Calling All Stargazers and Kindred Spirits

 

Back in 1979, astrophysicist / author Carl Sagan and writer / producer Ann Druyan were both working diligently towards successfully launching their Sci-Fi film… Contact… off the Tinseltown storyboards and into our cineplexes.

Within six years, undue, unwanted, unproductive behind the scenes, Hollywood “drama” had begun to undo this dynamic duo’s momentum and, at one point, had even threatened to scrub their mission. As it turned out, it would take the transposition of 1979’s ending 7 and 9 digits before this film could be completed.

Sadly, mere months prior to that, Dr. Sagan, had succumbed to myelodysplasia (a pre-leukemic syndrome) and wound up shuffling off this mortal coil.

Had he survived, he certainly would’ve been on hand to high-five Contact’s screenplay writers James V. Hart and Michael Goldenberg, director Robert Zemeckis and the entire cast and crew. He’d have especially applauded the multifaceted actress, Jodie Foster, for her stellar performance… for her breathing so much life into the film’s protagonist… the multidimensional astronomer Ellie Arroway.

Seeing how Sagan and Druyan’s core principles / personae had become so thoroughly infused into the Contact script’s pages (in a sense, right down to the atomic structure of the ink toner and papyrus) it was inevitable that Foster would tap into their attributes throughout the film… especially during the emotionally charged denouement… i.e., where Dr. Arroway had so passionately addressed the conclave of her wholly skeptical and wildly infuriated adversaries… had spoken of the life changing, journey to the cosmos, which had further heightened her pre-existing, astronomer’s lofty outlook on life.

Said she…

“I… had an experience… I can’t prove it, I can’t even explain it, but everything that I know as a human being, everything that I am tells me that it was real! I was given something wonderful, something that changed me forever… A vision… of the universe, that tells us, undeniably, how tiny, and insignificant and how… rare, and precious We all are! A vision that tells us that We belong to something that is greater then ourselves, that We are not, that none of us are alone! I wish… I… could share that… I wish, that everyone, if even for one… moment, could feel… that awe, and humility, and that hope. But… That continues to be my wish.”

SIDEBAR: Ironically, in an earlier scene (set within this same venue) many of these same inquisitors had expected agnostic Arroway to take a leap of faith… to no questions asked / no skepticism allowed… believe in the existence of a Supreme Being. YET… by film’s end… they, themselves, flat-out refused to take a similar leap of faith… to no questions asked / no skepticism allowed… believe in the existence of the superior alien civilization she claimed to have made first contact with.

So… why have I opted to review a 21-year-old film?

Contact makes contact with the very hearts and souls of everyone who has ever given a damn about the survival of our civilization. It is the skywatchers of our world who, perhaps, feel this the strongest… be We the professional or the backyard variety… be We telescopically enhanced or relying solely on the naked eye.

We can feel an affinity with all who have ever seen… who still see… beyond the pure science… all who speak of the awe, humility and hope, which our viewing experiences conjur up. Such a state of mind endures whether We are virtually traveling thru our ethereal, vast starlit cosmos or are wandering about our hometowns, homelands and home world.

Although we do remain resolute re the awe and humility aspects, holding onto hope is not always so easy. You see, its just as the celestial images begin to fade into the daylight… just as we’re coming back down to earth… where / when the heavyhearted dismay tends to resurface. Once again, our worldly thoughts zero in on the godforsaken, power-hungry, posturing, avarice driven, dictator zeros who usually wind up calling all the shots… and… in that capacity… are to blame for our global, sociopolitical and ecological disarray.

The run-of-the-mill, disconnected from our universe autocrat could never, truthfully, claim to be the humble servant he is supposed to be… could not even begin to fathom / embrace Saganesque awe, humility and hope. His typical reaction to viewing celestial objects / events would not likely garner much more than his yawned out words…

These are just dots in the sky, what more do you expect Me to say?

Me oriented leadership is precisely the problem. That odious, oafish What’s in it for me, Me, ME? bad ‘tude is the driving force behind virtually all of our societal ills. Their tormented, subjugated victims, while (oft literally) crying out for some much needed liberation, seldom possess the power to empower alternative, We oriented leadership.

Indeed, it’s the We oriented philosophy, which is so harmonious with the stargazers’ awe, humility and hope. This is amply illustrated within that above Arroway quotation where she thrice uttered the word “We”. And let’s not forget to include her inclusive language such as “us”, “ourselves” and “everyone”. Were such sentiments fully taken to heart by our leaders, We would already be well on our way to saving humanity from ruin.

