The Message, Sandy's Wrath
There is in every crises a message, a warning to change one's ways. Sandy's wrath was the message.
Will Man take umbrage with obvious answers and continue in his old ways ? Or, finally, will Man embrace science which tells of dire consequences if change is not undertaken by people living today ?
History will be able to tell our heirs what we did, but that's not adequate. An unknown World, one which our heirs would feel uncomfortable in, is something I am not willing to pass on.
Climate Change is a byproduct of Man's activity on this Earth. The billions necessary to clean up Sandy's destruction are in similar dollar amounts power plant operatives took in cost savings ill gotten from allowing pollutants to poison our air.
Standing alone, one plant here or there seems of little consequence, but multiplied over the Earth in almost incalculable numbers their pollutants enter our stratosphere to effect Climate Change on our same planet.
At some future date, catastrophic events will equal pollution emitters and then the scales will tip favoring mandatory change as a must. Will the Earth, as we know it today, still be salvageable for our offspring ?
Future historians hold the cards, they don't play in the games of life, they just record the outcome of those who played in the games along the way. Some of us today wish we could peer into the future and in some way alter history to our liking. Wishing has its place, wanting only an urge.
Ronald C. Downie
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Monday, October 29, 2012
The Mini - The Macro
The Mini - The Macro
I don't rightly know just how I learned about this latest scientific initiative, most likely from television's "Modern Marvels" or some other show about science. My interest, spanning well over half a life time, was peeked again by a science show which stressed that the information age is not satisfied with computers of today. They're too big and therefore far too slow.
Today's cutting edge scientists figure they can develop a one cell thick filament which would allow computers to store facts up to tens of thousands of times greater than those commonly in use today. Simpler means faster and smaller which translates into how much more efficient they'd be. Hand held models are tools in size dictated by the average person's hand girth not the amount of informational guts inside the casing. The informational guts of the future will only be a very minor portion of the total size of the unit.
Fifty years ago I attended a Sunday morning service at The Mainline Unitarian Universalist Church at Devon, Pa. where Professor Emeritus, Doctor Harlow Shapley, of the Harvard Astronomy Department spoke to the assembled congregation about our own universe.
That morning was memorable to me to the nth degree, its ora will follow me to my grave. Spring warmth was in the air brought by bright sunshine as I entered the large room for the service. Once a grand old Main Line mansion now a church used the largest room, a grand room with a huge fireplace centering on its north wall, for its Sunday services. The lectern was up front just to the left side of the logs burning in the fireplace and on the mantel sat a beautiful arrangement of cut flowers placed in quite an attractive vase. To the right side of the fireplace sat a lovely long blond haired lady playing a harp which drew everyone into a quiet mood as her cords filled the room.
A hushed quiet captured the entire room before the service which began with the reading of a number of announcements concerning church matters. Finally Doctor Shapley was introduced. Harlow Shapley was by then, the mid60's, a fairly old man with an arms length of honors and academic accolades. Doctor Shapley spoke some of his place in academia and then he began on his main theme as the audience hushed to listen. Looking to the south out the expanse of glassed French doors making up the whole south wall, he said something to this affect, referring to the sun peeking through the straight trunks of mature oak trees growing just beyond the south patio.
"I wonder what those trees are thinking of us ?" he nudged the congregation.
From there he took us into the cellular structure of trees and their place in the architecture of life. He then turned to an explanation of the universe, from the smallest to the largest, and he put humans within this scale somewhere in the middle. He admonished all of us to remember that the study of science is never finished, it is ever evolving, it builds upon the newest findings with discoveries happening each and every day all over the World.
Now, punching through way-out space, probes are on their course beyond our solar system's gravitational grasp and will continue out beyond our galaxy's pull. Also representing the macro would be the rover leaving its marks on the surface of Mars.
The micro may be realized by a pill which when swallowed sends a television signal to the doctors and lets them see the inner workings of their patient's body. And, a judicious look at the history of the silicone chip shows an ever reduction in size beyond an amateur's perception.
Somewhere between these extremes we "live our lives in quiet desperation", as Henry David Thoreau stated in his book, Walden. Our needs are realized in understanding the role of science in our lives. The scientists explain the relativity of things in the cosmos, the philosophers explain the interaction between these things, and the poets hope to bring both of their positions together.
