Bits & Pieces

Back in the 1960s when everyone was crazy for the Beatles, my favorite band was the Dave Clark Five.  Their first big hit in the U.S. was a song titled, “Bits & Pieces.”  I thought I would co-opt that title for this post which doesn’t have a singular focus, but rather, contains bits & pieces of my musings on a number of subjects.

Lesley Gore’s obituary was in today’s paper.  She died yesterday, February 16 of lung cancer.  In 1963, 16-year old Lesley hit the pop charts with “It’s My Party,” and followed that with the sequel, “It’s Judy’s Turn to Cry.”  She had other big hits including, “You Don’t Own Me,” “Sunshine, Lollipops” and “Maybe I Know.”  Baby boomers of a certain age won’t be able to read those titles without humming a few bars of Ms. Gore’s infectious tunes.  Rest in peace, Ms. Gore.  Your music will live on.

I grew up as a “yinzer” in an ethnic Pittsburgh household.  Either in spite of or because of that background, I worked hard to learn to speak grammatically correct English as a college student and then later as a lawyer.  I recognize that American English is not static, and we have to allow for its gradual evolution.  So when I hear someone say they are going to “lay down” for a while, I bite my tongue and think, “Maybe it’s not grammatically correct, but perhaps it will be someday.”  However, while recently listening to the radio, I thought I heard several announcers describe upcoming events in “Feb/yoo/ary.”  Way back in second grade, my teacher drilled into our brains that the correct pronunciation of the second month of the year is “Fe/brew/ary.”  Similarly, she insisted that the place to borrow books is a “lie/brary” and not a “lie/berry.”  I couldn’t believe that so many announcers could have skipped second grade, so I quickly checked my Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary.  I was amazed - no, astounded - to discover that the preferred pronunciation was exactly what I had been taught was just plain wrong.  I’m not sure when this changed.  I did some quick internet research and couldn’t find any article that pointed to a date or even described a transition from what I had learned to what has become today's norm.  It was as if history had been re-written.  Like a scenario out of Orwell’s 1984, it seemed that Febyooary was always the correct pronunciation.  I checked with my own children and found that they also had gone to the dark side and accepted that the silent ‘r’ is actually something real in the English language.  However, a web search for “silent r” yielded several sites which indicated that there were no American English words with a silent ‘r.’ I’m not sure how to reconcile that result with the current prevalence of Febyooary.  I suppose I could accept it if Merriam-Webster changed the spelling of the second month to Febuary to coincide with its pronunciation.  Or perhaps I just need to do some more research on the subject.  Maybe I should do that at the local liberry.

I started wearing bow ties about twenty years ago.  At first, I had one or two and wore them sparingly on special outings or to church.  I was too self-conscious to wear a bow tie at the office.  Bow ties had somehow gotten a bad reputation.  They branded you as professorial at best or more likely as some kind of nerd, loser or weirdo.  After all, Dagwood Bumstead wears bow ties in the comics as does Garfield’s Jon Arbuckle when the strip’s author is trying to make him look particularly geeky.  Nevertheless, whenever I wore a bow tie, people complimented me on how good I looked.  I never heard the same level of compliment when I showed up anywhere in a necktie.  Then about ten years ago, I screwed up my courage and decided to start wearing bow ties at the office.  I don’t know that they helped my career which had pretty much plateaued by then, but I got a lot of compliments and really felt they suited me.  Over those ten years, I have given increasingly more space on my tie rack to bow ties and less and less to neckties, which I rarely wear except perhaps to a funeral.  Bow ties seem somehow to be too joyous for a somber occasion.  At the same time, I have been gladdened to see that bow ties are having a resurgence.  At a recent meeting I attended, there were more bow ties than neckties.  I would like to take credit for this bow tie renaissance, but I think a lot of the credit has to go to actor Matt Smith.  Mr.Smith, who is most known for his role as the 11^th Doctor on the BBC’s Doctor Who, repeatedly declared, “Bow ties are cool!”  Mr. Smith played the Doctor on the series from 2010 through 2013.  That’s just about the time period when bow ties started showing up in more than a few men’s stores, and men in their twenties started wearing them.  So thank you, Matt Smith, for making bow ties cool again, and me at least by association.  Mr. Smith as the Doctor also declared that fezzes are cool.  I’ve been a hat wearer for many years.  Maybe it’s high time I went looking for a fez. 

