Trading Astronomy for Forestry

         

                               

Hayter for November 5, 2023

“If ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ were candy and nuts…”

I wish I had majored in astronomy instead of forestry. Of course, it’s a bit late to endorse such a thought. Reminds me of what Don Meredith told Howard Cosell one night on Monday Night Football. -- “If ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ were candy and nuts, we’d all have a merry Christmas.” – I miss Dandy Don.

 

More to the subject, I don’t miss much about the time and trials I had in getting a forestry degree. I do miss my college buddies, but as a forester, I don’t miss our time fighting against the infestation of the Southern Pine Beetle or getting lost one late evening in a dense forest somewhere east of Cleveland, TX. I left my compass on the dashboard of my pickup, and as the sun disappeared behind the cloud cover, I happened upon a group of sleeping wild hogs. They call it a “sounder”. I’ve told the story more than once. 

 

As a forester, I did learn a lot, but had I been an astronomer, I would have learned so much more. Of course, I wouldn’t know much about trees. My favorite tree is the rusty blackhaw, genus species Viburnum rufidulum. It’s odd how the spelling of weird words is easier to remember than a lot of the simple ones.

 

If I can remember “rufidulum”, imagine how much I would have retained as an astronomer. I’m talking about the final frontier! As is, I know only parts of two constellations. I’m familiar with Orion’s belt, but where Orion begins and ends is beyond me.

 

I can find the big and little dipper. They’re both in the Ursa Major (Big Bear) constellation. In Australia, they call it The Southern Cross. I don’t know what all makes up the Big Bear. nor do I know what it looks like in the Southern Hemisphere. But I will tell you this: The stars composing any constellation are not as near to each other as they appear. For example, the star that portrays the end of the handle of the Big Dipper could be 800 million light years behind the next star on the handle. Yet, it looks like it’s just a few miles west of it.

 

The way I see it, getting lost in the forest in no way compares with getting lost in space. I’ve seen part of the Lost in Space series, and I’m telling you, those people are still lost.

 

I just read that there are 88 official constellations. No telling how many “unofficial” ones there are. I thought that since each month of the year is associated with a particular constellation, there were only 12 known constellations. Do you see how much I needed to study astronomy?

 

Come to find out, calendars are more into astrology, not astronomy. You see, in astrology, I belong to the constellation Leo, because I was born between July 23 to August 22. That means I’m a Lion. Kay is too. Unfortunately, she too often usurps my male-lion authority.

 

While I don’t consider myself a part of the Zodiac crowd, I respect the daylights of all who do. I certainly don’t need a Zodiac curse tossed at me.   

 

All that I know about the Final Frontier could’ve been taught to me in a matter of minutes, had I studied astronomy. But, no, I memorized tree species names, like, pinus taeda. That’s a loblolly pine. They’re all over the place.

 

But now I want to learn about the vastness of space. And, I really don’t have that much time to do it. I am glad that I’ve been around long enough to learn some info provided by the James Webb telescope. Astronomers are discovering stellar events that are currently unexplainable… to the human mind.

 

Recently I saw something online from Live Science that read “The universe could stop expanding 'remarkably soon!” If remarkably soon was registered in Earth time, that could mean it will happen next month. But space-time? That could mean, like, a million years from now. So, don’t sell the beach home yet.

 

If the universe does indeed stop growing, it brings up a few billion questions. I have only two. One: If the universe stops growing, what is it that lies beyond the universe? A really big wall? 

 

Two: How far away from us is the end of the universe right now? What is it? A few trillion light years. If so, the universe must’ve stopped growing at least three or so trillion years ago, or else how could anyone have predicted the notion that it stopped growing? 

 

When I was a forester I was too busy messing with the forest. What I learned about the Final Frontier, came from Dr. Spock. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve always had some really weird thoughts about outer space, just not enough scientific info to come up with any explanations.

 

Recently I’ve come to believe that Spock was not all that reliable in his assessment of the final frontier. And what’s scary is the thought that while I may know more than a fictional character in a low-budget space series, I’m still dumb as dirt when it comes to knowledge about the universe. I just happen to still enjoy learning weird things, some of which, actually make a little bit of sense to me.

 

Some of which tell me to “don’t stop believing. Hold onto that feeling. Streetlight people, oh whoa…”

 

I apologize. That was one of my favorite songs from Journey. It may not have been as much encouragement to me as what Don Meredith said about sugar and nuts, but it’s up there all right.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

 

 

         

 

 

 

 

Tales of Kay and Mark

       

                               

Hayter for October 29, 2023

“The Pickle Jar and Other Tales”

This afternoon, I managed to corral three topics I considered worthy of discussion.  – “Vacation planning, a can opener, and my similarities to Elvis.” -- I settled on the can opener. – Okay, get your buns back here! This thing is going places.

