Thoughts From An Overheated Brain

Across the Fence #400

I think this long, dry stretch of heat and humidity has not only fried our lawn and surrounding crops, but has fried my brain too. Temperatures in the 90’s and even into the 100’s, day after day, is not what we’ve come to expect here in the Frozen Tundra.

Thank goodness for all the dandelions and white clover in our lawn or it would be as brown as everyone else’s lawn. It’s still quite green from all the dandelion leaves, and the clover adds a nice touch of white. I can really tell how many dandelions occupy our lawn now that the grass has turned a wonderful shade of brown. The only growing things that don’t seem to be affected by the heat and lack of moisture are the weeds. They continue to flourish. It makes me think we’re going about this lawn care stuff all wrong. We need to start growing weeds. It would really simplify our lives, and think of the money and time we’d save by not fertilizing, watering, and mowing. That goes for the gardens too. The weeds seem to rule. You’ve got to admit, many of those weeds are a lot more colorful than the grass we try to nurture and care for. I told you this heat had affected my thinking.

On the bright side, we haven’t had to mow the lawn for a long time, so we’re saving gas money. But we’ve been running the air-conditioner and I can just feel that saved gas money being sucked out of the house through that air-conditioner. I’m gonna’ hate to see our next electric bill. Does anyone else think air-conditioning makes the heat seem all that much worse? I sure notice it. I tend to sweat a lot but soon get acclimated to the heat–just like those days back in the haymow on a hot, humid day. I think we survived those days on cold water pumped direct from windmill and ice-cold Kool Aide, enjoyed while sitting at the picnic table in the shade of the maple tree. I haven’t had a glass of strawberry or grape Kool Aide, poured from a big, glass pitcher, for a long time.

But I digress. I was talking about air-conditioning. When I walk into some businesses and offices, its like being hit with a blast of cold air. It practically takes your breath away. I’ve seen people go out to their cars and bring in a sweater or jacket to put on. It feels like the middle of winter and the business forgot to pay their heating bill, and had their electricity shut off. Then when I walk out of the place, the hot air hits me, my glasses immediately fog over, and I stumble around the parking lot trying to find my car. I have to wait until my glasses clear up before I can drive out of the lot. I think we go to extremes with air-conditioning and it can’t be healthy. It’s also imprisoned many people in their houses in the summertime because they don’t like to go out in the heat and humidity. I told you this heat was playing with my mind.

I got thinking about the loss of small town post offices too. I’ll blame the heat for this thought too. Remember when a letter arrived with a postmark from the town it was mailed in? As a collector of postal history, I miss those old postmarks. Now the few personal letters that are mailed go to a distribution center for sorting, postmarking, and distribution. In our case it’s La Crosse. A letter may get mailed in Westby, but it gets a La Crosse postmark. The reason I got to thinking about post offices, besides the excessive heat going to my brain, is that I received another unsigned letter this week, critical of something I wrote. It didn’t have a return address either, and of course had a La Crosse postmark. So it could have come from any community in Wisconsin where people read my column. At least the writer had a P.S. that said they liked my writing and were glad I wrote for the paper. This letter also brought up another question in my mind. Why is it that people who don’t like something a writer says will voice that opinion in a letter to the editor or a letter to the writer, but people seldom write if they like something. I do get a lot of verbal comments and I appreciate all of them.

As long as we’re talking about heat and lack of rain, I hope everyone is putting water out for the birds. They need water too. Most of their water holes and places to find water have dried up. Here on the prairie, it’s really hard to find any running or standing water. That brought up another thought in my heat-parched brain. Why did my ancestors settle here on the prairie where there is no water nearby? They couldn’t just drill a hole and strike water. They had to go by horse and wagon to nearby springs and creeks and fill buckets and jars with water. That can be several miles in our case. Just wondering how and why they did these things.

It’s funny what strange thoughts you can have when your brain is overheated and you’d give anything for a cold drink of water from the windmill. Stay cool, everyone!


*

We Lived Green and Didn't Know It

Across the Fence #399

My story about life before the green thing seems to have struck a memory nerve with many readers. It got me thinking about many other things that could have been included. It looks like I need to take another journey down the road before we had the green thing.