On the Radio

I don’t listen to the radio much anymore.  Sure, I turn it on when I’m in the car driving around town and running errands.  Then I’ll listen to NPR or the community radio station with its eclectic contemporary music format.  When these stations are in their fundraising mode, I’ll flip to the classic rock station or if I’m desperate, I’ll listen for a while to sports talk radio.  But I hardly ever turn on the radio at home.

Yet when I was growing up, the radio was an integral part of my life.  No, I’m not part of the generation that gathered with their families around the radio in the evening to hear one of those great shows like The Shadow.  My family had a television.  But the TV was never turned on in the mornings when we were getting ready for school.  Instead, my mom would be in the kitchen making coffee and putting out breakfast while listening to KDKA blasting its 50,000 watts into Pittsburgh’s airwaves.  Morning disc jockey Rege Cordic made us smile with his zany antics, and Ed Shaughnessy gave us the news and the all-important school closings.  Then, all summer long my parents would sit on the front porch to escape the heat while Bob Prince regaled us with baseball stories interspersed with the play-by-play from the Pirates game.  The radio was the only way to “see” a home game.

At my first communion party, the only present I really cared about was the transistor radio that my godparents bought for me.  Before that, I had annoyed everyone by walking around the house holding a cufflink box to my ear, pretending it was one of those miniature radios that I longed for.  When my brothers and I became old enough to do the dinner dishes, the radio was there in the kitchen to keep us company.  We listened to Chuck Brinkman on KQV spin the latest tunes from the Beatles, The Dave Clark Five and other groups that were part of the British Invasion.  My older brother tired of that style of music and turned to WAMO, intoducing me to Porky Chedwick, soul music and the Motown sound. 

In Junior High I did my homework listening to Terry Lee’s “TL Sound” on WMCK.  At ten o’clock, TL would switch to “Music for Young Lovers.”  Who could resist as the Duprees crooned, “See the pyramids along the Nile . . .?”  In the late 1960s, Motown gave way to psychedelic music and we all ran out to get FM radios so we could listen to WDVD and WYDD.  The FM DJs talked very low and really slow as they played entire record albums straight through.  My best friend joined the Columbia Record Club so he could get twelve albums for $1.99, despite having to buy a bunch more at the regular, exorbitant Club prices.  The radio helped us decide which ones to buy.  And when the Steelers finally started winning in the 1970s, we watched them on TV, but turned the sound down so we could listen to the radio announcers, Jack Fleming and Myron Cope, on WTAE.

I’m not sure when my love affair with the radio ended, but it was probably sometime in the late 1970s when stations started playing disco.  Techno-pop in the 1980s wasn’t any better and the only other choices seemed to be oldies and country.  What had been new and exciting album rock turned into classic rock – another form of oldies, featuring mostly Led Zeppelin, Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Steve Miller Band.

 

So now I rarely turn on the radio when I’m at home.  If I feel like listening to music, I’ll put on a record or CD.  My son recently suggested that I try Pandora, and that’s a nice source of music, but it lacks personality.  I guess WYEP, the community radio station, comes the closest to giving me what first attracted me to radio – identifiable personalities, contemporary music with occasional oldies, news and weather.  When I think about it, it’s actually a pretty good radio station.  Okay, I guess I’ve run out of excuses.  It’s time to go to their website and donate to their latest fundraising drive.

New Year’s Revolution 2015

You say you want a revolution,

Well, you know,

We all want to change the world . . .*

When Barack Obama campaigned for the presidency in 2008, he promised bold change for America.  With Democratic majorities in both Houses of Congress, it appeared that he could indeed lead this country forward with daring new ideas, such as universal health care.  But two wars in the Middle East, a worldwide recession and the eventual takeover of Congress by conservative Republicans has caused his agenda for change to be severely scaled back.

 

In these final two years of his final term, the President has a choice.  He can sit back and wait with his veto pen to try to prevent the Republican Party from taking this country back to the 19^th century.  Or he can use the bully pulpit and power of his office to boldly lead this country forward. 

So what kind of change should be on the President’s agenda as we begin this New Year?  There are many problems facing this country that cry out for action, such as the 14-year war in the Middle East, the nation’s crumbling infrastructure, gun violence and income inequality.  Taking action to address these problems is important, but is it revolutionary?  Would it change the world?

Revolutionary change is hard to come by.  It usually happens as the result of some extraordinary event or invention.  The invention of the wheel transformed ancient civilizations just as the invention of the computer has transformed modern society.  The widespread use of computers and other electrically powered appliances and devices could not have happened except for the revolutionary change that made electricity available in homes and businesses throughout the country.  That change resulted from the discovery that coal, oil and natural gas could be burned to produce steam to drive turbines that could generate energy that could be sent via wires to our homes and businesses.  Without electrification, we would be a far different society.

