Losing It For Lost In Space

I've been watching Lost In Space reruns over at hulu.com recently, and it's been quite an enjoyable time. In fact, in many ways I enjoy the show now more than I did as a child, which was a lot. A a child, I loved watching the original Star Trek, of course — and I still do — but I have to admit that in my early childhood I found a great deal of it to be baffling and or slightly scary. Lost In Space, however, was my favorite — the show I'd fight my little brother to see. It was never scary. It was exciting, yes, and suspenseful, but it far more suited the mental and emotional level of the slightly neurotic seven-year-old me than did the more cerebral Trek. I mean, what child of the moon landing era wouldn't love to watch a kid his own age having noisy, brightly-colored interplanetary adventures on distant worlds? What kid nurtured on Hogan's Heroes and Gomer Pyle USMC wouldn't cackle at the hilarious antics of a batty, pompous, and totally unpredictable fussbudget and his rapier-witted robot straight man?

The show itself is packed with entertainment. (For those unfamiliar with Lost In Space, the story centers on the family Robinson, a clan of astronauts who set out on a colonization mission to the star Alpha Centauri on October 16, 1997. Soon after their launch, however, their onboard robot "Robot B-9" is sabotaged by a stowaway saboteur, resulting in damage to the spacecraft, leaving the Robinson family hopelessly "lost in space".) In just one episode, the Space Family Robinson might find themselves facing the imminent destruction of their planet, while at the same time foiling the machinations of space croppers, bulb-headed aliens, and/or living statues, while at the same time dealing with the egotism-driven mishaps created by their hilariously prissy stowaway.

The actors in Lost In Space stand out as well. The series' headline star, the late Guy Williams ("Professor John Robinson"), was a fine actor, and his on-screen relationships with TV wife Dr. Maureen Robinson (June Lockhart, the mom from Lassie) and kids Judy (Marta Kristen), Penny (Angela Cartwright of The Sound Of Music fame) and Will Robinson (the ubiquitous Bill Mumy) were warm and believable. (Williams' son maintains a touching memorial to his father that is well worth a look.) Mark Goddard, as Major Don West (the Jupiter 2's pilot) is cocky and fun, especially when playing foil to the instantly memorable stowaway/saboteur Dr. Zachary Smith, portrayed with great brio by the show's regular "special guest star", the late Jonathan Harris. And of course everyone loves the warm-hearted, wry Robot (Bob May, voiced by Dick Tufield).

As production went on, the series' focus began to change from more-or-less serious sci-fi to a sort of space farce. During the first season, the episodes centered on the heroic and salf-sacrificing John Robinson character, but as the show went on it began to shift from straight-up action/adventure to a sort of Laurel-and-Hardy-In-Outer-Space comedy centered on the trio of Will, Dr. Smith, and the Robot. More than anything else, folks who remember the show recall with pleasure the many zinger-laden exchanges of repartée between the arch and self-aggrandizing Dr. Smith and the unflappable and dry-humored Robot. Even as Harris, Mumy, Tufield and May moved into the center spotlight, however, the rest of the cast continued to play the Robinsons and Major West absolutely straight, making the witty interplay between Will, Dr. Smith and the Robot all the funnier by contrast.

The special effects were truly special. Sure, the planetary surface sets and occasional monsters were cheap and unconvincing, and the "aliens" usually nothing more than character actors wearing whatever B-movie props the show's producer (the late Irwin Allen) found out on the Fox backlot, but when taken together, the show's visual effects were actually fairly sophisticated for a mid-'60s TV show.

And there was an upside to the cheesy effects. The series' low-budget SFX approach actually resulted in some of the most memorable sci-fi bad guys ever; at one point or another our heroes were variously menaced by space Vikings, space miners, and even "Chavo", the silver-skinned Space Mexican. (That episode must have been a hoot for series star Guy "John Robinson" Williams, who had famously played Zorro in a successful prior series.) The reliance on backlot props also facilitated some of the show's truly wacko episides, like the one where the Robot dons a crown and ermine robe from God-knows-which grade-Z Fox knights-in-armor epic and proceeds to rule over a race of tiny toy duplicates of himself. (He also recites the preamble to Lincoln's Gettysburg Address in that episode. Now that's value for one's entertainment dollar!)

