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Monday, October 9, 2017

I Just drove 1/10th of the way around the world!





Really, on a road trip in our RV, I just drove 2,500 miles-- 1/10th of the way around the world at the equator.

So how big is our earth if you can take a road trip from North Carolina to Oklahoma and back--1/10th of the circumference--in just a few leisure weeks? The answer: Not very big at all.

Of course, one might have a spot of trouble driving across the oceans or over the Andes but theoretically, the earth isn't so large that you could drive it without much of a sweat. The cost of gas at 8mpg might kill you though.

Want another perspective? Here's this:
The earth, upper left, the moon, lower right
 
That's an actual black and white photo taken from NASA's OSIRIS-REx satellite on September 25th, this year. We see the moon's face, about the size of Australia's map image from where we stand but in space, we both look pretty puny and fairly close at 238,99 miles--less than 10 times around the equator--in space scale. And in the universe, we're less than a speck of sand.

We're not even so big in our planet line-up:
L to R from the top: Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Earth, Venus, Mars, Mercury
 
 
But, if you have ever look out of an airplane window from 30,000 feet over Kansas and marvel at the vastness of the prairie or taken a flight lasting 15 hours and you're still not there, don't you imagine our world is enormous?

 Now how does that song go again? 
 
Perhaps the most diabolically addictive song ever written is It's a Small World After All. (Try to get the tune out of your mind... good luck with that.) But maybe it makes an important point. If we are now all within range of a nuclear weapon, then we are all closer together than we ever conceived we could be. 

Technology has come so far as to realize that just one person--one crazy person--could bring the sky down on all of us. There are now 7.5 billion of us and that number will grow to 9.5 billion by 2050. On a smaller scale, we've seen the evil power of one with every mass shooting. 

As a civilization, we have rarely enjoyed a prolonged period of peace in the world. There is hate, envy, revenge, guns, bombs, super bombs, germ warfare and a total lack of respect for so many from so few. There are wars all over the place almost all of the time. Thanks Adam and Eve.

Social media makes our world even smaller by giving everyone a world-wide soapbox to spread both fact and fiction so that one can't often be told from the other, and--true or not--so many of us believe every word passed along, especially if it fuels our fire.

In Mark Twain's lifetime, he could play to standing room only crowds with the same material and it would be new to the audience's ear every time. Today, a tweet is heard by all instantly and new material is only new for the blink of an eye.

Wouldn't you think we'd have learned something by now. Sadly, I don't think so. We would be wholly brilliant if we just realized that the world is much too dangerous for anything but truth and much too small for anything but love. So a plea to God and/or your higher power... HELP! We need you desperately.

The redeeming take-away... there is more good in our world than bad... and we're all trying hard to make it better... but it takes so little to taint the human pool that it makes for a tough battle, won only by a greater realization that we need each other so much more than we don't. Otherwise, who is going to buy from Amazon and Walmart?

Take a deep breath... now All together:
 
 It's A Small World After All


its a world of laughter and a world of tears
its a world of hopes and a world of fears
there's so much that we share
that is time we're aware
its a small world after all

its a small world after all 
its a small world after all 
its a small world after all
its a small, small world

there is just one moon
and one golden sun
and a smile means friendship to everyone
though the mountains divide 
and the oceans are wide

its a small world after all 
its a small world after all 
its a small world after all
its a small, small world


 NOTE: It's A Small World plays 1600 times a day. How'd you like to work that ride?

Phew! Got that off my chest.
  

Friday, September 15, 2017

A tribute to the Cassini-Huygens space craft that pulled a Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid ending after a brilliant 20-years hanging around Saturn... but first, a quick look at Jupiter that should make us humble





So this is Jupiter, our largest planet... and that's little teensy weensy us in comparison.

But this isn't about Jupiter... it's just that this image is so dramatic that I had to use it. This post is really about our second largest planet, Saturn, the one with the rings, and the reminiscent finish--like in Butch
Butch and Sundance
Cassidy and the Sundance Kid--of the Cassini-Huygens space craft which took a two-part dive into history on the surface of the planet and its largest moon.

After 20 years of sending information on Saturn and its rings, (made up mostly of water ice and some rocky particles) the Cassini-Huygens will separate and crash majestically into Titan, its largest of 150 moons and the surface of the planet itself.

