A Source of Wonder in the Sky

                            

Aldebaran peeking out from beyond the Moon.

Credit:  Roger Hutchinson

Sky & Telescope

Copyright © 2024

by Ralph F. Couey

Written Content Only

Visitors to this blog sometimes leave notes and comments, for which I am always grateful.  Feedback is absolutely vital for any writer, whether good or...otherwise because it makes for a better writer from a technical standpoint, but also provides a space to be more aware and sensitive of the impact of my words.

I often write about things in nature, both here on this planet, but also throughout the universe.  People have remarked on my "sense of wonder," and for that I plead guilty as charged.  A recent post concerned an encounter I experienced with a preying mantis.  I remember that day, and how I couldn't resist looking at it from very close range.  I'm sure I made that poor critter nervous, especially when I carefully petted it.  But all boys have a fascination with such things, and perhaps that part of me hasn't quite yet grown up.

I spend some evenings looking at the sky, toward those bright, enigmatic points of light in the sky.  I marvel that many of those lights are stars that are tens of thousands of light years distant, and yet beyond my limited vision are billions of others stretching out billions of light years across a universe that continues to expand.  The true size of our universe may be ultimately incalculable and beyond comprehension.  The sheer vastness of it all remains an immense fascination for me, from the exquisitely micro to the eternally macro.

Renovations to our home were recently completed, one of which involved the creation of a new master suite.  Our former bedroom is on the east side of the house, and just feet away lies our neighbor's abode.  Now, we live on the west side of the house, facing the Waianae Mountains, actually the walls of an enormous and ancient volcano.  The land slopes away from that side and we have a wide open view of the sky, and the gift of glorious sunsets every day.

One night, I was just drifting off to sleep when I saw a bright red-orange light appear from behind a drifting cloud.  That I was able to see it sans spectacles was in itself remarkable.  At first I assumed it was the giant planet Jupiter, a bright enough beacon in any sky.  I put my specs back on and pulled up an astronomy app on my phone and aimed it in that direction.  Turns out, Jupiter was still below the horizon and after some careful study, the light gained an identity.  The star Aldebaran.

Aldebaran is an Arabic word meaning "follower."  It is a type of star known as a red giant, and is located in the constellation of Taurus.  It lies about 65 light years distant from earth.  Interesting that the light that hit my bleary eyes that night left it's star when I was three years old, a journey almost as long as I am old.  

Stars like our sun will spend billions of years fusing hydrogen into helium and other elements.  Near the end of its life, the hydrogen will be exhausted, and the star will cool and grow, throwing off its outer layers.  At the end of this process, all that will be left will be a small, intensely massive and bright white dwarf, which will then cool.  Over trillions of years, it will become a black dwarf, a dark cinder floating through space.  Aldebaran is on such a journey.  Astronomers have calculated that Aldebaran is 44 times larger than our sun.

Public Domain

Aldebaran's temperature is about 1,500 Kelvin, as compared to our star's 5,700 Kelvin and will continue to cool as it ages.  

Scientists think Aldebaran has at least one planet, a Jupiter-like gas giant, only 11 times larger.

This star has been a familiar one to human cultures for thousands of years, and has a long list of names and stories.  It's proximity to the cluster we call Pleiades actually gave its Arabic name, translated as "follower" as it seemed to pursue the seven sisters across the sky.  The indigenous Mexican culture known as the Seris, the star provided light to the Pleiades, which they interpreted as seven women giving birth.  In the Hindu culture it was known as Rohini, the favorite wife of the moon god, Chandra.  In ancient Greece, Aldebaran was the torch bearer.

A close-up view.

Credit:  Edison Urdaneta, Sky and Telescope Magazine

Pioneer 10, one of the deep space probes launched in the early 1970's along with Voyager's 1 and 2, will make a relatively close pass to Aldebaran in about 2 million years.  Although long-dead as a spacecraft, Pioneer will for tens of millions of years be a monument, a sign of humanity's existence to curious alien eyes.  And proof that they were not alone in the universe.

Aldebaran is the 14th brightest star in the northern hemisphere skies, and can be easily found by following the three belt stars of Orion the Hunter to the right to this bright orange sentinel.  It's kinda cool to look at a star in the sky and know what it is.

Credit: Earth and Sky

The universe is enormous beyond words, and is always in motion and full of incredibly interesting things.  To contemplate such depths opens the mind and the spirit to appreciate fully the beauty and majesty of creation.  That night, I looked at a dying star and wondered if life had ever existed under it's once-benevolent gaze.  That is, after all, the one unanswerable question of all living intelligence.  Am I alone?

Some five billion years from now, our sun will exhaust it's hydrogen fuel and will begin it's long, slow death.  Over about 1.5 billion years, it will swell out into the solar system, consuming the planets as it goes.  Earth's oceans will boil away along with its atmosphere, though it will have been hostile to life for quite a while.  About 60 million years later, earth will vanish into the sun's atmosphere.  

In case you're REALLY interested, about a half a billion years before that happens, our Milky Way and the fast-approaching Andromeda galaxy will begin to merge.  Given the uncertainty of climatic evolution on earth over billions of years, or our own penchant for self-destruction, it's not likely that anyone will be around to see that event.

But that would be a sky to look at!

Andromeda Galaxy as seen from Earth's skies in the far, distant future.

Source:  Uncredited

The Ambush of Memory

Feels like it was another lifetime...

Copyright © 2024

By Ralph F. Couey

"Our lives are our story, unfolding each day, page by page.

People we meet become characters in our story, as we become characters in theirs.

It is in these chance encounters that we recognize 

that every life is a story waiting to be told."

--Ralph F. Couey

I'm now nearly five months into my job as a tour guide for the USS Missouri Memorial in Pearl Harbor.  While learning the tour presentations presented some challenges for my aging and leaky brain, I've managed to put them in one of the few reliable areas within that mysterious organ.  I've found that I really enjoy doing the tours, partially because public speaking has always been easy and enjoyable for me, but mostly because the ship has such an amazing story to tell.  My biggest problem seems to be not being able to shut up, as my tours usually last way too long.  Working on that...