There were other attractions. The Space Family Robinson lived in a split-level flying saucer (the Jupiter 2), drove a cool, jeep-like vehicle (the Space Chariot), and actually did stuff, like escaping exploding planets and whatnot, instead of talking the viewer to death. They also loved one another and stayed together no matter what, which at the time seemed more fantastic to me than the split-level flying saucer. All this, combined with fast-paced direction, lots of things blowing up, and "eerie" outer-space SFX (usually created by flashing lights of one sort or another) make for a solid hour of TV fun.

(As an aside, I must admit that as I grew older Lost In Space took on an added dimension of enjoyment for me, in the form of a monstrous crush on Angela Cartwright. Through my now-middle-aged eyes she appears in the show as a talented and cute child actress, but in 1973, the seven-year-old me regarded her as a mysterious and disturbingly attractive older woman.)

Lost In Space was, at its heart, a silly kids' show — a futuristic fairy tale designed to appeal to the romanticism and love of adventure that we kids of the Space Age grew up with. And there's nothing wrong with that. Sure, we all love Star Trek and so forth, but in this world of serious TV science fiction (e.g. Battlestar Galactica) it's fun to occasionally step away from the realistic dialog and densely-plotted storylines and enjoy an hour of good dumb fun.

As I watch Lost In Space today, the word that comes most readily to my mind is "charm". The show was charming — the bright colors, the earnest young actors, the goofy plots, and all. It was pure family entertainment in the best sense: traditional without being hackneyed, warm without being overly corny, thrilling without being frightening, and imaginative without being self-consciously weird (as so many shows of the late '60s were.) Sure, as science fiction it was a joke — I mean, come on, a vegetable rebellion? — but Irwin Allen thankfully saw no need to try and capture the high-brow skiffy audience with the show; he just wanted to entertain kids and make a buck doing it.

Mission accomplished, Mr. Allen.

Are You Ready For The Sex Bots?

"Once they invent the Sexaroid, that's it for marriage" — Cliff Spears

Whither the Droid? The personal servant/buddy/crapworker robot was a staple of the Wonderful World Of Tomorrow that we kids of the '60s were sold back in the olden days. That world turned out to be a BIG FAT LIE — and no part of it more so than the foretold robot pal. I can live withot my rocket belt and flying car, but, dammit, why didn't I get the robo-butler I was promised?

It's not due to any lack of effort on the part of industry. The factories are full of fine, upstanding robots that pay their taxes and love their families. The military has lots of cool robots, too, some of which can kill terrorists in exciting ways. And of course there are the uninspiring-but-functional robot probes that NASA sends into space instead of using a MAN to do a MAN'S JOB — but I digress. Anyway, companies have been trying to market personal robots to middle-class consumers for years, but so far all have failed to catch on. It seems that no one wants to pay thousands of dollars for an instantly-obsolescent, mechanico-electronic serf when a real serf can be had much more cheaply from Mexico or one of those rinky-dink Central American countries. Neither is technology the show-stopper. While it's true that the technology of home robotics has not advanced at the pace once expected, the low operating cost and easy disposability of tiny Mayan maids have been the real roadblocks that have kept R2-D2 from becoming a reality in the US.

