Maybe “Breaking News” means “break what you’ve set out so very carefully, smash the printing plates to sawdust, and start again.”
But, today is a tranquil Letters from Josh, written before the two-day power outage, midnight auto rescue, and everything breaking makes for a great Christmas story. Maybe we’ll get to that Wednesday.
In the meantime…I hope Santa was good to you, you’re warm, and are reading this with the electricity connected. Without further ado…
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #113)
Howdy, folks! I hope you’re relishing the peace of the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Dr. Electro is off for the break, so here’s a quick note. Have we met before? Have a paper handshake. :)
I’m Josh. We might have seen each other at a music party or an astronomy talk. I’m 37, moved down to the Lynchburg area about a year ago, and started this project over the summer. One evening I was feeling rather down. The world can be a vast echo sometimes. It’s easy to feel disconnected. Then I read the news. The state of New York was giving lonely people robots to talk to. With a holler, I jumped up, and resolved that as long as I could put pen to paper, I’d do something about it. And so, The Nighthawk was formed.
This little paper is built on that idea of doing something about it. If a lot of folks feel isolated, too - why not write each other some letters? Let’s build a world that’s better for us: brighter, kinder, more respectful and reverent. Let’s spotlight those exceptional songs, note important (but perhaps forgotten) birthdays, and of course, get into some silly stories that aren’t predictably “yucky.”
Most importantly, anyone is welcome to correspond. Thanks for your letters, emails, and cards! If you’d like to join in the fun, the P.O. box specially for this is: 783, Rustburg, VA 24588. Let’s keep that old-school connection going. Writing letters sure is fun!
And now local news you might enjoy: Winter is subtle and beautiful on the mountain. The grass is frosty in the morning, the honey bees are huddled inside their hives, and the neighbor cows recently had calves. They’ve been gallivanting around with a weird loping jump, like large black labs with funny ears. The Sycamore trees glitter white along the creek valley, and all the woods is asleep. An occasional raven croaks from high overhead, and the wild turkeys rummage through the dry leaves. The railroad track waits expectantly for trains to start running. The crews have been replacing crossties, which is a bigger job than you’d think. A circus of heavy equipment has rolled down the rails, lifting, shifting, spiking, leveling, growling. They should be finishing up their forty mile run early next month, and then they’re off to the next site. Detroit preceded this job. Maybe Kentucky is next.
Inside, I’m enjoying the fruits of autumn wood splitting. The wood stove woooshes air through the dampers. The chestnut oak, felled in a windstorm, gives back past summers of mountain sun with a merry crackle. It’s time to make plans for the New Year, and The Nighthawk is high on the list. Please drop a note if you’ve got a fun idea! 2022 sure has been one for the books. For that - and for you - I’m so very grateful. Catch ya on the flip side!
Auld Lang Syne,
Josh