 

My interest in the can opener came to me by way of  Kay, who interrupted my viewing of the news by handing me a giant jar of dill pickles, and asking if I would open it. Me, open an 80 oz. jar of pickles? In America, we refer to 80 ounces as a good bit over half a gallon. The lid itself wouldn’t fit in my sock drawer. 

 

I happened to be sitting in my comfy chair at the time, so Kay suggested I stand up, so as not to get pickle juice on me and my chair. I didn’t fear spilling any juice, because I knew I couldn’t open the thing. But, try I did, all the while thinking of an elderly lady in Magnolia straining every blood vessel in her body while trying to open a half-gallon jar of  Mt. Olive Kosher Dills that her grandson bought for her. Does Mt. Olive even care about the elderly?

 

Before Kay could wrestle the jar out of my hands, I jumped up and hurried to the kitchen where I knew there was an ancient bottle opener magnetically attached to the fridge.  I used the pointy end of the opener to pry the lid just enough away from the glass to let the pressure out. “Whoosh!” Then I calmly opened the jar. Kay said, “Thank you.”

 

Thank you? Did she not notice the ingenious manner in which I opened the lid?  How about, “Oh, darling, you’re so smart.” or “What would I do without you?” No, I get a thank you. I can get a thank you by tossing her the TV remote from across the room. Opening a two-gallon jug of pickles deserves at least a hug and a kiss.

 

The only thing I’ve ever used that bottle opener for was to open killer lids on pickles, olives, and jars of spaghetti sauce. I tell you that to tell you this. The old combination can and bottle opener was not made to open pickle jars. It was made to pop off the caps on bottles and to pierce a triangular hole in the tops of beer and soft drink cans. This was before plastic bottles with screw-on lids.

 

Yes siree, Bob. The method of opening cans and jars has evolved quite a bit over the years. The change was for the better.  No longer are the lids of soft drinks welded onto the top of the bottles. And, cans now have little tabs on the top that you pull to open. I don’t know who invented the concept, but if I were wearing a hat, I’d take it off to them.

 

Another great change is that of the TV volume and channel changing knobs. The Hayters were alive during the time before the TV remote was invented. For years, I was the only one who knew how to change the channel, turn up the volume, or fix the vertical hold. How many people are there in this country who even know what a vertical hold is? Change has resulted in the death of many words in the English language.

 

Regarding the value of the remote control, I feel necessary to ask, what do you do when you can’t find the remote control? I can locate my cell phone by calling myself on Kay’s phone. But, the TV remote? I can’t find a place on our flat screen with an on/off switch or channel knobs. I haven’t looked very hard, but that’s only because I TRY NOT TO LOSE MY REMOTE! As of yet, I’ve been successful. Oh, I still lose the thing, but I know the key areas in which to look. Fortunately, I haven’t found it in either the fridge or the oven.

 

Yes, remote control, is quite possibly near the top of the list of the great changes of mankind. Don’t get me wrong. There have been many changes in the field of medicine. What’s happened in the area of kidney stones, has lessened pain and saved lives.

 

And, don’t get me started on laxatives. There was a time when constipation was cured with a vile-tasting liquid or a chewable piece of something. I don’t know which was worse, the ailment or the cure. That has changed big time. Now, I can take three to six small pills and go about my business in no time. Yes, there has been a great change in the area of our urinary and digestive systems.

 

But enough on health. Right now, I’d like you to look around this room at all of the writing utensils I have. Few pencils, but a ton of pens scattered all over the house. And, a lot of them don’t care to be found. The places with the fewest visible pens are the jars and small buckets where I store them. I’ve got five of them around the house. At the moment the only writing utensils in the pen holders are those that don’t work. I don’t throw away a pen until I’m absolutely sure I can’t get a word out of it.

 

The new pens with smooth writing nubs are the only ones I really care for, yet, they end up in places that even the remote control has yet to find. There are ink pens with revolutionary tips. The ink flows beautifully. Nothing scratchy about the pen nub. Yes, my handwriting is still deplorable, but the smoothness and consistency of the ink flow is magnificent.

 

There have been so many great changes over the years, and I have literally not scratched the surface. In fact, I’m beginning to feel as if I should’ve written about Elvis and me. – Next time.

