Toast for brekkie

Saw you tonight

Posted on February 28th, 2007 by george.
Categories: poetry.

I can feel what it’s like to be you
when I listen to your favorite song
and I’m in your head marveling
at how your brain wrinkles up

I look out your kaleidoscopic eyes
and smell the ammonia in your nostrils
then wake up from your skateboard dreams
into the reality of our separate lives

2 comments.

Why I work for NASA

Posted on February 21st, 2007 by george.
Categories: space.

The following is an excerpt from NASA Administrator Mike Griffin’s speech at the Quasar Award Dinner in Houston on January 19th, 2007, entitled Space Exploration: Real Reasons and Acceptable Reasons. If anyone ever asks you why we should fund the space program, here’s the most succinct and meaningful answer I’ve ever run across. I’m proud to have Mike Griffin as an Administrator; I can’t think of anyone better for the job. I encourage you to read the entire speech.

What is the scientific value of discovering the origins of our universe? Or of discovering that literally 95% of the universe consists of dark energy or dark matter, terms for things that we as yet know nothing about? But they make up 95% of our universe. Is it even conceivable that one day we won’t learn to harness them? As cavemen learned to harness fire, as people two centuries ago learned to harness electricity, we will learn to harness these new things. It was just a few years ago that we discovered them, and we would not have done so without the space program. What is the value of knowledge like that? I cannot begin to guess. A thousand years from now there will be human beings who don’t have to guess; they will know, and they will know we gave this to them.

Let’s think for a moment about national security. What is the value to the United States of being involved in enterprises which lift up human hearts everywhere when we do them? What is the value to the United States of being engaged in such projects, doing the kinds of things that other people want to do with us, as partners? What is the value to the United States of being a leader in such efforts, in projects in which every nation capable of doing so wants to take part? I would submit that the highest possible form of national security, well above having better guns and bombs than everyone else, well above being so strong that no one wants to fight with us, is the security which comes from being a nation which does the kinds of things that make others want to work with us to do them. What security could we ever ask that would be better than that, and what gives more of it to us than the space program?

5 comments.

Loss

Posted on February 18th, 2007 by george.
Categories: Uncategorized.

I find it amusing when something romantic doesn’t work out and friends all say, “It’s their loss.” Do they think that one wishes for the object of one’s affection to experience loss? Some consolation.

The end of a friendship or relationship often feels like a death. While I believe the end of life on this earthly plane to be a cause for celebration, grief is an understandable reaction in either case. Therefore I think the best course of action in the advent of a breakup is the same thing my Mom taught me about funerals: just listen. Be there for the grieving, lend a shoulder to be cried upon and comfort quietly or in silence. If you must say something, just say, “I’m sorry.” It does nothing for the distraught to say that this is part of God’s plan. Indeed, that can backfire. They are too consumed with self-pity to see the bigger picture until time passes.

Some wounds take longer to heal than others.

26 comments.

Sparks fly

Posted on February 15th, 2007 by george.
Categories: poetry.

10 comments.

The warmth of Wyoming

Posted on February 4th, 2007 by george.
Categories: travel.

I’m in love with Wyoming. The crisp mountain air that sinks deep into your lungs, filling them fuller than the shallow breeze of the tropics. The impossible craggy maw of the Tetons scraping the bright blue sky like a fossilized jawbone. The overwhelming feeling that in the chest of the old West there still murmurs, from time to time, the faint heartbeat of a bygone age.

Moreso than the scenery, however, do the inhabitants of a place define it. Not since I was back home in Tennessee or abroad in Mexico have I experienced such warm hospitality; and in neither of those locales was I a complete stranger with no guide. The bearded cowboy who drove our bus from the airport cheerfully loaded our bags and introduced himself as Mike. On the way to the lodge he told us stories of the great elk that have roamed these plains, protected, for a century, and said we’d most likely run into him again as we roamed this small town. Every storeowner, every desk clerk, says hello as if they’ve known you for years. I remarked to the girl in the coffeeshop about how disarmingly friendly all the locals seemed; she offered no explanation, instead saying simply that she can’t bear to go back home East for fear of the culture shock of being surrounded by people caught up in the pursuit of monetary wealth.

To be sure, any town reliant upon an economy buoyed by tourism would do well to pamper its patrons. But the atmosphere here is altogether different. It doesn’t take long to discover what sets this destination apart: those smiles from behind the counter are genuine.

Denise and I arrived by bus at the movie theater this evening to see Pan’s Labyrinth (which I would recommend avoiding unless you relish highly graphic violence a la Sin City) only to discover that they only accepted cash. Between us we had fifteen bucks, a dollar short (to be fair, Denise contributed fourteen of those). Imagine our surprise when the woman behind us in line happily covered our deficit. After the movie the gas station attendant across the street greeted me cordially and showed me straight to the hot tea. The bus driver on the way home demonstrated such a jovial attitude and gracious personality you’d swear he could thaw icicles; his warm hospitality made us all but forget the plunging temperatures outside.

I can’t wait to hit the slopes tomorrow, but already I’m sold on this place. Even without the highest continuous vertical drop of any ski area in the US, I’d recommend this town as a destination on the strength of its character alone. When you walk down the street in Jackson, Wyoming, you can tell the locals from the tourists as easily as you can spot the difference between shirt sleeves and parkas. You might think they’re just used to the cold, but the truth beats a little bit deeper than that.

10 comments.

Look out Jackson town

Posted on February 3rd, 2007 by george.
Categories: travel.

In five hours I’m waking up to catch a plane to Jackson, Wyoming. Upon my return, I’ll be able to cross number 39 off my list of states visited. I spent some time this week with some of my favorite people, cooking dinner and playing chess to make up for my absence next week.

My travel partner Denise is asleep in the next room; no doubt she’ll be well-rested and chipper for the drive to the airport in the morning.

We’re gonna snowball Jackson.

2 comments.