Will we ever have buddy robots of the kind seen in sci-fi? My guess is "no" — because there is no market for a robot of that sort. I predict that when better droids are built, we'll skip the clunky, metal-and-plastic Star Wars model and go straight to building Chobits — sexy girl robots that combine the functions of girlfriend and all-in-one digital device. Let's face it — no one wants another G.D. computer around the house; the damned things make life miserable enough as it is. Only winsome, obedient androids with which the Average Joe/Jane can have sex will bring in the big bucks. The first company to combine the functions of a PDA / palmtop / phone with the charm (and body) of a soft, sweet-natured, long-haired girl (and the functionality of a Hibernate/Mute button!) will have created the ultimate "killer app" — and one that will destroy the twin institutions of marriage and prostitution forever. Move aside, June Cleaver! Begone, Pretty Woman! Lo, the Sexaroid approacheth!

Will we ever see the dawn of the age of the Sex Bot? No one knows, but it is certain that, should that day ever come, confessionals from coast to coast will be sporting long lines of sheepish penitents. Until then, however, we are left with the cold comfort of Japanese big-breast videos on YouTube and the gallery of failed robotmakers past at megadroid.com.

Are you ready for the sex bots? Ready or not, here they come! As Criswell once said: "God help us... in the future".

Loving The Dictators

In a recent article ["The dictators are back ... and we don’t care", The Times (London), April 27, 2008] Robert Kagan bemoans the rise of authoritarian governments in Russia and China, among other venues. His reaction is natural — and typical of the post-Soviet generation. With the victory of the Western Allies over the USSR's Communist empire in World War III (aka the "cold war"), liberal democracy über alles was the watchword of the day. Papa Francis Fukuyama told us that we were at the "end of history", didn't he? Surely, the evil idea of authoritarian rule went down the tubes along with the USSR, right?

Wrong. Around the world, so-called "soft" dictatorships such as Putin's Russia (and auto-bureaucracies such as Singapore) seem to be perfectly acceptable to those living under them. It appears that despite the hand-wringing of some in our own media/government elite, authoritarianism is back. How can this be? Can't the Masses in these countries see the obvious benefits of liberal democracy, of voting, laws, and representative government?

In a word, no. To many people around the world, democracy does not bring to mind Pericles of Athens in a fresh, slave-laundered tunic, lecturing the people on the beauty of freedom; instead, it brings to mind guns in the streets, riots, and general social chaos. Democracy is not a one-size-fits all form of social order, after all, and representative government is neither suitable for nor adaptable to every culture. Believe it or not, many (most?) people in the world are profoundly distrustful of nose-counting as a means of government, and I'd like to propose a reason why.

From what I've seen in my travels and read in my studies, the truth is that people don't want to participate in an equal sharing of political power. I think most people want the social order to be ruled by a single, non-participatory authority. I submit that this esire for top-down order is a natural part of human psychology, and is one reason why representative governments always fail over the long term.

I know the dogma these days is that people everywhere instinctively crave democracy (or a republican form of government, at the very least). The historical truth, however, is that most people don't really care what form of government is in place at the national level as long as they are free to trade, worship, and live their everyday lives as they please. Singapore, for example, manages to function quite nicely under an authoritarian government today, as did Franco's Spain and Salazar's Portugal. Even the French, those lovers of liberté, prefer to live under a central government that would be considered intolerably invasive here in the States. (For example: in France, the government gets to decide if the name you've picked for your newborn baby is acceptable or not. Imagine the State of Arkansas or Alaska having the power to block you from naming your kid Canyon or Ta'niqua!) And it's not just the furriners who prefer to let the Big Boys run the playground; our current abysmally low rates of voter participation in the United States are proof that most people in America couldn't care less about participating in government as long as the streets are reasonably safe, gas and beer are reasonably cheap, the Big Game starts on time, and taxes are reasonably low.

Democracy is the system in which the masses (the demos) rule. As practiced by the Athenian city-state in ancient Greece, democracy was never intended as a means of organizing any polity bigger than a city-state, and did not allow all citizens a say in government. The system established in 510 BC under Cleisthenes allowed all male citizens their say before the general Assembly, but carefully limited the power of the hoi polloi to make laws and shape policy (this was the function of the Boule, a body of representatives elected from the heads of the local political and tribal groups.) The system began to crack almost immediately, as the leaders of the various demes (sub-groups) of Athenian society began jockeying among themselves for political advantage.

