volume one IN THE D U D L E Y C L A R K - Ohio Vine Tours

Doughy clouds thicken with light. Moist pigeons dance jigs on
the sidewalk.
But Roy sees none of this. His eyes are closed and his ears
strain for the slightest nuance and subtlety in a song that invades
his soul like a new form of hunger—:
Move along, Blue Shadows, move along
Soon the dawn will come and you’ll be on your way
But until the darkness sheds its veil
There’ll be Blue Shadows on the Trail—
Shadows on the Trail.
The sweetest sound he has ever heard fades away, replaced by
mournful whistling.
The swaying hammock of Roy’s smile slips into an O of
wonder.
As many times as he has been known to listen to a tape, he
knows for a certainty that this one will be listened to many times
more.
And this strikes him as funny, since the music he is listening
to is unlike anything he could ever have imagined listening to,
much less enjoying.
Enjoying?
That’s not the right word.
He enjoys double-tall Americanos.
He enjoys using bus transfers to see how long he can ride.
No. This experience goes far beyond mere enjoyment.
This music awakens. It conjures new feelings. It stimulates like
the sun, purges like the rain. It dismisses doubt. It ascends his
spine like an eagle climbing the sky. It thaws. It administers an
antidote. It cuddles like a mother-warmed blanket. It reaches
out a hand to a long-forgotten friend.
It doesn’t confront.
There is no challenge.
Nor is there need to study in order to understand.
It simply is.
What would have happened had he not hatched his simple
ROY ROGERS IN THE 21ST CENTURY 121