 

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

 

 

         

 

 

 

 

From the Back Porch

          

                               

Hayter for October 22, 2023

From the Porch

          It’s been a good while since I sat on the back porch of an evening. It’s the coolness of the outdoors that got me out here today. For a good while it’s been too miserable outdoors to consider a porch sit. Perhaps you noticed.

 

          Things were so much more open during the times I conversed with you while sitting on the roof. It’s been at least six years since I last came to you from The Rooftop. I thought it a great idea, one that visited me back in… when? It had to be around 1982, The idea came due to a deadline that was biting me in the rear.

 

I eventually stood in the backyard and looked around. Still, no topic came to mind. Eventually, the roof hit me. Bonk! I immediately considered it a location for ideas. I went into the house to get a flashlight. When Kay asked what I was doing I said, “I’m going to sit on the roof.” Kay’s response was, “Well, be careful.”

 

I placed the lawn chair in a position where it straddled the roof. It just seemed so much safer that way. I decided to climb to the roof to see if the mental fog would lift. It did.

 

          I’m telling you, the mind has a bunch of different personalities depending on your location. When you’re in school, you can keep up with only so many tiresome topics. Eventually, your mind introduces you to some happy thoughts or interesting possibilities that tend to push you over the walls of wherever you are.

 

          I got lost in such thoughts as a student and also as a teacher. – “Mr. Hayter, what song is it you’re humming?” – “What? Oh, sorry, uh, ‘Night Moves’ by Bob Seeger’. So did y’all finish part three of the 14^th Amendment? --Christopher, what did you get out of it?”  -- “Let’s see, it said something about public officials who took an oath of allegiance to the U.S. Constitution but got involved in a rebellion against the Constitution. Because of that, they could no longer serve in public office.– Surely we won’t need Part 3 of the 14th again, Mr. Hayter.”

 

“Hopefully not, Chris, and don’t call me Shirley.”

 

Yes, it can be difficult to stay on task while in school. “Stay on task!” Those three words were uttered a bunch in school. As I teacher, I don’t remember ever using them. I preferred “Get busy!” It’s more down to earth.

 

I find it difficult, at times, to keep my mind from drifting during a sermon.  It was much harder when I was young, but even today, I can experience mind drift during a sermon. The Apostle Paul claimed to be a horrible speaker, yet, he generally managed to gather a large group around him. Of course, a lot of the gatherers were hoping he’d say something that they could kill him over.

 

Yep, religious thought can be as messed up as you let it. For example, Genesis 1: 1, reads, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” That’s a bit vague. The beginning of what? The beginning of “now”? What was out there before the beginning? There apparently wasn’t any light, because God created light in the beginning.

 

Questions like that were taboo when I was young. Probably why few ever brought ‘em up. I’m assuming that church officials believed each questionable thought might cause you to lose your religion. I can only imagine how much pressure Einstein was under. You ask me, God does not fear Man’s thoughts.

 

I don’t have the answers to my strange thoughts about eternity, infinity, and how it relates to God. What I do have is faith. Faith is something I cannot prove. It’s got too many parts that I do not have answers for.

 

I choose not to trust my faith over my ignorance. As one’s ignorance begins to dissipate, even more questions will arise. Before all thoughts die, I much prefer getting rid of as much ignorance as I can. I don’t know if I’m doing all that well right now, but God seems to bless me with insight on a few things now and again. 

 

Sitting on the back porch helps my thought process a little bit. But, on the rooftop, my brain went everywhere. But, almost six years ago, we purchased a house in a subdivision with some dangerously slanted rooftops. They’re only dangerous if you happen to be sitting on one of them.

 

If I recall, the topic of my one and only article from this rooftop had something to do with the horrors of the experience.

 

That was back then. Right now, I am comfortably and safely sitting in a lawn chair on the porch. While I was telling you all of that other stuff, I heard a tune being broadcast by a popsicle truck. It took me awhile, but I discovered the tune to be “la-cucaracha”. The ice cream guy was playing it much too slow.

 

The popsicle man of my childhood played “All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel…” A fascinating tune. I do not recall ever getting to buy a popsicle from the popsicle man. Whoever he was, he drove an old Ford pickup with a big freezer compartment where the bed of the truck used to be. Inside the freezer, he had a truckload of popsicles, fudgesicles, and Eskimo pies. And other great things, that parents of one or two kids could afford.

 

I never knew any kid whose daddy was a popsicle man. That would’ve been the luckiest kid in town. He could’ve gotten a girlfriend at the snap of a finger. I would’ve even dated him.

