Spring arises in great splendor, and the earth awakens in a burst of tender greenness. There, somewhere in the tangled woodland, a spirit arises. It shifts the focus of wild animals and reptiles. It stirs the passions of mankind. There is a force so great and primeval it is woven into our bones. One Spring, I felt particularly restless and adventurous. The forest beckoned me, and this is what happened.
I was exploring a little two rut road that wove itself into the woodland. Recent rains left patterns in the sand, like tiny footprints of some mythical being that danced about. Early flowers brought splashes of color in underbrush. There were pieces of old furniture and rusted out appliances scattered in the bushes, slowly disappearing into the forest floor. I poked around to see if there was anything interesting in the debris. Such an assortment of discarded rubble!
An old television set turned over on it’s side, next to a rotary phone, looked interesting. There was also an assortment of car parts. I was drawn to this junkpile for some reason. And sure enough, after much poking around, I found an old transistor radio tucked under the hood of a car. It was plastic and seemed intact. From the appearance, it was probably a relic from the forties or fifties. Then, a noise from the palmettos startled me. I turned to look, and there stood a young black bear. Our eyes met and I froze.
Time stood still. The bear vanished quickly into the trees. Then, I found myself standing back on the hard road, shaking and clutching a radio. A motorcycle passed me and I came back to reality. Luckily I had the radio to remind myself I was not having delusions! Walked the rest of the way home slowly, enjoying the warmth of the evening sun and thanking the Lord for an uneventful encounter with the bear.
Several days later, I cleaned off the radio. Upon opening it, I saw no rust or decay on the insides and decided to turn it on. Then the strangest thing happened.
Music of another generation began playing, on and on. It was mezmerising. Big bands and early jazz, Glen Miller and the Andrews Sisters, Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday. Then, the music slowly faded out.
Later on that evening I tried the radio again, but got only static and some distant sounds, broken up and indistinct. Then, I put it on a shelf behind some books, thinking to try again one day to find that lovely station. There, it sat forgotten, until I decided to clean out the bookshelf. Once again, it came to life. It picked up a local station for awhile, then faded away. Every now and then, I’ll remember the old radio and get it out.
It still works, but probably needs new batteries and the dial is broken off. And sometimes I turn it on to see if I can catch that station again, but can’t find it anywhere. Perhaps it was a piece of time out of time or a freak signal from a distant era. Or a gift from the past, found in a junkpile, somewhere in the forest.