How many of you now pack stuff away in large plastic containers and store them in the basement or a closet? Back before the green thing, we stored, and still store, things in empty apple boxes and boxes that held reams of paper. We got many of the apple boxes from Linda’s father. He worked in the food service area at UW-Platteville and retrieved many empty apple boxes that they threw away. They were perfect for storage. We were all able to recycle those boxes and we still make use of them. They were also free as opposed to buying plastic containers. I also stored stuff in the empty boxes that paper came in that I used in my advertising business. I still use them. Saving empty cardboard boxes to store things in, has always been a way of life for most rural people.

When our socks got holes in them, we didn’t throw them in the trash and buy new ones. Ma or Grandma Inga would “darn” the socks–patch the hole using a needle and thread. This was done by hand. It didn’t need to be the same color thread as the sock you were repairing. Nobody was going to see the sock except us. I have no idea why it was called darning socks. Maybe someone once said, “Darn it, I have to patch those darn socks again.” I know someone out there must have the answer for me. Does anyone still take the time to darn socks or have we become a throw-away society these days?

It’s too bad we didn’t know about the go green thing and recycling back then.

Lets talk about feed sacks. Yes, those sacks that came filled with calf feed. When I was young, they came in colorful, patterned sacks. When they were empty, Grandma Inga cut the sacks apart and sewed shirts for us kids. She also made colorful dresses­–those weren’t for us boys. I wonder if kids today would wear a feed sack shirt or dress? Maybe if we stitched a designer tag on it, we could make a fortune.

I guess wearing those shirts was doing our part for the green thing even if we didn’t realize it at the time.

When my great grandfather, Hans O. Sherpe, was married, his wedding suit was made from burlap feed bags. The Sorenson family who owned the farm where we now live, made his suit for him by cutting apart burlap bags, dying them black, and sewing the pieces together into a suit. I imagine my great grandfather never felt prouder than when he wore that handsome suit. Jacob Sorenson, the son of that family, later sold their farm to my father. That family story makes a nice connection to recycled feed sacks. Looks like they were living the go green thing back then.

My parents didn’t throw coffee grounds or ashes from the stove away. They were dumped in a pile that was spread on the garden in the spring. It made great fertilizer. Now we buy expensive fertilizer that comes in sacks that we throw away. And just think, we didn’t know about the green thing in those days.

We also saved the empty shells from eggs and crushed them up. They were then fed back to the chickens as a source of calcium to form good, strong shells on their eggs that would stand up to the stress of laying and handling without breaking. It sure beat throwing the shells down a garbage disposal as people do these days.

I looked up on the Internet, ways to go green and save money. One way was to take shorter showers to reduce water use and save energy. I guess we were way ahead of our time. We didn’t have indoor plumbing until I was a sophomore in high school. Needless to say we didn’t take showers. We took a bath about once a week in a tub. We got to share the water until it got too dirty to get clean in. At least we were saving the planet from running out of water by only taking one bath a week. Talk about conserving water and energy. We definitely did our part.

They say that air-conditioning can be the largest expense on your electric bill. We didn’t have to worry about that because most people we knew when I was growing up didn’t have an air-conditioner. I think it seems hotter these days because we’re always going from cool air-conditioned buildings and cars to the hot outside air. It makes the heat seem much worse. I think it also leads to summer colds. We used to open up all the windows and hope a breeze would take some of the heat out of the house. It was kind of nice drifting off to sleep with the sound of the wind in the trees, the windmill pumping, and the crickets serenading us.

We may not have been aware of the green thing, but we were living it.

*

The First Day of the Rest of My Life

Across the Fence #398

The 4th of July, the birth of our country, is a special holiday for me. 45 years ago, was the first day of the rest of my life. More about that later.

When I was young, the 4th was an exciting time. We were able to buy firecrackers and cherry bombs and it wasn’t against the law. Now you could get in trouble for exploding those things. We keep enacting new laws to protect us from our own stupidity. Granted we did some stupid things too. We thought blowing up fresh cow pies was fun. We were careful and the worst thing that ever happened to us, was getting splattered by an exploding cow pie if we didn’t run fast enough.

I would hate to think that we were the only kids who blew up cow pies. Admit it, you blew up a few in your day too. I hope everyone knows what a cow pie is. I realize society has a lot less contact with those meadow muffins than back when I was young. To put it into a scientific explanation fit for a family newspaper, a cow pie, also known as a meadow muffin, is the undigested residue of plant matter that passes through the digestive system and becomes the waste product of bovine animal species, in our case, cows.