I underestimated the impact of the innumerable memories that ambush me in every compartment, and down every passageway.  Sometimes they drift in and out, much like the clouds that drift over the harbor.  Then there are the powerful ones, tied to significant events and relationships from those long-ago years that charge in, hitting my most vulnerable places.  As Paul Simon once wrote, 

"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was...

A time of innocence, a time of confidences

Long ago... it must be...

I have a photograph

Preserve your memories

They're all that's left you."

Jubilation...Devastation

 

Union Station, Kansas City, MO

Copyright © 2024 Kansas City Star

"You think you're lost, but you're 

not lost on your own.

I will stand by you, I will help you when you've done all you can do

If you can't cope, I will dry your eyes

I will fight your fight

I will hold you tight

And I won't let go."

--Rascal Flatts

Copyright © 2024

By Ralph F. Couey

Written content only

It was a day of celebration in Kansas City.  The Chiefs had won the Super Bowl yet again and from all over the heartland, people gathered to celebrate.  A glorious, warm mid-winter day, a gift this time of year, added a bit of spring joy to the atmosphere.  In the over one million fans gathered, it would have been tough to find a care in the world.  

A two-mile parade brought the heroes to the place in the city that had seen jubilation before.  Two previous Super Bowl celebrations, and an epic World Series party that, while nearly ten years in the past, still resonates in the memory.  It had always been a place of joy.  It had always been a place of safety.  Nobody ever thought twice about crowding onto the lawn between Union Station and the World War I Memorial, nor lining up 7 or 8 deep along the parade route.  The players got down off the double-decker buses and came right up to the fans, shaking hands, high-fiving, fist-bumping, even hugs.  Jerseys were signed, selfies were taken.  Heroes usually worshipped from afar, became close and personal.

This was KC; it was home; everyone there were neighbors and friends, even if only vicariously.  

There were speeches, fueled by alcohol to be sure, but the kind of thing that gets the heart going and the spirit soaring.  We were champions, and nothing would ever change that.

In that massive crowd, however were a group of people who were not there to celebrate.  They had come to settle a score.  With bullets.  It mattered not that there were innocents present, especially children.  The only thing that mattered was their anger, their hate, their vengeance.  In a moment that will forever live in darkness, they pulled out guns and opened fire.

Bug Time

 

I think I got his best side...

Copyright © 2024

by Ralph F. Couey

We usually take a passing note of things nature, usually because there are things that require our more urgent attention.  But sometimes, nature pulls up a chair, sits down, and forces us to pay attention.

I was at work earlier this week assigned to the entry line, which is actually down on the pier.  There, people show up with their tickets for the Battleship and their tours.  My job is to give them a safety brief, which goes something like this:

"Welcome aboard the Battleship Missouri!  Just a few words to the wise... She's still configured as a warship, so please watch out for tripping hazards, things sticking out from the sides around your arms and head.  The ladders are steep and narrow, so please use both hands on the rails going up or down.  There is no eating, smoking, or vaping. You can drink as long as it is a covered container, like a water bottle.  Please obey the posted signage.  It is there for your safety.  And please hold on to your belongings.  If it goes over the side into the harbor, then it belongs to King Neptune now and forever."

We do this to remind folks that the ship hasn't been modified for visitors and there are hazards around.  That last bit about King Neptune I throw in to get a few smiles.  It's one of the pleasant posts we stand because this is where people first arrive, and we get a chance to give a good impression to start.  When it's busy, that little speech is given a lot as people move through the tent.  When its not, there's time to strike up some conversations.

Then there are days, and times during those days when I might not see anyone for 30 or 45 minutes.  There is time for contemplation.

On this particular day, one of the young ladies from ticketing, gave out a short shriek.  When I looked, she was pointing at a trash/recycle receptacle (made from 1,179 recycled milk cartons).  I followed her point and found that we had a visitor.  Sitting on the side of the container was a preying mantis.  I hadn't seen one in quite a long time, and as I came closer, it showed to tendency to flee.  With nothing else to to at that moment, I decided to take a closer look.  

Confluence and Life

 

Copyright © 2024
by Ralph F. Couey

One of the most valuable uses of time for me is watching sunrises and sunsets.  Here in Hawai'i, they're nearly always perfect and beautiful.  Bright colors decorating the sky -- the pallet and skill of the Great Artist bringing peace and wonder to so many.  I've lived in a lot of places, and been to a lot more, but of all those mornings and evenings in far-flung locales, but nowhere are they more stunningly beautiful than here.  And twice per day, no less.

In a life where there never seems to be enough hours in the day, those times are when I force myself to slow down; to empty my mind of the mundane.  It is the best time to think, reflect, and contemplate, freed of the have-to-dos and gotta-be-theres, for a time at least.

I've had little time to write of late and I've missed that.  There are moments when I feel thoughts, ideas, and emotions throwing themselves around inside me like a caged animal.  It becomes imperative to take up pen and paper, if for no other reason than to set them free.  Also, at my age, it's important to act on them immediately because thoughts and ideas suddenly have acquired a shelf life.  Just as suddenly as they may blossom, they are likely to fade and vanish leaving behind a miasma of frustration and loss. And sadness.

Everyone needs catharsis, and writing has always been mine.  Beyond the sheer joy of creativity, expelling those restless thoughts to paper (or computer screen) is an act of healing.  That's one of the reasons I began this blog some 18 years ago. Looking now through those nearly 900 essays is a trip back in time.  I can see where I was and what I thought about, how events affected me.  Ruminations about the future have showed not only that I am anything but omniscient, but how fundamentally unpredictable life truly is.  At times, the future seemed tangible, something just out of reach, a trail marker pointing me forward.   Other times, life has needed to be lived one day at a time, even minute to minute because the hill immediately before me was too daunting.  The way forward from that place is mandated by the requirement to put aside doubts and fears and just climb that hill regardless of how steep or rocky.   Only from the top will I be able to grasp a clearer view ahead.  I know also that the struggle uphill is the price for clarity.  And in the midst of that struggle I know I will grow stronger, and perhaps wiser.