Ronald C. Downie
I don't rightly know just how I learned about this latest scientific initiative, most likely from television's "Modern Marvels" or some other show about science. My interest, spanning well over half a life time, was peeked again by a science show which stressed that the information age is not satisfied with computers of today. They're too big and therefore far too slow.
Today's cutting edge scientists figure they can develop a one cell thick filament which would allow computers to store facts up to tens of thousands of times greater than those commonly in use today. Simpler means faster and smaller which translates into how much more efficient they'd be. Hand held models are tools in size dictated by the average person's hand girth not the amount of informational guts inside the casing. The informational guts of the future will only be a very minor portion of the total size of the unit.
Fifty years ago I attended a Sunday morning service at The Mainline Unitarian Universalist Church at Devon, Pa. where Professor Emeritus, Doctor Harlow Shapley, of the Harvard Astronomy Department spoke to the assembled congregation about our own universe.
That morning was memorable to me to the nth degree, its ora will follow me to my grave. Spring warmth was in the air brought by bright sunshine as I entered the large room for the service. Once a grand old Main Line mansion now a church used the largest room, a grand room with a huge fireplace centering on its north wall, for its Sunday services. The lectern was up front just to the left side of the logs burning in the fireplace and on the mantel sat a beautiful arrangement of cut flowers placed in quite an attractive vase. To the right side of the fireplace sat a lovely long blond haired lady playing a harp which drew everyone into a quiet mood as her cords filled the room.
A hushed quiet captured the entire room before the service which began with the reading of a number of announcements concerning church matters. Finally Doctor Shapley was introduced. Harlow Shapley was by then, the mid60's, a fairly old man with an arms length of honors and academic accolades. Doctor Shapley spoke some of his place in academia and then he began on his main theme as the audience hushed to listen. Looking to the south out the expanse of glassed French doors making up the whole south wall, he said something to this affect, referring to the sun peeking through the straight trunks of mature oak trees growing just beyond the south patio.
"I wonder what those trees are thinking of us ?" he nudged the congregation.
From there he took us into the cellular structure of trees and their place in the architecture of life. He then turned to an explanation of the universe, from the smallest to the largest, and he put humans within this scale somewhere in the middle. He admonished all of us to remember that the study of science is never finished, it is ever evolving, it builds upon the newest findings with discoveries happening each and every day all over the World.
Now, punching through way-out space, probes are on their course beyond our solar system's gravitational grasp and will continue out beyond our galaxy's pull. Also representing the macro would be the rover leaving its marks on the surface of Mars.
The micro may be realized by a pill which when swallowed sends a television signal to the doctors and lets them see the inner workings of their patient's body. And, a judicious look at the history of the silicone chip shows an ever reduction in size beyond an amateur's perception.
Somewhere between these extremes we "live our lives in quiet desperation", as Henry David Thoreau stated in his book, Walden. Our needs are realized in understanding the role of science in our lives. The scientists explain the relativity of things in the cosmos, the philosophers explain the interaction between these things, and the poets hope to bring both of their positions together.
Ronald C. Downie
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Humanity's Grand Mosaic
Humanity's Grand Mosaic
Within the stitches
holding together your
patch work quilt,
you live your life
just peeking out
from under its cover.
Your birth, infancy,
childhood, teen years,
adulthood, marriage,
family, midlife, old age,
infirmity, and death are
recorded with their own patch.
Each one's story, a quilt some
could easily hang on their wall.
Others would wrap themselves
snugly within its warm comfort.
While some would fold up
their quilt and place it in an old
trunk, with moth balls for keep sake.
Those, though of a shattered life, who
understand their quilt's unthinkable
nature, seek not to remember,
but, just in case, keep theirs hidden
in a safe place, there to be a reminder.
Walk down any street, anywhere,
look at the people, look closely,
are they that much different from
each other in looks and physique ?
Now, conjure up in your mind's eye
what their individual quilt would look like.
All the writers in the World,
all the singers and songsters too,
the poets, historians, and the story tellers,
have yet to unfold the totality of patch work
quilts which makes up this,
each is our contribution to
humanity's grand mosaic.
Ronald C. Downie
Within the stitches
holding together your
patch work quilt,
you live your life
just peeking out
from under its cover.
Your birth, infancy,
childhood, teen years,
adulthood, marriage,
family, midlife, old age,
infirmity, and death are
recorded with their own patch.
Each one's story, a quilt some
could easily hang on their wall.
Others would wrap themselves
snugly within its warm comfort.
While some would fold up
their quilt and place it in an old
trunk, with moth balls for keep sake.
