Welcome again to another episode of Down The Rabbit Hole. This time the focus is on the sky.
76 years ago this month, a battle took place in Los Angeles, CA. It was just a few months after the United States had entered WWII on the evening of February 24, 1942 when a large object was sighted just off the coast of Los Angeles. Fearing the enemy was trying to breach the coastline, the 37th Coast Artillery Brigade began to open fire. They fired upon this object with .50 caliber machine guns and also anti-aircraft shells. These anti-aircraft shells weighed over 12 pounds each and over 1400 of them were fired, but not one of them brought the object down.
There is a famous photograph of this particular battle, showing ground spotlights reflecting off of perhaps a rounded, saucer shaped object in the sky. Many witnesses also reported seeing a saucer like object. This battle also took the lives of five people, two heart attacks and three in traffic accidents, from the city being in a total blackout. The military told the public, which is still the explanation today, that it was a false alarm and the object was simply a weather balloon. A weather balloon, that took over 1400 heavy artillery shells, which explode into lots of sharp pieces, and never fell from the sky. Instead, when the firing stopped, it simply moved on slowly up the coast.
In July of 1952, strange lights were witnessed over Washington D.C. Seven objects were spotted on radar coming in close to the area. They were traveling at speeds that ranged from 120 mph to over 7000 mph. The lights were also executing strange flight maneuvers such as coming to a complete stop, going backwards and making right angle turns. Fighter jets were scrambled to the scene with one of the pilots actually seeing a glowing object. When the jets got close, the light simply disappeared, only to reappear as soon as the jets had landed. The next week, the exact same thing happened again, with the exact same outcome. The military told the public that these lights appeared because of atmospheric conditions, like a temperature drop, that made street lights show up on radar as being in the air......even though radar operators said if that was the case, the lights would show up as lines, not moving objects.
Next, the BK. This is an object that is traveling around Earth on a polar orbit. Many ufologists call this the Black Knight Satellite. It is said that this object is over 13,000 years old and may have been the source of Nikola Tesla's mysterious radio transmissions. It has been photographed and also has shown up on the live feed from the International Space Station. NASA says that it is simply a solar blanket that was accidentally let loose during an outside maintenance run for the space station. Perhaps, but, before either the United States or Russia, early 1950's, could put a satellite into orbit, they knew there was something orbiting earth, in a polar orbit. A polar orbit is something that was not achieved until 1960.
Lastly, my own sighting. It was in the latter part of the 1970's and it happened in Pike County, Illinois. My friend and I witnessed a bright light in the sky while we were out cruising some back country roads. It seemed to be several miles off to the south and we had lined it up with a knot on the top wire of a barbed wire fence, just to make sure it was really moving. My friend decided we needed to tell someone about it and we headed into town. As we turned onto the main road, my friend asked me if I could still see it. I turned around to look out of the rear window and I could see it. It was right behind us. It was still up in the air, but it was definitely following us. My friend thought I was kidding and turned into the drive way of the Trio Manufacturing Plant. The bright light stopped parallel to us when we stopped and seemed to be hovering over the field just west of where we were sitting. There was no sound of any kind coming from the light. My friend was getting a little bit upset and asked me what it was. I said I had no idea and we took off again and headed into town. I kept watching the light as it stayed on course with us. Joe's Drive-In was closed for the night, but it was always a great place to hang out after hours and this night was no exception and we could see several cars sitting in the parking lot. We skidded to a stop, my friend jumped out and pointed towards the sky, right over the area of the tennis courts in the park. "Do you see that?!" No sooner had the words been spoken, the light was gone. No one else witnessed it.
What was it? To this day, I have no idea, but I do know this.
Whether it was from this planet or somewhere else, IT knew exactly what we were doing, before we did it.
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Tuesday, February 20, 2018
When It Stops
"See me........Feel me........Touch me..........Heal me" The Who 1969
It has happened again. Another school shooting where many lost their lives, seemingly for absolutely no rhyme nor reason.
We ask why this happened....again. The media screams for bans on certain weapons and more gun control. The blame is focused on lack of mental health options.