But scientists have discovered a huge downside to the generation of electricity from burning fossil fuels.  Burning these fuels releases carbon dioxide (CO₂) which builds up in the earth’s atmosphere.  CO₂ is a greenhouse gas, which means its buildup traps heat from the sun, which eventually will alter the climate of the planet – and not in a good way.

This nation’s energy needs will continue to grow as our population increases and our society continues to invent new technological devices that rely on electricity to make them work.  Conservation efforts can help to slow the demand for power, but such efforts inevitably will not be enough to reduce emissions of CO₂ and other greenhouse gases that are causing changes to the earth’s climate.  Ultimately, we must reduce our national dependence on the burning of fossil fuels to generate power.  President Obama has taken action to commit the United States to reducing carbon emissions.  He has negotiated a treaty with China committing the U.S. to reduce carbon emissions by 28% below 2005 levels by 2025.  His EPA has proposed new rules to require power plants to substantially cut CO₂ emissions.  These are important actions, but they can be undone by a future administration that refuses to acknowledge that climate change is occurring.  Also, since the CO₂ already emitted can linger in the atmosphere for thousands of years, simple reductions may not be enough.  Many scientists are telling us that we need to get to zero carbon emissions to really have a chance of halting and reversing climate change. 

The use of solar, wind and similar renewable sources is a step in the right direction, and we must do all that we can to encourage the further development of these technologies.  But they will not be enough.  Therefore, just as President Kennedy challenged the nation to send a manned mission to the moon by the end of the 1960s, President Obama should announce a major initiative to produce commercially viable power from nuclear fusion in the next ten years.  Nuclear fusion, which produces no greenhouse gases, is the only known technology capable of replacing fossil fuels in supplying electricity to the nation’s power grid.  Fusion is being researched by various entities around the globe that are hoping for a breakthrough to eventually make it commercially viable.  However, a major development effort under government sponsorship could bring together the people and resources necessary to make it a reality in the short term.

Such an effort, if successful, and if shared with other nations, would achieve nothing short of saving the planet.  That would be quite a legacy, Mr. President.  And it is a change that could not be reversed or dismantled, no more than the computer could be replaced with the abacus.

So be bold; be revolutionary.  Yes, we all want to change the world.  And you should use the power of your high office to inspire us and lead us to that change.

*  Revolution, Lennon-McCartney, © 1968

GGOD X

Yes, this was my 10th or Xth Annual Goose Goofs Off Day. I looked it up. I don’t know why I use Roman numerals to count them. I suppose that in my book it is the Super Bowl of holidays. Since the Super Bowl uses Roman numerals to keep track, it logically seemed to be the appropriate way to keep track of my personal GGODs.


And that acronym, GGOD? I only started using it recently, but it also seemed logical and appropriate. After all, Goose Goofs Off Days are Gifts from God. Now some might think that Christmas has the best claim to being a gift from God. But without getting too heretical, I beg to disagree. Perhaps children can view Christmas as a gift, but for grownups Christmas is a huge pile of stress and work. Most of us spend weeks decorating, baking, shopping, cleaning our houses and wrapping presents just to name a few of the tasks leading up to Christmas. Then after Christmas we go back to stores to exchange presents such as clothes that don’t fit, we do more shopping to take advantage of after-Christmas sales, and then we must take down and put away all the decorations for another year. Christmas can be nice, but it’s no GGOD, that’s for sure. The hardest thing about GGOD is figuring out how you’re going to goof off.

The Mattress Factory

This year I just kind of puttered around the house during the morning, and before I could say, “I’m taking it easy today,” it was 1:00 in the afternoon.  I did some searching on the internet and decided to take a trip to the Mattress Factory, which is a museum of modern art on Pittsburgh’s Northside.  Exhibits are housed in three separate buildings within a block of one another.  There are also some outdoor installations.  Since it was a cold day, I stuck to the inside stuff.  I especially enjoyed the installations on the 4^th floor of the main building.  They included “Damn Everything but the Circus,” by Benjamin Sota, the founder of the Zany Umbrella Circus, and “Diaspora,” by Ryder Henry.  Diaspora consists of an intricately constructed miniature futuristic city.  One could spend hours appreciating the architecture and construction of the various structures in that imaginary city. 