It is no accident that Founding Father / author Gouverneur Morris began the U.S. Constitution’s Preamble with the words “We the People”. He and his constitutional compatriot co-writers deemed those three words so crucial that even the likeminded calligrapher, Jacob Shallus, had so boldly pen stroked those three key words in an enlarged font.

“We the People

of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence [sic], promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

When such a proclamation births such a great nation, one has to wonder how any electorate could ever tap into some lame, Donny-Come-Lately’s slanderous, spurious / fake claim that America is no longer great. Ironically, such an entity is usually the one who… in the end… winds up threatening the very greatness of all great nations.

Why oh why is it that the nations of our world suffer such a deficit of We oriented leaders? One would expect admirable attributes such as awe and humility to be innate. Even if advancing this attitude involves nurture more than nature it should still be easily attainable.

Metaphorically speaking, We are all participants in the human race… a relay race. In the course of running our laps… concurrently upon our planet’s orbital path and the more down to Earth race track… the intergenerational passing off of the baton of human decency should occur without a hitch… a simple matter of the hand-off from each awe-humility-hope-harboring elder trainer to each awe-humility-hope-hungering youngster trainee.

I do have my parents to thank, for they not only deeply encoded / embedded awe-humility-hope into my infinitesimal DNA during my conception but also reinforced these attributes by handing off that “baton” to me during my formative years.

What a pity so many, who fancy themsleves leaders, cannot make a similar proclamation.

I do suppose that Awe-Humility-Hope sentimets… that We trumps Me ‘tude… all being second nature to the stargazers and other kindred spirits of our world, this is what accounts for our expectations that the rest of humanity will be willing to follow suit.

Let us hope that such sentiments… such expectations… are not overly optimistic.

 

 

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A Sense of DNA Level Déjà Vu [Part 3]

 

Over the course of this blog series’ first two installments, you and I’ve been teleporting back to my July 28th, telescopic “travels” to Mars. While, we’ve been exploring my astronomical, philosophical and theological observations / musings, we have yet to ferret and flesh out the underlying causes of my chronic, Mars Mania “affliction”… that is until now.

With Part 3 about to unfold, I pause to announce a slight course correction re my mission to the cosmos. Rather than revisiting this past Saturday’s viewing session, we’ll be reliving the return to my backyard open air observatory at 3:50 a.m. EDT (0750 GMT) on this very day… July 31st. I just had to “be there” at that precise moment… at the very pinnacle of 2018’s Mars and Earth rendezvous… to experience the almost palpable cosmic magic in the air.

Remaining ever mindful of Part 3’s content prerequisites, as I metaphorically wander about the heavens and the recesses of my mind, I start to zero in on the origins of my personal obsession with Mars.

As I wistfully gaze upward, I briefly consider the possibility that aliens might be doing the same. Only my not wanting to wake up my neighbors prevents me from yelling skyward at the top of my lungs, “Is there anybody out there?” Of course, my dismay regarding the present-day ideological disarray of my homeland… our home world… has certainly, detrimentally impacted my attitude (not unlike a meteor hit). How so? Well, were any ET’s to ever flyby my neighborhood, I’d instantly stick out my thumb and attempt to hitch a ride. Even if their motives were unclear… even if it’d be a certain, one-way trip for me… in a heartbeat… I’d still take my chances and opt to forever leave planet Earth.

Alas… long sigh… on this night… there are no such, extraordinary, extraterrestrial vehicular light patterns in the skies… soooooo… I must make the best of the ordinary.

And I do that, precisely, by granting free rein to my boyhood recollections. Naturally, Mars themed literary works come to mind. First up, my Middle Schooler era, figurative feasting upon my book club purchased, paperback copy of H. G. Wells’ page turner, Sci-Fi novel, The War of the Worlds. Next up, come my elementary school library visits… my checking out astronomy textbooks… their authors’ content, eventually, proving to be more fiction than fact. About the only thing they had ever gotten right? The Red Planet’s 24 hour and 37 minute diurnal rotation!

That’s about all anyone could ever expect from authors “infecting” themselves with the “contagion” of astronomer Percival Lowell’s over-imaginative “strain” of Mars Mania (and I do good-naturedly employ those enclosed in quotation marks, italicized words). Their perpetuation of his fantasyland… an irrigation canal networked, hospitable to humans, environment… coupled with my younger, overly impressionable mind… accounts for my own fantasies of becoming a spacefarer aboard NASA’s very first Mars-ward bound spacecraft.