Which brings us to another point: democracies are brittle and prone to sudden collapse. Even the "ideal democracy" of Athens was hardly robust; 170 years after its establishment, the Athenian democracy had coalesced into an autocratic quasi-empire run by small, special-interest groups. It was then conquered, first by the autocratic Spartans, then by Alexander the Great, whose Macedonian empire ruled the Athenians for two centuries. Finally came the Roman Republic (not a democracy — they had elected dictators) which lasted five centuries off-and-on but which reverted to autocratic rule with the (elective) dictatorship-for-life of Julius Caesar in 44 BC. Thereafter, Athens was under the Roman imperium in one form or another until AD 1806. Thus we see that even in its most pure form democracy has a lousy track record versus autocratic rule. Like communism, representative government looks great on paper but just doesn't work well in Real Life.

Keep in mind we're tallking about big government here. At the city and county level, people do prefer to have a say in government, but only to the extent that their government influences their everyday lives. Otherwise, they are content to raise their families, run their businesses, and earn their wages — and leave the big decisions to the local aristocracy.

Yes, I said "aristocracy". Every city in America has one: a cohort of four or five families who control (overtly or covertly) the local business, civic and governmental institutions. In every community, a sort of cream (or scum, if one prefers) of leaders naturally rises to the top of the general churn of citizens. It seems that some people are simply born with a talent for governing and administrating, and this talent tends to run in families. (In our city, for example, the V_________ family has been involved in running the show in one form or another for sixty-plus years, and most people are fine with that, because they do a fairly good job of it.) People born with this ability tend to rise to the levels of power of whatever community they inhabit, and tend to do what's best for the community out of a sense of noblesse oblige. Such families represent a natural aristocracy, and without them, most communities would be chaotic.

And they are. The city of Dallas is a perfect example of what can happen when The People are allowed to take the reins of power. Over the first 120 years or so of its existence, the city was dominated by an unelected Power Elite of wealthy merchants, landowners, and industrial leaders, and things ran fairly smoothly under their crass, pitiless but generally benevolent domination. During this time, the city had an elected government, of course — a government composed of various candidates carefully groomed by the power group to fill these positions, but an elected government, nonetheless. This shadow government was not perfect, nor was it always run for the benefit of all, but under its offhanded tyranny the city thrived and grew, and most of its citizens prospered.

But beginning in the 1960s this tidy system began to be undermined. Due to legal pressures and societal changes, a genuine democracy began to rise in Dallas, and the aging (and now mostly suburban) members of the Power Elite decided to quietly and gradually surrender their control of the city rather than risk plunging Dallas into the kind of chaos that had gripped places such as LA, Detroit, and Chicago. (This is why there were never any real race riots or integration-related violence in Dallas: the Powers That Be simply decreed that Dallas would integrate, democratize, and desegregate, and it was so.) By surrendering their power gradually, the Power Elite facilitated the keeping of the peace, ensuring that Dallas remained an attractive haven for business.

Unfortunately, by surrendering their power, the monopolar rule of the “old money” tribe was slowly replaced by a multipolar battle for power between the city's various ethnic tribes, each of which of course had its own clique of the natural leaders, each of which had its own aims and interests. The city of Dallas today is "governed" by an exquisitely democratic, representational, and sensitive elected government — and is, of course, a big frigging mess, with a declining tax base, a rising crime rate, and a sputtering economy. The exurbs, which are now run by the sons and daughters of Dallas former Power Elite, are where the peace, quiet, and economic action is.

Democracy does not scale well. The lesson here is that representative government, where it works at all, works only at the scale of a city-state like Athens, and even then only when it is dominated by a natural aristocracy. A state or nation run by democratic principles will sooner or later devolve into chaos, as self-interested groups of all types battle each other for control. One need only look at Dallas — or the former Yugoslavia — for proof of that thesis.