Who is to blame for all these tragedies? Perhaps, we should take a really good look in the mirror.
For the last 60 plus years, we have been taught that we, as individuals, are better than someone else. Disagree? We were told not to associate with certain people, those people were beneath us. We were told certain activities led to certain disasters. We were taught to gather as much material things as we could. A nice car, a big house, $150 dollar sneakers, etc. because those things made us look good.....better than someone else.
We became adults, parents and started the cycle over again with our children, except with a new twist. We began to cater to them. We made sure they were in every sport or organization imaginable. We spent countless hours and dollars on the road, chauffeuring them to wherever they needed to be. We gave them material gifts, to entertain them and to make them measurable amongst their peers. We answered to the call of "So and so has one, I need one too."
Now we have a generation of young people who have been taught to not only not to hang out with the troubled kid, but also not to say anything about that person for fear of hurting their feelings. It goes even deeper than that, they simply do not care. It was not too long ago that teenagers videoed a man who was screaming for help because he was drowning and as he slipped under the surface of the water, for the last time, they simply walked away.
We blame the lack of God in the school for this atrocity. We sit in the pews and point fingers at the lowly sinner and pray they change their wicked ways. We play the blame game as long as necessary, in order to take the blame off of our righteous selves.
The Bible mentions something about how we know a tree by its fruit. The same goes for us. We are known by our deeds, our fruit. It is also a fact that a child has learned just about everything they need to know to make it through life by the time they are five years old. Where do they learn this?.....most often from their parents.
We lost something very valuable as we groveled through the muck to achieve success at any price. We lost empathy for our fellow man and have taught our children the same. We turn our back to the dirty, lice ridden child. We no longer offer hugs for fear of persecution. There should not be a class at school that teaches students how to sit with the lonely kid at lunch time!! A teacher should not have to be heart broken to watch their students talk through a few minutes of silence for fallen classmates.
Good grief people! Wake up! God can be in school all day long, but if WE are not teaching our children and others to be kind and to show that by our actions, then God could very well be the child whom no one talks to.
We have to pay attention. We have to care about others. We have to go out of our way to make the connection. These kids, that are left behind, need to not only be seen, they need to be felt, they need to be touched, they need to be healed. That is what empathy is all about. It's about learning how to FEEL what someone else is going through, putting ourselves in their position, walking a mile in their shoes, if only for a short amount of time and then, with a heart full of sincerity, show that kid that someone truly cares about them.
It is a simple solution. But, it will take a lot of work to get this self centered generation to put down their phones. Recently, two young men were involved in a roll over accident caused by slick road conditions and lack of experience. Fortunately, neither were hurt. But, it scared the living daylights out of them. They now know, they are not invincible. Their story was shared here to make a point. Not one of those 17 lives lost in this latest atrocity should be in vain. May their loss be a grim reminder, that it took an act of extreme violence, to wake up our children, so they can understand the value of life.
It has happened again. Another school shooting where many lost their lives, seemingly for absolutely no rhyme nor reason.
We ask why this happened....again. The media screams for bans on certain weapons and more gun control. The blame is focused on lack of mental health options.
Who is to blame for all these tragedies? Perhaps, we should take a really good look in the mirror.
For the last 60 plus years, we have been taught that we, as individuals, are better than someone else. Disagree? We were told not to associate with certain people, those people were beneath us. We were told certain activities led to certain disasters. We were taught to gather as much material things as we could. A nice car, a big house, $150 dollar sneakers, etc. because those things made us look good.....better than someone else.
We became adults, parents and started the cycle over again with our children, except with a new twist. We began to cater to them. We made sure they were in every sport or organization imaginable. We spent countless hours and dollars on the road, chauffeuring them to wherever they needed to be. We gave them material gifts, to entertain them and to make them measurable amongst their peers. We answered to the call of "So and so has one, I need one too."
Now we have a generation of young people who have been taught to not only not to hang out with the troubled kid, but also not to say anything about that person for fear of hurting their feelings. It goes even deeper than that, they simply do not care. It was not too long ago that teenagers videoed a man who was screaming for help because he was drowning and as he slipped under the surface of the water, for the last time, they simply walked away.