My mind next crossfades to the plights of Sci-Fi stranded astronauts portrayed in films such as 1964’s Robinson Crusoe on Mars (which takes literary liberties with the Daniel Defoe classic) and in 2015’s The Martian based on Andy Weir’s sci-fi book of the same title.

As these big screen drama scenes dissolve to the realm of the Sixtes era, small screen, Sci-Fi TV sitcom, I catch myself smiling as I recall My Favorite Martian episodes featuring earthling Tim O’Hara comedically interacting with his spacecraft crashed and marooned, ET “Uncle Martin”.

The TV images soon shift from the ridiculous to the sublime. Philosopher / astrophysicist / author Carl Sagan… via both his book and PBS miniseries Cosmos… presents his Blues For A Red Planet chapter / episode #5. That late, great man… the consummate scientist and dramatist… so adeptly, fact checks / debunks Lowellesque Mars Mania yet, simultaneously rekindles it with seasoned-by-science sanity. In his chapter’s / episode’s epilogue he even speculates…

“The power of Lowell’s idea may, just possibly, make it a kind of premonition. His canal network was built by Martians. Even this may be an accurate prophecy: If the planet ever is terraformed, it will be done by human beings whose permanent residence and planetary affiliation is Mars… The Martians will be us.”

It’s at that moment where my thoughts begin to set, along with Mars’ orb rapidly nearing the hazy, southwestern horizon. As I naked eye glimpse that bright orange dot slipping behind the approaching, thick veil of clouds, I begin loosening the clamps, separating my scope from its tripod.

As I look up one last time, my thoughts of Dr. Sagan’s Cosmos crossfade to his fictional work, Contact. It is during one of that film’s final scenes where silver screen star Jodie Foster… in the lead role of astronomer Ellie Arroway… so fervently… so eloquently… so tearfully serves upward, her own cosmic perspective as…

“A vision of the universe, that tells us, undeniably, how tiny and insignificant… and how rare and precious we all are! A vision that tells us that we belong to something that is greater than ourselves. That we are not… that none of us are alone! I wish i could share that. I wish that everyone… if even for one moment… could feel that awe and humility and hope. That continues to be my wish.”

To continue conveying and living those same sentiments is my wish, too! Hopefully, you feel similarly!

While the gradual dimming of that bright orange dot… a.k.a. Mars 2018… is inevitable in the days and weeks to come, my oneness with our universe shall shine on brightly… eternally. My continually blogging about Mars… on similar cosmic topics… will be unavoidable. After all…

“Transcendental moments, such as these, are where one’s worldly concerns dissolve into the rarefied air. Minds tend to free associate / wander and welcome the timelessness of it all. A sense of DNA level déjà vu also enters the mix… after all… has not humankind been stargazing ever since first standing up on two feet? Ever since that (then) newly evolved posture first allowed us to look upward to the eternal heavens?”

 

As for part 4 to this series… stay tuned…

 

 

A Lack of En-LIGHT-en-ment?

As much as I loathe politicizing what, inarguably, is Ma Nature’s most magnificent display (yesterday’s solar eclipse over the North American continent) that astronomical event did present the perfect opportunity for us to armchair psychoanalyze an un-american [sic] so-called prez.

As seen in the above YouTube clip, little Donny stared directly at the sun… a YUGE [sic] NO-NO!

The one word question: WHY?

The three word answer: Ignorance… Arrogance… Defiance

To shed more light on that…

Ignorance: As is the case with too many of #45’s closed-minded, corrupt colleagues and cronies, he’s a know-nothing know-it-all. Such backwardness likely backdates to his salad days… when he was vegging out / sacking out in school classrooms… where… when he did open his eyes… he probably, openly, obstinately confronted each teacher with his Oh Yeah? You cannot possibly teach me anything ‘tude!

These days, there’s ample proof of his empty head. He incessantly screeches and rails out against time honored, basic scientific / medical principles… deems any factual media coverage of these disciplines to be “fake news.” A few examples…

There’s a direct correlation between usage of birth control and reducing the demand for abortion… mental illness and gun ownership make for a dangerous, deadly mix… global warming is manmade and, left unchecked, will eventually devastate Earth / render humankind’s home world uninhabitable. He cannot even grasp the obvious dangers of nuclear WMD. I kid you not… he actually had to ask, “If we have nuclear weapons why can’t we use them?” And, in keeping with my main blog topic… yesterday only confirms he doesn’t believe that staring at a solar eclipse can irreparably damage human eyes.

