Thank you to Club Plum Literary Journal for including my story “Greyhound” in their current issue.
Like the character in the story, I logged many miles on buses, assuming I could afford the ticket, especially when it was too cold or wet to hitchhike. As much as I love Jack Kerouac, I always seemed to have less money than Sal Paradise.
The link below includes a soundtrack from Calpurnia, also entitled “Greyhound.” Very cool.
Thank you to Brett Pribble and Ghost Parachute for publishing my flash fiction story. I love the illustration by Paulaidan Minerva.
Three children gather around a dead crow….
No sunrise this morning, just a dirty yellow glow, blood orange at the edges. Perpetual smoky twilight. Photos in the news hardly convey the ominous colors and the absence of sun.
Today is our second day at home in Northern California after our four-week road trip to Kansas, which included ten days of driving and one day on United Airlines. I always enjoy traveling, and despite the smoke I’m glad to be back.
Walking our dog Pearl this morning (carefully in the dimness), I saw my first Biden-Harris sign after all the Trump flags in Kansas and rural Colorado and Utah. We even spied a Trump banner flying from the back of a Werner semi on the interstate.
Michael Moore is right; Trump motivates his base. Anyone concerned about overt racism, rising fascism, immigration rights, the environment, free speech (the real free speech), minority rule, and economic equality should be worried. Stay healthy and don’t forget to vote.
The yellow twilight flashes its warning.
Recalling the odd yellow clouds and rain in Nevada earlier on our road trip, this storm is equally unexpected and much scarier.
North of Flagstaff on Highway 89 we see signs of water shortage—no campfires allowed, no charcoal. Ominous clouds cling to mountain peaks, but we’re driving at a lower elevation across the high desert listening to The Beatles.
As soon as we hear the riffs for “Here Comes the Sun,” the rain spits then gushes. White knuckling the steering wheel, I pull off the road and park three times. I creep out between cells only to coast off again.
Having experienced many whiteouts from snow, this was my first water-out, and I hope my last. Fortunately the cars on the two-lane highway drive slowly and many stop on the shoulder near us. No accidents as far as we know.
Wish we could drag the rain home to California to help quench the horrible fires.
Friends on the road in western Kansas, Pearl waiting for her turn to drive. Look closely and you’ll see a cat’s head nestled under Pearl’s nose.