I sat with a set of children’s books in my arms. I looked down fondly at the one in my hands. The first one was about a giraffologist – the title pulling my attention almost immediately. What a delightful sounding profession?
The book is based on Dr Annie Innis Dagg who was the world’s first giraffologist. The world’s first primatologist, Dr Jane Goodall, is of course well-known. But Dr Annie, who went to Africa to study her favorite animals, giraffes, just 4 years later is practically unheard of. That is the weird nature of public attention.
Dr Annie’s life and work was made into a documentary in Canada honoring her work towards preserving these tall creatures.
The daughter’s drawing of a giraffe:
Bill Bryson’s book, The Body – A Guide for Occupants
I was thinking of giraffes and their beautiful necks one day after reading Bill Bryson’s book, The Body – A Guide for Occupants. One section of the book dealt with how prone we are to choke. One particularly sad anecdote about a person who had a gold coin lodged in his throat was especially excruciating. If nothing else, I am glad we now live in a time and age when surgical techniques have come so far from the ones outlined in the book. (The coin only fell out when he was hoisted by his foot and swung like a pendulum. )
Beautiful Necks Everywhere!
Our evolution into bipedalism means that necks took on a truly unique structure to support the head, and provide a forward looking face for navigation. I stopped and chuckled at that. I was on a walk, and just like that, I started noticing necks everywhere. The crane, the gray heron, the hummingbird, the dog, squirrel and the cat.
I got home to look up the giraffe’s neck again.
Did you know that both giraffes and humans have the exact same number of bones in our necks : 7
Yet, the giraffe’s neck supports its long neck, and its heart supports pumping blood all the way up there. All those jokes about tall folks( How’s-the-weather-up-there?) suddenly feels biologically profound.
In any case, the understanding of our biology, our evolution, and our unique places in the planet is shaped by so many factors –How many giraffes with weird ears and longer tails evolved before the long necked ones that we know and love?
I craned my neck to look at a white egret crook its neck and plunge into the waters with precision and force for its breakfast, and gently massaged my own neck. ‘Up to my neck with worries’ took on a new meaning too, and I hoped giraffes and herons never had to use that phrase, when worried.
Just like that, my blog has become a proper functioning adult.
21 years of selectively writing about what matters to an ordinary person. Somehow, reflecting on the writing makes it seem like our lives were more adventurous, humorous, and fun-filled.
Now, isn’t that a lovely gift?
I was reading Bill Bryson’s book, The Body, and in it, he says something incredible about memories – that we can predominantly choose what we want to remember. That often our most colorful memories aren’t the original ones at all – but rather deepened by the feeling and retelling of it. We’ve seen it in the stories we love to tell each other all the time. Every time we laugh about our own foibles, it makes the memory a more endearing one, doesn’t it?
Where am I going with all this?
Curating the blog’s theme
I realize that I am probably tending to what gets on my blog. I tend to actively gravitate towards what I want to cherish in life – beautiful moments, humorous moments, peaceful moments, intellectual moments: in short, moments of awe, curiosity, love, levity, and transformation. The negative rooted out like weeds (which is not to say that I don’t have them. I do, of course. Just in measured quantities on the blog.)
Anyway.
There are no awards given for 21 years of writing 1-2 blog posts a week, every week for 1092 weeks. 5-9 posts a month for 252 months. The award is the writing, and the wholly generous readers who stop by to wave, hopefully feel a moment of peace, get a laugh or two, and encourage me endlessly.
So, go ahead – this is a party!
Get drunk – I mean on the posts in the blog. I don’t actually offer alcohol. Please head on over and randomly click on any month, read a few, and let me know what you think, or you know, just have fun.
“I mused for a few moments on the question of which was worse, to lead a life so boring that you are easily enchanted, or a life so full of stimulus that you are easily bored.”
Is there more to life? Our lives? Most lives? I don’t know. But I know that ‘this one precious life’, as Mary Oliver puts it demands our attention. What you value, and what you remember over the moments of your life, becomes you, doesn’t it?
To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work. – Mary Oliver
P.S: WordPress tells me I have a significant achievement: World Domination – for receiving visitors from over 150 countries – with the sweet caption: The United Nations has nothing on you.
There is an energy to India that is indescribable. The heat, the rains, the people, the colors, the population, and the conversations. Over time, the nature of these conversations has shifted gently towards aging. All of us are aging, but that means, our parents, uncles, aunts and grandparents are aging too.
