Serendipity - Seeking Intelligent Life On Earth

1914 V: The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Rupert Brooke

Rupert Brooke never came back from the war. An entire generation of the young men of Europe and England died in that war and the population had barely begun…

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The “F” Word

Fish Of Gold

No, not that F word, the other one: feminism.

The word feminist has about as many dirty and immediate connotations as the word atheist. People instantly judge you if you call yourself one or the other. I don’t readily label myself either term, but I’m more inclined to call myself an atheist than a feminist, which is silly. Based on the dictionary definitions, I’m actually more of a feminist than an atheist:

Feminism: the advocacy of women’s rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men.

Atheism: the theory or belief that God does not exist.

Really, when it comes down to semantics, I’m not an atheist. I’m agnostic just for the simple fact that there is no incontrovertible proof that god doesn’t exist. There’s not absolute proof that he does either, but that’s a story for another post.

As for feminism, I firmly believe…

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Sunday Slideshow: Summer Moon Festival

that cynking feeling

“Where the hell is that?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know. Somewhere off I-75.”

“What’s there to do at this festival?”

“It’s where Neil Armstrong was born, so . . . space stuff?”

“Let’s go.”

And that’s how we ended up driving four hours round-trip to the Armstrong Air and Space Museum so that Philip could jump in a bounce house for ten minutes.


Peter was bored on Sunday morning. He had plans for that evening, but the rest of the day was wide open. After his second deep sigh, I consulted the schedule. Dozens of events took place around the state last weekend, but most had concluded on Saturday.

One exception was the Summer Moon Festival in Wapakoneta, Ohio.

I thought it sounded like an interesting event, but it was already after 10:00 am, and we were 130 miles away. Peter didn’t think that sounded too far, so…

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Tea and a book


Since getting married 33 years ago, I have had to find my own little corner of the yard for tea and a book, as my spouse “didn’t do outside”. But Georgia surprised me a couple of days ago by arranging this small tea table for me, under the big elm tree where it is always shady. She brought the African violet outside from in the house, but the heat would have quickly scorched it, so I stopped by Lowe’s and found this hanging basket of Lobelia, petunias, and other tiny flowers to hang from the branch.
My new cozy spot for tea and a book, under the elm tree by the clothes line. My new cozy spot for tea and a book, under the elm tree by the clothes line.

Each of the past two mornings I have headed outside early with my book, to visit with the birds and enjoy the early morning breeze. Today the hummingbird came to the Rose of Sharon, then flitted over…

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