Random Thoughts

             Seventeen years ago. September 11, 2001. A date as infamous as December 7, 1941. What happened on that date seventeen years ago woke us up to the level of terrorism that we had previously ignored, or at least didn’t acknowledge as terror on our home soil. And now we see that the consequences of that attack are ongoing, with the incidence of cancer-related death among first-responders. I hope I live long enough to see the end to this nonsense, this killing of infidels because it is somehow the will of God. Why would God want the death of all non-Muslims? I just shake my head. And, yes, I know I won’t live long enough to see the end of it. But I can hope, can’t I?

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Our space probes onto the surface of Mars have revealed what scientists think are large areas of ice.  If true, what a monumental discovery that would be.  Because if there really is ice on Mars, then there’s also the strong likelihood of life in one form or another.  Maybe only microscopic life, but life nonetheless.  And that would substantiate what I’ve always thought, that if life exists on two separate planets in one tiny galaxy such as ours, then it’s a certainty that life of all kinds and at all levels of advancement must exist in the universe.  Wow.  That’s a quiet wow because my mind can’t quite absorb the enormity of it.  We’re really not alone.  We really could see some kind of contact between species far separated by space.  Wow.  I can’t wait to see what else they discover on Mars.

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Somewhere several nights ago, in one of my moments of clarity just before falling asleep, I thought about the terms mister and misses and came up with the more accurate terms mister and mystery, followed by masculine and femi-nun and male and fee-male.  But all these considerations would be totally sexist, so I’d better abandon the idea. Another thought I had was that a painter could paint a landscape, have it affixed to a magnetic sheet that could be cut into jigsaw pieces, have part of the pieces magnetically attached to a framed metal plate with the other pieces on a table beneath the hanging picture.  People at the gallery could try their hands at finding pieces that fit.  The painting could be called “Work in Progress.”

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             Our soccer-playing Tiger has to be the smartest cat I’ve ever known, just a generation or two away from being able to speak English. But he still hasn’t quite figured out our mirrored living room wall. He’s been constantly going to it and sitting there gazing around, not necessarily at himself (though he does quite a bit of that) but just perusing the room on the other side, like a feline Alice wishing he could step through this looking glass.  He never tries to go to this personal Wonderland; he never reaches out a taloned paw to touch it; he just sits there looking at all the familiar furniture. “Hey, there’s a chair just like the one I love to sleep on. Now I’ve got two.” What must be going through his little cat mind?  When he looks at me in the mirror, does he realize it’s me he’s looking at and does he wonder how I can be in two places at once?  How must he explain that mystery?  What sort of metaphysics does a cat have?  Questions without answers.  It will be interesting to see how long he continues his gazing, how soon before his curiosity wanes and he ignores the other side again.