Even as we realize aging is coming for us all, it is a humbling experience to see previously bustling energetic authority figures succumb to the frailties of age. The anxiety among the aging is very high. Whether this is a reflection of rapid technological changes, or simply a function of age, I do not know. I don’t have the data to determine whether our grandmothers’ anxieties increased with age as well. It wasn’t something that was acknowledged, much less named and labeled.
“What are you doing, amma?” I said walking into the kitchen one night.
“Soaking some rice for appam tomorrow – I know you like it.”, she said.
“Hmm..” I said noncommittally. “Don’t worry too much. I am not particular about ..”
“I know you!” She cut me off. “You Americans get by without breakfast, without evening tiffin! We’ll make appam and stew, and I know you will love it!”
Who was I to argue with that? I do love a good appam and stew.
Women who managed careers, homes and children with competence and skill suddenly find themselves paralyzed by whether there is enough milk in the fridge for morning coffee. The certainty of Gopala, the morning milkman, is no longer there. The rhythm of waiting till morning for the milkman is gone. Instead, they find themselves checking obsessively with their children whether the breadbasket order is in.
Swift technology, quick commerce, while making it easier for us, also seems to have contributed to an increase in instant gratification among the elderly.
The Procurement Parrot
Watching the evenings unfold in families where the breadwinners work in multinational companies in India is fascinating. I watch the mother figures peep into the room where the man of the house is taking an international call – possibly the US, given the time-zone difference.
“We need curry leaves.”
The son’s performance is a class in the performing arts. Keeping his eyes trained on the screen, and acting like there is no interruption, there is an intense hand-wave not visible on the screen- signaling, “Shh!”
If you thought that would have her beaten – I show you The Great Indian Mother.
She tries again – this time with the woman of the house, who is in a different room taking a call of her own. She waves her away – with more grace. “Ssh…”
But here, the Indian system knows how to work women. The mother figure is prepared. She passes a note – a list of items that need to be ordered. A quick glance at the list results in:
(1) Either the woman of the house giving in. A pacifying nod to indicate acknowledgment
(2) Or she is sent back to the son’s laptop, with further instructions.
After a few minutes, she emerges victorious with her order of milk, curry leaves, and coriander leaves done.
I smiled at the familiar scene. Professionals in India often have to take calls with their US teams, and this means, that the post-dinner refrigerator audit resulting in last minute calls for curry leaves is often handled by the older / retired grandparents in the house.
“I sound like a parrot with these people – I want curry leaves. Order curry leaves. Did you order curry leaves?” She said, and I felt for her.
Or better yet, they managed it themselves treating the walk to the market as a little social saunter. They also, somehow, magically managed to make perfectly good dishes without curry leaves if required. Now, however, with the increase in quick commerce, nobody is willing to wait for anything anymore. Compromise seems to be on the decline.
Yes, some dishes taste better when prepared a certain way, but the beauty of home-cooked meals is in the art of adjusting, and creating anyway.
All day long, delivery folks zip by on bikes, delivering this and that to the urban household who is anticipating anything from a watermelon to a stitched blouse from a tailor down the road. Need some fermented batter delivered across the city? There is a fella on a bike willing to come home, collect it, and deliver it across the city for you. The heat doesn’t deter them, the rains barely, the snarling jams part-and-parcel of their days. Mega marts feeding quick commerce – enabling thousands to eke out a living, yes, but it also a reminder that we have forgotten to wait and be patient with our wants and desires.
“While you are having dinner itself, I’ll tell you today.”, she said the next day. ”I can’t have you hissing like cobras in the house when I come around with the list of things to order! We need 4 packets of milk – for payasam (kheer) tomorrow.”
I laughed at the cobra reference and rose to protest that payasam was quite unnecessary, but was silenced with a stare. So, I slurped the stew, and gulped the appam with relish.
“ Is the appam stew good?”, she asked me.
I smiled at the matriarch. “Yes! Fantastic as always, amma.” I said, removing the curry leaves from the stew, and setting it at the corner of my plate, while the breadbasket order for the next day was being filed under her watchful gaze.
“Who is your favorite king/emperor/ruler?” I asked my friend.