Lately my life has become a happier place, for which my job change is mostly responsible.  Leaving the state job proved to be a healthier choice.  I'm now a tour guide aboard the USS Missouri.  There was a significant pay cut involved that is now making itself felt.  But gone is the intrigue and drama, as well as the insidious intrusion of partisan politics.  In its place is the pure and straightforward task of telling the story of a remarkable ship and her important place in history.

December 7th and the March of History

 

USS Decatur renders honors to the USS Arizona

December 7th, 2023

"We in the present are the keepers and custodians of the past.

It is our responsibility to convey those memories into the future."

--Ralph Couey

Copyright © 2023

by Ralph F. Couey

December 7th, 1941, a day which President Roosevelt called "a day which will live in infamy" is one of those dates on a calendar which are deeply meaningful.  For most of the current generations, September 11th, 2001 is the point that divided "before" from "after" in their lives.  Both dates mark a moment when the world changed, and as a result, lives changed as well.

William Gibson once wrote, "Time moves in one direction, memory in another."  For people who were alive and aware when a particular event took place, the feelings generated at that time keep remembrances fresh.  The emotions, whether ecstatic or devastating, remain fixed in the mind and the heart.  For new generations,  those events are history, remembered in a colder, passionless manner.  The old saw, "You had to be there" applies.  If a person did not experience such an event, they will not feel the same impact.  And in that transition, the impact and meaning of those life-changing moments is lost.

Each generation lives within the bubble that envelops the span of their lives.  When great events happen, we experience those moments in a personal way, how it affected us, our family and friends, even the smaller world immediately around us.  As I alluded to in my quote above, it is our responsibility to pass those experiences to the next generations.  It is not only important that they know that events like 9/11 and December 7th happened, but how it felt to us.  It is those feelings that help to convey the import the meaning of those events into the future, ensuring they will never be forgotten.

Going Home. Again.

 

My new office

Copyright ©2023

by Ralph F. Couey

Photo and written content

"Life is about not knowing, having to change,

taking the moment and making the best of it

without knowing what's going to happen next."

--Gilda Radner

Change can happen slowly, with careful planning.  Or it can happen quickly, coming upon you like an approaching train.  My change in jobs this month was one of the latter.  I left the Hawai'i Emergency Management Agency and took a position with the USS Missouri Memorial Association as a tour guide aboard that venerable battleship.  I served aboard her for the last two years of my Navy career.  Like any sailor, I developed a deep affection for that hunk of steel as she took us across thousands of miles of ocean and into some interesting places.  I was still relatively young and as I look back, probably at the peak of my abilities.  However, my growing family responsibilities had begun to gnaw at me, guilt over my frequent and long absences.  I chose them over the Navy, and that's why I left.  I've never regretted doing that.  I served ten years, giving them the best I had.  But that time had ended.  

When we went back to Hawai'i to visit Cheryl's family, I always took a day to visit the ship.  Every time I went aboard, I felt that thrill of returning to what had been a special place.

Why did I leave my job?  Good question.  The answer is far from simple, or perhaps even comprehensible.  I was happy at my last job, working for the public and engaged in work that was important and necessary.  I really liked the folks I worked with in the State Warning Point.  But for some time, there had been a growing sense of disquiet within me.  I couldn't quite put my finger on it, although there were plenty of contributing factors which I won't go into here.  

Celebrating Veterans Day

 

Copyright © 2023

by Ralph F. Couey

Our autumn sojourn to Virginia included, naturally, a host of activities with our grandkids as we were looped into their very busy schedules.  2 concerts, 4 football games, 2 soccer matches, a visit to an art class, way too many trips to Sweet Frog, and coming to grips with the reality that the oldest one is not only driving, but off the college after this school year with the others to follow all too soon.

Beyond the fun of watching them is just the simple joy of being around them.  They grow so fast, and we are aging faster, it seems, so these moments are precious to us and to them.  These are memories that we hold onto with all we have, adding to the already special ones already stored away.

The youngest, 9-year-old Sophie (although she endlessly insisted she was already 10) took us to an event at her school for Veterans Day.  My son and I, both proud vets, attended.  When we arrived, we were directed to the library where we gathered with a roomful of other veterans and active duty.  I circulated around a bit, meeting folks who had served in Vietnam, Korea, Panama, and all the Gulf wars.  The ones still serving were present, wearing the uniform with pride. 

After a few minutes, we were all organized by service branch and lined up.  We were then marched into the gym, where each veteran was announced by name and rank.  The students loudly and enthusiastically cheered each one of us.  I have to tell you, it made my skin tingle.  We all stood and recited the Pledge of Allegiance (yes, they still do that here) and sang the National Anthem.  After we sat down, there were some short speeches by both students and staff and the guest of honor, a Captain from the National Health Service.  A video presentation of those who were no longer alive was given, and to see those young faces facing the exciting challenge of service made me sadly nostalgic.  But the reception by everyone was not forced or pro forma.  Everyone was genuinely happy to be there, and there was a warm, shared joy among everyone who was there.

One More Autumnal Blessing

 

Copyright 2023

By Ralph F. Couey

Fall has always been my favorite season, for a number of reasons.  Partially because I'm kind of ambivalent about summer with it's heat and humidity.  Fall brings cooler and drier air which is a relief.  The sky changes from hazy white to a sparkling vivid blue.

But the best thing is what happens to the trees.  Starting in early fall, the verdant green begins to morph into glorious golds and reds.  Seen from afar, hills are covered with those vivid colors even more beautiful against the sky.