We blame the lack of God in the school for this atrocity. We sit in the pews and point fingers at the lowly sinner and pray they change their wicked ways. We play the blame game as long as necessary, in order to take the blame off of our righteous selves.
The Bible mentions something about how we know a tree by its fruit. The same goes for us. We are known by our deeds, our fruit. It is also a fact that a child has learned just about everything they need to know to make it through life by the time they are five years old. Where do they learn this?.....most often from their parents.
We lost something very valuable as we groveled through the muck to achieve success at any price. We lost empathy for our fellow man and have taught our children the same. We turn our back to the dirty, lice ridden child. We no longer offer hugs for fear of persecution. There should not be a class at school that teaches students how to sit with the lonely kid at lunch time!! A teacher should not have to be heart broken to watch their students talk through a few minutes of silence for fallen classmates.
Good grief people! Wake up! God can be in school all day long, but if WE are not teaching our children and others to be kind and to show that by our actions, then God could very well be the child whom no one talks to.
We have to pay attention. We have to care about others. We have to go out of our way to make the connection. These kids, that are left behind, need to not only be seen, they need to be felt, they need to be touched, they need to be healed. That is what empathy is all about. It's about learning how to FEEL what someone else is going through, putting ourselves in their position, walking a mile in their shoes, if only for a short amount of time and then, with a heart full of sincerity, show that kid that someone truly cares about them.
It is a simple solution. But, it will take a lot of work to get this self centered generation to put down their phones. Recently, two young men were involved in a roll over accident caused by slick road conditions and lack of experience. Fortunately, neither were hurt. But, it scared the living daylights out of them. They now know, they are not invincible. Their story was shared here to make a point. Not one of those 17 lives lost in this latest atrocity should be in vain. May their loss be a grim reminder, that it took an act of extreme violence, to wake up our children, so they can understand the value of life.
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Boogety Boogety
He came through the door giggling. "What have you done this time?", I asked. He giggled again and answered, "Oh, we were racing and I won." I rolled my eyes. This only made him laugh out loud. My husband, if he lives to be 100 and can still get to the top of a hill, it's a sure bet he will go down the other side of it as fast as he can.
This time it seemed necessary to tweak the golf cart. Golf carts are the main mode of transportation for the maintenance crew. That is, unless someone has gone off and left an entire apartment full of furniture, but that is another story for another day. Being a gear-head to start with, my husband loves to make sure that things run properly. If it has wheels and a motor, then it should also run as fast as possible.
He and two other grown men, were doing some weekly routine care and discussing their golf carts' performance. My husband told them that he was sure his throttle needed adjusting and proceeded to do so. While he was at it, he bypassed the governors and made a couple of changes he referred to as gizmos. Not needing to know any real golf cart terminology, I didn't ask.
After they were satisfied with their work, they each took their golf cart to the Big Hill. There are few flat areas in this neck of the woods and Big Hill is exactly what it sounds like.
Three grown men, lined their carts up together at the top of the hill and let er' rip. Listening to him tell this story, it was impossible not to laugh along with him as he described them sailing down the hill, all hooting like teenagers and that his cart really hauled the mail. Luckily, they had the good sense to slow down before they hit the speed bump at the bottom. Otherwise, golf carts and grown men would have been strewn everywhere.
Yes, the man loves racing and "the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys" rings true. As the new season of NASCAR is about to begin, I will not have to worry about finding him going at break neck speeds on a golf cart. He and millions of other men will be strapped in their recliners, waiting for the the engines to roar, and when they hear D.W. say, "Boogety, boogety, boogety boys! Let's go racin'!", a collective sigh will be heard world wide.
This time it seemed necessary to tweak the golf cart. Golf carts are the main mode of transportation for the maintenance crew. That is, unless someone has gone off and left an entire apartment full of furniture, but that is another story for another day. Being a gear-head to start with, my husband loves to make sure that things run properly. If it has wheels and a motor, then it should also run as fast as possible.