Without a second’s hesitation, he came up with the name I knew he would come up with. “Genghis Khan.” He calls it the greatest rags to riches story (personally, I reserve that category for J K Rowling).
A link to his posts on Genghis Khan if you’re interested.
When I posed the same question to the husband he said, “Chandragupta Maurya.”
The son gave me a wily smile as if smirking at the very question, and shouldn’t I know it? I smiled, “Of course! Napoleon! Fine – your turn – guess my favorite ruler then!”
“I think Ashoka.”
“Yes!’ And I beamed at him. “I always like a sappy story about a guy who sees the error of his ways, and makes amends.”
Napolean cures jetlag
I don’t know how, but I found myself being lured into a documentary about Napoleon after my trip back from India. Severely jet-lagged, and slightly bleary eyed, I agreed.
The son and the husband have this deplorable habit of checking to see if I am still awake while they make me watch things close to their heart. “Amma!”, he said straight into my ears, sounding like Napolean’s horse charging into battle, on multiple occasions. Finally, after Part 1 was over he allowed me to go bed. I suppose unlike his dear Napoleon, he spotted a losing battle when he saw one.
Now I don’t know how folks get over jet lag. But I suggest the Napoleon documentary followed by a swift 12 hour deep slumber for the desired results. I felt fresh and ready to take on the world the next day as I puttered around the kitchen making coffee.
“Thanks to Napoleon, I had a good night’s sleep yesterday!” I said to the son, who looked confused for a moment and then chuckled at the statement:I had to agree.
Napolean – the granter of peaceful slumber?
Napoleon could be credited with many things, but granting peaceful sleep was not something he achieved during his times. At least a million families knew of heartbreak and grief thanks to his relentless pursuit of power, his myriad schemes and questionable policies across Europe in the late 1700’s and early 1800s. How many families lost their sleep thanks to this man?
I said as much to the son.
“Well at least centuries after his death, he gave peaceful sleep to one jet lagged sad person who was forced to watch a documentary!” I said sticking my tongue out at the son’s horrified expression.
How could I say that about a documentary on his dear Napoleon?!
But if anything he is a good sport, and has Part 2 waiting.
For years, this was the standard response I got. It takes grit and determination to get past that answer every day for years. My school’s motto was Never Give In for a reason. I plunge on. “So when is Dr Seuss week? Should we buy a Dr Seuss hat?” (We still have the hat somewhere I think.) “It’s read-across-America week right? What should we read for our read-a-thon?”
You see? The thing is, I cannot imagine their school to be a place where nothing happens. It can’t be when they are making diasporas of dinosaur habitats, writing book reports of The Magic Tree House, learning about exotic animals – supposedly in preparation for their field trip to the zoo, and making art so their little fingers look like they dipped their hands into a rainbow.
Yet. Nothing and Good. Good for Nothing answers both.
Then, something wonderful happened.
Literature Lives
I started volunteering in elementary school classrooms. Sometimes, as a volunteer teaching experimental science, other times as a connoisseur introducing fine books of literature.
“Oh! You’re a Booklegger lady now? Cool Amma! I used to love when they came to school.” said the son one day when I told him that I had signed up to become a Booklegger volunteer at the local library.
“You knew about this program?” I said, stunned.
“Yeah, of course! It was always fun when the Booklegger people came.” He said.
“All those years I asked you, how was your day? And you never said a thing!” I said, somewhat stung at this omission. The children knew I would have loved to hear about volunteers from the library coming to introduce new books to them. Especially when I had to beg them to read books other than Captain Underpants and Dog Man all the time. He shrugged, and said “Eh!”, good-naturedly and moved on.
You see? The book even starts off with the exact sequence I wrote about earlier. How was your day? Fine! What did you do? Nothing.
The book captures the spirit behind the word ‘Nothing’ the way the son says it so perfectly, it is like the author has been around watching the son imaginate.
Imaginating Nothing
He loves to imaginate. A verb he coined himself and a word that has become a household word in the nourish-n-cherish home. It means actively imagining scenarios and living them. I know he fights off pirates and takes on armies when he leaps off the bed to the carpeted floor. The fake swords may not survive an actual duel on the battlefield, but the cushions in the house don’t stand a chance!
So many times, the only thing that has stopped me from running out of the house fearing an earthquake, is the fact that earthquakes are felt from the earth, not from the bedroom upstairs. When his friends are over to play, the Richter scale shivers and stutters.