 

Oh, well. Those were some of the days, my friend. None of them were more pleasant than the memories. Time can cause a person a lot of physical pain, but one’s memory can bring about a pleasant lapse. Such a blessing. – Next time. 

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

 

 

 

         

 

 

 

 

Eyeball Part 2

Hayter for October 15, 2023

“In sickness and in health”

When last we left, I was getting ready to have my eyeball operated on. I think I made it clear that I was not concerned about the operation itself. It was the post-operation stint that I dreaded. At this point, I’m not close to being halfway through.

 

Of course, I will not continue with my woe-is-me commentary past today. Next week, no matter how poorly I’m doing, you will not read more than a paragraph about my eyeball. Here it is ten days after the procedure and, though the worst of it is over, I’m still in the state of dread… and I’m not even in Oklahoma. The good thing is – I’ve got Kay!

 

I want you to know that I did not marry that girl because I needed someone who could take care of me. At one time I was actually in charge of a lot of stuff. I was the breadwinner, car fixer, lawnmower starter, grass mower, oil changer, car washer, and leaky faucet fixer.

 

But, over the years, Kay has methodically managed to take care of more things than I ever could. I still have chores, you understand? But, I can not come close to matching what all that woman knows about… practically everything.

 

Other than sports, Kay knows everything. Take my eyeball, for instance. While the eye doctor, Dr. Chen, explained to Kay and me, the important information related to my surgery, I didn’t retain much it. There was something about shooting a liquid or gas into my eye socket, which would not allow me to see very well for a while.

 

The doctor never mentioned for me not to lose my clear, plastic eye protector. That thing was with me for all of two days. Kay found it yesterday stuck to the underside of my laptop tray.  I do remember the doctor saying that I would have to sleep on my stomach for almost a week. I apparently stopped listening to her after that.

 

I missed out on the part about the eye drops. Kay brought home two tiny bottles of eye drops.  The drops were to be administered four times a day for the first week, three for the second week, and two for the third. I did manage to catch onto the pattern of succession.

 

Kay has to insert the drops for me because I can’t keep up with the target. The closer the eye drop bottle gets to my bad eye, the less my good eye is able to direct me. I’m liable to deposit the drop into my nostril.   

 

As for sleeping on my stomach, I didn’t remember much about the details.  I thought it’d be for five days, but Kay said I had to do it for seven days. I was way off! On the eighth night, I was allowed to sleep on my side. Not my back! I don’t know what happens if I roll over on my back. Kay acted as if my eye would pop out. 

 

To make sure I didn’t unconsciously end up on my back, Kay got a soft, fluffy piece of material, wrapped it around my waist, and then placed a teddy bear on my back, using the fluffy strap to keep him in place.

 

I don’t know about you, but when someone does something weird to me, I like to know the “why” of it.  Kay said, “Well, if you roll over on your back while asleep, Elwood will wake you up.”

Beg pardon? Uh, Elwood is a teddy bear that the nurse gave me after the removal of my prostate back in ’06. And, no, I don’t care to talk about any part of that procedure.

 

Anyway, the women of one of the local churches made stuffed bears, rabbits, and, uh… what, elephants? I don’t know. I was given a bear. I don’t know if the church ladies intended an adult to get one, but I thought it a nice gesture. I’m fairly sure, though, that the nurse gave the bear to me because, during my short stay, I behaved as a child. Obviously, she had never had her prostate removed.

 

I can finally tell that my eye is getting somewhat better. I can now figure out what some of the blurred images are. I don’t know for sure what the image is until it gets relatively close to my eye. Keep in mind, that my left eye is doing great. It’s the right eye that’s full of nitric oxide. I thought N.O. was a gas, but my eyeball seemed to be filled with a blurry liquid.  

 

Of the many things I’ve learned about losing sight in one of your eyes, is related to the movie “True Grit”.  It’s the part about John Wayne shooting all of those rats in his cabin. The ability of a one-eyed person to quickly hit an object with a revolver is fiction… as was the movie True Grit. I say that to say this. Having only one good eye, my peripheral vision no longer exists. I’m liable to step on or in anything. I can’t even trust myself to set my coffee mug on the table.

 

Speaking of which, if I were to knock an HEB coke off the TV tray, Kay would say, “No, darling, sit down. I’ll clean that up.” I hate putting her through stuff like that, but it’s a blessing knowing that she'll step in and do whatever.

 

And, while I’d do the same for her, there is no way I’m smart enough to match her abilities. I mean, a teddy bear strapped to my back? That’s true love.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com