What If There Is No Life Anywhere Else?

What if life is the exception rather than the rule?

It certainly is in our neck of the woods – there’s nothing we would recognize as life for millions of miles – at least in our own corner of the universe, we are singularly alone.  It doesn’t make us special – it makes us lonely.

Often we like it that way.

Sometimes we don’t.

But if we stop and look real close, down-to-the-dirt close, we begin to notice some things and it turns out we are not so alone after all, as worms etch their way into the dirt, ants scurry about their busy business, beetles prindle along, crickets chirp, tree frogs sing, birds dig and scratch, bears leave their I-was-here gifts, deer munch on acorns, eagles and other predator birds soar above it all, deigning to drop down only for a snack.

This place, this earth, teems with life.

It is an embarrassment of riches.

Like many today, I have long assumed that we are a mere speck on a dot on a hair on a flea of a very small part of a very large universe, where life is teeming.

But what if I, what if we, are wrong?

What if, as Fermi is said to have exclaimed in sorrow, I suspect, as well as frustration, but where are they?!?, or more precisely, where is everybody?

Statistical reasoning would say that there should be thousands upon thousands of planets with life capable of communicating with others ‘out there’.

And yet we have heard from no one.

No one.

So, to borrow from Fermi, where are they?

Science has actually named this phenomena the Fermi Paradox – that is, the contradiction that (1) the universe should be teeming with other life; (2) a good bit of that life should be fully capable of communicating in ways that we would be aware of at this stage in our own development, but (3) there are no signs of such life anywhere that we have detected, so where are they?

Theories abound – as they’re wont to do when we actually have no idea what we’re talking about.  Maybe we really are alone.  Maybe the universe really is teeming with life.  We just don’t know enough to know – yet.  And maybe we never will.

But as someone who loves Star Trek in every iteration, as someone who fancies what might be ‘out there’, as someone whose mother’s greatest dream has always been to travel the galaxies, I am left at sea with the idea that we might be utterly alone here.

That does not make me feel special.

It makes me feel bereft – like Fermi, wondering, where, oh where, are you?


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*Read The Fermi Paradox for a good discussion of various theories.

8 Cool Things About Having a Visitor

Sharing your life, your favorites, the world through your eyes with a guest has its challenges as well as its rewards.  I’ve had a lot of company these last weeks, and as Rachel (Rae) from Scotland and I share our last full day, I’m already thinking back.

Here, then, a list of things cool about sharing with a guest to your life:

1. The fun of sharing regional favorites, like Five Guys, sweet tea and fried chicken from the gas station.

2. Heading to those places you love but seldom get to – Cooper’s Rock, Valley Falls, and  Natural Bridge, to name a few.

3. Luring her in to your own obsession with all things Star Trek, ending up with both of you humming together the Star Trek Voyager theme music at dinner.

4. Laughter.

5. Finding your amazement at the things she doesn’t like that you just love – who wouldn’t love fresh tomatoes with mozzarella, basil and a little balsamic?  Why, it’s positively unAmerican.  Oh.

6. Seeing your world through her eyes, realizing (again) just how loud we Americans of the U. S. variety can be (are); noticing our craven love for salt (who knew there even could be too much salt on movie pop corn?); having to warn that our hot water is not an inexhaustible supply (why will we not adopt the U. K. way on this?); rediscovering that a coffee maker is mysterious if you’ve never used one before; explaining that you’re safe in a car from a Mama Bear; remembering how much you love fire works; having to explain who the people of your people’s history are – what each tribe holds so dear of its past is but so much unknown data to those of another tribe.

7. Showing her the magic of the nighttime in summer and watching her see lightening bugs for the first time – pure magic.

8. Rediscovering how very much we are all alike and how very much we are all so different – all at the same time.

Why This 50-Something Female Should Avoid the Movies

Okay, so I’ll be 58 in a few weeks, so the 50-something moniker is a bit of a stretch.  But I digress.

Saturday I went with some friends to see Star Trek: Into Darkness.  Loved it.  And yes, I am a Trekkie at heart – deal.

Again, I digress.

I should have known it would be an interesting day when, upon presenting my happy self at the ticket counter, the lady (who, I must point out, appeared to be older than my own mother by several years) said, “Senior” with no question mark in her voice as she proceeded to ring me up.  The best honor system ever devised kicked into high gear as I, with some umbrage in my voice, I confess, protested her judgment that I am at least 65 (and no, don’t try to comfort me that the age there for the senior discount might ‘only’ be 62 – trust me, it’s no comfort).  Trying to make it all better (I’m betting she is somebody’s mom), the lady said, “I just wanted to be sure you got your discount.” – Yeah, that helped.  Not.

Flash forward to getting into our seats laden with the obligatory popcorn, drink and candies, oh, and the raincoat I take to movie theaters (no old lady jokes will be tolerated) to use as a blanket in case I get cold.  Have you ever noticed that there’s no place except the floor (and who wants to bend clear down to the floor?  As I said, keep the old lady jokes to yourself) to put anything down while you get yourself arranged in the seats?  Well, I have.

I thought I was home free after having the candy fall through the adjacent seat to the floor, after I struggled to find the cup holder to put the water bottle into, as I gracefully sank down, popcorn bag in hand, into the comfortable seat awaiting me, only to lose my balance a bit on the way down and fling my right arm (yes, the one with the popcorn bag in the hand at the end of the arm) outward in a poor imitation of an emcee presenting a favorite guest (think Ed Sullivan here for those of you old enough – see, now you’ve got me doing it).  Popcorn flew everywhere.  Thankfully, the folks sitting in front of me had not yet arrived, sparing themselves the butter-salt shower that in another time dimension (it was a Star Trek movie, you know) awaits them.

After the movie, I only sighed a bit as I crunched my way to the end of the aisle and out the theater, with the obligatory pit stop on the way out (in my defense, my much younger girl friends did the same).  Thankfully, there actually was a hook in the stall (you try dealing with a raincoat and purse when there isn’t one – it’s no fun in that position to wrap your raincoat around your neck like a scarf and your purse like a feed bag, let me tell you).

Almost home free, I approach the water faucet to wash my hands.  How hard can that be?

Well, I stood there and waved my hands again and again under the faucet.  This, for me, is not unusual – for some reason, those sensor things never recognize my hands and I always end up doing some kind of dance of hand waving that I’m sure would be recognized somewhere in the far reaches of the world as a ritual to a god I’ve never met.  Enter Melissa (one of the friends, whose birthday we were celebrating with this outing) from stage left.  I didn’t realize that she had been standing slightly behind me waiting for me to finish when she stepped up and without remark, turned on the faucet with the lever usually provided, and stepped back.

I stood there for a moment – a nano-second, surely –  in disbelief, realizing that I had been trying to wave the automatic water stream into action when there was no automatic water stream.  After the nano-second, I burst into helpless laughter and another nano-second later, so did Melissa – a good friend always waits to see if you get the joke when it’s on yourself and Melissa (Woman Who Brings Water to me now and forevermore) is a good friend.

Next time, I think I’ll just take my senior discount with gratitude and move on.

After all, I’ve earned it, don’t you think?

It’s either that or avoid the movies altogether.

And I really like movies.