Those, though of a shattered life, who
understand their quilt's unthinkable
nature, seek not to remember,
but, just in case, keep theirs hidden
in a safe place, there to be a reminder.
Walk down any street, anywhere,
look at the people, look closely,
are they that much different from
each other in looks and physique ?
Now, conjure up in your mind's eye
what their individual quilt would look like.
All the writers in the World,
all the singers and songsters too,
the poets, historians, and the story tellers,
have yet to unfold the totality of patch work
quilts which makes up this,
each is our contribution to
humanity's grand mosaic.
Ronald C. Downie
Friday, October 26, 2012
Haiku 88 - The Value Of Women
Haiku 88 - The Value Of Women
God's child, raper,
His offspring - God's child, too -
Inhuman values.
Women under heal,
More like Islam traditions -
When to cover heads ?
Female voices sing -
"Are we at least Man's equal" ?
Superior ! Yes !
Of women we're all :
Mothers, wives, daughters, life force -
How can men not care ?
Your body, your choice.
Make your female decisions
Known by your actions.
Without women, weep,
No World could survive for long -
Females create life.
Ronald C. Downie
God's child, raper,
His offspring - God's child, too -
Inhuman values.
Women under heal,
More like Islam traditions -
When to cover heads ?
Female voices sing -
"Are we at least Man's equal" ?
Superior ! Yes !
Of women we're all :
Mothers, wives, daughters, life force -
How can men not care ?
Your body, your choice.
Make your female decisions
Known by your actions.
Without women, weep,
No World could survive for long -
Females create life.
Ronald C. Downie
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Eagle Verses Big Bird
Eagle Verses Big Bird
The eagle, life so fragile its eggs cracked,
Could not mature exposed to DDT,
Which until stopped by Federal agents,
Was everyone's spray chemical of choice.
This sixty year battle seems nearly won.
The eagle, symbol of our pride and strength,
The aggressive beak, piercing eyes, muscle
Overlapping muscle for the kill, groomed.
Many countrymen are militarist
Bent on pursuing their hawkish death dreams.
They seem oblivious to the eagle's
Earlier plight by Man's own ignorance.
The Eagle, the Flag, the Cross : are symbols ;
Each will stir man's blood to spill even more.
Their World is male dominant, ego driven,
Power imposing power, trample weak.
What has been the plight every militant
Country that history has had to endure ?
Its downfall - external or internal.
The World, slowly but surely, is leaning
Toward Peace. Yes ! Big Bird's teachings are so
Effective, that his forty year long term
Of instruction swept the World. A cadre
Of peaceful followers praise his teachings.
The Peace Corp and Doctors Without Borders
Do good, while doing no harm, free of guns.
Theirs is an outgrowth of a populous
Grounded in education, dogma free.
They project America's greatest wealth,
Freedoms our Constitution guarantees,
Which are universal to all free Men
And Women no matter their birth country.
Like the Eagle's egg - tenuous, fragile,
The World moves toward peace, slowly pacing.
It will take interaction of people
Giving up egos while blurring their turf.
Leaders better wake from their own malaise
Which draws them to do nothing, status quo.
If the World is to survive forever,
Pease must rule the minds of common people.
Ronald C. Downie
The eagle, life so fragile its eggs cracked,
Could not mature exposed to DDT,
Which until stopped by Federal agents,
Was everyone's spray chemical of choice.
This sixty year battle seems nearly won.
The eagle, symbol of our pride and strength,
The aggressive beak, piercing eyes, muscle
Overlapping muscle for the kill, groomed.
Many countrymen are militarist
Bent on pursuing their hawkish death dreams.
They seem oblivious to the eagle's
Earlier plight by Man's own ignorance.
The Eagle, the Flag, the Cross : are symbols ;
Each will stir man's blood to spill even more.
Their World is male dominant, ego driven,
Power imposing power, trample weak.
What has been the plight every militant
Country that history has had to endure ?
Its downfall - external or internal.
The World, slowly but surely, is leaning
Toward Peace. Yes ! Big Bird's teachings are so
Effective, that his forty year long term
Of instruction swept the World. A cadre
Of peaceful followers praise his teachings.
The Peace Corp and Doctors Without Borders
Do good, while doing no harm, free of guns.
Theirs is an outgrowth of a populous
Grounded in education, dogma free.
They project America's greatest wealth,
Freedoms our Constitution guarantees,
Which are universal to all free Men
And Women no matter their birth country.
