Month: January 2024

It was a Saturday morning and I was out in the front yard with a leaf sweeper.  There weren’t a lot of leaves but too many to rake and I was making my way up and down the yard at a steady pace.  

Near one of the large trees in the yard, I stopped.  There was a smell and it was horrible.

As protocol dictates, I checked my shoes.  Nothing there, but there was…something.

I moved the leaf sweeper back the way I had come and started looking around on the ground – assuming it was some kind of poop, though it didn’t really smell like that.

Instead, I found something horrible.  

It was roughly spherical and about the size of a golf ball.  Clearly organic, it was a solid mass – mostly tan in color with some light purple and patches that looked like fat that were nearly white.

A tiny part of me was curious.  What was this?  How long had it been there?  What animal had it come from?  And what was inside?

But the rest of me – that has seen too many movies that start just like this – knew that even if this wasn’t an evil fleshy mass holding an alien parasite ready to leap out and infect me, it would still be something that I wanted no part of. 

I went and got a shovel and a plastic bag.  And I found a stick, which I used to carefully turn over the mass. It was about the same on the other side and I confirmed the overall shape.

Still no clues, so I scooped it up with the shovel and put it in the bag – which I set aside and partially knotted so I could reopen it if I found anything else.

I didn’t see anything so I went back to using the leaf sweeper.  I kept noticing a smell, though, and stopped to investigate.  

I hadn’t been quick enough to stop before and had rolled over something I think related to the mass.  Something black and stringy, with smaller masses lodged inside.  These strings had wrapped around the shaft of the leaf sweeper and were tangled into a foul smelling mess.

I flipped the sweeper over and got the bag open again.   Armed with my trusty stick, I carefully began to unwind the strings – which I assumed at this point were squirrel intestines.  Making the earlier mass perhaps a stomach?

It took a while, but I finally got all the strings unwound and bagged.  I tossed the stick in the bag as well for good measure and then closed it up for good this time.  

The last step was to hose off the sweeper to finally be rid of the smell.  I finished the lawn sweeping without incident, but I did manage to roll over some undiscovered dog poop in the backyard that required another round with the hose.  

The suburbs are no place for the weak of stomach or faint of heart.

There was another mass shooting recently – this time, at a university in Michigan. 

We mourned for the lost lives of the students while we tried to focus our own communications on information and preparedness. 

After spending far too much time reading the news, I signed myself up for the online course/video offered by UA called Run, Hide, Fight. 

It was a half-hour video presented by the UAPD with information on how to react to an active shooter event and while it was well done, it was also terrible. 

They talked about the goal of the shooter being a “high body-count” and how we should try to Run if we could to get away (and how not to be mistaken for the shooter and be shot ourselves by law enforcement). If we couldn’t Run, we were supposed to Hide and barricade ourselves until getting an all clear.  And if Hiding wasn’t an option, it was time for improvised weapons and rushing the attacker and Fighting to save ourselves.

There were two videos they played in the presentation and the first was set in a nightclub where the patrons were reacting to an active shooter and then “breaking the fourth wall” to explain to the camera and us what they were thinking and what they were doing.    Intense, but useful to see this planned out.  Maybe even a little reassuring that it was possible to think and not panic.

The second was in an office environment.  There were no thoughtful cutaways and helpful tips, it was just a gunman flatout murdering people with a shotgun.   A few people managed to do the Run, Hide, Fight as they were trained, but only after they had been alerted to the threat. 

Now, I’ve watched a lot of TV shows and movies and I’m not bothered by violence on the screen.  I can see how it advances the plot, the motives are clear, and the hero saves the day in the end.

This one, though, really bothered me.  No clever plot device and no distancing us from the actors – we were expected to put ourselves in the role of the victims and it was all too easy to do so. 

After it was done, I was a little shaken up and started to look around our office as a risk assessment.  We’re in a big glass building in the middle of campus, our office suite has only one exit right onto a main hallway, and the main door to our suite has a big panel of glass.    Running didn’t seem like much of an option and Hiding didn’t seem any better. 

So, that evening I went to the store and bought a curtain and tension rod and then put it up the next day.  Since the suite lights turn off from a motion sensor, we use lights in our individual offices to work by.  With the curtain drawn and no lights visible from outside, we would look like we weren’t home.  So, a quick move to deadbolt the door, barricade ourselves in our own offices, and then consider going out a window if it came down to it. 

I felt a little bit better after I made a plan and put up the curtain – knowing that even the prey with the best camouflage sometimes still gets eaten.

