig it?
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. #131)
Howdy, folks! We left our heroes in a free fall. Ordinary Man, gray, bland, reasonable, had tried to dissuade their journey. Electro yelled in anger, blue lightning arced from the walls, the lights went out, and they fell through another trapdoor. A sub basement? This is..
The Return of Dr. Electro - #25: A Medium Landing
Electro had a bad habit of waxing thoughtful when he shouldn’t. Tumbling into a deeper dungeon heightened his imagination. His mind wandered while his body fell. He pictured his captive father above, trapped with the writings of all the great men of history, and the false words of Ordinary Man and the Deluder. Above them, the chutes, leading back up to the dusty parlor, the clock serenely ticking the years away. What would Lady Wilkes be thinking now? And the rest of the gang they had left in the bright sunshine? Would they ever find her stolen citrine? Would they ever...
THUNK! WaBOOM! “OUCH.” Electro’s reverie was broken, along with his fall, by something large and musty and not at all soft. Thuds all around. His friends landed noisily. Groaning, he stretched a hand out into the dank blackness, feeling...a giant cardboard box?
“Well, heavens be praised, I landed on my feet!” Preacher exulted. “Everyone here? Say, nice of them to put these boxes or whatever to break our fall.”
Charlotte and her crew sounded less pleased. “You must be a morning person, Preacher” she grumbled. “Always looking on the bright side. Where are we?”
“Let’s have a look.” One of the girls struck a match with a sigh.
A thousand tiny flames sparkled back, reflections of matches in glistening, damp stone walls. The vast room housed stacks and stacks of boxes, stretching away into blackness.
Electro’s eyes widened as he looked over the edge of the box he landed on, a good eight feet off the ground. “What is this place?” With a careful jump, he was on the floor. The darkness closed back in. “Hey Char, got another match?”
“Man, I got you.” A light flared. Preacher jumped down from the boxes. “I call this one the John light. Guaranteed not to be overcome by the darkness. Check butane levels weekly. Comes in handy.” The gang fell in line, following Preacher. “Now, this is quite a place!”
The labels on the boxes flickered into view, swimming on the dim glow of the lamp.
Toys. Awards. Trophies. Bicycles.
“Why’s all this here?” Charlotte wondered. “Who stores bicycles in their evil lair?”
“Let’s keep looking” Electro murmured. An idea was starting to take shape in his mind. “And we’ve got to find the electrical supply. I bet it’s around here somewhere.”
They ventured onward, slowly, sorely. A drip of water splashed Electro’s neck. Another echoed in a pool unseen. Then, they heard the footsteps...
...To be continued next week...