So let the dictators come. We don't have to love them, of course — but we can live alongside them, so long as they respect the basic human dignity of their thralls (e.g. no genocides, mind control, or organ harvesting), and otherwise do not threaten their neighbors or the peace of the world. The United States and her allies can coexist in peace with any number of benevolent authoritarian nation-states. We might not want to live in an authoritarian state ourselves, but to people in other countries a dictatorship or autocracy could very well be an alternative preferable to chaos. As a representative republic that grows ever less representative and republican by the day, we can tolerate the dictatorships of the world as merely the latest examples of what might be called the default mode of human government.

Letter From A Norwegian Politician

My hobby is Secrets. I am fascinated by secrets — the bigger the secret, the better I like it. Over the years, I have spent many hours and lots of money digging through mildewed stacks of forgotten government documents in libraries, reading reams of self-published zines and newsletters and pamphlets by crazy, semi-literate po' buckra, and going from link to link on the Tubes trying to glean tidbits of verifiable (or at the very least entertaining) information from various websites, all in an effort to discover the hidden truths that I crave. To this end I spent several years doing an exhaustive study of UFOs (1989-1991) — not an easy task in those pre-Internet days, I can assure you! — plus uncountable lost hours in the early days of the Internets researching things such as the JFK killing, the occult roots of the French Revolution, the machinations of the cosmopolitan financial elite ( = THE JEWS ) and the New World Order as orchestrated by what Dr. Carroll Quigley called the "international Anglophile network".

But my holy grail has always been to know the Biggest Secret In The World — the one piece of knowledge to which only the elite of the elite of the super-elite are privy. I don't want to know this Ultimate Secret out of any desire for personal gain — I just want to know it for its own sake. There is a beauty in being in on any secret; the sheer esthetic pleasure of knowing one is in possession of the Ultimate Secret would be for me almost literally mind-blowing.

Nor do I particularly care what the Ultimate Secret entails — it could be the existence of Aliens, the hidden history of Atlantis, the approach of Bellus and Zyra, the identity of the Antichrist (my money's still on Billy Ray Cyrus) or the formula for Coca-Cola for all I care. The thrill is in the knowing itself.

Now, I'll readily admit that I still haven't discovered the Ultimate Secret, at least not to my knowledge. I suspect that if I ever were to learn the Biggest Secret In The World, I'd either go mad from the knowing, H.P. Lovecraft style, or I'd be assassinated by Skull & Bones / the Elders of Zion / the Bohemian Club etc. before I could write a blog post revealing to everyone the Horrible Truth. ("M*A*S*H* wasn't really all that great of a show! It was" BLAM BLAM SLUMP NO CARRIER fghgfgfghfjkhlhl).

Still, it occurs to me that perhaps the reason the Ultimate Secret has been kept secret for so long is that it is so huge, so incredible, so beyond the limits of everyday life of the average person. Let's say for example that the Ultimate Secret is that the Earth is going to be sterilized by nightmarish aliens on January 18, 2012. If you were one of the Insiders privy to this information, and you wanted to break the conspiracy and make the Horrible Truth known to the world at large, how exactly would you go about doing that? Publish the truth in a book, a newspaper, or on the Internets? No one would believe you. Offer up evidence — photos of the alien death fleet, videos of marauding Grays, copies of secret conspiracy documents detailing the UN's plans for last-ditch defense? People would assume you faked it all. I suppose one might dress in sackcloth and sit in ashes, scraping one's sores with a potsherd and bemoaning the fate of the world like Job crying over his misfortunes, but instead of listening to you the Authorities In Your Area would more likely lock you up as a nutcase, or (even worse) ignore you.

Let's face it — the Horrible Truth is by definition so Horrible that no one would ever believe it to be Truth.

