Roadside Picnic

Much of the primary route between Lexington and Liberty is a Radio Dead Zone - virtually nothing but homespun gospel and country stations.  Sometimes you can get repeater stations of the EKU and WKU NPR broadcasts, and on a really clear night, WUKY for a while, but for the most part, at least half of the drive is a frustrating and constant tapping of the Seek button.  I'm constantly reminded that I need to upgrade Hephaestus' audio.

Tonight was shaping up to be no exception, but about midway between the Casey-Lincoln line and Hustonville, I picked up an FM station out of Stanford.  Instead of radio-friendly hat bands, there was talk.  Talk of ghosts and other supernatural things - like Coast to Coast AM used to be, before the Noory Times.  The in-studio guests were locals, with some good stories to tell, and one mentioned his time as a staff writer at Somerset Community College's newspaper.  This perked me right up, as I was on that staff for a couple of years, including a stint as editor.  I wondered, would he mention ... he did!  The two entities in Stoner Hall - one in the theater, one in the second floor hallway.  I tried calling in, as I wanted to see if the guests had the same sense of gender about the two entities that I (and my friends, a long time ago) did, but when I got to the Brannon Crossing light north of Nicholasville, both the station's signal and my cell connection went away.

It was good.

Aunt Clara kept her Bible right next to the phone
In case she needed a quote
While she talked to someone
In my memory she smiles while the blessing is said
And visions of freeze tag dance in my head
She says I'll grow up big
If I eat all my roast
I'll still believe in heaven
But I won't believe in ghosts anymore

I'll put away childish things

Every other weekend at the age of thirteen
With my fishing pole and my Field and Stream
Ridin' back home on the Trailways bus
I looked out the window
‘Til I saw too much
And I called my parents by their own first names
I played in the alley
But I didn't play the game anymore

I put away childish things

The wolves howl all night long
They won't stop and they won't go home
Beneath my window they run
Probably it'll be alright
If I keep it all locked up tight
And wait ‘til daylight comes

Now my boy goes like a house on fire
He'll never burn out and he'll never retire
And I remember when I used to think like that
When I was young and the world was flat
But I'm forty some years old now and man I don't care
All I want now is just a comfortable chair
And to sell all my stock
And live on the coast
I don't believe in heaven
But I still believe in ghosts.