Arrogance: Stated quite simply, delusional #45 fancies himself as some sort of “god” and, as such, feels there are absolutely NO rules, which could ever, possibly, apply to him. He’ll flip off all theological commandments, economic safeguards and best practices, constitutional checks and balances and natural laws (inclusive of the fact that staring at a solar eclipse can irreparably damage human eyes).

Defiance: Probably the YUGEST [sic] reason #45 stared at yesterday’s eclipse was because SOMEONE HAD THE AUDACITY TO TELL HIM NOT TO… had forewarned him that staring at a solar eclipse can irreparably damage human eyes.

Now, in spite of the disagreements, we, the people of good conscience, have with #45 (and there are many)… despite his misogynistic, xenophobic, homophobic, religiously intolerant and avaricious attitudes, which make it damned near impossible for decent folks to “warm up” to him… believe it or not… we can still be compassionate. We must hope that, yesterday, #45 didn’t do significant damage to his eyes.

After all, long before yesterday’s solar spectacle, he already had considerable trouble seeing humanity and our world clearly. Indeed, his vision for America’s / the world’s future has been myopic. And far worse, his admin has been akin to an autocracy, which by its very nature, severely lacks the level of optimism, decency and transparency, which only sunshine can provide.

No doubt about it… #45 needs to stick his Dark Ages dictatorship where the sun don’t [sic] shine!

 

 

Super Moon Toons (Super Special Blogcast)

Just in time for the Super Moon (11-14-2016), I’m Blogcasting five Moon Toons, which will help set the proper mood for this amazing astronomical event… one where Earth’s satellite, in it’s full phase, will be at it’s closest perigee since 1948 and appear 15 – 16% larger and far brighter than we’re accustomed to seeing.

Oh, btw… the Moon is looking mighty impressive even as I post this tonight… one night early.

Throughout the ages, gazing at the Moon has inspired a universally experienced air of mystery, awe, romance, passion, and love… these feelings eventually and inevitably becoming interwoven into our world’s music. When a song’s focus turns skyward, our primal, natural yearnings are roused, instinctively drawing each listener’s attention to matters celestial.

And if the moon watcher is also a composer of music, a synergy develops with other watcher-songwriters. Consequently, there’s a vast body of Moon Toons for us to choose from and enjoy. There’s also a diversity of song tempos, instrument arrangements and musical genres, which could almost be compared to the phase like moods set by the Moon… first quarter, full, last quarter, new and earthshine… from the narrowest sliver to the Super Moon… and everything in between.

While these special musical segues, presented below, can be enjoyed at any time of day, for the optimal effect, synchronize the playback with the spectacular Super Moon. At that time, be sure to shut down all artificial lighting and once you’ve clicked the play button on the first video, traipse on over to your window, fling those curtains wide open and watch this cosmic event lazily arcing across the sky.

Once you’ve tracked through all five songs, it’ll be time to head for the great outdoors… and the farther away you get from the hustle and bustle of civilization, the better. If there’s a significant other in your life, invite that person to join you.

Once you’re one with nature, the hush of the night will form its own subtle “music”… perhaps a gentle, steady breeze whooshing through pine needles or rustling whatever leaves may still be on the trees… maybe a nearby babbling brook will add a bit more ambiance, too. At that point, that ol’ devil moon will draw your gaze upward and you’ll feel your terrestrial concerns ebbing as you soar to commune with the vast cosmos.

Who knows, the sparks of new love may be in the air? Or perhaps latent feelings will be rekindled? Might single folks even wind up experiencing an unexpected meeting with their soul mate, while both are wandering about beneath the night sky? Whatever transpires under the Milky Way… under the Super Moon… you’re bound to feel a timeless bond with the rest of humanity… one that has always been there for the taking… for those attuned, caring souls, who know how and where it’s found.

Howling is cool, but not mandatory.

 

Van Morrison ~ Moondance

Sting ~ Moon Over Bourbon Street

Cassandra Wilson ~ Harvest Moon

Norah Jones ~ Shoot The Moon

Bap Kennedy ~ Moonlight Kiss

 

 

Revisions on 111416 15:33

Cleo, Theo & Cosmo (Bus Stop Chat #001) The 3 Meet!