Please head on over to the book to see what Nothing means when your child says they did ‘Nothing’ all day. I assure you it is more exciting than anything any of us do.
If only the Good days on which we do Nothing are half as exciting!
For years, this was the standard response I got from the children after school. Never one to be deterred though, I’d redirect, prod, ask specific questions: What did Shriya say about your new drawing pencils? Did Shrinik do somersaults after lunch today also?
You see? The thing is, I could not imagine their school to be a place where nothing happened, and the best adjective for the day was ‘Good!’. I knew for a fact that they listened to their teacher read out stories, they hopped along the number line, slid up and down through graphs, chased butterflies, had turf wars with sticks and stones, played sharks and minnows in the playground, were enthralled as they enacted civil wars, made the artwork that papered the walls of their colorful classroom, and so much more.
Yet. Nothing and Good. Good for Nothing answers both.
Then, something wonderful happened.
Dancers Move!
I started volunteering in elementary school classrooms, as a volunteer – sometimes reading out books, other times, teaching experimental science.
One day, we were experimenting with air pressure and force with the kindergarten children. One of the experiments was to blow bubbles to see how the bubbles stayed airborne. It was a lovely windy day, and the bubbles were a joy to teacher, volunteers, and students alike. There were delighted gasps as large bubbles drifted off into the air, and much chasing after the smaller bubbles.
When finally, the class was done, and we headed back into the classroom, the teacher said, “Oh! They have too much energy. They’ll never settle down to sit and do anything now. Let me get them to release some energy first!” I wondered what she would do, as recess was behind us, and lunch time was a while away.
I started laughing when I saw her switching on some music. “Dancers Move!”, she said, and the children seemed to know what to do. I watched mesmerized as the little ones danced to the music. What a wonderful way to blow off some extra energy?
“Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school.” —Albert Einstein
I thought everyone danced!
I narrated the whole thing to the teenaged son later that day as went on a windy day walk, and he laughed, “Yes! I remember doing that all the time!”
I tell you.
“All those times I asked you how was your day, and you said ‘Good!’, you danced in school?” I said, flustered more by this than the whipping winds.
“Yes…but don’t you see? It was good. Yes. But we did it all the time. It was nothing new.”
“Why do you think I yearned to hear about your days? We didn’t dance in the office!”
“Yes, but we didn’t know that! I thought every one danced!”
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. It is true isn’t it? He didn’t know what our days were like. If anything, our days were good too. Just not listening-to-stories, playing-with-air-bubbles on windy days, and dancing to let-off-steam good.
So, what do your good days look like? You know? The days you do nothing.
Spring time walks are meant for dancers. But human beings, especially as adults, develop this appalling habit that we associate with dignity. We curtail our movements. Getting stiffer and stiffer as we age, and then complain about the loss of agility. We have International Dance Day on April 29th. Why don’t we make dancing in public – just like that – in April a social convention?
Look at all the world in April.
Is this Dignified?
The hares don’t just move – they hop, they hip, they hip-hop The birds don’t just fly – they flit, they swoop, they skim The dogs don’t just run – they wander, they romp, they swagger The snakes don’t just slither – they rattle, they pulse, they coil The plants don’t just grow – they blossom, they reach, they sprout The trees don’t just become green – they flower, they photosynthesize, they crown
I, too, feel the urge to prance and skip But adults don’t just dance in meadows – they think, they weigh, they worry When the mind leaps, and the body stays still Where does the energy go? It sings, it muses, it writes. All the while asking: Is this dignified?
The other day, I walked with difficulty – you see what I wanted to do was skip, prance and twirl a jig or two. That’s spring time – like a coiled spring waiting to release its energy. I was on a trail with people. Adults who all seemed to be in a similar state of imbalance between the internal energy and what the world expects from us. I could see it in the size of their smiles.
How do you do Mrs Potts, and you, Mr Binns?
How marvelous it would be if we could do just as we please? Skip and sing. So what if Mrs Potts scowls or Mr Binns purses his lips. Alas! We do not do that. Not when one’s hair is graying. That’s when you are supposed to know better isn’t it? I could not help thinking of the young child who skipped to school as she was dropped off by an adult one morning. Most adults had the ‘office look’, but even they could not help smiling at the spring time exuberance of this child.
