Timmy RL Fake and Chairman of the Bored's blog: "Shortliners!"

In reference to my recent blog, "Perfect Sky", the answer is no, Larry :D

I went back home tonight to watch the fireworks in the town I went to high school. Sure it was just a 16 mile drive, but it was a much farther journey for me. I have not watched fireworks at home on The Shortline for 20 years. Since then I have traveled all over North America and have seen some of the finest displays in the country. It's funny, I remember the towns, places like NY and Disneyworld that are known for great displays, but they really are not memorable by comparison. The past year I have made an effort to get back in touch with my friends and family that inhabit the tiny communities that I felt I had out grown, and yes I say that with an amount of shame and quiver in my voice. I'm sitting here in the same house I have spent the last 15 years and yet for the first time in a long time I feel like I am at home. I spent the early evening hours having my shirt tale pulled by small hands sticky with cotton candy while I talked to parents I grew up with. It's amazing to walk through a crowd of hundreds and know everyone at least by their last name. We picked out a spot in the grass and laid a blanket out as the night wet the grass with a comfortable coolness. I expected to see the modest fireworks display provided by our volunteer fire department, and maybe that's just what it was, but to me it was the most amazing I had ever seen. There are no city lights, no need to look at a cell phone because there is no signal, and no need to keep your hands on anything for fear of being stolen. The sky was perfect. No clouds and so clear that I would have been happy to just spend the night looking at the stars. As the pyrotechnics lit up the sky and then faded they just seemed to be in envy of the sky, themselves. We must have laid there in he grass for 10 minutes just talking about how impressive it was. It's good to be home.

I’ve decided my next book will be based on the part of the world I call home, which is called the Shortline - a group of small villages along about a 30 mile stretch of road in north central West Virginia. It’s a small community with only a “A” high school, a few gas stations and grocery stores, and a couple thousand people. The tightness of the community can be seen every time we do our cheer. Wherever there are a group of us gathered, whether it be a bar, a football game, party, or several times each year at the Alumni Dance, a lone person will yell, “Shortliners!” and the rest will respond back in unison, “Eat your honey!” It’s unjustifiably shocking to some and amusing to non-Shortliners the first time they hear it. The tradition was born shortly after a beer joint (hardly a bar) called The Shortline Inn opened back in the 70’s. The owner also kept bees and sold the honey. When the bumper sticker craze started in the 70’s he had some printed reading, “Eat Your Honey at the Shortline Inn”. Since then it’s became our cheer, our show of unity at public and private gatherings. The Shortliners are an interesting people – saw millers, loggers, people with very strong family bonds who would do absolutely anything for anyone in need. If you are a Shortliner entering a room of people they will not wonder who you are but will know you as “so and so’s boy”. You will often not have to buy drinks at bars because other Shortliners will set you up as soon as you enter. If you lose you job, have an illness in the family, or your car breaks down along WV state route 20, you will be receive unsolicited help. It’s a brand that never leaves you your entire life no mater how far away you move or how different your life may become, and each time I hear, “Shortliners!” and join in yelling, “Eat your honey!” I am reminded of that.