And the Stars Danced
(A nostalgic recollection)
When my
brothers and I were young, we were always watching the skies. Our mother led us in finding images in the clouds. Our father bought a couple of different high-powered
telescopes from local science teachers to improve our view. As for my brothers and I, we were, simultaneously
close to home and all across the universe.
On
clear summer nights, we would set our lawn chairs up behind the long low farm-building
which we called the garage. Out in that
field, we had an unobstructed view of the night sky. On warm nights, we sat in our shorts and
short sleeves and swatted mosquitoes as we gazed up and out. On cooler nights, we wrapped up in blankets and
our small white faces reflected the silvery light of moon and stars.
Like so
many other children on our beautiful green and blue earth, my younger brothers
and I wished on falling stars. Our older
brother gave us the scientific explanation.
“The
star isn’t falling at all,” he would
begin. Even in his youth, his
explanations were clear and logical, but as he explained the rest of us fell
back into the stars, leaving both gravity and logic behind.
We
found constellations we recognized and made up stories for other star-patterns
that we saw. Again, our older brother
knew the science behind it all.
“Those
stars aren’t really all grouped together,” he might begin, “It just appears
that way from here.”
Letting
him elaborate, we absorbed the science gently, as though through the pores of
our skin. And then, we happily returned
to mixing science and fantasy with fresh night air.
“When I
was a man,” one younger brother might begin, pointing to an unknown
constellation, “I rode that dragon to Alpha Centauri to rescue some settlers
from Klingon Invasion.”
Yes,
our star gazing was impacted by our favorite tv show, Star Trek, which we all
watched together as a family. Even our
science-minded older brother loved the made-for-television adventures of the
crew of the Starship Enterprise. In
fact, his logical approach to understanding the nature of things was modeled after
his favorite character, Spock.
Fireflies,
so plentiful in my youth, were a bonus, like stars fallen closer to the earth. In fact, my younger brothers and I reasoned,
perhaps each of us was really a star fallen to earth.
“Well, actually,”
my big brother would say, “We aren’t, but we are made of the same chemical components
as the stars.”
“Close
enough!” we agreed cheerfully, jumping up to spin and spin and spin, until we
fell, dizzy and serene, to the ground. We
would lay there for a long, long time, with the world whirling lazily around
us, while crickets sang and the stars danced overhead.
Where ever you are, whatever the weather, I wish you good memories and serenity.