He and two other grown men, were doing some weekly routine care and discussing their golf carts' performance. My husband told them that he was sure his throttle needed adjusting and proceeded to do so. While he was at it, he bypassed the governors and made a couple of changes he referred to as gizmos. Not needing to know any real golf cart terminology, I didn't ask.
After they were satisfied with their work, they each took their golf cart to the Big Hill. There are few flat areas in this neck of the woods and Big Hill is exactly what it sounds like.
Three grown men, lined their carts up together at the top of the hill and let er' rip. Listening to him tell this story, it was impossible not to laugh along with him as he described them sailing down the hill, all hooting like teenagers and that his cart really hauled the mail. Luckily, they had the good sense to slow down before they hit the speed bump at the bottom. Otherwise, golf carts and grown men would have been strewn everywhere.
Yes, the man loves racing and "the difference between men and boys is the price of their toys" rings true. As the new season of NASCAR is about to begin, I will not have to worry about finding him going at break neck speeds on a golf cart. He and millions of other men will be strapped in their recliners, waiting for the the engines to roar, and when they hear D.W. say, "Boogety, boogety, boogety boys! Let's go racin'!", a collective sigh will be heard world wide.
Thursday, February 1, 2018
When It's Dark
His mood was so dark and heavy. It felt as if the entire weight of not just the world, but the entire universe was resting on his shoulders. He tried to swallow down a moment of panic. The desperation was nearly as terrible as his mood. The darkness that enveloped him spoke, "Feeling blue?" He tried to ignore it, but that was a lost cause. He could feel it breathing down the back of his neck. It really wasn't concerned about him. He knew what it wanted.
"Yes.", he answered in barely a whisper. "What fun!", the darkness hissed, "Let me see if I can't help you out a bit." He drew in his breath, waiting for the blast. It came, like it always did. "Shall I begin with your most recent failure, or start at the beginning?" The tsunami hit him straight in the chest. The air he held in his lungs was forced out and there was nothing left to breath. Not even a gasp as he rolled head over heels into a sea of vast despair, disappointment and regret. He grabbed his keys and ran out the door, hoping the darkness was too caught up in its cruel game to notice that he had left.
The cold evening air hit him square in the face, offering just a smidgen of respite. He unlocked the door to the truck, jumped in and turned the key. The truck jumped to life and he dropped it into drive, pressed the accelerator hard and sped out of the driveway. He dared not look in the rear view mirror, it could be there.
The lights of the gas station shown like a beacon of comfort and he eased off the gas to make the turn. He pulled up to the pump. He looked at the fuel gauge. This was going to hurt. He felt the heavy cold hand of the darkness trying to drape itself along his shoulders.
He stepped out of the truck, slid his debit card through the machine and began pumping the gas. He was sure he could hear the truck making gulping sounds, it was that dry. He stared blankly at the pump as the digital numbers frolicked gaily on the dwindling balance in his checking account. That desperate feeling began to climb up the back of his throat. Choking him.
The handle of the pump jerked when the tank was finally full. He looked back at the numbers and was sure he felt a little knife blade twist in the center of his back. Right behind his heart. As he placed the pump handle back into its cradle, a black car glided silently past the pumps and pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the door to the stations' convenience center. He watched the car. It was a Jaguar. An older model. It still had the cat on the hood. He always thought it was a big mistake for Jaguar to stop using the 3D version of the cat for the hood ornament but, they had never asked for his opinion. He thought back to a time when he enjoyed watching the television show, "The Equalizer". Robert McCall and the black Jaguar were the perfect match.
He headed for the convenience store and entered behind the driver of the Jag. The driver was an older African American man. He was tall and carried himself with great stature.
He ended up behind the man in the checkout line. "What year is the Jag?" The man turned, smiled and answered, "2009."
"I sure like the hood ornament, I always thought that made them look cool."
Again, the gentleman smiled.
"Does it have a lot of miles on it?" He asked, wondering where this sudden urge to talk to a total stranger was coming from.
The man turned to him again and said, "No." There was an odd moment of silence before the man continued. "No, it does not have many miles on it. You see, my wife passed away four years ago." He raised his arms as to show the vast void that was left in his life and his words trailed off into something that sounded like he had no reason to go anywhere anymore.
