Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I saw a photograph of the blue spiral spotted in the night sky over Europe.
Turned out to be from a SpaceX rocket doing a fuel dump. Meanwhile, The Neurons in my head immediately turned to music, filling my mental music stream with a 1977 rock song by Journey called “Wheel in the Sky”.
Ooh, the wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’
I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow
Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’
h/t to Genius.com
For tomorrow.
Mood: mellow
Greetings to the first day of October. Sunday finds us awash in blue sky in Ashlandia, where the apples are plentiful and the deer are eating well. We saw twenty-three of them around town yesterday while running errands, usually in small herds of four to six.
It’s a chilly day despite sunshine that stings the eyes with its brilliance. 48 F now, we’re doing 66 F today.
October has special meaning for me. I joined the military in October, 1974. Twenty-one years later, I retired in October. And my wife and I bought this house in October of 2006.
Meanwhile, yesterday’s rain postponed our E.T. showing to this evening. This is the second rescheduling; two weeks ago, the outdoor movie screening was postponed to yesterday because of hazardous air quality due to wildfire smoke.
Keeping this short today, so I’ll just go with the music. The Neurons have sowed the seeds of “Wheel in the Sky”, a 1977 song by Journey. I’ve romantically identified with the song’s idea that everything changes quickly and in surprising ways. As Journey portrays in the song, most of us can be anywhere tomorrow. I was in the military in ’77 and wholly agreed with the idea that I could be anywhere the next day. My Air Force units were usually tagged for mobility. That meant that we could be deployed to elsewhere as needed. Although stability has become my norm in this stage of my civilian life, weather disasters or personal upheaval such as health issues can force a shift with little warning. I’ve seen it happen with friends and family.
Beyond that, I moved numerous times as a child, because my father was in the military. Much of that was overseas for Dad, but Mom and we kids remained stateside. Dad was enlisted and that pay wasn’t much. So Mom drove us to live with relatives in Chicago, Iowa, and Pennsylvania. Then Dad would return and we’d head to Texas, California, Virginia, Ohio. Then I joined the military. For the next twenty-one years, I was assigned across the US and around the world on temporary, special, and permanent assignments. Eventually, I retired in California and moved to Oregon.
Remain positive, be strong, and keep chill. Let me finish this coffee and then I’ll kick off the day. Have a better one. Here’s the music. Cheers
A cat and I were admiring the night sky. Well, I was admiring the sky. He was alternatively washing and darting sudden glances at sounds that he claimed to hear. I think he was messing with me, myself.
A full, bright moon obliterated views of the stars but turning, I found some to admire, and toyed with identifying constellations while listening for whatever it was the cat claimed to hear. Besides raccoons, cats, dogs, rats, deer, and opossum, critters like bears and cougars stalk the area.
Still beauty descended from the night. With it came memories of other times when I looked up at a night sky. Most prominently came a time when Bobby and I were on Sicily. Stationed in Germany together, we’d flown down on a training mission. Now trashed, we shared a rallying cry, “The beach at dawn,” and were trying to stay up until that point. It was oh dark thirty, and the Med’s nearby lapping waves was lulling us. Above was a fantastic array of stars, planets, and galaxies, the kind of sight that whispers, “Oh, wow.”
It made me think of “Wheel in the Sky”, a 1978 song by Journey. I sang a little of it. After I stopped, Bobby said, “Oh, man, I really dislike that song.”
Man, did we laugh.
As for reasons why he disliked it, I vaguely remember him mentioning that he thought it too sentimental, sloppy, and shallow. Maybe I’m remembering wrong.
I still don’t know what the cat was pretending to hear. I went back in, leaving him to prowl the night. Maybe the sound he heard was just a promise of something enticing.
Michael Seidel, writer 