Now back to blowing up cow pies. We would stick a firecracker in the center of a crusted cow pie with a soft center. Then one of us brave, or stupid, souls would light the fuse and run. The object was to get far enough away so you didn’t get splattered with manure when it blew. After a while, that seemed too tame, so we would light the fuse and count to three before starting to run. Then we tried counting up to four, five, or six before running. Unless you counted really fast, you got splattered. That didn’t go over very good with Ma, who had to wash our soiled clothes. After we were able to acquire cherry bombs, it made life more interesting. Those little buggers could really mangle a cow pie.

I was just thinking, maybe if I had told the army I used to blow up cow pies, they’d have made me a demolition specialist instead of a medic. On second thought, they may have questioned my sanity and decided anyone dumb enough to do that wasn’t needed by the army. Darn, why didn’t I think of that sooner?

  

The 4th of July and all the fireworks aren’t the same for me any more. It will always be linked to Vietnam in my mind. That was the day I arrived home from the war. I should have written a story, “Reborn On the 4th of July,” but that title had already been taken. July 4, 1967 was truly the first day of the rest of my life.

When we landed in Minneapolis, I wondered if anyone would be there. As I entered the airport, I saw my father, sister Janet, brother Arden, and a family friend, Lincoln Stafslien. My father didn’t like driving in cities and had recruited Lincoln to drive. I’ll always be grateful to him for dropping his family holiday plans and being there!! Meanwhile, Ma was waiting back at the farm, along with my fiancé Linda, and her folks, who had driven up from Platteville. They sat on the lawn watching the fireworks in Westby, two miles away. Every time a car came down the highway they wondered if it was us.

The ride to Westby is a blur in my mind. I wasn’t functioning on all cylinders at the time. A week earlier I’d been sitting out in the boonies on an ambush patrol waiting to kill people!

As we drove past towns celebrating the 4th on our way to Westby, I didn’t like the fireworks we saw exploding in the evening sky. I still don’t like fireworks. We finally arrived at the farm around 11:00 that evening. The first to greet me was our old dog, Duke. As soon as he heard my voice he came running and jumped up on me.

When I walked into the kitchen, it seemed so bright. I’d just spent a year living with little or no lights at night. As we sat around the kitchen table talking, nothing had seemed to change while I was gone, and yet… everything had changed for me. I’d lost 40 pounds, my innocence, my idealism, and even a part of my soul. The pounds were easy to get back. The other parts will never be the same, but I keep looking for them. The old Howard who had left a year earlier was gone, and July 4, 1967 became the first day of the rest of my life!

Today’s another day and if I could find some firecrackers or cherry bombs lying around, I might be tempted to find a nice cow pie and blow that muffin up. Trouble is, I can’t run very good these days. I think I’d come home smelling like I rolled in a manure pile and Linda wouldn’t appreciate that. Some adventures are best left to the young and fast of feet. This old guy will sit back and be satisfied with savoring the memories, innocence, and excitement of the 4th of July that I enjoyed as a kid.

*

Life Before the "Go Green" Thing

Across the Fence #397

I don’t like to use information I find on the Internet or receive in e-mails. However, this story struck a cord with me and I decided to use the idea and put my own life-experience spin on it. 

 An old man, probably about my age, was checking out at the grocery store. The young cashier suggested to the old man that he should bring his own shopping bags because plastic bags weren’t good for the environment. He needed to learn to recycle and “go green.”

The old man apologized and explained, “We didn’t have the go green thing back in my earlier days.”

The cashier responded, “That’s our problem today. Your generation didn’t care enough about the environment to save it for future generations.”

The old man thought about it for a moment and then told the young cashier, “You’re right, our generation didn’t have the go green thing in my day. Back then, people returned milk bottles, pop bottles, and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed, sterilized, and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled, not discarded. We refilled writing pens with ink instead of throwing them away when they ran out of ink, and we replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But you’re right. We didn’t have the go green thing back in our day.

We walked up stairs, because we didn’t have an elevator or escalator in every store and office building. We walked or rode our bike whenever possible instead of getting in a vehicle every time we had to go a couple blocks. We even rode our bikes to school or walked instead of turning our parents into a 24-hour taxi service.

But you’re right. We didn’t have the go green thing in our day.

Back then, we washed the baby’s diapers because we didn’t have the throw-away kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning up electricity. Wind and solar power dried our clothes back in our early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers, sisters, and neighbors, not always brand-new clothing and expensive designer jeans. When our jeans got holes in them, our mothers patched them up. Now people cut ragged holes in their jeans as a fashion statement. I guess we were ahead of our time and didn’t know it.

But you’re right. We didn’t have the go green thing back in our day.