That's one of NASA's thousands of Cassini pictures that was sent back to earth. (Just think how much more fun it would have been as an emoji if it was taken with the new iPhone 8.) A few facts:

  • Saturn is the only planet that emits more energy than it receives from he sun. Take that, solar panels.
  • Saturn is bigger than 76 earths. To go from New York to Los Angeles on Saturn would be 228,000 miles, or about a 500 day drive.
  • Christmas on Saturn occurs once in 29 years, so we would have to come up with names for 336 more months like the 13th of Huey, or Dewey the 23rd or Wednesday, Louie the 18th.
  • Leap year comes every even century.
  • No President's day holiday.
  • Weather forecast of a nice day is Sunny with wind gusts of up to 1,100 miles per hour from the southwest.
  • A blue moon happens every 20 minutes.
  • The Cassini spacecraft is NOT named after fashion legend Oleg Cassini who designed clothes
    Cassini
    for Johnny Carson and others, but for Jean Domnque Cassini who discovered the Saturn moon Lapetus in 1671. Huygens is the 17th century astronomer who did the first telescopic studies of Saturn's rings.
  • The rings are about 176,000 miles wide and less than one mile thick, made up of water ice and rocky particles. In scale, they are 1,000 times thinner than the sharp edge of a razor blade.
  • Saturn enjoyed a fly-by of Voyager 1 and 2 on their eternal voyages outside our solar system, launched in 1977, now soaring outside our solar system at about 40,000 miles per hour forever. No kidding.
  • The Cassini-Huygens spacecraft is a joint venture of NASA, the European Space Agency and mama, the Italians. (Which makes me proud as a second generation of four Italian immigrant grandparents.
The Cassini-Huygens team. It takes a Village!

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Do You Tattoo?






 

Three in ten do tattoo. Surprised?

Next question: Why?

Now that's where it becomes interesting, especially to one who doesn't... tattoo, that is.

I have just come from the opening of A Living Canvas, at a North Carolina art gallery. Knew it would be worth my time but I was blown away by the beauty and grace that I saw and the deep meaning of personal art. Some of my friends and at least one of my family are tattooed, but I never gave it much thought. This beautifully photographed opening showing individuals with their messages and some of the models themselves helped me understand the 'why.'

"Tattoos have been a part of American culture since the mid-1800s and in other parts of the world for centuries," says the story. "Body art has been a symbol of rebellion and taboo, making it a misunderstood medium. More and more, tattoos are becoming mainstream, from fashion accessories--for both men and women--to poignant personal statements."

That's what this exhibit is all about.

A man with a battle tank on his forearm pays tribute to his most emotional memory and the tank that saved his life in Iran. One couple chose their joint family crest with the thought "If you don't risk, you don't gain," into their marriage, expressing that love is a risk taken for a lifetime of adventure.

A woman has an angel wing tattoo on her arm as a reminder and tribute to the life she saved when she came upon an automobile accident. Another wears a design as a memorial to the son she lost. Then there was a woman with a tattoo in memory the  of her child that was lost and in thanksgiving for the blessing of a child just born.

Some are adorned with carefully chosen designs that represent milestones in their lives, another s for adventures taken. Some choose carefully for the design and beauty they see around them. And that itself is a tribute to the artistry that goes into most work.

Many who tattoo seem to be military, perhaps because the gallery is near a military base busy with so many deployments and multiple deployments over the past years. Tattooing seems to be as much an emotional expression as rebellion or less noble reasons, but that's life.

I'm guessing the most tattooed group we all see are the professional athletes who play football, basketball, wrestling, etc., perhaps because their bodies are so exposed to us as we watch our favorite sports and perhaps because so many professional athletes have noteworthy achievements, time and money. 

There is good and bad in everything as there is in tattooing itself. Tattoos were used to mark the Jews in Hitler's time and earlier than that, on slaves and in other evil ways. Today, street gangs use tattoos as identification.

There are those who look at a tattoo on anyone as something of a disfigurement that lasts a lifetime. Well, we all have our foibles but to deny those who tattoo their right, privilege and earned respect is to say they are wrong and we are right. Some tattoo modestly... perhaps a simple rose or the words "Peace" or "love," and some use much or most of their body.

We all have personal tastes because, thankfully, we can. The world is a beautiful place from every different set of eyes and beauty is where you find it.

Monday, August 28, 2017

Word of Mouth: Blah, blah, blah.

*Thanks to Norman Rockwell







Word of mouth takes many forms... with gossip being the most ugly, not counting lies, and pithy quotes the most interesting, not counting good news.

"So," I'd say to Alex Trebek, "I'll take quotes, for $1,000 please." (See, a pithy quote.)

I love quotes because noted sayings can often bring reflection, common sense, perspective and whimsy... sometimes doing all of these at once. I also note this person Anonymous is oft quoted.
He/she must  be very wise. Oh, as you may guess, I like the funny ones best.