Mating in Springtime
As I walked on musing thus, I stopped to watch the spring time mating rituals with amusement. There were two wood ducks chasing after a female. Their bluish green heads glinting in the morning sunlight.
Elsewhere, a couple of blackbirds, and a pair of hummingbirds swooped in circles. Teasing each other, attracting their mate. That’s when the western grebes grabbed my attention. They ran, nay skipped and danced, across the waters – is there a touch of the basilisk in them?
I am not sure I recognize giggles in birds, but if I could anthropomorphize, that is what I would say – they giggled and reveled in each other’s company. They danced together on the waters, and then skimmed below the surface for, what I can only assume is, frolicking underwater.
When finally, they surfaced one after another, as though daring each other to see who could hold out the most, I laughed. They were far from where they swooped under, they managed to continue their play and resurfaced together before running on the water again.
Apparently, that is their mating ritual. Really – birds have the most beautiful mating rituals. Take the peacock for instance- this bird isn’t leaving anything to chance.
Talk about dancing your way into hearts.
Dance-wherever-and-whenever-you-wish month
“I wish we would dance!” I said to the son later that day when I told him about International Dance Day.
“I think you already do that, amma. You just think you don’t. I saw you wiggling your hands just now!”
I laughed. “But I want to properly dance you know? Tap dance, ballet dance, classical dance, jazz dance. ”
He rolled his eyes.
Who would like to join me in petitioning for a dance-wherever-and-whenever-you-wish month?
Google’s Doodle on Earth Day was images of earth scapes, and I remember drifting from there to thinking of the different things Earth represents. Not philosophically, not in a dead-without-planet way, but in a mind’s eye sort of way.
All blanketed in our beautiful atmosphere We can either breathe it all in or not think of it at all
It isn’t a very good poem. But it made me think of something my friend once told me when I lamented the state of our beautiful Earth. “The Earth will be fine. The only question is whether we will be fine on Earth.”
Wise words from a wise soul.
Earth will be fine!
I thought of that the other day as the son & I meandered around the Smithsonian Natural History Museum. It really is a marvelous museum. We found ourselves going twice to the Oceans section – The Sant Ocean Hall. There was one particular exhibit showing the range and number of species prior to The Great Dying, and after it all.
I cannot imagine the work that went into designing an exhibit like that. The number of geologists, naturalists, biologists, scientists: and then, the scientific accuracy, the research papers, the peer review. But I stood there taking it in, and really did want to go back to the time before the Great Dying. To see the different kinds of life in the oceans, the sheer enormity of it all compared to what we have now.
To think we live in a time of less than 1/4 the diversity and abundance of life, and it is still so beautiful. I realize human-beings could not have been there – we needed to find our place in the evolutionary queue, and all that. But if there was a way to get a peek, I would take it. Even if just a simulation. How do you simulate more jellyfish varieties, more squid varieties.
Even The Most Imaginative
I remember one interview I watched of J K Rowling a while ago, in which she attempted to create a new mythical creature, and found after all her thinking, that the creature resembled our planet’s manta rays. Our human imagination, even from arguably one of the most imaginative person on the planet, is still limited. That is the vast expansive nature of the diversity on this Earth.
To think that Earth bounced back from an event like The Great Dying, and is thriving now, is remarkable. To think one species (us) is capable of wreaking havoc on a planet as resilient and marvelous as Earth is also something to think about.
It is also amazing to realize that we are but a blip on the planet’s life. All our problems, our wars, our angsts – every thing that means so much to us, is but a blip. We rarely stop to think if what is bothering us now would be a problem for us next week, next year, next decade. Does Earth stop to think whether we will be a problem a few centuries from now, a few millennia, a few eras, a few eons?
It is our beautiful Earth Day, and I am grateful for the rainy day, the sun’s watery rays afterward, and the slowly forming into a sharp and exquisite rainbow.
The past few days have been days of unimaginable beauty in the Bay Area. They have been rainy days. Rainy days in the Bay Area are a different kind of beautiful. For it rains, it pours, it drizzles, it teases, it dances, and it drums and sometimes just goes away. Occasionally, if you are really lucky, you can see a rainbow or two.
One evening, the son & I wrapped up and went on a walk. It was a windy day, and temperatures tend to dip a bit more than usual on windy days around the time of a sunset. The clouds were so thick and ready for some rains, that we knew we would not be gazing at the sunset exactly. Still, that time of the day seems to beckon one, doesn’t it? Something about it makes it feel sacrosanct.
