Dr. Electro #34: "A Smashing Good Time"

+ A Blue Ridge Nighthawk

Vol. 57, July 18th, 2023 Published a day early online

A Visit to the Heights

What do you do with Fear? Zipping up the road on Friday, I counted myself a lucky man. I got to call my grandma. We talked this and that. She asked what I thought of a whole host of scary stuff on the news. At first I offered the unhelpful expertise of youth: nonchalance, unearned cynicism, and unfounded optimism. Then I became more tolerable. We talked faith, and a belief in God to see us through. We chatted more, and said goodbye as I went out of cell range. Arriving in the mountains, the smell of wildflowers wafted up on a warm breeze, and bees buzzed lazily. A thunderstorm brewed in the west.

Emerald trees stood quietly by ancient boulders, a reminder of the Real. There’s learning and civics and critical thought, of course, (and smashing the TV!), but what else? While our troubles might be absolutely true, I keep getting distracted from life as it actually is.

Let’s help each other remember.

Hawksbill Mountain

Cloud shadows race across the blue ridge, tourists marvel at the views, and Hawksbill towers three thousand feet above the valley.

Quote of the Week

“I am only an average man but, by George, I work harder at it than the average man.”

–Theodore Roosevelt

“Blimey, wrong way!” (1938)

Doug Corrigan worked on Lindbergh’s crew, but knew he was made for more. The Feds wouldn’t let him fly transatlantic in his ratty plane. He took off for Cali, and quickly made a “wrong turn”, landing in Dublin 28 hours later. “Just got in from New York. Where am I?”

Book of the Week: Counterfeit Gods

(Tim Keller)

“Look, I’m not trying to preach at you, but I think you’ll dig it” a buddy said. Yeah, it’s religious, but Idolatry is bigger than a school of thought. I found it a life-changing read.

Down the Rabbit Hole

For this week’s fascinating topic, try looking up Artificial Intelligence, especially ChatGPT.

It’s free to sign up, and you can chat with a “robot.” YouTube has excellent videos on

how neural networks actually work, too.

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

And, if you’re not already, consider subscribing to this blog. It’s free.

Letters from Josh

(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #143)

Howdy, folks! Previously on Dr. Electro: Miss Stella drives the gang out of the dungeon in the tarot van. After hurtling up a winding passageway, they arrive in a new vault with more boxes, where legions of henchmen rush the van. Before anyone gets hurt, Electro sticks a 2x4 out the window, commanding miss Stella to “drive like you’ve got the jump on Nostradamus.”

She guns it. Electro held the board out the window, and gritted his teeth This is...

The Return of Dr. Electro #34: A Smashing Good Time

The engine revved. Tires squealed. Somebody yelled. “Steady as she goes” Miss Stella crowed.

The first box didn’t argue with the 2x4, spilling it’s secrets to the winds (or at least the blue cloud of exhaust). Letters on frilly paper fluttered like birds, a pressed flower here and there falling to the ground.

“Right on, Miss Stella! Full steam ahead!” Electro held firm, ready for the next crates.

“As you say, dearie!”

Thwack. More pigeon letters fluttering, baby clothes, and photos. Wham! Another box, another batch of treasures that someone once cherished, released back into the world. A victrola tumbled out, clattering on a green metal horn.

“Well blow me away and call me Bob. Where’s the music coming from?” Walter lifted his hat and scratched his head. “Reminds me of something I heard a long time ago.”

“I’m not sure how it works” Electro shouted. “But we’ve got to knock open as many of these as possible. Miss Stella, hold up! Ladies! Cover me!”

The van skidded, Electro leapt, Charlotte and Lady Wilkes fired above his head, following close behind.

“Right next to you, brother!” Preacher sprang out of the van. “Let’s rock!”

They heaved lids, pushed over stacks, crashing, smashing, toppling.

“Now I hear the music too. My great grandma used to sing that hymn” Preacher yelled in the tumult.

“I thought it was an old drinking song of my uncle’s– “It’s a sin to tell a lie”–Charlotte hollered, aiming a revolver towards a henchman, making him reconsider.

No, no, it’s a lullaby Electro thought. “Don’t stop toppling those stacks! I think the memories are trapped inside. We’re breaking ‘em out of jail.” A tricycle rolled by, as if a ghost was pedaling it, followed by a little red wagon. Summer hats tumbled from another crate, as a salty breeze cooled his steaming face. I almost forgot how I used to build sandcastles.

“All aboard! They’re regrouping!” The note of fear in Miss Stella’s voice snapped

Electro’s head around. She was right.

“On my way!” With one more shove, a final stack of boxes crashed to the floor.

“No way.” Charlotte’s stunned tone made him look back. She stood, pistol lowered, tears softening her flint eyes, holding a rag doll. “It’s...mine.”

“Watch out!” Walter yelled.

...To be continued next week...