No, if I were one of the hyper-Elite, I'd avoid any such attempt to prove my claim to be in possession of the Ultimate Secret. Instead, I'd simply live my life, pay my taxes, and, if questioned about the Horrible Truth, explain everything in an ordinary letter to anyone who asked.

A letter like this one:

A Letter From A Norwegian Politician

I am a Norwegian politician. I would like to say that difficult things will happen from the year 2008 till the year 2012.

The Norwegian government is building more and more underground bases and bunkers. When asked, they simply say that it is for the protection of the people of Norway. When I enquire when they are due to be finished, they reply “before 2011”.

Israel is also doing the same and many other countries too.

My proof that what I am saying is true is in the photographs I have sent of myself and all the Prime Ministers and ministers I tend to meet and am acquainted with. They know all of this, but they don’t want to alarm the people or create mass panic.

Planet X is coming, and Norway has begun with storage of food and seeds in the Svalbard area and in the arctic north with the help of the US and EU and all around in Norway. They will only save those that are in the elite of power and those that can build up again: doctors, scientists, and so on.

As for me, I already know that I am going to leave before 2012 to go the area of Mosjøen where we have a deep underground military facility. There we are divided into sectors, red, blue and green. The signs of the Norwegian military are already given to them and the camps have already been built a long time ago.

The people that are going to be left on the surface and die with along the others will get no help whatsoever. The plan is that 2,000,000 Norwegians are going to be safe, and the rest will die. That means 2,600,000 will perish into the night not knowing what to do.

All the sectors and arks are connected with tunnels and have railcars that can take you from one ark to the other. This is so that they can be in contact with each other. Only the large doors separate them so that the sectors are not compromised in any matter.

I am very sad. Often I cry with others that know that so many will learn too late, and then it will all be over for them. The government has been lying to the people from 1983 till now. All the major politicians know this in Norway, but few will say it to the people and the public - because they are afraid in case they too will miss the NOAH 12 railcars that will take them to the ark sites where they will be safe.

If they tell anyone, they are dead for sure. But I don’t care any more about myself. Mankind must survive and the species must survive. People must know this.

All the governments in the world are aware of this and they just say it is going to happen. For those of the people that can save themselves I can only say reach for higher ground and find caves up in the high places where you can have a food storage for at least five years with canned food and water to last for a while. Radiation pills and biosuits are also advisable if your budget allows it.

For the last time I say may God help us all... but God will not help us I know. Only each person individually can make a difference. Wake up, please...!

I could have written to you using another name but I am not afraid of anything any more. When you know certain things, you become invincible and no harm can come to you when you know that the end is soon.

I assure you 100% that things will happen. There are four years to prepare for the endgame. Get weapons, and make survival groups, and a place where you can be safe with food for a time.

Ask me anything and I will answer as much as I know about the Norwegian connection to all this. And just look around: they are building underground bases and bunkers everywhere. Open your eyes, people. Ask the governments what they are building, and they will say “Oh, it’s just storage for food”, and so on. They blind you with all the lies.

The marks of the alien presence are also there, and I often see the Norwegian elite politicians are not what they say they are. It’s like they are controlled in every thought, and what they have to say is just as they are told to do things in such manners. It is clear for me who they are, and who they are not. You can see it in their eyes and in their minds.

Remember that those who are going to be in and around the city areas in 2012 are those that are going to be hit first and die first. Later the army will purge the rest of the survivors and they have a shoot to kill order if there is any resistance to bring them into the camps where every one will get marked with a number and a tag.

I also see that Benazir Bhutto is spoken of on your site. Her death was tragic. I have met Benazir, as you can see. You will also see from the photographs that I have met with a number of other notable politicians and world leaders.

The public will not know what happens till the very end, because the government does not want to create mass panic. Everything will happen quietly and the government will just disappear.

But I say this: don't go quietly into the night. Take precautions to be safe with your family. Come together with others. Work together to find ways to solve all the many problems you will face. Source

Is this, at long last, It? Is this the Horrible Truth? Have I finally learned the Ultimate Secret? Or is this just another entertaining nugget of nuttery in the oh-so-sweet candy bar of my strange little hobby?

