400 Years of the Telescope, finally

June 1, 2009 finds cause for celebration. I just received a special DVD from PBS this past week. I could not put the program on because of a mind boggling busy schedule I got myself into the last ten days. 400 Years of the Telescope had to wait.

I already described my trip to Northern California on my last post. When I left for my first trip out of town in two years, I did not anticipate such a tremendous amount of drama from my father over the few days I was out of town. I won't bore you with the details, but he and my wife had several conversations over the weekend of my absence. I am not sure when, exactly, older people suddenly find their mind set to be very much the same as young children, but the change is not all that pleasant. Old people do not look like young kids.

The wait for the adult to come into the body of your aged parent reminds me of Godot. While I wait for the adult, I take the child to the ER over a small bout of gastritis. Death surely sits on the doorstep this time. A battery of tests and blood panels reveal the patient will live. This marks the third ER experience over a very minor bodily inconvenience in the last couple of years. It took me awhile to get over the all night stay at the emergency room for the small bloody nose, which culminated in an MRI for the afflicted parent. Tests negative, of course. And so it goes.

I probably could have watched the DVD, if Pops was the only thing making up my week, but on a journey out to water my starving summer lawn I happened to notice a blister in the paint on the porch support beam. Using my trusty pistol popping index finger to explore the bubble on the beam I discovered the wood was shot full of termite tunnels and subterranean dirt residue. Well, that will cost some money and suck up some more good thoughts on the state of my economy. It did, but the peace of mind knowing the ultimate chew-masters of civilization would be eradicated for a decent amount of time put me in a tolerable space. Also, my cross-country truck-driving sis would be in town on the days the work would be done.

Today I've checked out this wonderful PBS documentary fully, and can truthfully say the opening two-minute sequence my youngest son, Winston, put together with his team of student artists is really quality stuff. At the end of the program he has a credit line all to himself, in bold type. Oh sure, the astrophysicists, astronomers and the cinematography are all excellent, but wow! that opening sequence.