The late sun streamed down past Mill Mountain into a corner of the valley that looked up at the side of the Roanoke star.
According to VistRoanokeVA.com:
The Roanoke Star was constructed in 1949 and was meant to serve as a seasonal Christmas decoration for the holiday shopping season.
Uhhhh……
(Hey, I live here, too. If you’re gonna leave up decorations, might as well be iconic. Go big or go home. I dig it.)
Two thousand feet of neon tubing light up the night from the front, but from the side…
Ohh, I should have eaten lunch. I stalked, hangry, grumbling and stumbling across the parking lot of the grocery store tucked in this bunched knot of the outskirts of town.
What’s the point, man? And that roundabout was stupid.
Maybe the smokestacks down by the river weren’t dormant. Something felt murky.
Mustering a “How ya doin’?”, I nodded at the guy my age collecting carts.
The Mirror nodded back.
“Oh, just another day, man. Just another day…”
If we had both looked down, we’d have seen the smithereens of the gift of the afternoon, shattered, glittering, next to the cigarette butts staining the sidewalk.
“Well…at least it’s sunny.” Terrified of my ungrateful reflection, I scuttled inside for my cheese, a mouse, or rat.
Get it together, man.
The Windows
With a creak, a crack, a trembling, slowly, carefully, weighing options vs. Gravity, plotting a course, they rose (those that could), taking oxygen tubes with them.
Those that couldn’t still crossed their hearts.
The little record on my DJ screen spun ‘round and ‘round.
George Jones sang the National Anthem, and we all turned towards the little American flag on my hat, placed respectfully on a crate of vinyl.
O’er the land of the Free…
I get bogged down in the abstract and the unreal, a special blend of ingratitude. I’m trying to replace that with appreciation, and small action to bring about bigger results. Twitter laments the decline of America, so the least I can do is bring the anthem with me to the retirement home gigs, doff my cap, and be grateful for two minutes and twenty one seconds for all that we have.
Everyone else is, even above the huff and puff of the oxygen machine.
They become windows, showing a better way of being.
And the home of the Brave….
I’m off to spin more records, and watch how it’s done. Then it’s the mountains to stargaze. Well, there’s a hurricane on the way, so maybe it’ll be storytelling this evening.
That works.