After spending a couple hours at the Mattress Factory, I decided to take a ride up the Allegheny River to the borough of Oakmont. Oakmont is mostly famous for the Oakmont Country Club which has hosted the U.S. Open golf tournament several times.  However, I went to Oakmont to visit the Mystery Lovers Bookshop.  Mystery Lovers is a small, independent book store.  I knew of them because they are a sponsor of a lecture series I attend called Literary Evenings.  While the lectures focus on the writing process, Mystery Lovers is there to sell books, which you can get signed by the author.  So I decided to take a GGOD trip to Oakmont to see their actual store.

It’s a far cry from Barnes & Noble, but that’s the whole idea.  In contrast to the big box stores, the owner greeted me when I walked in and offered me coffee and some dessert.  True to their name, they specialize in mystery books, but they also stock current books, especially those featured at the Literary Evenings.  I spent a fair amount of time browsing through the book shelves and finally settled on Plugged, by Eion Colfer.  Colfer is the author of the Artemis Fowl books that my youngest son enjoyed so much as a teenager.  I thought it would be interesting to see what Colfer’s books for adults are like. 

I completed my purchase, left Mystery Lovers and then drove a few blocks to a Panera Bread store.  I have a Panera Rewards card and knew I was due for a free pastry.  So I found a cozy chair and did some reading while enjoying some coffee and a bear claw.  Around 6:00 PM, I decided to head back home.  Dinner was effortless – microwaved leftovers.  Finally, a little time in the hot tub, some wine and a movie provided a perfect end to the perfect holiday.  Now I’m looking forward to taking it easy on GGOD XI!

When You Assume

A few days ago I decided to make myself some toast and tea as a mid-morning snack.  I put some water into the electric kettle and hit the on button to heat it to a boil.  The bread was one of those artisanal loaves where the ends are so small they would get lost in a traditional toaster.  So I popped them into the toaster oven and went into the study to glance at the newspaper while I waited.  I came back in a few minutes and poured the hot water into my mug and buttered my toast.  When my tea had brewed, I added some sugar and opened the refrigerator door to get some milk.  Damn!  The refrigerator light had burned out.  I realized the fridge was at least 3 years old, and I had never changed its light bulb.  I supposed that I was fortunate to have a bulb last that long.

I figured this was something I could fix in a jiffy. So leaving my toast and tea on the kitchen table, I went down to the basement to look for an appliance bulb.  I opened the closet where I keep various light bulbs and rooted around until I determined that I didn’t have the right type of bulb.  So I trudged upstairs to the kitchen and took a bite of toast and sip of tea.  It seemed that while I was downstairs looking for a light bulb, my tea had gotten lukewarm.  I took another sip and finished one of the rounds of toast.  Then I opened the refrigerator door to take a look at the bulb.  Instead of a bulb, I saw a translucent plastic shield that ran from the back to the front of the fridge and covered the light bulb.  I realized I would have to remove the shield to replace the bulb.  I rearranged the food on the shelf below to give me some room to work.  I examined the shield and gave it a tug.  It moved, but showed no signs of coming loose.  I looked at it closer, but could not determine how to get it off.  I decided that using brute force would be a bad idea.  I could end up having to buy a new shield as well as a light bulb.

 

Since this is a relatively new refrigerator, I had hope that I might still have the owner’s manual.  I took another gulp of my tea which was getting cold and a bite of toast and went to the desk drawer where I thought the manual might be located.  I leafed through manuals for items that we had long since discarded.  But my search for the refrigerator manual was rewarded.  I opened it to the section on replacing the light bulb.  It instructed me to squeeze the sides of the shield and pull downward.  I was a little skeptical, but gave it a try and sure enough, it came off revealing the light bulb.

I was pleased to see that the bulb looked pretty normal.  I figured I should take it to the hardware store to be sure I got the correct replacement.  So I gave it a twist.  The bulb refused to budge.  Was I twisting it the right way?  I gave it a twist in the other direction.  No luck that way either.  Now I became concerned that I would end up breaking the bulb in my efforts to unscrew it.  The last thing I wanted was a cut hand and blood and glass shards to clean up.  I went to get a pair of leather gloves.  I tried again, first one way and then the other.  No luck.  The bulb was horizontal with its base toward the refrigerator door.  I walked into the living room and unscrewed the light bulb from one of the lamps.  O.K.  You turn these things counterclockwise to unscrew them.  I mentally turned the lamp on its side with the light bulb facing away from me to determine which direction was counterclockwise when the bulb was facing away from me.  Jokes started popping into my head:  “How many retirees does it take to change a light bulb?”  I went back to the kitchen and downed the dregs of my now cold tea and limp toast.  I opened the door and grasped the bulb with my gloved hand.  I gave it a gentle but firm twist in the direction I determined to be correct.  I felt it give a little.  I tried again with a little more pressure and it began to unscrew.