When I was growing up, we had one TV and radio, in the house—not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen about the size of a handkerchief, not a screen the size of a football field. When we finally got a second channel, we had to get off the couch, walk over to the TV and change the channel by hand. When the TV quit working we had someone come and replace some bulbs, we didn’t throw it in the trash and buy a new one if it could be fixed.
In the kitchen, my mother blended and stirred everything by hand because she didn’t have electric mixers to do everything for her. She cooked on a wood stove instead of using gas and electricity. It was a way to recycle and make use of the dead trees.

But you’re right. We didn’t have the go green thing back in our day. 

When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap. Back then, we didn’t fire up an engine and burn gas just to cut the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by working so we didn’t need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

We drank water from a tap or direct from the windmill when we were thirsty instead of buying expensive water packaged in plastic bottles that fill up landfills. We accepted that a lot of food was seasonal and didn’t need to check the labels to see if its useful date was expired. We actually cooked food that didn’t come out of a packet, tin, or plastic wrap, and we even washed our own vegetables and made salads from food grown in our own garden. Believe it or not, we even butchered pigs, cows, and chickens to have our own meat.

But you’re right. We didn’t have the go green thing back then.

We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And we didn’t need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find out where we were going. We used maps or just asked for directions. Yes, believe it or not, we did a lot of things back in those days to keep the environment and people healthy.

Isn’t it sad that some younger folks think us old folks were wasteful and hurting the environment just because we didn’t have the go green thing back then?

 

*

Sean Anderson Davis Arrived

Across the Fence #396

The Waiting is over. Grandpa Sherpe can now report that Sean Anderson Davis, son of Tim and Amy (Sherpe) Davis, made his grand entrance onto Planet Earth at 3:47 pm on Friday, June 8, 2012. He weighed in at 9 pounds and 5 ounces, and measured 21.5 inches. He’s sporting a head of black hair and has dark blue eyes that the doctor is betting will turn brown before too long. Of course, we think he’s the cutest baby you’ve ever laid eyes on.

I’m happy to report that mother and son are doing fine. The baby’s father also survived the delivery. Grandma and Grandpa Sherpe did their part by dog-sitting with Sweeney and waiting for the phone to ring.

As I held our new grandson at the hospital on Saturday, it was hard to believe that this was our daughter’s child. It seems like only yesterday when I was in the delivery room as she was born and got to carry her to the nursery. Time sure flies. What kind of world and what changes will Sean see in another 38 years? What will he be like and what will he be doing?

I think back to when I was born, 68 years ago. We were in the midst of World War II. Allied troops would hit the beaches of Normandy when I was a month old. There were no televisions, computers, cell phones, air conditioning, indoor plumbing, or fast food restaurants, other than root beer stands, in our area. Just think of the many life-changing developments, since I was born. With technology accelerating all the time, what changes will Sean experience?

During my time, we have escaped the gravity of earth and flown in space. Men have left Planet Earth and traveled to the moon, where they landed and walked on the surface. Those things were only science fiction when I was born. When cousin Sandy and I were young we thought we were looking into Heaven when we saw a hole in the clouds. To us, and most people on Planet Earth, the world beyond the clouds was a mystery. Now the Hubble telescope has given us glimpses into a universe so vast, we find it hard to comprehend its size. During Sean’s life, he’ll probably see men travel on a one-way colonizing trip to Mars. Plans for that adventure are already in the works by a Dutch company who hopes to have 20 astronauts living on Mars by 2033. What other celestial discoveries will he see? It will be a rapidly changing world and universe. It will be an exciting time to be alive if you aren’t afraid of change.

As I mentioned, I came into this world during World War II. Since that time we’ve been involved in almost constant military conflicts of all sizes. Think of the money, resources, and time that have been wasted on trying to kill each other. Think of all the lost lives and potential. What if the world could learn to channel all that energy and all those resources into helping each other live better lives? That’s the type of world I would wish for our grandson to see one day. But, being a realist, I would place my bets on us colonizing Mars within his lifetime before we see mankind living peacefully together.

