The Gray Line G. Norman Lippert

Today’s journey takes us to sunny Gainesville, Florida, a state renowned as a favorite retirement destination.  Fortunately, for your fellow traveler—that lanky gentleman with the prominent mustache—he won’t have far to go when his work is finally done.  For Robbie Howard, janitor at George Washington Middle School, that day is still a little ways off.  And he has a lot to do before it comes.

Little does he know that his most important job won’t be waxing the gymnasium floor or keeping the vending machines stocked.  Robbie’s greatest task will be assigned to him by a nine year old girl.  It will take him decades to accomplish.  And he won’t get paid a dime for it.

He will, however, find that he’s safeguarded a timeless mystery— one whose answers are less important than the connection they make between death, love, and the Gray Line.


---

Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thegrayline/support

Part 3 of our 3-part layover in Augusta, Georgia, circa the summer  of 1986: a time before cell phones and the internet, when ancient myths  still commanded a tenuous alliance with the modern age.

And there is no more modern man, by 1986 standards, than your fellow  passenger, that skinny, older man seated across the aisle.  His name is  Amos Perl, and you shouldn’t blame him for looking a bit furtive.  He’s  been videotaping things that no mortal eye was meant to see.   Unfortunately, unlike videotapes, there is no rewind on human memory.   And the late fees can only be paid in blood, at the eternal  night-drop... of the Gray Line.


---

Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thegrayline/support

Part 2 of our 3-part layover in Augusta, Georgia, circa the summer  of 1986: a time before cell phones and the internet, when ancient myths  still commanded a tenuous alliance with the modern age.

And there is no more modern man, by 1986 standards, than your fellow  passenger, that skinny, older man seated across the aisle.  His name is  Amos Perl, and you shouldn’t blame him for looking a bit furtive.  He’s  been videotaping things that no mortal eye was meant to see.   Unfortunately, unlike videotapes, there is no rewind on human memory.   And the late fees can only be paid in blood, at the eternal  night-drop... of the Gray Line.


---

Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thegrayline/support

Part 1 of our 3-part layover in Augusta, Georgia, circa the summer of 1986: a time before cell phones and the internet, when ancient myths still commanded a tenuous alliance with the modern age.

And there is no more modern man, by 1986 standards, than your fellow passenger, that skinny, older man seated across the aisle.  His name is Amos Perl, and you shouldn’t blame him for looking a bit furtive.  He’s been videotaping things that no mortal eye was meant to see.  Unfortunately, unlike videotapes, there is no rewind on human memory.  And the late fees can only be paid in blood, at the eternal night-drop... of the Gray Line.


---

Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thegrayline/support

Everybody knows that revenge is a dish best served cold.  But it takes a certain kind of mind to factor the exact degree centigrade below zero at which vengeance becomes its own dark delicacy indeed.

The sort of mind that belongs to your fellow traveler, that dapper older man with the salt and pepper mustache and unassuming wireless spectacles.  A university professor and mathematician by trade, don’t let Dr. Wilhelm Bell’s mild-mannered appearance deceive you.  Where HIS journey ends, we may get a tiny glimpse at the triangulation that can occur between mind, spirit, and the Gray Line.


---

Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thegrayline/support

See that redhead teen girl seated in the back of the bus, her nose buried in a paperback book? She’s one of the approximately 1.1 percent of the population that remained behind. Where did everyone else go? And why? I’m afraid she knows little more than you do. Sometimes the truth is just the shape of the hole left when everything we know has gone away. A world-shaped void bounded only by the will to live, and the gray line.


---

Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thegrayline/support