I don't know — but it sure is fun wondering.

First Steps

Baby McBaby took his first steps this week — the first of many. This is, of course, a happy occasion. Yet you know me — I never let a happy occasion pass without pausing to add a bit of neuochemical Angst. Yes, I'm thrilled to see our little Soybean making his initial "one small step for mankind". I'd be worried if he didn't! Yet even as I watch those little feet move, my heart swells with joy — but also with a sharp, stinging melancholy, for I know that they are moving along a path that will eventually carry him out of my arms and away from me.

But what can I do? Carry him until he's too heavy for me to lift? Nail those little feet to the floor and pretend he'll be a baby forever, just so that Papa doesn't have to say "goodbye" some day? Of course not! No, I want him to walk. I want him to step out boldly along that long path that leads from the little house with the green-painted nursery to a world I will never see. Even though it kills me to imagine the day he walks away into his own life, I want that pain, because that is what love costs.

As I grow older, I realize more and more that love is not just the greatest thing there is — it is in a very real sense the only thing there is. In time, everything we know and do and say in this world will fade and disappear; in the final analysis, love is all that is left to us. Days pass, parties end, babies grow up into adults and walk away into the future; life seeps away day by day like sea-foam through our fingers. No matter how tightly we clutch, we cannot hold on to the tide of time — or to the ones who share our time with us. All we can hold on to is the love we have for them.

And I love my little boy. When I watch him play or eat or sleep I sometimes feel a brutal, paralyzing love, a love that can't be reasoned away or dignified with a name. I squeeze him and kiss him because I want to keep him safe, warm, and — most importantly! — all to myself. But that isn't possible. That would be selfish, unjust, and immoral. He is not my property. He is not mine to keep. He was placed in care of his mother and me by a God who is really far too generous, and he belongs to that God and to himself. Since God has given our little boy two good feet and the dignity of choosing his own path, I would be a poor father (and a damned fool) if I tried to stop him from using them. No, not this papa. I will see to it that our boy gets the best start along that path that I can give him, and then I will let him walk it, on his own, and — in time — without me.

I hate three things in this life above all others: bullying, being sleepy, and goodbyes. I particularly detest goodbyes. Yet I know full well that these first steps will lead to many others, that someday I will say goodbye to our little boy as he walks out that front door as a man. I know that someday I will say goodbye to all those whom I love — my dear wife, my friends, my family and neighbors and colleagues. The pathways of life will carry us all farther and farther apart until all are lost in the twilight — and that is as it should be.

Yet no matter how far apart we may become, nothing — not distance, not time, not death itself — can erase the love I have for them. That's what I mean when I say that love is the only thing there is. In the end, it is the only thing that even time cannot destroy.

Folks, this little essay is not meant to be sad. Far from it. It is with joy that I watch Baby take his first steps. It is with rejoicing that I contemplate the passing of years, the coming separations, the soul-piercing goodbyes that await me tomorrow. Yes, love makes us vulnerable to pain — but unless we accept that vulnerability, and the certainty of hurt that accompanies it, we will never know what it means to be truly human. I celebrate the pain of these things not out of masochism, but because they are the inevitable and natural byproducts of love — the love that makes us real persons. Thank God I can love! Thank God I can experience love's pain! Thank God for allowing me to be fully human!

Baby McBaby took his first steps this week — the first of many. And who can imagine where those little feet will take him? So walk on, my sweet little boy. Step out smartly and begin your long journey down the road of life. And when the time comes for you to break free of Papa's arms and leave him behind, remember that Mommy and I will always, always love you, no matter how far away from us the road may take you.

Walk on, little baby, walk on.

Magi Moe

Gift art for Magibon (YouTube's "MRIrian"). I may sell these if I can get her permission to use her image.

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