August 1993
In a successful attempt to go against the flow, I decided to search the heavens for Perseid the day after the advertised "best time" for viewing. I donned my sweatshirt and headed fro the nearest thing to dark sky, the golf course at the start of the foothills. I arrived to find the lot empty, the masses having had their go the night before. I settled into my beach chair, leather jacket acting as a blanket, and keys poised for any attack by non-stellar visitors. As I lay back, eyes roaming, I began to think loft thoughts. The vastness of the sky, the universe and beyond are good jumping off places for deep meditations on the origin of humankind, God, religion. I began to wonder about my role in such a scheme, what my, in the immortal words of Steve Martin, "special purpose" was.
And then my mine would change the channels before I could even get a coherent thought on the essence of my being. I began to think about my laundry, or my current financial despair, or the fact that my back was killing me and my underemployment necessitated total use of my back. Just as I was about to get into a full blown depressive state about my situation, a meteorite would transverse the sky. A bright white-orange star with the longest tail I'd ever seen, shooting out into God knows where. I whoop and cheer, just as I do when a fireworks display is especially exciting. I didn't care if I was alone!
I saw six "shooting stars" over the hour that I sat outside. Each time that I thought I would not see any more, another one exploded in my vision. I wanted to stay all night but my back was stiff and a car intruded into my solitude. Time to go. I saw the Perseid Meteor Shower. I had some lofty thoughts, I had some human thoughts and I had a hell of a good time. I still don't know what my special purpose is, but somehow, it doesn't really matter.
