Points and point-of-pview.

I arose yesterday and this morning in time to see the sun come up at the horizon, “right at the curvature of the earth,” I remind myself.

What wonderfully modifying paintings of many fantastic colors on the canvas that is sky and lake.

These passing and often daily paintings are paid for through my property tax. And I don't know that there's been a year when admission costs to these exhibitions hasn't increased over the past several decades, regardless of what politicians promise.

And I'll continue to pay as long as I can, in order to watch this great sky painter. For years this feature and my other interests made it possible for me to turn my back away from the rest of Shorewood, except to drive through to somewhere else or to occasionally shop at a designated shop.

The business streets have held only mild interest for most of us in Shorewood until perhaps more recently when it was suddenly rediscovered that sidewalk services might be provided there as in countries more advanced along these lines.

The fact that I'm able to spend more time on the western edge of this huge water body and am able to spend even more daylight time in Shorewood has led me to become concerned with Shorewood of the future.

Yet I feel that I'm perhaps better served spending all the time that I can looking east over this huge span of water. As the edge of the lake can be seen from space stations, perhaps I might even be observed by some one looking at this part of our globe.

This position keeps me in touch with the edge of the earth, the great star out there in space closest to us and often at night the other more distant stars, but the moon when it can be seen over the water is another type of night time painting and celebration.

The blinking lights of the aircraft at night as they prepare for landing at the Milwaukee airport bring me back to earth and to the marvel of those craft in the sky. I first laid eyes on a jet-engine-powered fighter plane at an airdrome in England on a winter night shortly before the end of the war. Its hot glow melted the nearby snow as we watched it start up, reminding us of those missiles that dropped in during the night.

It appeared to be only a toy, a different one than when as kids, we ran out of house at the sound of an early type of gasoline powered-engine airplane, shouting “a two-winger, a two-winger.”  We could almost see the pilot's face as the plane was so low.  Placed in time, that was before air mail was a regular feature of our letter delivery system and regular mail was 2 cents. 

I see the world revolve and certain aspects of it evolve. And in many ways, I've not only been an observer but perhaps actually had my hand in some of these events. And on these beautiful mornings I think of this our home planet, especially when I see vapor trails way up there and am often reminded on the news that we've got guys and gals up there, way beyond clouds and vapor, still contributing to this evolution.

What a world trip it has been. And still what a world it could be. A world without starving children, enjoying this planet. A world without killing on the streets in this country as well as abroad, where technology was not to be used to shoot out in-coming missiles from up there in space, as peaceful as the rising sun and as at a time when we were kids occasionally observing the "two-wingers."

Here nostalgia and dreams of the future combine, the stuff of the every-reaching and restless intellect. Here thinking at  the scale of Shorewood and at the scale of all that is out there. These thoughts today because of that restless intellectual energy and because of lake and rising sun.

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