Once again the lost city of Atlantis was making headlines as yet another research team communicated their belief they had found the fabled city. The latest breadcrumb on the trail to discovery was made possible by satellite imagery.
And I got to wondering... what is it about legends like lost Atlantis, the Loch Ness Monster, and the Bermuda Triangle that keeps people searching despite repeated failures to establish proof of existence?
The current worldwide climate of instant information and instant gratification would suggest that humans would quickly lose interest in anything that couldn't be substantiated in nano-seconds.
Perhaps these legends live on because instant gratification hasn't brought sustainable satisfaction. Perhaps, deep down, we understand we're still missing something.
So, while studying the computer generated image of how Atlantis would have appeared looking down from the heavens, I found it noteworthy that the outer boundaries of the city very much resembled the shape of a key.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Purple Memories
I found myself reliving the childhood of my children on the drive home this evening.
The retreat into the past was spurred by the car in front of me with a single exhaust pipe. The horn shaped pipe centered in the rear of the car caught my attention even before the unusual purple shade of the car's finish.
Putting the horn and the color together I was suddenly humming a tune from one of the We Sing Silly Songs VHS cassettes that kept my kids entertained for hours. If you have children - or grandchildren - you have probably already figured out the ditty I'm referring to... One eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater.
Just as the video cassette played over and over... and over, so did the song cycle repeatedly through my head for the last 20 minutes of the commute. Even turning on the car radio failed to completely purge the people eater from my thoughts.
It was perhaps the longest drive I've endured in quite some time.
The retreat into the past was spurred by the car in front of me with a single exhaust pipe. The horn shaped pipe centered in the rear of the car caught my attention even before the unusual purple shade of the car's finish.
Putting the horn and the color together I was suddenly humming a tune from one of the We Sing Silly Songs VHS cassettes that kept my kids entertained for hours. If you have children - or grandchildren - you have probably already figured out the ditty I'm referring to... One eyed, one horned, flying purple people eater.
Just as the video cassette played over and over... and over, so did the song cycle repeatedly through my head for the last 20 minutes of the commute. Even turning on the car radio failed to completely purge the people eater from my thoughts.
It was perhaps the longest drive I've endured in quite some time.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Wonderful Day
With apologies to Andy Williams....
It's the most wonderful day of the year.
The day when clock hands move forward,
Pre-summer draws closer,
Evenings stay light longer,
And the need for sunblock draws near,
It's the most wonderful day of the year.
Throw off those nightmare blahs and prepare to spring into pre-summer!
It's the most wonderful day of the year.
The day when clock hands move forward,
Pre-summer draws closer,
Evenings stay light longer,
And the need for sunblock draws near,
It's the most wonderful day of the year.
Throw off those nightmare blahs and prepare to spring into pre-summer!
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Goose, Goose, Car
What does a goose see in a car?
I was wondering just that when I looked out the front window of my house to see my car surrounded by close to thirty geese. The geese all stood staring at the car as though they were experiencing ultimate enlightenment.
Well, if was enlightenment they wanted.... with a chuckle I pulled the key fob from my pocket and pressed the lock button repeatedly causing the car horn to beep.
My expectation had been the geese would scatter in fearful dismay. Instead they cocked their heads first left, then right, and started crowding closer to the car.
Could it be the geese found the sound of the car horn an attraction? Were they whispering in awe to one another, sharing the thrill of having discovered the perfect pitched "honk" they themselves had been striving for over generations?
I'll never know the answer to that question. My neighbor chose that moment to scatter the remnants of a stale loaf of bread on his front stoop and the geese raced off to get first pickings.
I was wondering just that when I looked out the front window of my house to see my car surrounded by close to thirty geese. The geese all stood staring at the car as though they were experiencing ultimate enlightenment.
Well, if was enlightenment they wanted.... with a chuckle I pulled the key fob from my pocket and pressed the lock button repeatedly causing the car horn to beep.
My expectation had been the geese would scatter in fearful dismay. Instead they cocked their heads first left, then right, and started crowding closer to the car.
Could it be the geese found the sound of the car horn an attraction? Were they whispering in awe to one another, sharing the thrill of having discovered the perfect pitched "honk" they themselves had been striving for over generations?
