Archive for September, 2015

September 29, 2015

#97) An open letter to the moon

Dear The Moon,

Sorry I missed you last night. Yeah, I know: Earth was between the sun and yourself; Jupiter aligned with Mars and Saturn was next to Tatooine. It made you appear as you hadn’t since 1982 and won’t again until 2033. All of my friends posted awesome photos on their various social media sites. I could have probably walked out into my back yard and had a look and I didn’t.

I said I was sorry.

But at least I learned something. No, I don’t care any more about astronomy than I did yesterday; no, I’m not eagerly anticipating 2033; yes, I believe that, when asked about last night one year from now, most people–even those who shared their time-lapse photos and striking close-ups–will say, “The what-now?”

What I learned was this: at a certain age, it’s really hard to get off one’s ass without having a personal stake in doing so. It varies by the individual: maybe it’s 30; 50; in my case, 40. Call me to invite me to go with you and see the moon from the Griffith Observatory? My laziness may prevail anyways, but at least I’ll consider. Post about it online? Great, knock yourself out.

The obvious question about my blase attitude is, what if the shoe were on the other foot? What if I was trying to get people to notice, oh, I don’t know, say, a blog about hiking or an instrumental jazz-rock power trio? Well, The Moon, I may have missed your big show last night but I can promise this: I will look inward. I will ask myself, if I can’t be bothered to walk twenty paces to look at a celestial event that hasn’t happened since Dale Bozzio was burning up the Billboard charts and won’t happen again until she is 78 years old, why should anyone care about what I’m up to? I’ll need to personalize it in a way that, sadly, you were not personalized for me last night.

Maybe in ’33 I’ll have a different outlook. Maybe I’ll be more actively appreciative of the world around me; it worked for a buddy of mine who got into hiking as a way of dealing with his mother’s death and his divorce. Maybe my blogs will have made me millions and I’ll be able to watch the spectacular show from a rooftop deck in my Malibu home. Maybe I’ll be more understanding when people pass me by. Either way, though I missed you this time, I appreciate the teachable moment.


David Lockeretz