On the Road with Danny Concannon '04-'05: Ismay, Montana
"Tangled up in Blue"
Companion Piece: T.H.F. Thurmont
Note: The following Joe Montana remark is in fact true and not part of my strange imagination.
"Early one mornin' the sun was shinin',
I was layin' in bed
Wond'rin' if she'd changed at all
If her hair was still red."
---Tangled Up In Blue Bob Dylan
Chapter Two
Danny sat in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a small cabin, in a remote but not-quite wooded area. If one didn't know any better, one might have thought he was a Unabomber of sorts.
Outside were wide and open spaces, mountain ranges in the background and patches of green and yellow in the forefront. Inside was a mess of dark shadows, and a room that had been either lived in or trashed. In the middle of the one-room cabin was Danny Concannon, sitting at a card table and for the first time in a long time, sitting not at a laptop, but an old Smith Corona typewriter. His beard over-grown and his clothes looking as if he was about to cut some wood, or fish some fish, he sat mesmerized by his own thoughts, and by the bottle of Corona next to him.
"Ha, ha." Danny nodded his head and laughed in delight at his own writing. He was in the zone, pecking feverishly away at the keys.
There was a knock at the door.
"One second!" Danny yelled, as he typed up a storm. He never took his eyes off the keys. He had to finish his thought, but the person on the other side of the door either didn't care or couldn't hear, for the knocking on the old rusty door came again. "Coming. Coming." Danny stood as he finished the last sentence and ran for the door.
"Hey." Danny said to the boy, as if they had met this way before. Danny ran his hand to his back pocket and took out his wallet.
"That'll be ten fifty, Mr. Concannon." Said the boy, who held a grocery bag in his right hand and a box under his right arm.
"Your Mom doesn't mind you comin' out so far?" Danny asked with one eye on the boy and the other on his fingers shifting threw the bill area of his wallet.
"Nahh---she likes me reportin' back about the crazy city guy livin' out here with no electricity."
"You got electricity, Arty?" Danny joked.
"Yeah, we do." He said sarcastically. "It's right next to the butter churn."
"You're smart." He handed the boy the cash in his hand.
"You're cheeky."
"Yeah, I am." Danny smiled. "Keep the change Arty."
"Hey, thanks." The kid seemed very enthusiastic about his tip.
"You know you can come into town anytime you want, Mr. Concannon. We're all nice folks."
"Thanks Arty." Danny said in his sweet laughing way. "I came here to be alone for awhile." Danny shifted his body toward the inside of the cabin, but he wasn't let go so easily.
"My aunt says no one wants to be alone—they just say they do so others will visit."
"Really?" Danny paused.
"I hear you're a reporter?"
"Town gossip?"
"I Googled your name."
"Ahh."
"You doin' a report on us?'
"No." He paused. "Got anything you think I should be writin' about Arty?"
"It's a town of 26 people—pretty much boring average city." Arty rolled Danny's money into another pile of bills and packed it back in his pocket. "We once changed our name to Joe for a stretch—but then it went back to Ismay."
"Joe, Montana?"
"Yeah. It was a tribute of sorts—"
"Kind of like the ultimate tribute band?"
"In a sense and not that many people to convince."
"Yeah.""Oh, my mom said to give this to you." He handed Danny the small box under his arm.
"What is it?" Danny placed his wallet back in his back pocket and took the box.
"I don't know. It was at the post office for ya." Arty started to walk away back to his truck "See ya next week, Mr Concannon." Arty yelled.
"Yeah." Danny then heard a faint ringing and was surprised Arty didn't answer his phone. "Arty I think your phone's ringin'!" Danny yelled after him.
"It's not me." He turned around and kept on walking. "It's the box! Been doin' that all day!" Danny looked at the box and it was indeed ringing.
Danny set his grocery bags by the door and took the box inside. Reasonably sure it wasn't a bomb, Danny took a knife from the dusty old kitchen and cut open the tape and turned back the flaps to find tons and tons of packing peanuts. He reached his hands into the box, removing the packing to the sides of the table and onto the floor, as the ringing grew louder and louder. Danny, of course, found a phone at the other end of box: still ringing.
"Hello?" Danny said, having a good idea who was on the other end of the phone.
"Where are you?" A voice came from the phone.
"Maisy." His instinct was right. He grunted. "Where am I? You mailed me this phone!"
"I know where you are? I wanna know where the hell you are!"
"None of your business." He screeched in good humor.
"Things are crazy here. Danny!" Danny could hear the commotion in the background.
"That's why I'm here." Danny ran his hand over his face and threw himself down on his bed, back first.
"I'm serious, Danny---Albert keeps yelling at me, "Where the hell is he?" He wants you to cover the piece—"
"Maisy, I'm taking a leave okay—I need to be alone—and I know that leaves you with nothing to do—and no Lucy Ricardo adventures to daydream about—but I'm in the middle of a thing right now—maybe not the biggest thing in the world---but a thing nonetheless."
"You can't just sit out there drinkin' Coronas and sulking over her."
"Of course not." He paused. "I have Whiskey." He said trying to deflect the truth Maisy had touched upon.
"Danny." She said stressing his name.
"Maisy." He stressed her name.
"I'm serious." She paused. "I'm worried about you." She said sweetly and held back.
"Yeah." Danny stood and walked toward the door. "I'm good. I just need some time alone." Danny ran his finger over the latch on the open door, needing something to fidget with for a moment.
"I can't see you doin' that, Danny—not writing--?"
"I'm writing—"Danny looked out over the landscape from his front door. "I can never not write—it's just something different."
"Different?'
"Different, Maisy—different." He paused. "I'll be home soon—just maybe later than sooner." There was a long pause.
"What are you writing, Danny?" She asked.
"You'll see. You'll see." He said almost off in a daze. "I may not even publish it—I don't know..." Danny trailed off.
"Danny, I'm worried about you?"
"Don't worry, Maisy. Don't worry." Danny's tone then softened a bit. "Gotta go, Maisy. I'll be in touch." He hung up the phone, took a step outside and then threw the phone with all his strength; the cell phone landed with a distant thud, and Danny shut the door with a slam.
--
"But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint"
Tangled up in blue."
--BD