Feeling Bubbly?
We chatted about this and that. Mostly of the experiment I had done with the children at the school I had volunteered in. Our experiment with air and whether they have force, culminating in blowing bubbles were a thumping success if the joy, laughter and smiles were anything to go by. We blew small, medium, big and humongous bubbles into the air. It is an amazing feeling when volunteers, teachers & the children have a great time. I told the son as much, and he grinned with what I knew was not just indulgence but genuine happiness for us.
Shining With Divinity?
On the way back, a beautiful trick of the light meant that the world behind us glowed golden through the clouds, while ahead of us, it glowed silver through the clouds. The pair of us stopped our chattering, and smiled together. Both of us stuck trying to find the right word for the light. Maybe even wondering how to catch this moment in a literal bubble. For it was so beautiful.
“Divine light, huh?”
“Yeah! I don’t think I know exactly what that light is, but this comes closest no?” the son agreed.
Light is such a beautiful phenomenon. We spend our lives trying to hold it, we have endless literary devices around it (Light at the end of the tunnel, lightness of being, making light of a situation) – But always, it is in a positive light (huh!)
Rainy days bring out the beautiful potentialities for experiencing light. It can evoke melancholy, gratitude, divinity, surrender, and most importantly awe.
Rainbows
When the raindrops manage to create total internal refraction, there is nothing but joy, wonder and an overwhelming sense of loving this beautiful Earth with its thin blanket of an atmosphere that allows us to experience rainbows.
In the midst of all the war-mongering and depressing news, the images of our beautiful Earth sent from the Artemis missions has been such a joy. Yes – we have all seen photographs of Earth before -a fact that we seem to so easily take for granted. A hundred years ago, round Earth was a concept for people, not something with photographic evidence. The fact that the Earth is round may be something that whales and migratory birds know innately, but they have never seen the picture of their home beamed to them showing all the beautiful colors it is made up of.
In contrast, I saw a documentary with pictures of the storms on Saturns. The video zoomed into the rings that look so beautiful, and explained the violence that created them in the first place. Jupiter’s storms are bigger than our planet, forever raging, forever swirling.
Then, we see Earth – its storms metaphorically Saturnian and Jupiterian thanks to political systems the world over, but peaceful looking otherwise. A reminder for what we need to persevere for, and preserve.
The Demons Within
I remember the son & I chatting about space travel in the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum. We had been there after the Holocaust Museum, and I was feeling philosophical: “How could the very species capable of such cruelty also be capable of discovering exoplanets, and work towards energy conservation initiatives such as solar and hydrogen powered solar systems?”
The son looked thoughtful. “You know – sometimes these things are not just in a species – it is in one person. There was this person called Werner von Braun. He was on the team that built the Saturn 5 spacecraft. He was a Nazi and he was not given punishment for his war crimes if he could do this – help NASA build the spacecraft. Did he feel bad? I don’t know.”
I was intrigued. So, I came home and looked him up.
Of course, he tried to distance himself from the Nazis claiming to simply be a scientist who would have worked for anyone willing to let him work on machines and space probes. But it wasn’t so. He was an active member of the SS, and when he made references to the concentration camps, it was in vague terms – so he could feign if not ignorance, at least only faint knowledge. But this too was wrong.
His reputation did not exactly come out till after his death when another SS officer decided to pull him down too.
The Moralities of our Lives
The moralities of our lives are shaped early but constantly being questioned. Most of us lead lives of modest impact, and our ability to act, or the failure thereof, usually has impact on few people. However, in dystopian times, both the desire to act and the restraint from acting can both have disastrous consequences, and are somehow more impactful.
We are living in strange times- I hope it is not as dire as the ones that led to the World Wars, but the technology and warfare we have at our disposal now makes the impact multifold.
What will the judgement be when history looks back at this period in American and World History? I can almost hear the professorial tones in the books: “This was the beautiful planet they had. They let it slide and be destroyed …”
This Beautiful Earth
All I can think of is, there is a reason the images of our beautiful Earth are being beamed back to us and are surfacing in our public consciousness at this point in time. It is a reminder that we have a duty to perform. Protect a planet from us.
That seemed like a marvelous way to say goodbye to the rainy week-end. How was your week-end?