 

“Success!” I shouted as I unscrewed the bulb and pulled it out of the refrigerator.

 

I realized that to be efficient, I should run a number of other errands besides going to the hardware store for a new bulb.  So I gathered a few things together, put the bulb in a bag to protect it and got ready to leave the house.  It occurred to me that with the distraction of the burned out light bulb, I never did get a chance to enjoy a nice hot cup of tea.  So what would be the harm of making myself another cup?  I could put it in a travel mug and take it with me.  So I put more water in the kettle and flipped the button to start the kettle.  I noticed the light on the kettle did not come on.  A light bulb clicked on – the one in my mind.  I realized that running the tea kettle and toaster oven at the same time had tripped a breaker, and the refrigerator was probably on that same breaker.  I went downstairs, opened the breaker box and saw that one of the breakers had switched off.  I turned it on and walked back upstairs.

I was greeted by the sound of the refrigerator’s motor.  I screwed the light bulb back in and it lit up.  All told, I had probably wasted a half hour solving a problem that didn’t exist.  That might qualify me to be a politician, but certainly not an efficiency expert.  I made a note to pass this experience on to my son, Michael, who gives brief lessons on efficiency in his MichaelMinutes on Facebook.  I figured this could be a lesson in what not to do.

I recalled that old adage, “When you assume, you make an ASS out of U and ME.”  I had assumed that when the light didn’t turn on, it meant the bulb was burned out.  Once I had made that incorrect assumption, I ignored all the other clues – the tea that was never piping hot, the toast that wasn’t quite toasted, the fact that the refrigerator never turned on while I was trying to get the light bulb out.  I’d like to think I learned from this experience and that the next time I’m confronted with a problem, I will test my assumptions and consider all the possibilities – including the possibility that pigs have learned to fly.  

Bang the Drum All Day

My son, Sam, and I recently took a road trip to Canada.  Actually, he had hoped to take a friend or two, but it turned out they all had prior commitments.  So I convinced him to let me come.  He enthusiastically agreed, particularly after I offered to cover most of his expenses 

The reason for the trip was to return a lambeg drum to its owner in suburban Toronto. 

Wikipedia defines lambeg drum as “a large Irish drum beaten with curved Malacca canes . . .used primarily in Northern Ireland by Unionist and the Orange Order.”  The operative word is large.  It had been used in a play produced by PICT Classic Theatre – the company that employs my son as master carpenter.  When one of PICT’s staff drove to Canada to initially pick it up, he had to return to the States empty-handed because the drum was too big to fit into his Kia Soul.  So my son made sure the drum fit into his Subaru Outback, though it didn’t leave much room for anything else. 

A few days before our departure, I began to think about the two of us trying to get into Canada with a huge drum in plain view in the back of his car. I knew that border crossings had become a bit more dicey since security was tightened in the wake of the 9/11 attacks.

“How do you plan to explain the drum to the border guards?” I asked him.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.  Why should it be an issue?”

“Well, a drum that size could contain quite a bit of contraband.  Drugs, guns, a small family of migrant workers.  It would be a good idea to be prepared with an explanation.  Maybe if we had a playbill or some pictures from the production.”

Overhearing our conversation, my wife, working at her computer, went to the theatre company’s website.

“I don’t see any pictures of the drum, but I can download the playbill from the show.  It contains a special thanks to the man who loaned the drum.”

“Does it mention the drum?”

“No, it just lists the owner’s name, and lists Sam’s name as master carpenter.”

“Great, print it.  We’ll also take that playbill from Macbeth, which we saved from the other night.  That will make our story sound a bit more authentic.  I’m probably just being a worrywart, but like I always say, better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.”

A few days later as we drove toward the border, we briefly considered ignoring the drum, and saying we were just coming into Canada for a day of sightseeing.  I imagined the guard’s first question would be, “So why are you bringing that huge drum into Canada?”

“What drum?” would probably not be the best response.