They stood silently in line. The older gentleman turned to leave and the younger said to him, "Have a nice evening." The man stopped again. He turned and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. He looked him straight in the eye and said, "Thank you son, you have a nice evening too."
The touch of the man's hand was like a touch from a magic wand. Suddenly, the darkness was gone. He walked back into the cold night air and stepped into his waiting truck. In one small sliver of time, he had felt the pain of another human being and it was bigger than what he was facing. He pulled back into the driveway and sat looking at the light in the window of the house. He knew that what was bothering him was still going to be there, but he also knew that behind that door was something else. The love of his life and for the moment, he was most grateful for being able to see what really mattered most in his life. Maybe it was true. Maybe we do entertain angels and never know it.
"Yes.", he answered in barely a whisper. "What fun!", the darkness hissed, "Let me see if I can't help you out a bit." He drew in his breath, waiting for the blast. It came, like it always did. "Shall I begin with your most recent failure, or start at the beginning?" The tsunami hit him straight in the chest. The air he held in his lungs was forced out and there was nothing left to breath. Not even a gasp as he rolled head over heels into a sea of vast despair, disappointment and regret. He grabbed his keys and ran out the door, hoping the darkness was too caught up in its cruel game to notice that he had left.
The cold evening air hit him square in the face, offering just a smidgen of respite. He unlocked the door to the truck, jumped in and turned the key. The truck jumped to life and he dropped it into drive, pressed the accelerator hard and sped out of the driveway. He dared not look in the rear view mirror, it could be there.
The lights of the gas station shown like a beacon of comfort and he eased off the gas to make the turn. He pulled up to the pump. He looked at the fuel gauge. This was going to hurt. He felt the heavy cold hand of the darkness trying to drape itself along his shoulders.
He stepped out of the truck, slid his debit card through the machine and began pumping the gas. He was sure he could hear the truck making gulping sounds, it was that dry. He stared blankly at the pump as the digital numbers frolicked gaily on the dwindling balance in his checking account. That desperate feeling began to climb up the back of his throat. Choking him.
The handle of the pump jerked when the tank was finally full. He looked back at the numbers and was sure he felt a little knife blade twist in the center of his back. Right behind his heart. As he placed the pump handle back into its cradle, a black car glided silently past the pumps and pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the door to the stations' convenience center. He watched the car. It was a Jaguar. An older model. It still had the cat on the hood. He always thought it was a big mistake for Jaguar to stop using the 3D version of the cat for the hood ornament but, they had never asked for his opinion. He thought back to a time when he enjoyed watching the television show, "The Equalizer". Robert McCall and the black Jaguar were the perfect match.
He headed for the convenience store and entered behind the driver of the Jag. The driver was an older African American man. He was tall and carried himself with great stature.
He ended up behind the man in the checkout line. "What year is the Jag?" The man turned, smiled and answered, "2009."
"I sure like the hood ornament, I always thought that made them look cool."
Again, the gentleman smiled.
"Does it have a lot of miles on it?" He asked, wondering where this sudden urge to talk to a total stranger was coming from.
The man turned to him again and said, "No." There was an odd moment of silence before the man continued. "No, it does not have many miles on it. You see, my wife passed away four years ago." He raised his arms as to show the vast void that was left in his life and his words trailed off into something that sounded like he had no reason to go anywhere anymore.
They stood silently in line. The older gentleman turned to leave and the younger said to him, "Have a nice evening." The man stopped again. He turned and placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder. He looked him straight in the eye and said, "Thank you son, you have a nice evening too."
The touch of the man's hand was like a touch from a magic wand. Suddenly, the darkness was gone. He walked back into the cold night air and stepped into his waiting truck. In one small sliver of time, he had felt the pain of another human being and it was bigger than what he was facing. He pulled back into the driveway and sat looking at the light in the window of the house. He knew that what was bothering him was still going to be there, but he also knew that behind that door was something else. The love of his life and for the moment, he was most grateful for being able to see what really mattered most in his life. Maybe it was true. Maybe we do entertain angels and never know it.
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