Communication will be an interesting subject in the coming years. We’re now in a rapidly changing telecommunications world. I grew up with a hand crank phone attached to the wall and party lines. Today I walk around with an iPhone in my pocket. I can send and receive phone calls, send and receive e-mails and text messages, surf the world-wide web, find where I am with GPS, read newspapers, books, and magazines, and hope I remember my passwords so I can access all that stuff. What device will Sean be using in 20 years? Will everyone have a chip implanted in their skin that enables them to do all these things and much more? Will people be watching TV shows and movies on a flexible screen in the sleeve of their shirt as they drive down the highway in a hands-free, GPS navigated vehicle? Is the day approaching where science will discover how to “Beam me up Scotty?” Then we can eliminate gas-powered vehicles and be transported instantly to our destination. Far-fetched? Yes, but so were computers, space travel, indoor plumbing, and talking over wires not that many years ago.

It’s an exciting world that awaits Sean. It’s filled with challenges, wonders, and opportunities. There will be many roads to explore and many doors to open to see what’s inside. My wish for him is that he’ll be filled with curiosity to explore those roads and open those doors; that he will think for himself and not blindly follow others. I like what my friend and author Jerry Apps recently wrote: “Thinking for yourself is hard work. It’s so much easier to grab onto someone else’s thinking—and then wonder why you don’t feel right.”

When I looked at Sean as I held him at the hospital, I realized again, what a miracle life is. There are so many forces in the universe that need to align, in order for a new life to form and develop. He’s now entered this world and his journey begins. Have a great trip.

*

The Times They Are A Changin'

Across the Fence #395

It’s one week since I sat on our deck at twilight and reflected on a new life that will soon enter this world. I’m still sitting here on the deck as I begin this column. Needless to say, I haven’t been sitting here continuously. I thought I better clarify that point.

It’s another beautiful evening and we’re still waiting. I think this baby has some of the Sherpe stubbornness and will decide to enter this world when he’s good and ready. He’s probably waiting until after the political elections so he doesn’t have to listen to all those negative, dirty ads. No sense filling his young mind with such negativity. It’s discouraging enough on old guys like me who wonder what ever happened to civility and compromise.

I keep hoping that the Times They Are A Changin’. For those of you not familiar with that line, it’s the title of a Bob Dylan song from 1964. It became an anthem and characterized the spirit of political and social turmoil of the 1960s. Those of us who lived through the 60’s are all too aware of the unrest during that time. It was not a good time to be a Vietnam veteran, especially living in Madison.

There’s no comparison between the protests that took place around the State Capitol two years ago, and the anti-war protests of the 1960s. Thousands of people in the streets was similar, but that’s where the comparison ends. I was in Madison during those tumultuous late 60’s. Seeing photos of protestors filling the streets and surrounding the capitol brought back memories of those days to this “old-timer.” They were the best of times and the worst of times. The Vietnam War was fought on two fronts, in Vietnam and at home.

I returned to Madison in December of 1967, after being discharged from the army after spending two years as a draftee, and having spent one of those years in Vietnam. The bloody Dow Chemical riots had taken place on the UW-Madison campus a couple months before I returned.

In January I enrolled in the second semester and resumed my schooling, glad to put Vietnam behind me and wanting to forget about it. It was the best of times. How wrong I was! I soon found myself in a virtual war zone as demonstrators battled with the police and Wisconsin National Guard in the streets of Madison. Several times I found myself in the wrong place and was caught in tear gas attacks as police tried to break up the demonstrations. You may have seen photos and newscasts of those times, but you can’t imagine what it was like unless you were there.

My problem was that I felt like an outsider and all alone. I didn’t feel like I belonged on either side. I remember one day when I was standing on Bascom Hill under a large, old tree watching a large group of protestors clash with police in full riot gear. Those were not peaceful demonstrations like the more recent ones in Madison. People were hurt and bloodied on both sides. That day tear gas was also used to break up the protest. They retreated, regrouped, and clashed again. This wasn’t just an occasional protest. This was the way of life in Madison and on the campus for several years.

Marchers often filled University Avenue and State Street, disrupting and clogging traffic. Several times I found myself surrounded by protestors as I drove from school to pick Linda up at the old University Hospital, near campus, where she worked. I had survived war in a foreign land and now felt like I was in the midst of a war in the streets of Madison.

Finally one morning as I dropped Linda off at the hospital, we knew that something terrible had happened. Sterling Hall, next to the hospital looked like a bomb had hit it. Windows had been blasted out in the hospital and surrounding buildings too. It was the blast heard ‘round the world as it increased attention on Madison as a center of violent, anti-war protests. It was the worst of times.