We decided that honesty would be the best policy.  If that should fail, our back-up plan was to lie like hell.  As we got close to the guard booth, it occurred to me that we probably should have switched drivers.  My son is in his early twenties, has longish hair and a beard that had gotten a bit shaggy.  I, on the other hand, have the appearance of a delightful and charming older gentleman – in other words, a harmless old geezer.  But it was too late.  Changing drivers while waiting our turn at the crossing would just draw additional suspicion. 

We pulled up, and my son handed our passports to the guard.  She studied them for what seemed a long time. 

“So what’s your business in Canada?”

Sam explained that we were representatives of a theatre company in Pittsburgh that had borrowed the drum in the back of the car for a recent production, and that we were traveling into Canada to return it to its owner.

She gave us a skeptical stare.  “What sort of play is this?”

Sam handed her the playbill we had printed from the website.  “It was called Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Toward the Somme.”

“It was about an Irish battalion preparing to fight in the First World War,” I chimed in. 

“And who are you?”  She gave me a cold stare.

“My dad is on the theatre company’s board,” Sam replied as I leafed through the Macbeth playbill, unable to find where the board members are listed.

She riffled through the papers in her hands.  “What’s in the drum?” she demanded.

“Nothing!” we simultaneously responded, perhaps a bit too quickly. 

“Why did you need a drum from Canada?”

“It’s a very unique drum.  You can see the way it’s painted.  It had to look authentic to the period and this is the closest one we could find.”  OK.  I didn’t know that for a fact, but thought it sounded pretty good.  I felt the ice getting thinner under our skates. 

“Do you have any paperwork showing it’s a Canadian drum?”

“I have an email someplace,” Samuel said looking around his seat, but desperately hoping she wouldn’t ask him to produce it. 

“And whose drum is it?” she asked.

Sam gave her the name of the owner.

“Where does he live?”

“Clarington,” I replied.

“Clarington?  I thought you said you were going to Toronto.”

“Well, we’ll be staying in Toronto after we drop off the drum in Clarington.”

“Good save, Sam,” I thought to myself.

“Will you be coming back to get the drum again?” she asked.

"No, the play is finished.  We won’t be doing it again in the foreseeable future,” Sam replied.

She paused, leafing through the pages of the playbill.  We waited, wondering if her next move would be to have us take the drum out for her inspection or phone for back-up.  We put on our friendliest faces as we continued to wait for her to decide what to do.

“All right, you can go,” she said.  “But if you ever do this again, you need to make sure you have paperwork showing the drum is a Canadian good.”

“Thank you.  We’ll be sure to do that,” I said.

She handed back our passports and the playbill printout.  We quickly drove off, feeling like we had just gotten away with the crime of the century. 

“Wow, I’m glad I didn’t have to do that by myself,” Sam said, sighing with relief.

“I guess having your old man along for the ride was good for something,” I said as we took the on ramp for the QEW. 

We agreed that after we dropped off the drum, there would be no need to mention it on our way back into the U.S.A.

Genesis Retold

In the beginning there was nothingness.  And God filled nothingness.  In nothingness, there was room for naught but God.

And God spoke.  “Let there be light!”  And God’s Word created light.  Light burst forth in countless points of brilliant energy.  What had been nothingness became light, and light raced forth, its points separating and combining.  And space formed between the points in an ever-expanding Divine thought.  God saw the light God’s Word had created.  And God considered the possibilities, and knew that it was good.

And God spoke again.  “Let there be matter!”  And God’s Word brought forth the elements and gave them structure and shape.  And they formed solids, liquids and gases.  And in God’s time, they combined to form stars and planets, comets and asteroids, matter and anti-matter and structures yet unknown to creation, but well known to God.  And God saw the matter God’s Word had created and considered the possibilities.  And God knew that it was good.

And God spoke again.  “Let there be life!”  And God’s Word created life.  Chemicals combined into structures that could use the energy created by God’s Word to sustain and reproduce life, suited to the conditions throughout creation where it could evolve into more complex forms.  Some were suited to living in liquid and others to living in gases or on solid land.  Some forms used the energy of God’s light and others were energized from those forms that used God’s light.  And God saw the life that God’s Word had created, in its simplicity, its complexity and its harmony.  And God considered the possibilities.  And God knew that it was good.

 

And God spoke once more.  “Let there be life in my image!”  And God’s Word created a Divine spark in one of the living creatures.  And the Divine spark made those creatures unlike any of the others created by God’s Word.  By this spark, these creatures received intelligence and memory; reason and wisdom.  And God breathed on this spark, and it grew into a flame that gave these creatures a burning desire to know God and to be with God for all eternity.  And God considered the possibilities.

 

And God rested.