I'll never know the answer to that question. My neighbor chose that moment to scatter the remnants of a stale loaf of bread on his front stoop and the geese raced off to get first pickings.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
A Lessening of Music
The day the music... lost a survivor.
I was surprised to read that Phil Collins had decided to retire. I was coming to equate him with the energizer rabbit and figured he would keep going for ever.
Genesis drummer become front man, solo artist, film score writer, countless hits and albums to his name, I would have thought "when his time came" someone would find him resting on a piano bench or in a recording studio with a microphone in his hand.
I suppose at some point every artist hits creative exhaustion, but his stepping away from the limelight is a disappointment. With fewer and fewer artists able to take up the gauntlets of the likes of Phil, his retirement has further lessened availability of quality entertainment,
I was surprised to read that Phil Collins had decided to retire. I was coming to equate him with the energizer rabbit and figured he would keep going for ever.
Genesis drummer become front man, solo artist, film score writer, countless hits and albums to his name, I would have thought "when his time came" someone would find him resting on a piano bench or in a recording studio with a microphone in his hand.
I suppose at some point every artist hits creative exhaustion, but his stepping away from the limelight is a disappointment. With fewer and fewer artists able to take up the gauntlets of the likes of Phil, his retirement has further lessened availability of quality entertainment,
Monday, March 7, 2011
Northern Fear
I spent a good part of last week in Minnesota. Business took me there. Those of you who have been following my blog for a while know I would never have gone to Minnesota at this time of year of my own accord.
Cold stalks the cities and forests of that state like a living thing. The inhabitants of Minnesota seem to have reconciled themselves to the danger, but as a visitor I couldn't help but be aware of the threat of death by freezing.
The cold reaches through plate glass windows and tickles the back of your neck even when the thermostat inside of a building is set for seventy-two or higher. Once beyond the shelter of four walls, howling winds drive the cold deep inside layer after layer of clothing, leaving you feeling naked to the world.
Early morning light has a frozen quality to it, as though - if struck- the light would shatter and darkness would once again extend icy fingers. Sun, high noon sun, offers the promise of warmth and relief for no more than three hours a day.
My experiences in the far northern climes affirmed the appropriateness of my naming this period of the year the season of nightmare.
Cold stalks the cities and forests of that state like a living thing. The inhabitants of Minnesota seem to have reconciled themselves to the danger, but as a visitor I couldn't help but be aware of the threat of death by freezing.
The cold reaches through plate glass windows and tickles the back of your neck even when the thermostat inside of a building is set for seventy-two or higher. Once beyond the shelter of four walls, howling winds drive the cold deep inside layer after layer of clothing, leaving you feeling naked to the world.
Early morning light has a frozen quality to it, as though - if struck- the light would shatter and darkness would once again extend icy fingers. Sun, high noon sun, offers the promise of warmth and relief for no more than three hours a day.
My experiences in the far northern climes affirmed the appropriateness of my naming this period of the year the season of nightmare.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Waiting for Chocolate
The town of Rehoboth Beach hosted their annual chocolate festival this past Saturday. A friend reported to me that, as in years past, folks were lined up for three city blocks waiting for their chance to sample sweet morsels.
Now I'm not a chocolate lover (I'm sure some of you think that makes me only slightly less questionable than un-American) but even if I did periodically gorge on the sweet stuff I can't imagine waiting for hours to do a taste test.
The actual sampling takes place withing the convention center. I can only hope that after their long wait afficiandos are at least entertained by juggling Oompa-loompah's or something.
After consuming vast quantities of chocolate you know those folks must have been ready to try out for the olympic track team. Thank goodness the weather cooperated so consumers could burn off their choco-stimulus with a few mile long laps on the boardwalk.
Now I'm not a chocolate lover (I'm sure some of you think that makes me only slightly less questionable than un-American) but even if I did periodically gorge on the sweet stuff I can't imagine waiting for hours to do a taste test.
The actual sampling takes place withing the convention center. I can only hope that after their long wait afficiandos are at least entertained by juggling Oompa-loompah's or something.
After consuming vast quantities of chocolate you know those folks must have been ready to try out for the olympic track team. Thank goodness the weather cooperated so consumers could burn off their choco-stimulus with a few mile long laps on the boardwalk.
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