Don’t worry, I’m not into Science Fiction and I haven’t taken to writing about it.
Don’t worry, I’m not into Science Fiction and I haven’t taken to writing about it. Some folks find it odd that a fellow who has spent most of his life working in the aerospace world is not interested in such things as Martians and flying saucers.
I really am not.
However, I am approaching or “sailing into” another birthday and I try to find humor and meaning as I go through life and hoping my children and friends do the same.
Being a mathematician by education, I do find it entertaining to study what people think about certain numbers and their significance. Again, I will note that I just find it fun and I don’t pick lottery numbers based on the significance of numbers.
That being said, I still had to look into the significance of the number 51 this year. Of course, like every other number it is very important (to some people).
In studying the Pyramid’s mysterious design, the number 51 is worthy of attention. The slope angle is 51 degrees, 51 minutes. In addition, the Kings Chamber is situated on the 51st masonry course of the Pyramid.
Somehow folks associate the number 51 with a code for the Earth. Okay, that’s pretty cool. However, when you consider that Stonehenge, Avebury and Silbury Hill are all located on the 51st parallel, it gets a little scary. These folks think that these prehistoric monuments represent the Sun, Earth and Moon.
You’ve probably heard of Stonehenge. Avebury is also an arrangement of three stone circles from prehistoric times. Silbury Hill is a mound of chalk in the same area from a long long time ago.
Maybe the fellows who built all these monuments were just bored or having some sort of contest. I really don’t think the Martians did it.
I’ll just handle 51 in my own way.
My Daddy was in the Navy and he taught us the basic terms associated with boats, knots and Fletcher Class Destroyers. It was interesting for me as a little boy when he would point to a gun on a Revell plastic model of the USS The Sullivans and say, “this was my gun.”
My Daddy sat under a gun and fired it when he needed to fire it. He taught me about knots and the square knot is about the only one I remember. I know the “bow” was the front of the ship and the “stern” was the back-end of the ship. I also know if you are looking toward the front of the ship, the “port side” is the left and the “starboard side” is the right.
These terms are important in understanding what I am about to describe because I don’t want to use inappropriate words.
With less than a week before my birthday, I have had a couple of notable “sailing experiences.” The first happened over the weekend when I was getting to sleep late for a change. It was nice.
As I woke up, I found a small black dog cuddled up to me in the bed. She is a very loving dog and likes the pack feeling when sleeping. I do not mind sleeping with this dog, it’s nice to have someone or something or a small black dog to wake up in your arms.
She is a dog; she does not care what you are. Anyway, it seemed she had cuddled up to me with her stern in my face. It is somewhat startling to wake up with the stern end of a dog in your face, but at least she was there. Stonehenge did not cross my mind.
Later in the day, I took my two teenagers and some of their friends to some sort of music concert a few hours away. It was something my son has been looking forward to for a long time.
My son and his friends made a cake to take to the concert. This sounded strange to me, but I found out that many of the aged 16-24 crowd does the same thing. Evidently, this fellow who does the singing throws the cakes into the crowd during the concert.
I know… I know…
It concerned me, but I trust my children and I was going to be close by.
As a teenager, I listened to George Jones, Conway Twitty and other country music crooners. A case could be made that some of what goes on in country songs is not necessarily appropriate.
By bringing a cake to the concert, the concert folks give you a couple of special armbands which allow you to meet the singer/cake thrower after the concert and have your picture made with him or get his autograph. My son was thrilled.
He was there about three hours early and standing in line with his special armband on. I was close by and communicating with him.
The concert was over at around 11 pm and I was walking around outside waiting for my son to come out. His sister and friends without the armbands came on out and decided they wanted to go back to the hotel and go to sleep.
This was fine, it was a block away. I volunteered to stay and wait on my son and his friend who were going to get to meet the cake thrower. I stuck my head in and the security guard told me that I could not come in without an armband.
However, I was able to see the cake thrower. He was about 5 and a half feet tall and dressed like a normal college kid. I asked the security guard, “Is that the guy we drove three hours to see?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “He sure seems clean.” The security guard told me, “He’s had a shower.”
It made sense with all the cakes flying around.
It was cold, but I decided to sit down on a park bench right outside the auditorium. There was only one way out and I was right in front of it.
I was still communicating with my 16 year-old son who informed me that he was at the end of the line waiting to see the musician/singer/cake thrower.
Why is it our kids are always the last in line?
After sitting on the bench for a while, I figured it out. This fellow who was meeting all of his fans was having his picture made and signing autographs. Well, it seemed that about 70% of his fans were high school aged girls.
These high school aged girls kept coming out screaming about being able to meet “the cake boy.”
Then it happened and it happened again and again.
It seemed that this fellow was signing the “port side” bow gun of all these little girls or their undergarment that covered it. They kept coming out and showing these “autographs” to each other.
I got to the point where I was getting embarrassed. I wanted to say, “Please, Please, do not pull your port-side bow gun out here right on the sidewalk.
Why the port side?
That was easy. The cake fellow was right handed and it just made sense when facing another ship, it would be left side you attacked (or wrote on).
My son finally came out. He and his friend were thrilled to get their picture made with the normal looking fellow who throws bakery goods. Honestly, I think he was more thrilled to stand towards the end of the line and watch the fellow “sign autographs.”
So if you’re turning 51, just be thankful and stand close by on the sidewalk.
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