An orange hued, hazy sunrise presides over another summery, muggy day in the bustling metropolis of Upland… bakes the pavement and skyscrapers… slow simmers the pungent blend of vehicular exhaust and fast food fumes.

There’s the general hubbub of humanity… the multitudes milling about… the engines, horns, sirens and jackhammers are all in play. Each component acts as an individual instrument in the soundtrack of city life.

The rat race begins, anew, as two men, in walking run mode, approach from opposite directions… a near photo finish as they bookend themselves onto the weatherworn bus stop bench and set down their Styrofoam coffee cups.

Paper napkins serve as makeshift mops to sop up perspiration from their brows. Upon catching their breath, they exchange perfunctory, good morning pleasantries. Their rush had been needless for, once more, the poorly funded, public transit system is punctually running late.

“Looks like another scorcher brewing… almost too hot to be drinking coffee. But I’m not about to give up my caffeine buzz,” sighs the disheveled looking man seated on the left. Dressed in white polo shirt and faded blue jeans, his thirtyish, in need of a shave face is topped off with the bedhead look.

“By the way… the name is Cosmo.”

“Pleased to meet you, Cosmo. I’m Theodoros… but just call me Theo”, says the fiftyish looking, greying, bearded man, off to the right. He then adds, “And, I wouldn’t give up my daily java jolt, either… no matter how hot the day, or, for that matter, the coffee may be.”

They first lean in sideways to shake hands and next drink their espresso.

“Couldn’t help but notice the Roman collar, Theo. Where’s your parish?”

“Resurrection Church… over on the east side.”

“So what brings you over to this side of our fair city?”

“I’m to be a guidance counselor and instructor… temporarily assigned to Andrew’s Youth Center… every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. In essence, I’ll be a surrogate parent to latchkey kids… keep ‘em intellectually engaged and out of mindless mischief. It’s really tough when moms and dads each work two or more jobs to pay their bills. The resultant dwindling quality time is doing immeasurable harm to the family unit. But there I go again… rambling on and on. I’ll bet you’re sorry you asked.”

“No, not at all. What you’re doing is admirable. By intervening and interacting you’re working towards the betterment of society.”

“Thanks for saying so. Since I’m mostly paid in compliments, your kind words have made me a wealthy man.” Taking another sip from his cup he thinks aloud, “I do hope I’ve figured out the correct bus routes and schedule… wouldn’t want to be late on my first day.”

“Hmm… Andrew’s Youth Center, you say… that’s affiliated with the church over on Monroe Blvd… is it not?”

“One in the same… the Center is right in the church basement. You know so much about us, my son, are you by any chance Catholic?”

“Once upon a time… as a young boy. The word that now best describes me is ‘lapsed’.”

“If you don’t mind my asking… why did you leave the church?”

“Well, it’s a long story, Father, but not to worry… if memory serves… all you need know now is the Route 33 bus will take you to your destination.”

All too familiar with how folks handily dodge the ‘why did you stray’ question, Theo stifles his knowing smile…

“Good to know I’m heading in the right direction. So… where, pray tell, are you heading this a.m.?”

“Well… it looks like we’re both in the biz of educating young minds. The community organizers who run Kids’ Corner have me on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday schedule, too.

“I’m familiar with that fine organization. So, what’ll you be teaching?”

“I’m on sabbatical from U of C Berkeley, where I teach astrophysics. Since I’ve now got plenty of free time, by day, I’ll be a volunteer teaching astronomy for beginners, by nights I’ll be scoping out the heavens at the San Gorgonio Mountain observatory. Regrettably, with light pollution and smog problems, heavenly matters aren’t what they used to be.”

“So true. I’m facing down problems with my own brand of heavenly matters, too. These days, people seem to deem God as unimportant.”

“Well, I don’t believe folks have actually stopped believing, Father. While I cannot speak for everyone, I think regular folks are finding the church’s overall image off-putting and irrelevant to their needs. You know… stained glass, palatial churches that could rival St. Peter’s Basilica… past popes who’d look right at home lodged in Trump Towers.

“But our new pontiff, Francis, is trying to change all that…” Theo starts to remind…

“Well, I did say past popes…” Cosmo interjects. A police cruiser whizzing by with flashing reds and blues and wailing siren nearly drowning him out.

