Every year the Historical Engine Society of Burton, Ohio puts on a wonderful antique engine and tractor show. One of the best aspects of this show is that it takes place at the beautiful Century Village Museum on the Southeast corner of the square in Burton. This allows you to see this old equipment amongst old buildings on a town square. It’s a great setting.
A couple weeks ago we lost another Apollo astronaut, Edgar Mitchell. He was eighty-five and lived a long, good life it seems. Now about half of the people that walked on the moon are dead. The youngest of them is eighty years old.
I am forty-two now. All of the moon landings happened before I was born. The NASA space program has pretty much been a spiral of irrelevance my whole life.
One of the neatest things we did on our last London trip was visit the Royal Geographical Society. They have an exhibit of Frank Hurley’s photographs from Shackleton’s Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition in 1914. The expedition was doomed pretty much from the beginning with the ship getting stuck and eventually crushed by the ice in the Weddell Sea.
It’s the beginning of the year! You know how everyone is looking for a new resolution? I have one for all of us: let us resolve to kick the shins of people who say “first world problems”.
We live in a time of obsessive safety. Every item for sale in this great land is scrutinized from front to back, top to bottom, for any possible injury causing attribute. Designers rework their products endlessly attempting to prevent even the most advanced ignoramus from successfully modifying their product into an efficient eye removal tool. Parents clothe their offspring in enough protective layers that a fall from a supersonic jet would merely result in a severely dented Earth and a child confused because he had never been left outside before.
The Times relayed to us this week the tale of new findings from space nonsense. NASA scientists, apparently having nothing better to do with their barrels of taxpayer money, decided to run a spectacularly expensive flying object into the debris of a comet. This sort of tomfoolery, most resembling a horde of teenagers driving too close, too fast down gravel roads, is apparently what passes for science in this debauched age. However, to explain away the damage to the paint of their expensive spacecraft, these joyriding scientists have now said that they have found amino acids in the scratches.
There seems to be a new divide forming in this nation. Fashion is working its ugly ways, forcing itself upon our collective norms. Again. This insidiousness goes on almost imperceptibly until we are firmly in its grasp, left unawares as to how we arrived in this sorry state. Upon realizing the scale of this degeneracy, your humble narrator thought he may have been too terribly behind the fashion curve to do much to head off this abomination. However upon further reflection I have come to the conclusion that we citizens together can triumph over this peril.
Years ago, in a place not too far removed from where I now sit, existed place of intrigue. A place so magical that words can just start to describe the outline of its wonder. But that is what I shall endeavor to do.