Sarx

INNER Conversation at my house can often wander into topical areas that would fail to garner Miss Manners’ approval. This has become even more true with the arrival of a new baby: lactation, breast size, explosive diaper contents and resultant laughter often corner the market. Sometimes we can get into spontaneous group singing of Rock Hits of the 70s or even show tunes. And sometimes we can cross the line into stereotypically hippie-style conversations of feelings.

Last night, as a result of the baby at the table, we got into a discussion of early memories.

My earliest memories that I can track are at the age of 2, 1966 or so, leaving Ozark, Alabama, with my Mom. My 1 year old brother is in the car with us. And I stand up in the seat to look at the lights of Ozark creeping into the dark behind us – Mom asks me to sit down. Later that night, at Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Fort Gaines, GA, I’m standing on the floor in front of my Mom’s chair and Grandma says, “So you’ve come to live with Grandma now!”

I remember a lot of snippets from my childhood – the birth of my sister, seeing Mom on the street, talking to my Aunt June, flying to Michigan to see that side of the family… but last night one memory came to me of the time when Grandpa was reading “Wonder Books” to me, teaching me about science – especially about electricity and astronomy. One night Grandpa took me out to the Walter F George lock and dam – where he worked.

There were very few lights, it was warm, but there was a cool breeze. We had a flashlight beam that pierced the sky like a laser and Grandpa used it to point out things. It was like an Astronomy classroom – or, rather, it was the best Astronomy classroom.

And I saw the Milky Way.

That’s what I remember most about that night – the beginning of my romance with space. I’m sure that there were constellations to see and stars. But there in the darkness I saw the most beautiful thing ever. And it struck me last night – nearly making me leave the table for the melancholy of it all – how much I miss my Grandpa. And how thankful I am for his life and gifts to me and how sad I am not to have his presence or his advice.

It is a good memory and a good experience. Enjoyable to journal, and a blessing to share.

In the last 40 years, the light from our flashlight will have travelled 235,139,993,000,000 miles (or so) – the distance from us to the double wolf system. And a lot has happened. This weekend, if it clears up – or maybe next – I think I shall go in search of darkness, away from much light pollution and the noise of city.

I need to see the stars again.