The picture at the edge of the universe

Assuming that there is an end to the universe, I’ve always wondered what’s at its edge. At the same time, the size of the universe strains my pea brain. To presume there is a size to the universe also presumes that it has an edge. If it’s infinite, then can be no end to it. That said, thinking about a universe with either no end or with a defined edge scares the crap out of me.

I love to follow stories of daring-do by rocket scientists and their various toys. We might think of these engineers and scientists as dour, humourless folk; but they must have a twinkle in their eyes to name a spacecraft Stardust. (more…)

What do we remember? Or maybe the question should be: how well do we remember? Are our memories to be trusted? How much do we have invested in what we remember?

One of my daughters was hesitant to go play outside after a rainstorm. I asked her why. She said, “I’ll get a cold.” I told her, “You can’t get cold from being cold, you get colds from germs. You could even get a cold in the sunshine. Go outside, have fun.” (more…)

I’ve been scanning old photos. I’m trying to leave something for posterity, even though I realize that I’m the only one that cares about these images. When I came across this one, I started to wonder how much of all of our lives are kept alive in these old images. Let me explain.

The cake is for a 3rd birthday party, my 3rd birthday party. It looks like I made a good, but not overwhelming haul that day. The little box in the upper left looks like jewelry, maybe it’s a ring? I’d say that the one in the lower right was probably a book. Six presents for a 3-year old isn’t bad at all.

The most important thing in the photo is, of course, in the center: it’s the cake. That cake has assumed hagiographic proportions in my memories. It was a very special cake that had been ordered from the City of Paris bakery in San Francisco. The City of Paris was a department store where I would have one of my better tantrums as a child, but that’s not what this photo was about. It’s a beautiful cake. It’s almost too beautiful for a 3-year old. Therein hangs a tale.

Since my birthday was celebrated on the 4th of July, my cakes usually had a patriotic theme. There are three drum majors on the left of the cake. They are probably plastic. The red, white and blue roses, however, were definitely not plastic. They were made out of pure sugar. Evidently they could be saved “forever and ever.” Why anyone would want to save them forever and ever is beyond my comprehension. Yes, I ate them. I popped them in my mouth and thoroughly consumed those little American beauties. (more…)

I’ve never been one for making New Year’s resolutions. I am an inveterate list-maker. Throughout the year I constantly make lists. Since I don’t see myself as being at all disciplined, I am always gobsmacked when I actually complete all the tasks on my latest to-do list. Not that I do always manage that.

This last year was a case in point. I finished most tasks, but farted about with the most important task of all: I didn’t finished revising a book. I meant to, I wanted to, I even made headway with it; but when it came down to it I didn’t finish it. It has assumed the top spot on this year’s first list. It’s like a big blot in my copybook and every time I go back to that page I can see it. (more…)