To walk through a forest thus transformed is to leave the mundane and be embraced by a world where the artistry of nature is not only seen, but felt.  The cool, dry air is filled by the smell of leaves already fallen, upraised by feet shuffling along.  The leaves lift for a moment, then return back to their quiet rest. Wildlife is still active, birds singing while they make their preparations for their flights south for the winter.  Deer are moving through the forest and occasionally seen sprinting away from these noisy humans. 

In Hawai'i,  it's green all year round, and someone like me who grew up amid the cycling of seasons, they are missed.  To be back in a place where autumn paints her brilliant canvas, to walk through the forest during this time has brought a quiet thrill to my soul.

I have hiked some local trails, especially in the afternoons.  That's when the sun, lower in the sky sends butter-colored light through the trees, illuminating the changed leaves into colors that seem iridescent.  I feel I could stop and sit on a stump for hours and simply absorb the beauty.  Fall is an experience of the soul, refreshing, replenishing, restoring peace and tranquility.

For me, fall is also a reminder.  Over just a couple of weeks, the colors fade into winter's drab and somber cloak.  The sounds of birdsong fade as well, and the forest lies silent.  Time is passing, things are changing and nothing can stop that relentless progression.  I must remember to embrace the brilliance and beauty of the Now before it is irretrievably lost forever.

Tomorrow is promised to no one.  We plan to come back next fall, but the year between now and then is fraught with uncertainty.

But I am thankful that I had one more autumn.

What I Did This Summer

 

Santorini

Copyright © 2023

by Ralph F. Couey

Don't worry - I won't recount the whole trip.  There are few things more boring than someone else's vacation.  But there were some notable events that I will offer in the spirit of education and preparation.

The first part of the summer was spent trying to secure funding for our renovation.  Then, in July, we flew to Athens to begin an 8-day Mediterranean cruise, where we joined up with our son's family.  Upon arrival in Athens, we found we were sans luggage.  This on-going battle with Lufthansa was partially resolved early this morning after I discovered a missed call that had come in about 1 a.m.  The voicemail message reported that one of our bags had been "found" in Frankfurt, Germany (apparently never made it to Athens).  There are 12 time zones between here and there, so later tonight I will call them back.

Since we had no clothes, instead of seeing the sights of Athens, we spent several hours buying clothes and toiletries.  Never have I missed more the convenience of a WalMart.  We did visit the Acropolis, climbing that steep hill in 102 degree heat.  Yes, this was the hottest summer in Europe on record.  We had dressed in warm clothes for the flight, so that whole event was pretty uncomfortable.  That heat followed us to each port, the coolest day we had was in Barcelona where the temps plunged to an icy 95 degrees.

From there we sailed to the island of Santorini (where it was 103 degrees), then after a day at sea, visited Kotor in Montenegro, Corfu Greece, Messina, Sicily, one more day at sea, then ending the cruise at Barcelona.  While the family went to visit the sights, I was sprawled in bed at the hotel, a victim of Flu A, apparently contracted on board.  But I considered myself lucky after we were told that there were several cases of COVID running around as well.  Throughout the entire cruise, there was smoke in the air, a result of the many wildfires burning in the Greek islands.  

Because of the schedule, our time in each place was short, which didn't leave much time to see or do things.  Still, it was interesting to see.  I've been all over the Pacific and Indian Oceans, so this was really my first time to see Europe in detail.  I encourage others to do this, but at a cooler time of year.  The day we were in Santorini, 28 guests were sent to urgent care aboard ship, mostly heat exhaustion and 2 cases of actual heat stroke. 

(A quick suggestion for you, before you check your bags, take pictures of your luggage, front, top, and side, and a picture of the luggage tag after its been attached to the bag.  If you like, either store those pics on your phone, or send them to your email.  If your bags come up missing, these will be invaluable in your quest to get them back.)

A Prayer for Just Today

 

Copyright © 2023

By Ralph F. Couey

Father,

Today, make me an instrument of your peace.

In Jesus' name,

A Prayer

Copyright ©2023

By Ralph F. Couey

Heavenly Father,

We live in a world fractured by hate and intolerance, where anger has become the default response.  In this world, a world of our own making, we have allowed such visceral feelings to not only stand between each other, but also between our hearts and Yours.

In those moments when we are tempted down the dark path of anger, frustration, insult, and outrage, help us to remember that we are commanded to love without exception; that it is through the expression and acts of that love for each other that we can be recognized as disciples of Your Son.

We are neither empowered nor authorized to judge and condemn others in Your name, but to be always mindful our own transgressions and shortcomings.  We have been forgiven by you, so must we also forgive all who have wronged us. As Your Son lived in humility, so also must we.

Guide us to not be "followers of the world," but rather leaders, examples, and inspirations who lead with love, live in love, and to be love.  For that is the true path of peace.

                                                                        In your Son's Most Holy Name,

                                                                                            Amen.

Disaster in Paradise

Before

After

Copyright © 2023

By Ralph F. Couey

Written Content Only 

The following public sources were used in this post:

https://www.latimes.com/projects/maps-maui-fire-destroyed-lahaina-satellite/

https://www.hawaiinewsnow.com/2023/08/19/timeline-look-days-events-that-led-up-devastating-lahaina-wildfire/

https://abcnews.go.com/US/timeline-deadly-wildfires-maui-day-day/story?id=102253075

https://apnews.com/article/hawaii-fires-timeline-maui-lahaina-road-block-c8522222f6de587bd14b2da0020c40e9

https://www.staradvertiser.com/2023/08/20/hawaii-news/reports-offer-a-window-into-terrifying-events-of-maui-fire/

The catastrophe that overtook Maui, particularly the old port town of Lahaina has been on everybody's news feeds.  The images and video of what happened during those seven deadly days has shocked and horrified everyone.  The speed at which the fires overtook the area are still incomprehensible.  Today, August 26th, 115 people have been confirmed as having died.  But despite over 40 teams of searchers, over 388 people still remain unaccounted for.

