Free Lightning Song by Lewis Nordan

hands on, newspapers from all over the country. Uncle Harris was quick to make friends in the village, he found a newspaper supplier right away. There were so many of them, too, these newspapers. At the end of a day his hands would be black with newsprint. Why, he might have to bathe all over again. Who would have ever guessed there were so many different newspapers in the world, Leroy thought, they cost a fortune, must have, there were so many. When Harris finished reading one, he threw it on the floor. That’s all for that newspaper, let’s see now, where was the
Post-Dispatch
, I thought it was right here under the
Commercial Appeal
. Leroy’s mama was always having to pick up after Harris. He kept the newspapers stacked beside his chair and read one after another. By the time he was finished with them they were all over the house. It looked like a blizzard.
    Elsie said, “Maybe we should think about recycling.”
    Harris said, “I just read an excellent article about recycling scams, where was that piece, the
Times
I think, let’s see, I’ve got it right here somewhere.” Eventually he found the article proving the folly of recycling and the subject was dropped.
    Newspapers seemed a constant source of adventure. He loved to read aloud. He had a beautiful reading voice, it didn’t matter what he was reading. He could make serious things sound funny or even funny things sound serious. Leroy would have gladly done nothing during the day but sit in his uncle’s presence, in his lap if he would let him, but of course his mama wouldn’t hear of that. Indolence in others was not allowed. Harris was the only person on the property who was permitted to be a total bum. This seemed to Leroy simply to be the way of the world. Harris loved to read and he shared everything he read. He read to whoever happened to be in the room from whatever paper he happened to be making his way through. Ann Landers and the horoscope, of course, headlines, cartoons, Miss Manners, Heloise, the lives of others, in many forms, long articles on astronomy or anthropology, political pieces, op-ed pieces, book reviews, church bazaars, executions, plane crashes, disco artists, whatever caught his interest.
    â€œI’d love to go on a dig,” he’d say. “One of these days I’m going on a dig.”
    Leroy imagined going on a dig with him, or a safari, or deep-sea diving, or to the moon, whatever had caught UncleHarris’s attention that day. Leroy noticed a look on his mama’s face one day that told him she might like to run away with Harris, too, she might enjoy a dig on foreign soil.
    Harris read the obituaries, at length. Watch out if you were in the room when Harris reached the obituaries. You were going to hear about some dead people if you were nearby, mark it down. The grown-ups knew to clear out. They had learned their lesson. The children usually got stuck with the tales of the dead. It didn’t matter to Leroy, he loved every word. Even little Molly was not immune to the obituaries.
    â€œListen to this, Molls,” Uncle Harris might say. “This guy died and he was just, well let’s see, it says here he was thirty-four years old. Can you believe that? Thirty-four. Jeez. Same age as me. Whew. Makes you think, doesn’t it? Let’s see, it says here, oh listen to this, Molls, it says here he was survived by his mother—well, let’s see, hm, his daddy must be dead, he’s not mentioned, heart attack probably, men don’t live as long as women, it’s a scientific fact, you take any scientist off the street and he’ll back me up on this—survived by his mother, well at least she’s in good health, I’m glad to hear she’s doing okay, that’s good, and oh listen to this, seven brothers. Seven brothers! Wow! Jeez Louise! That’s one shitload of brothers, wouldn’t you say, Molls? What do you think about