When I would travel alone, upon occasion I came across towns in the process of dying.
The houses were empty, the stores were empty nothing was really locked or boarded up…except for the Churches, sometimes the schools. I always wondered about that.
One Summer my motorcycle died in the middle of a town with no name. I’m not kidding about that. There was a sign that said ” Welcome ” and that was it. There were no street signs or stop signs or billboards. The houses and buildings didn’t have numbers on them.
The roads weren’t lined and the parking lots weren’t lined either.
This town out in the middle of nowhere was, I thought wryly a ” John Doe.”
” You know who gets called John Doe ” a little voice whispered in my ear ” unidentified dead people, corpses that get stacked in the back of a morgue somewhere until the county foots the bill to bury them. That’s who get’s called, ” John Doe ” .
I tried to start my bike and it clicked and did nothing, right out in the middle of a town I had just named ” John Doe.”
” Start! ” I screamed because I had tried everything else, ” start or I’m leaving you here. I mean it! Turn over you son of a bitch or I’m leaving you here!”
I took a breath. I tried to not panic. And then my bike roared to life.
And then I roared out of town and I didn’t stop until I came to a logging town where the Diner served breakfast all day long and the waitress- a large round lady with a head of red, red hair piled high up on her head called me ” Punkin “.
Sometimes I think about John Doe- dead and anonymous on the side of a highway that is, as I write this probably being taken back by the hills and I wonder about it.
I wonder when and if I should go back.
Because I’m sure it’s still there.
Hi Honey…I’m Home…
and to celebrate my return to My Bridge ( and gasp…actual writing ) here’s an interview with the Rod Serling.
For the last few years, I have tried to do something interesting in line with the Halloween season. I have gone to local Halloween costume parties and street fairs and to Day of the Dead celebrations. This year I went to a lecture on Victorian mourning practices at the Banning House. I thought I might be a little weird to spend a morning listening to something so morbid.
Death is not sexy.
There is no such thing as a beautiful corpse.
It should not be used as a fashion statement.
And to paraphrase a line from this story, if it makes you laugh you belong in a cage.
Four years after the Civil War, a university professor, Dr. Benjamin Ramsey (Patrick Bergin), performs an appendectomy on a patient named O’Neill, who dies seconds later. At that moment, Ramsey notices a severe skull fracture O’Neill had endured twelve years earlier. Since no one could survive such an injury, Ramsey travels to a mysterious island to seek answers from Dr. Jeremy Wheaton (Jack Palance), who used to experiment with tissue regeneration, which might explain how O’Neill survived his skull fracture. As soon as the two doctors meet, they discuss O’Neill and how Wheaton decided to play God when he revived the dead people who now roam the island. Ironically, later that night, Jeremy Wheaton, the man who brought the dead back to life, dies himself. Instinctly aware of this, the living dead arrive and attack Ramsey, for whom they blame the death of Wheaton since on the island, nobody dies. The next morning, it’s revealed that Ramsey managed to survive the ambush, just as the boat that brought him to the island arrives to take him home. Before leaving, however, he finds a note from Wheaton’s niece, who reveals that she was dead, too, until her uncle revived her. With this shocking truth, Ramsey decides not tell his colleagues in the university what happened, knowing that no matter how hard people try to live forever, they must die.
If you love a good story- then watch this- because THIS is how the magic happens and nobody could tell a story like Rod Serling.