The genesis of this terrible occurrence lay in a combination of meteorological conditions.  Hurricane Dora crossed the Pacific from its birthplace off the southern coast of Mexico but NOAA and the National Hurricane Center forecasted the track would pass well south of the Hawai'ian Islands.  This is hurricane season for the Central Pacific and such things are to be expected.  The initial disappointment was that the system was too far away to send some desperately needed rainfall to the state.

Hawai'i is in drought.  No surprise there, as we are manifestly not alone.  As a result, during the summer dry season, wildfires are a frequent occurrence around here.  The county FD's spend as much or more time suppressing fires in brush country as they do dousing structure blazes in towns.  Much of the grasslands in the state now largely consist of non-native invasive grasses.  They have overgrown many areas, and yes, they can be mowed, but this is the tropics and even during drought, plants grow rapidly and wildly.  Adding to that are the persistent trade winds blowing out of the northeast at double-digit speeds.  Fires can be fanned by those winds and spread rapidly.  The FD's are vastly experienced, and justifiably proud, at putting these blazes down, but one has to feel sympathy for them hauling heavy hose lines, tools, and other accoutrements up steep terrain while wearing protective gear under the brutal summer sun.  

But this situation was different.  As Dora passed to the south, two huge high pressure systems were churning away in the Gulf of Alaska.  In the atmosphere, air always moves from high pressure to low pressure, and the relative proximity of these systems created what is called "a steep pressure gradient" over Hawai'i.  If you've ever looked at a real weather map, you can see the lines of pressure, called isobars.  In the situation in Hawai'i, those lines were very close together.  Anytime you see that, you know that the winds will be howling.  

Birthday Wishes

 Happy Birthday Nikki!  Hope you have a wonderful time!

Love,

Dad and Mom

The Not-So-Distant Sound of Drums

 

Copyright © 2023

By Ralph F. Couey

Almost 90 years ago, the United States was beginning to crawl out of the depths of the Great Depression.  The recovery had begun as early as 1933, but the economy suffered another severe downturn in 1937-38, but by mid-1938, growth became rapid.  It would take World War II to complete the recovery.  The grinding misery of that decade was the worst economic crisis of this country's history.  That it coincided with the onset of the Dust Bowl, and the accompanying collapse of the farm economy in the prairie and plains states served to deepen the crisis.  

Internationally, while the United States wallowed in misery, two nations, Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan embarked on mutual paths towards global dominance.  It seems, in retrospect, unfair that just at the point when Americans could finally draw a breath, yet another crisis loomed.  Politically, the nation was deeply divided.  The experience of the first World War left a sour tasted in the mouths of many.  We had been dragged into a stalemated war through alliances with European governments.  Many Americans were fed up with taking part in the squabbles of old countries.  The word "isolationist" was coined to describe this frustration.  If, they felt, America could ignore the rest of the world, then we would no longer have to send young men to fight in wars that had little to do with us.  This division made its way to Washington, where the Senate and House fought endless rhetorical battles either for or against arming our friends, and strengthening the forces that would defend us.  In 1935, there were only 119,000 soldiers in the Army.  That is less than the number of the Blue and Grey who faced each other at Gettysburg.  By 1938, however, the threat from Germany and Japan was clear, and looming was the prospect of fighting two major wars simultaneously.  Even after those numbers boomed to over 8 million by 1942, there was still a strong feeling of vulnerability in those early months of the War.  

In the years since, the world has endured its times of crises.  War, in scattered places across the globe, has been pretty much continuous.  But the big, world-circling conflict has not occurred.  There were moments when things were close, the Berlin Crisis of 1961, the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962, the Yom Kippur War in 1973, and two computer glitches, one by the U.S., and one by the Soviets in 1979 and 1983.  But the very fragile humans who were involved managed to not push the proverbial button.

A little over a year ago, Vladimir Putin sent Russian combat forces into Ukraine.  Putin's claim of the "de-Nazification" of Ukraine was and remains laughable.  The world was initially horrified, then surprised that the cream of Russian soldiery did not run roughshod over their opponents.  It's fair to say that as the situation stands today, Ukraine has not only successfully protected most of its territory, but also fought the mighty Russian army to a standstill.  Now Putin has other problems.  Many men and women of military age have fled the country.  Large numbers of Russian soldiers have either defected or surrendered.  The international community has not looked with approval on Putin's aggressive actions, and the mood among the Russian citizenry is not at all enthusiastic.  

Checking In...

© 2023 Los Angeles Times

Copyright © 2023

By Ralph F. Couey

written content only

 A week ago I watched my team, the Chiefs, edge the Philadelphia Eagles in Super Bowl LVII. Yes, it was a moment to savor. After all the negative comments about how the Chiefs would not be as good this year, the game was more vindication than victory. Patrick Mahomes won two MVP awards, and the unofficial MVA (Most Valuable Ankle). His performance in the second half after the agony he was in just before halftime defies description. He triumphed over the pain, giving his all. I don't think we'll see another gutty performance matching that one for awhile.

In the 7 days since, I have enjoyed the celebrations, particularly the parade through the familiar streets of Kansas City. The life of the party was, of course, Travis Kelce. This larger-than-life personality has endeared himself to the fans, and not surprisingly, has earned him an invite to host Saturday Night Life in two weeks.

Of course, I've been happy over the win, and looking forward to what this team can accomplish next.

On other fronts, it's not been so much fun. My Mustang's repair parts came in, and is in the shop beginning that work. But the damage will take awhile to fix. They expect mid-March as to when I can expect to get it back. Then, our other vehicle, a Hyundai Santa Fe, began to have problems. It was sluggish and making noises. I took it into Goodyear, and was told that there was only two quarts of oil in the engine. It has never leaked or blown smoke. But we took it to a discount oil change shop, and the only thing that makes sense is that they didn't replace the oil. Of course, there's no way to prove it, so we took it back to Hyundai. The repairs are extensive and will run well into five figures. We decided to get it fixed, because buying a new one means shouldering a large debt for probably seven years. That would mean we would both have to keep working. The good news is that the parts are in and we should get our SUV back by mid-week.