At that moment, a twentyish looking woman, wearing blue denim jeans, unbuttoned work shirt, tee and heavy steel toed boots approaches the bus stop… clutching a Styrofoam coffee cup in one hand… a cell phone in the other. She immediately goes into a circular pacing mode… impatiently… holding her cell phone skyward… frantically waving it about while muttering, almost inaudibly, her “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon” pep talk directed at that unresponsive, barely functional device.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones with upward connection problems,” Cosmo quips. Quickly checking his own cell, he speaks up, “Excuse me… I’m getting a strong signal… four out of four bars. You may borrow my phone.”

“You’re a life saver,” she says while approaching the bench. As she sits down and keys in the number she mutters, “That damned bus is going to make me late for work again… and it’s only my second week on the job. By now, Manuel… that’s my boss… is probably thinking that I’ve flaked on him again. He’ll likely fire my ass.”

Now speaking fluent Spanish into the phone, only Theo can understand her side of the conversation. Of course it’s easy to fill the gist of the rest. That’s in the form of her crisis averted, call’s end sigh of relief. Handing the phone back to Cosmo… she’s once again profuse with her thanks.

“Well… since it looks like we’re stuck here for awhile… I’m Cleo.” The round of handshakes ensue as she continues, “I’m a carpenter working over at the Devonshire construction site.”

Theo and Cosmo’s facial expressions “out” their lingering provincialism.

“Hey guys, welcome to the 21st century… don’t look so shocked. These days, women carpenters can and actually do cut it.”

“And I’ll bet you have plenty of power saws to back up your statement, too, “ jokes Cosmo. As the chuckles subside he adds, “I’m Cosmo… I teach astrophysics over at Berkley. As for my newfound friend…”

While conspicuously adjusting his collar and, clearing his throat, the other man interrupts, “I’m Theo…”

“Well ain’t that a hoot!” Cleo chimes in, “You’re Theo the theologian and he’s Cosmo the cosmologist.”

The group laughter gets drowned out as three 18-wheelers rumble by.

“Devonshire… wow… that’s really upscale,” Cosmo says while competing with the street noise.

“Yeah, tell me about it… the site’s billboard out front boasts, ‘Outstanding new homes starting in the five millions’… blah, blah, blah. Hell, I couldn’t eke out the mortgage payments on a birdhouse in that soon to be snooty, gated community.”

“Affordable housing? Does that even exist anymore?” laments Cosmo.

Theo frowns his silent, horizontally nodded answer to those Qs as Cleo asks, “Just where are everyday, average folks supposed to live, any way?”

“For sure, that’s a problem that that insensitive unholy, Trump, could never begin to fathom… let alone fix,” adds Theo.

“Amen to that!” she sighs and then looks down at her cell’s chronometer. “Guys, we’ve only known each other for ten minutes and… if you’ll excuse the construction worker parlance… I’d say we’re already building some great rapport.”

“In this one instance, I don’t even mind the buses running late,” Theo agrees.

“I’ll ditto that… but better late than never,” Cosmo says while gesturing leftward.

A three-bus convoy is now barreling down upon them.

“Any chance we’ll see one another again?” Cleo queries.

“Well, as for us guys, we’ll both be here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning,” says Theo.

“Thru late September, if not longer,” adds Cosmo, “How about you, Cleo?

“Well, since the only day my carpool can’t get me to work is on Fridays, it looks like we’ll all be meeting back at this bench a week from now.”

“Here’s to next Friday,” says Theo as all three raise and carefully tap their coffee cups… make a toast to their newfound friendship.

“You two like bagels?” she asks. Since both men nod vertically, she adds, “OK, that’ll be my treat for next week.”

Just then the busses all come to a squeaky, air-braked halt. The doors fling open to admit Cleo, Theo and Cosmo. Waving their till we meet again farewells, each climbs aboard to complete the final leg of their Friday morning commute.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A note to my readers: My game plan is to post these Cleo, Theo & Cosmo Bus Stop Chats on most, but not all, Fridays. These three fictitious characters will engage in political / social commentary… sometimes in agreement… other times not. But either way, the important thing, here, is that no matter how heated a discussion may get, they’ll remain civil towards each other… which, btw, is the way it should be… but usually is not… in our real world.

My apologies for this first installment running a bit long… that was mainly due to character development requirements. Future chats will focus more on (what else?) the actual chats… and consequently, be of shorter duration.