Some “ufologists” say our sky is rife with massive space ships moving at incredible speeds and burning patches in Mrs. O’Leary’s backyard. I’ve spent thousands of hours flying and rare is the UFO I can’t easily recognize as an FO. I don’t discount that it COULD happen, I’m just saying it HASN’T happened.
Aliens are another kettle of little green fish. Given the infinite number of places for life, I find it nearly impossible to believe we are the only ones. I’m reasonably confident some weird little microbe lives under a rock on Rigel-12. But intelligent life? I’m not so sure.
My grandparents lived in a remote West Virginia holler. The closest telephone was a mile away. They hunted for their meat, raised potatoes, cabbage, and carrots along with a few scrawny chickens. Because they were too poor to keep livestock, my grandmother helped till the garden wearing a horse collar and pulling a plow.
They lived in a tar paper shack with a boulder for a front porch and they cooked and heated with wood. Out of necessity, they burned the dining room one winter when the snow became too deep to chop wood. Water came from an open spring about 1/4 mile up the mountain and everyone used the same dipper to drink from the tin bucket in the kitchen. I remember when the power company came down the mountain with a mule and spool of wire to bring them electricity. The house had no switches or wiring so they unscrewed the single bulb to turn it off.
Note: The Poobah is out of town for the next few days attending a senior dinner for Claire Koeneman at Cal Poly Pomona. To keep you entertained. Here’s a Poobah Classic from the archives.
No, really…true story…
My father died about a year and a half ago. He’d been in reasonably good health for an 86-year-old, but by his last year started to decline like, well, an 86-year old. Still, he had a reasonably good run and didn’t have any pain at the end. You can’t ask much more from life than that.