Our insurance company provided us with a rental, but because of the time it took for the Mustang's parts to arrive, most of the allotted time had expired. So we had to take over those payments until we can get one of our cars back. Fortunately, Cheryl's sister has graciously loaned us her minivan to help us out.

I get to preach at our congregation in Kaneohe on the other side of the island tomorrow. I enjoy doing this, because it forces me to be much more diligent in my time with scripture and contemplation. It has been a time of quiet joy during my preparation. We have a funeral Wednesday morning for one of Cheryl's aunties. They asked me to sing two songs, one of which, the Casting Crowns brilliant "Scars in Heaven" a wonderful, comforting song for those who have experienced loss. I have also been asked to lead the singing of "Aloha O'e," the heartfelt ballad penned by Queen Lili'uokalani, the last Hawaiian monarch in 1878. Some of the lyrics are in the Hawaii'an language, which I hope I can pronounce correctly. I work a midnight shift the night before, so it'll be a long day. But I am happy and honored to be able to do it for them.

We are now in the rainy season here, and it has come with a vengeance. This week we experienced a Kona Low storm which has dumped feet of rain on the Big Island, Maui and Kaua'i. Flooding has been a terrible thing for people to endure, and there was one death, a firefighter who was swept into a storm drain while trying to effect a rescue. And just as soon as this one leaves, another one will arrive. Rain was falling in some places up to 5 inches per hour, which is like standing under a fire hose. This kind of thing is a challenge and a test for those of us in Emergency Management, and so fare, we've met the challenge.

Friday afternoon, our phones began lighting up. People were reporting a loud boom, followed by a few seconds of shaking. We made some phone calls ourselves. It wasn't an earthquake (no faults under Oahu), and the military had no exercises or aircraft up busting mach. There was no reports of large landslides, so we were all left with a mystery. I recalled the incident over Chelyabinsk in Russia in 2013 when a 60-foot rock boomed into the atmosphere at 70,000 miles per hour. The 10,000 ton meteor exploded at just under 100,000 feet altitude. The flash was bright enough to temporary blind some people. The shock wave, arriving a bit later, broke windows all over the city, knocked down walls, collapsed roofs, and injured almost 1,500 people. I dug into the witness accounts and saw some clear parallels with what happened here. That same day, another object soared in and exploded over Texas, an event detected on the Weather Service's radar. These objects are called Bolides, meteors that explode in the atmosphere. I sent a text to the local weather office asking if they had seen anything. They said no, but as the mystery remains unsolved, my money's on the space rock.

So, life, with all its twists and turns, ups and downs, goes on. Like a hike, sometimes its a steep climb, sometimes its level, sometimes it goes downhill. But it's always the journey and it must be taken in that context. If nothing else, it keeps us from going crazy.

That Incredible, Incomprehensible Thing in my Head

 

"The human brain has 100 billion neurons, each neuron

connected to ten thousand other neurons.  Sitting on your shoulders

is the most complicated object in the known universe."

--Michio Kaku

"Everything we do, every thought we've ever had

is produced by the human brain.  But exactly how it operates

remains one of the biggest unsolved mysteries."

--Neil deGrasse Tyson

Copyright © 2023

By Ralph F. Couey

We plow through each day, tackling problems, creating solutions, remembering, and predicting.  We calculate numbers, the intentions of others, all happening in that incredibly complex thing inside our head.

The human body, with all the things it has to do, is a wonder of engineering, and it's easy to take it for granted.  We don't have to think about making our heart beat, or breathing, it does it by itself.  But of all the parts of us, I would say that our brain is the one thing we most often take for granted.

Last week, at the behest of my doctor, I submitted myself for an MRI of my brain.  Magnetic Resonance Imaging is one of those miraculous devices that allow doctors to peer inside the human body without doing what used to be called "exploratory surgery."  The device uses strong magnetic fields and radio waves to generate images of human organs.  According to Wikipedia, the response of hydrogen nuclei in human tissues are separated from other nuclei by the magnetic field resonating at the hydrogen frequency.  To make a long story short, that resonance allows images to be captured, one slice at a time.  This gives the doctor the ability to closely examine the organ from the inside out.  This has enabled the early diagnoses of a wide range of dangerous conditions, thus saving countless lives.

I've had a few of these before, so I knew what to expect.  After changing into a gown and carefully ridding myself of anything metal, I was taken into the room and laid on the bed.  Over the years, these beds have become much more comfortable, avoiding the annoyance of back muscle cramps.  After a period of instruction and insertion of earplugs, I was slid into the device.  

I've been claustrophobic in the past, but I was given a kind of mirror that allowed me to look out into open space, and not at the curved shell inches above my nose.  Plus, having lost a lot of weight means I don't fill the tube like I used to.  There was a nice cool breeze flowing through the tube which helped a lot.  In fact, I was so comfortable, I fell asleep, even with the TONK TONK TONK going on around my head.

The Routine -- And Breaking It Up

 

In happier days...

Copyright © 2023

by Ralph F. Couey

There are roads one can drive that create a journey that is seemingly endless.  US 180 through West Texas, US 54 across the Western two-thirds of Kansas, US 50 across the Nevada desert.  The towns passed look curiously alike, almost like Bill Murray's repetitious Groundhog Day.  Life, for me has fallen into the same kind of repeating journey.  The days don't have enough difference to stand out in any way, and I find that the weeks are passing rapidly, kind of like those white-painted road posts so common in the west.