Here are some favorites:

Groucho
  • "The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits." --Unknown
  • "Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped." --Groucho Marx
  • "In 1932, lame duck President Herbert Hoover was so desperate to remain in the White Hose that he dressed up as Eleanor Roosevelt. When FDR discovered the hoax in 1936, the two men decided to stay together for the sake of the children." --Johnny Carson
  • "I'd rather be black than gay because when you're black you don't have to tell your mother." --Charles Pierce
  • "The only time a woman succeeds in changing a man is when he's a baby." --Natalie Wood
  • "I'm no different than anybbody else with two arms, two legs and forty-two hundred hits." --Pete Rose
  • "You know it's not a good wax museum when there are wicks coming out of peoples' heads." --Rick Reynolds
  • "There will be a rain dance Friday night, weather permitting." --George Carlin
  • "Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former." --Albert Einstein
  • "Roses are red, Violets are bluish, If it weren't for Christmas, We'd all be Jewish." --Benny Hill
  • "The old neighborhood has changed. Hurley Brothers Funeral Home is now called Death 'n' Things." --Elmore Leonard
OK, time for a coffee break, but be back here in 10 minutes. Ready for another format?

Always remember, you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.Margaret Mead

We are all here on earth to help others; what the others are here for I don't know. W.H. Auden

Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please. Mark Twain

People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do. Isaac Asimov

Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm schitzophrenic and so am I. Oscar Levant

I never said most of the things I said. Yogi Berra

Go to heaven for the climate, go to hell for the company. Mark Twain

A day without sunshine is like, you know, night. Steve Martin

Al Franken AKA Jack Handy
Let's finish with Jack Handy because he's worth it:
  • To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there's no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other.
  • Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you are a mile away from them and you have their shoes.
  • I hope life isn't a big joke, because I don't get it.
PS: There really is a Jack Handy who writes these. 

See, I told you they were fun. 

Last, this serious quote is a Lutheran blessing that resonates beyond prayer, no matter your belief: "May the Lord give you the grace never to sell yourself short, the grace to risk something for something good, the grace to remember the world is much too dangerous for anything but truth and much too small for anything but love. And now may God take your minds and think through them. May God take your lips and speak through them and may God take your hearts and set them on fire. Amen."



*Norman Rockwell was the one of the most admired illustrators who is best known for his 47 years of covers for the now defunct (1967) Saturday Evening Post weekly magazine. His many illustrations can be enjoyed if you Google his name.

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."





Perhaps Edgar Allan Poe's most noted and quoted works is "The Raven"... a fascinating poem.

Poe started writing short stories in his early teen years and one of them won a writing contest and was published in a literary journal of the day. He gained notoriety as his subsequent works were well received. But it was this poem, " The Raven," published two years before his death in 1845, that captured the attention of a broader audience and made him a household name. It is a compelling read most noted for its musicality, stylized language and supernatural atmosphere.

Poe's biography is worth more words than I care to write but it is a most interesting story ( synopsied here ) on the web page of the Poe Museum in Richmond, Virginia. It is filled sadness, love lost, a brief military career ending at West Point, poverty, heartbreak, death, regeneration, twists and turns that, in itself, would make a tale suitable to his work. His subsequent marriage to a 14-year-old, her death and then his at age 40 could be the making for a Steven King novella.

He is acknowledged as the father of the detective story for his "Murders in the Rue Morgue," resolved by deductive reasoning--a novel approach of the day subsequently adapted by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for his Sherlock Holmes tales and the many, many authors we enjoy.

But he is better known to his followers as The Master of Macabre for his short stories and poems in that genre. Raise your hand if you were one who didn't sleep easy after a good Poe read.

His bibliography lists The Tell-Tale Heart, The Cask of Amontillado, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Masque of the Red Death and The Fall of the House of Usher among his works.

I started writing this blog post on interesting quotes but using "The Raven" as my lead quickly compelled me to search Poe deeper and reread some of the classics that I had forgotten.

 

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
    While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
            Only this and nothing more.”

    Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
            Nameless here for evermore.

    And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
    So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
    “’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
            This it is and nothing more.”

    Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
    But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
    And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
            Darkness there and nothing more.

    Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
    But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
    And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
            Merely this and nothing more.

    Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
    “Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
      Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
            ’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

    Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
    Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
    But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
            Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
    For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
    Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
            With such name as “Nevermore.”

    But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
    Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
    Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
            Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

    Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
    Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
    Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
            Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

    But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
    Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
    Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
            Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

    This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
    This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
    On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
            She shall press, ah, nevermore!

    Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
    “Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee
    Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
    Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
    On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
    Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
    It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”
            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

    And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
    And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
    And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
            Shall be lifted—nevermore!