Vol. 83, January 16th, 2024 Published a day early online
Platitudes & Clichés
Honoring a memory, continuing the work
I wonder what Dr. King would think on his 95th birthday.
If only there were a time machine.
In some ways, I’d imagine his delight, and others, a sadness. There’s something different in the air nowadays. The harder we try for a better world, the worse it gets.
Perhaps I’m wrong. There’s job security for those preaching the end of times. Maybe I lean on that. It one-ups the weatherman–people believe me when I say it’s bad, and am glad if I’m wrong.
What would Dr. King say? If only there were a time machine.
But that’s a cliché. There’s a danger to those. A celebrated phrase requires no thought of what it means. I talked with a high school astronomy class the other day, and they had never heard the story of The Emperor Has No Clothes. I told them, making the point that science requires careful thought and healthy skepticism.
Here I am, hiding behind platitudes and clichés, applauding at assumptions, avoiding the painful process of thinking. It’s easy to drop King quotes, but what do they mean? What should our work be? What are we doing with what’s right in front of us?
On this MLK day, I’m trying not to hide. I’m trying to think.
Happy Birthday, Dr. King
Born January 15th, 1929, he improvised the most famous part of his speech when Mahalia Jackson called “Tell ‘em about the dream, Martin.”
Album of the Week
“Live At Carnegie Hall” (Benny Goodman)
Recorded January 16, 1938, the legendary concert established jazz as a high American artform. Features an all-star cast of Harry James, Count Basie, Gene Krupa, Lionel Hampton, etc.
Can you dig it?
Quote of the Week
“Labor to keep alive in your breast that little spark of celestial fire, called conscience.”
–George Washington
“Nice eyes, Lady”
January and February nights find the Great Horned Owl hooting to find a lady bird. I wonder what he’s saying. Maybe whooo’s a nice owl like you doing in a forest like this?
Who’s Your Favorite Thinker?
Got a favorite thinker people should hear, or a nifty quote? Send it along, we’d love to hear it: PO Box 783, Rustburg, VA, 24588 or email Joshurban@protonmail.com
Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #169)
Appearing in the Altavista Journal: Late Night Radio “Road Trip to Summer”
Howdy folks, and welcome back to the show. I got up early and saw something cool. Here’s the story to save you the trouble of the alarm clock.
There’s nothing like a winter sky early in the morning, when it’s still a deep blue, and the sun refuses to rise. Mmm it’s cold out there. There’s a subtle hope written in the stars if you look closely. As our planet traverses it’s year through space, the summer stars rise a bit earlier each night, little sparks of encouragement to carry through the freezing time.
July may seem distant, but Scorpius, a lead constellation of those balmy evenings, is already crawling up over the mountain before dawn.
I peeked out the window at the frosty landscape. The waning crescent moon shone thin and hungry above the bare trees on the ridge, like some movie star on a fad diet. Venus blazed through the thin clouds in the sky on her left, as bright as an airplane, holding steady. I went outside to take a closer look.
Setting up a small telescope, I scanned towards the scene set in Scorpius. July didn’t feel any closer, but the beauty of the sight made up for the chill. The star Antares, “rival of mars” glowed red, 700 times bigger than the sun, but so distant, it was just a twinkle in the sapphire sky. The moon, waning away towards new, displayed a thin rind of a crescent, the dark side ashen gray. If we were on the moon, looking back toward home, we’d see a nearly “full” earth, and the lunar night would be lit with earthshine. (If the man on the moon brewed his own whiskey, I bet that’s what he’d call it.)
Scanning west of the moon, the telescope caught a blue-white star with a tiny dot next to it: a double star. (Our sun is unusual in its solitude–many stars have partners orbiting around them. Think the Star Wars landscape on Tatooine.) Checking with some of my nerd charts, I found out it’s called Alniyat, Arabic for “The arteries”, putting red Antares as the heart. The old old timers in Australia–before it was Australia–called it one of the wives of Antares (Djuit). This tiny speck with another speck next to it is a “mere” 568 light years away from earth, close in cosmic terms. But just like with groceries or real estate, the “little” numbers need some unpacking to grasp the scale.
If a space highway suddenly appeared from my back yard, it would take me about six months to drive to the moon. Continuing my trip to visit this intriguing star, I’d have to carry on for over six billion years on the same imaginary road. That’s without stopping for snacks. Or an oil change, and I’d need a few. A light year is equal to 5.88 trillion miles.
The moon and distant Alniyat sparkled in the same telescope view, as the sky gradually brightened blue towards dawn.
Gladdened by the sight, I went back inside, poured a cup of hot coffee, and had a great day. Ain’t it a beautiful universe?
Catch you on the flip side,
Josh