I guess my week actually starts on Tuesday, one of my two regular days off.  That's laundry day, so I'm engaged in that for most of the day.  I'm the cook that evening, so when I finish the clothes, I start putting dinner together.  Tuesday evening is one of the few times that Cheryl and I are home together, hours we have come to cherish more and more.  Wednesday morning is Ground Golf (huge in Japan, by the way) which takes up most of the morning.  My work week starts that night when I go in late for a midnight shift (technically Thursday) which means that half of my day off I have to spend in bed collecting Z's for a long night.  When I get home Thursday morning, I have a couple of hours, then its back to bed so I can have a few hours with Cheryl before I leave for work.  

I get off Friday morning and don't have to go back in until Saturday afternoon, so it's kind of a day off, except I'm really tired by then.  Now if I can stay awake long enough, those two mornings are great for doing my walking in Waikiki.  I'm off to bed early and then up again Saturday morning.  We have some time together for shopping and errands before I leave early afternoon for my evening shifts Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.  Sunday is church and a quick nap before going in.  Monday passes, and it all starts over again.  If I have enough time, I stop at my overlook on Diamond Head Road, gaze at the ocean, and feed my birds for a few minutes.

This is my life, for what its worth.  The midnight shifts are a trial at my age, and they represent a mountain that has to be climbed.  Not a lot of fun.  Jumping shifts like this really makes my sleep patterns tough, but I have a mortgage and a Mustang, and "I owe, I owe, it's off to work I go..."

One thing about a routine though.  It's like getting on a train and letting it carry you along.  But it does make the calendar fly by with distressing speed.  The calendar compresses and I have conversations like, "Wasn't July just two weeks ago?" 

New Year's Steep and Rocky Path

Honolulu Star-Advertiser

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams."

– Thoreau

Copyright © 2022

by Ralph F. Couey

We measure our journey in one of two ways, by distance and by time. Every earth year, our world completes an orbit around its parent star. In that time, the planet actually travels 584 million miles. But, our sun is orbiting the supermassive black hole at the center of the Milky Way galaxy. In one of our years, that's about 4.5 billion miles. And if that weren't enough, our galaxy is racing through space, along with all the other galaxies, at about 1.3 million miles per hour. Since there's no fixed reference point in space, that actual distance traveled is kinda fuzzy. So, even when we stay at home, we're still on a journey.  

But New Year's is about a journey in time, 12 months of trial, trauma, joy, and hilarity. When we reach this day on the calendar, we are anxious to put the past behind us. This is especially true given what's been going on. Three years of pandemic misery merely leads the list of the existential load we've been carrying. It's a day when we try to resolve to change the things that gifted us so much angst. That can be any number of things from weight and physical condition, patterns of life, better choices. But the bottom line is a fresh start. New Years provides a convenient launch point for this new mission. In reality, a person can make a fresh start on July 4th just as easily, but who ever heard of Independence Day Resolutions?

Author Sara Ban Breathnach wrote,

"New Year's Day. A fresh start. A new chapter in life waiting to be written. New questions to be asked, embraced, and loved. Answers to be discovered and then lived in this transformative year of delight and self-discovery. Today carve out a quiet interlude for yourself in which to dream, pen in hand. Only dreams give birth to change."

Dreams are valuable. They are the scratch pads for the designs of your life. But dreams are useless unless a person is willing to undertake real change. You know, actually work on it. To make any kind of change we have to realize that what we need and what we need to leave behind. We have things in our lives that shouldn't be there and need to go. The toughest thing is coming to grips with the reality that there are changes we don't want to make, but restrict or block our ability to grow beyond our past. We have to be willing to take out our own garbage.

Vows Fulfilled

Copyright © 2022

By Ralph F. Couey

Christmas 2022 was a curious sort of event for us.  No visitors, and our only link to family was electronic.  Both Cheryl and I had some stressful days, she doing surgery, and myself at work dealing with a powerful Pacific storm that caused all kinds of havoc across the state.  And a dead rat that chose to expire and deteriorate beneath the deckplates of my workstation. 

I had two extra days off this past week while contractors were installing the rest of the new windows.  All the leaky, drafty jalousies are gone, save one.  Our home is as energy efficient as its ever been in its 60-plus year lifespan.  We didn't put much effort in decorating this year.  We bought a new artificial tree and had it lit almost every evening.  Cheryl made sure it was on when I returned home at work, a wonderful site at oh-dark-thirty.  But the rest of the ornaments stayed in their boxes.  With everything else going on, it was just too hard.

We've been watching, fascinated as the storms of December have swept across the country.  We had our share of snow yards deep in the mainland, and for those of you who were digging your way out, we felt your pain.  Here, it's winter, the time of year when powerful storms sweep out of the North Pacific dumping feet of rain blown by dangerous winds.  Even when the storms don't make it here, their effect is felt in enormous surges of waves that batter the north and east shores of our islands.  I remember the first time I witnessed 50-foot waves crashing onto a beach.  I was speechless; in awe of the ocean's power.  But it's also the time of year when the humidity is notably lower, and the temperatures become very pleasant.  In terms of comfort, it is the most wonderful time of the year.

The one thing about Christmas, the one universal truth is that people are better to each other.  Almost everyone has a smile and cheerful word, and kindness and generosity emerges from wherever it hides during the rest of the year.  The season brings out the best in people, especially in their personal relationships.  Families gather to share, to eat, to talk and laugh.  They catch up on everything that has happened during their time apart.  And if they can keep their politics firmly locked away, it can be a joyous and memorable time.

Pele's Dance on Hawai'i Island

 

Mauna Loa (USGS)

Copyright © 2022

by Ralph F. Couey

It was a relatively quiet Sunday evening.  There was no weather to speak of, no other event on-going, though we had been monitoring the earthquake activity at Mauna Loa.  About 10:30 PM, the monitor we have for the California Integrated Seismic Network sounded it's familiar alarm.  CISN monitors earthquake activity around the world, and sends us alerts, which happens several times during a watch.  Most people don't know what a restless planet we live on.  If an earthquake larger than magnitude 6.5 occurs anywhere within the Pacific Basin, we go to a higher alert posture until the Pacific Tsunami Warning Center evaluates the incident in case a tsunami was generated.