Like the Eagle's egg - tenuous, fragile,
The World moves toward peace, slowly pacing.
It will take interaction of people
Giving up egos while blurring their turf.
Leaders better wake from their own malaise
Which draws them to do nothing, status quo.
If the World is to survive forever,
Pease must rule the minds of common people.
Ronald C. Downie
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
My Body Of Work
My Body Of Work
When my finger becomes a stump from pecking away
On my iPad, with just the right hand pointing one ;
I look at my body of work, shrug my shoulders, pray
That I'm not as lame in ability as thought by some :
Then gathering myself, I think, what the "Sam Hell"
Am I doing out in this arena of original thought ?
Me, a boy of the soil, with pulsating words to tell
Audiences about education's purpose, as it's taught :
And then, a Scottish Highland stubbornness invades
My innards and rescues an inbred arrogance for life.
If not me, who the hell will write of grand parades,
Of awakening flowers, children, theirs, and my wife ?
However menial the task, it's the full effort given
Which measures a person's metal, sung by the liven.
Ronald C. Downie
When my finger becomes a stump from pecking away
On my iPad, with just the right hand pointing one ;
I look at my body of work, shrug my shoulders, pray
That I'm not as lame in ability as thought by some :
Then gathering myself, I think, what the "Sam Hell"
Am I doing out in this arena of original thought ?
Me, a boy of the soil, with pulsating words to tell
Audiences about education's purpose, as it's taught :
And then, a Scottish Highland stubbornness invades
My innards and rescues an inbred arrogance for life.
If not me, who the hell will write of grand parades,
Of awakening flowers, children, theirs, and my wife ?
However menial the task, it's the full effort given
Which measures a person's metal, sung by the liven.
Ronald C. Downie
Monday, October 22, 2012
The Stone - The Stone
The Stone - The Stone
Hone yourself a sharp mental edge
Lest politicians ply their wares.
Silent with skill they drive a wedge
Dividing life into cares and fears.
"Care, yes care, I care for you."
Tongue cheeked message driven,
Script weak, thin, seen clear through.
Be self driven, fall not to speeches given.
"Fear, not me , fear the other guy."
"Believe me , I am not conceited."
Through lips drawn tight of teethe sly,
Bravado loud, dishonest call repeated.
Stone, the stone apply it often
When mind at rest in dullness creeps.
In apathy's folly the robber's hidden,
Citizens engaged, informed, America seeks.
The stone,* the stone apply it often,
Hone yourself a sharp mental edge.
Ronald C . Downie
*One of the more important tools of early America was a unique looking device, a household need and especially a farmstead requirement, it was the four foot curved handle scythe. The scythe was the premier grass, weed, grain, and hay cutting tool with about a three foot long curved metal cutting blade about three inches wide with a sharpened leading edge. Keeping the edge sharp was accomplished by a stone, a graphite abrasive stone stick six inches long, held in one hand at an angle to the cutting edge and vigorously run back and forth to sharpen the blade's edge. Scythes were very efficient when properly used and craftily sharpened. The stone was the key to making the scythe work so well and it allowed early America's life to be more livable.
Hone yourself a sharp mental edge
Lest politicians ply their wares.
Silent with skill they drive a wedge
Dividing life into cares and fears.
"Care, yes care, I care for you."
Tongue cheeked message driven,
Script weak, thin, seen clear through.
Be self driven, fall not to speeches given.
"Fear, not me , fear the other guy."
"Believe me , I am not conceited."
Through lips drawn tight of teethe sly,
Bravado loud, dishonest call repeated.
Stone, the stone apply it often
When mind at rest in dullness creeps.
In apathy's folly the robber's hidden,
Citizens engaged, informed, America seeks.
The stone,* the stone apply it often,
Hone yourself a sharp mental edge.
Ronald C . Downie
*One of the more important tools of early America was a unique looking device, a household need and especially a farmstead requirement, it was the four foot curved handle scythe. The scythe was the premier grass, weed, grain, and hay cutting tool with about a three foot long curved metal cutting blade about three inches wide with a sharpened leading edge. Keeping the edge sharp was accomplished by a stone, a graphite abrasive stone stick six inches long, held in one hand at an angle to the cutting edge and vigorously run back and forth to sharpen the blade's edge. Scythes were very efficient when properly used and craftily sharpened. The stone was the key to making the scythe work so well and it allowed early America's life to be more livable.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)