Blake Radcliffe in an editor at The Other Press. He is at work on a novel and lives in Park Slope.
Mamie and ZBy Blake Radcliffe
The radio stations in Mecklenburg County catered to many tastes. The college had a classical station. It employed men and women with deep, resonant voices to pontificate on the trivia related to composers of centuries past. A little further up in frequency, there was a series of country stations. Some of them advertised themselves as light rock. Nevertheless, all the song lists mainly consisted of agrarian themes; outlaws, thunderstorms, broken hearts and memories in the words. The country disk jockeys spoke little and had to have voices as sweet as iced tea.
Roy and BelindaBy Blake Radcliffe
On the shoulder of a two-lane road through the woods, there was a bar that had once been a garage. After the mechanics left it, for a few years in the seventies, it was just the stripped hulk of a building. A junk crew took down the chrome trim and sold it for smelting.