They don’t know why the shooter went after the students at the university in Michigan.  He had no ties there and didn’t even live nearby.  But, I guess if you are looking for that body-count, you go where the people are and create as much fear as you can.

So, we’ve watched the training, learned the mantra, and have a little plan to try and keep us safe. 

But I don’t feel safe.

Another story from the island trip…

Jim and I signed up for a Sunset and Stargazing trip to the top of Mauna Kea – the tallest mountain in the world.  

If you measure from the bottom of the seafloor.  

Which they do.

We grabbed jackets, put on long pants and comfortable shoes and went to the mall – the designated pick up spot for the tour van.   

We could spot other travelers by their similar clothing – at least the ones who had read the details of the trip and the precautions. 

The van was a few minutes late and our tour guide/driver introduced himself as we loaded up.  His name was Shin and he was originally from Japan, but had lived in Hawaii for many years. But, not long enough to lose his accent.  

Which wasn’t a problem while we were in the parking lot, but once we got on the road to the mountain the noise of the van made it difficult to figure out what he was saying.  I tried to share what I could pick out with Jim, but I know we missed a lot.  Shin did have a recording he played at intervals to point out features on the trip; so that helped. 

One of our fellow passengers got motion sick and we had to stop the van.  They switched to a front seat and did better – but it didn’t bode well for the rest of the trip.  We had heard stories of altitude sickness.

We got to the foot of the mountain – at least, the part above sea level – and started the climb upwards.  The climate started to change pretty quickly and it was like being on another part of the planet by the time we reached the visitor’s center.

There was time for a small meal – snacks, mostly – while we acclimated to the altitude.  The oxygen saturation was 80% of what we’d have at sea level.  We had to spend 45 minutes there – plenty of time to check out the gift shop as well – before resuming the climb.  Only vehicles with 4 wheel drive were permitted any higher up and the road was deliberately bad to deter too many visitors.  

We stopped near the summit for a bit to check out all the telescopes and get some photos – including a patch of snow in Hawaii in the summer.   One of the members of the group was starting to have trouble with altitude sickness and had to wait in the van.  The rest of us put on our provided parkas and marveled at the landscape and the stillness.    We were a long way from the ocean waves and the sounds of traffic.  

No birds either – and no plants.  It was as desolate a place as I’ve ever been – but peaceful.

After a bit we loaded back up and finished the ascent.  At the top were more telescopes and an amazing view – from above the clouds.    We joined other tour groups to find a good spot to watch the sunset and take more photos.    I started to get a little tired since the O2 was only 60% of sea-level, but I took it easy and took my time. 

And then the sun sank below the clouds.  It was breathtaking and the only sound for a few minutes was the shutters of high-end cameras.

And then it was done.  We piled back into the van and headed back down to the visitor’s center as night rapidly fell. 

Shin parked the van, fixed us hot chocolate and we put on our parkas again as we got out.  He set up a small telescope and started pointing out constellations with a high powered laser.  We looked at the craters of the moon and got time lapse photos taken with the Milky Way as a backdrop.

Living in the city, I had forgotten how many stars there were.

With our hot chocolate finished and the star-gazing done, it was time to head back down the mountain.  The guide dropped us off again at the mall and we walked back to our condo.

We had seen the world from above the clouds, watched a telescope open to greet the night sky, traveled through nearly all the possible climates on Earth in a single day, and marveled at our small place in the universe. 

Not much will catch my attention as I scroll through videos in social media, but the science ones stand the best chance.  A short video from an enthusiastic scientist named Dr. Becky caught my eye and I watched her tell a story about a new space telescope. 

It’s the Euclid telescope and the snippet showed how it scans the sky and provides a view even better than the James Webb telescope.  In passing, Dr. Becky mentioned how it had already had “first light” on the receptors as it was moving into position before it was focused.

There were some nice images of space after that, but I was hung up on the phrase.

Even before it was really ready to “see” the sky, light had already shown on the “eyes” of the telescope  Not something it would “remember”, but that light had been captured – no matter how briefly.

We each had our “first light”, before we were really ready to see or remember.  Of all the light in the universe, we each got a little – right at the start – that was just for us.  

There seems to be more to see each time we humans look skyward and more mysteries to explore just beyond our reach.    Old light from far away, traveling unimaginable distances, to grace our eyes for a moment. 

And there will be a last light for all of us as well.  We’ll each get one last photon before the darkness takes hold – and there will be one last “final light” before the universe goes dark.

For now, the light of the screen streams photons to my eyes and I have this bit of light – just for me.