I never took part in the protests. I was always an outsider. One of my friends in school was also a veteran. He had been a police officer in Madison and had taken part in the Dow riots. He was one of the officers wielding a billy club on the students. He knew after that traumatic time that he couldn’t do that any more. He decided to go back to school and we ended up in classes together. We felt like outsiders, but were both veterans and had “personal skin in the game” as the saying goes. At that point we’d come to the realization that the war was wrong, but at the same time didn’t feel right about protesting against the war, because we didn’t want to believe our friends had died in vain.

It was not a good time. It divided friends and families. Those divisions lasted for years; in many cases, they’re still there. I keep hoping that the times they are a changin’, and we’ll get to a point where we can live and work together peacefully, even when we have differences of opinion, politics, and religion. I hope our “soon to be grandchild” will one day see such a world.

*

Listening To Sounds of Life

Across the Fence #394

It’s Memorial Day and the day is winding down as I sit on our back deck listening to the sounds of life. We spent the day at The Highground Veteran’s Memorial Park near Neillsville, Wisconsin, where I was the guest speaker at their ceremony. A large crowd took time to be there and remember those who can’t sit and listen to the sounds of life, as I’m doing now.  

The sun has set behind the trees in the west, but it’s still very light out. Overhead a quarter moon is clearly visible in a fading blue sky. The birds are very active in the trees as they keep up their chatter before settling down for the night. Many make one last trip to the birdbath for a drink before retiring. The wind in the trees adds a soothing sound and the gentle breeze adds just the right amount of evening coolness. 

A rabbit just joined me as he checks under the bird feeder, looking for a snack before calling it a day. He doesn’t seem to mind that I’m sitting a few feet from him. It’s nearing the end of May and the land is teeming with new growth and life. 

As I sit here in the fading light, taking in all the life sounds around me, I can’t help but wonder if the phone will soon ring with news that a new life has entered this world. Our daughter, Amy, and her husband, Tim, are expecting a baby any day now. Every time the phone rings our anticipation rises and we hope it’s the announcement of the new arrival, our first grandchild. 

I jokingly said to one of my high school classmates, “I don’t think I’m old enough to be a grandpa.” She reminded me, “Howard, you’re old enough to be a great grandpa!” She’s right. Several people in our class are great grandparents. I just don’t feel that old… most days. Other days I feel ready for the glue factory. 

So I sit here, waiting, listening, and observing the life going on around me. The trees west of the house have lost their individuality and have merged into a dark mass as daylight begins to disappear. Most of the birds have quieted down and a chorus of frogs, from down by the pond, have replaced the bird’s chatter. 

The moon shines brighter in the darkening sky. Soon the midnight blue will fade to black. The moon has been joined by the first star of the evening. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.” How many of you have recited that verse? Did you ever get your wish? 

I think this is my favorite time of day as I sit, watch, and listen to the transformation of life from day to night. I never tire of the many sights and sounds. It’s different every day. 

I realize how lucky I am to live in a place like this. Some people like to spend this time of the day watching reality shows on television. I like to spend it watching and experiencing real life. 

More stars have now joined the moon and that first star of the evening. Soon the night sky will be filled with light and the endless possibilities of other life out there someplace among the billions of galaxies that have been discovered. It’s an exciting thought that must be approached with an open and receptive mind. 

I’ve seen and experienced a lot of changes in the short time I’ve inhabited Planet Earth. That includes many of the secrets of the universe that the Hubble telescope has revealed to us. It has changed how we view the little piece of the universe we’re a part of. Television, computers, and mobile phones have greatly altered our lifestyles. Simplistic beliefs from my youth have been shattered and altered by our expanding view of the universe and scientific breakthroughs. My thinking and philosophy of life are in constant change and development as I learn new things. That’s the way it should be. We shouldn’t become buried in the past. I can’t help but wonder what changes our grandchild will see. I can’t begin to imagine what wonders, achievements, and new discoveries will take place.

I just hope that with all the changes taking place now and in the future, that our grandchild will still be able to find a quiet place like I find myself in now. Everyone needs such a place where they can go and enjoy the simple pleasures of life; a place where our grandchild can enjoy sunrises and sunsets, listen to the wind in the trees, and hear the nightly chorus of birds, frogs, and crickets, and watch a cloud sail past the moon and temporarily obscure it from sight, just as it did as I write this in the darkness of the evening. Amy and Tim both love nature and I know they’ll provide their child with an appreciation for the natural world. It’s just as important as knowledge of computers and the high-tech world we live in.

The cloud just cleared the moon and sailed on, constantly changing shape. Maybe by this time next week, a full moon will be looking down on a new inhabitant of Planet Earth.

*