Local earthquakes are a different matter.  The Big Island, Hawai'i, is home to no less than four active volcanoes.  Mauna Kea, where all the expensive telescopes are, Hualalai, Kilauea, and Mauna Loa.  There is also an active volcano on Maui, called Haleakala, and one offshore of the Big Island, Loihi. This one is an undersea volcano which will break the sea surface in about 100,000 years.  All of the activity has been on the Big Island.  Kilauea has been erupting since September 29th of last year, the effused lava confined to the summit caldera.  

But the Big Island is a special case.  A strong enough earthquake might break loose the southeast flank of the island and send the Manhattan-sized mass sliding into the ocean, generating a tsunami. So, anything north of magnitude 3.5 gets our attention.  On the night in question, the first quake, a magnitude 4.5 came in at about 10:55 PM.  PTWC assessed almost immediately that there was no tsunami threat.  Then about an hour later, another earthquake rumbled, this one a magnitude 4.1.  Shortly after that, we received a telephone call from the island's Civil Defense, reporting that Mauna Loa was erupting.  

Although my watch team was due to leave at midnight, we stayed to help the midnight crew handle things.  It was a long night, as we didn't leave until things finally calmed to a manageable level at 4:45 AM.  The state Emergency Operations Center, an old artillery bunker in Diamond Head crater, went to full activation, which is where we've been since.  Sunday will mark two weeks since the eruption started.  At first, the eruption was confined to the summit caldera.  The next day, the eruption moved into the northeast rift zone, probably the safest direction.

The Eternal Music of the Moonlight

Piano Sonata No. 14

Ludwig van Beethoven

AKA "Moonlight"

 Copyright © 2022

By Ralph F. Couey

I've been around classical music for most of my life, introduced to by my father who was a big fan of Beethoven. This was the music we listened to, at least until the Beatles showed up.  Later on, my activities in band and orchestra through high school and college provided exposure to the genre through the performance side.  There have been several pieces that I still enjoy listening to, such as Beethoven's 5th and 9th, Holst's "The Planets," Kachaturian's "Gayne Ballet Suite," and the last 5 minutes of Mahler's "Resurrection" particularly the performance of the Simon Bolivar Youth Symphony conducted by Gustavo Dudamel (Resurrection Proms) at the 2011 BBC Proms, a concert series featuring youth symphonies and choirs.  I never tire of listening to the beauty and power of that orchestra and choir putting forth with that special energy that uniquely belongs to the young.  And the audience responding in kind with a long, cheering, ovation.  Towards the end, the mezzo soprano Anna Larssen, is trying to keep her emotions under control, at one point, clenching her fist.  But by the end, she is openly in tears.  It never fails to move me.  But that's what great music is supposed to do, to reach into the soul and change you. 

In 1801, Ludwig van Beethoven wrote a three-movement piece he called "Quasi una fantasia" (like a fantasy).  A year later, he dedicated the composition to he pupil, the Countess Giulietta Guicciardi.  The Countess was, by all accounts, a great beauty and through the time he taught her, he fell in love.  He later wrote a 10-page love letter (never sent) the inspiration of which some historians attribute to the Countess.

In structure, the piece is a subdued melody articulated by seemingly endless arpeggios. It is played quietly; reflectively.  Variations in tempo enhance the passion written into the phrases.  "Moonlight," the sobriquet it is universally known by, was actually attributed to the piece five years after Beethoven's death by a critic and poet Ludwig Rellstab.  He described the first movement as moonlight shining on Lake Lucerne in Central Switzerland.   Within 10 years, it was known by almost everyone as the Moonlight Sonata.

Moonlight had a powerful effect on listeners, and continues to have today.  French composer Hector Berlioz described it as "one of those poems that human language does not know how to qualify."

Sunrise, Sunset, and Doves

 "Every sunrise gives you a new beginning and a new ending.

Let this morning be a new beginning.  It's an opportunity

 to enjoy life, breathe freely, think, and love.

Be grateful for this beautiful day."

--Norton Juster 

Copyright © 2022

Image and written content 

except cited quotation

By Ralph F. Couey

There was a time when I embraced complexities, a time when nothing entertained me more than looking for the one loose thread that would undo the entire suit.  A lot of what I did in the Intelligence Community involved the same kind of process.  Behind every "what" was a "why," and the "why" was important because it explained the "what."  The truth thus sought secreted itself beneath layers of misdirection and falsehood.  In peeling back the voluminous layers, that nugget revealed itself in tiny pieces, or flashes of inspiration and insight.  It was a deeply satisfying kind of life.

Age slows us down, not only physically but mentally as well.  In trying to replicate the past, I find now that the only truth revealed is how tired my brain has become.  This is part of life, something that has to be accepted and dealt with as the years pile up.  

I still work, a job that requires the exercise of intellect and memory, though certainly not to the degree as in the past.  I find that in my non-work related pursuits that I gravitate towards less taxing activities.

I read a lot, mostly history, science, and political science.  I've always "yearned to learn" and the desire to know something can overtake me at the oddest moments.  Modern technology makes such a quest fairly fast and informative, so much better than before when the desire to learn something usually meant a trip to a library or a consult with the family encyclopedias, though by the time we received them, they were hopelessly out of date.  But outside of that, I find myself finding peace and fulfillment in far simpler pursuits.  

I work inside a dormant volcano which sits at the opposite end of the island upon which we live, and that means commuting.  Traffic has been bad and getting worse here on O'ahu, so I leave earlier than absolutely necessary, thus allowing time for the unexpected freeway snarl.  Most days, however, I get there early and rather than show up too soon, I take a little time for myself.