One of my favorite things to do when summer comes around is star-gazing. I like to sit outside on my deck and catch (a look at) a falling star, or try to count a whole mess of falling stars in one of those meteor showers. Sometimes, I like to grab the Beneficent Mr. Hall and drive out to the open fields where the star-gazing is really good.
The Beneficent Mr. Hall is a pretty good sport about going hither and yon, as long as I don’t start on aliens or UFO’s. But to be honest, I can’t help feeling that it’s a little cocky of us to think that we’re the only ones in the universe. I mean, how do you explain all the people who’ve seen strange objects in the sky? There’s a National UFO Reporting Center, for cryin’ out loud. And think of all the books, the movies, the television shows about space and aliens and such. Doesn’t it make you wonder if there’s some fact in all that fiction?
I’m not saying I’d like to take a jaunt with some other life form. I can barely find my way around my county–I sure wouldn’t want to have to find my way home from the heavens. I’m just saying that if I should meet an alien someday, on earth or elsewhere, I’d like to be able to say to the Beneficent Mr. Hall, “Well, well, well. I told you so.”