JAM: August/September2002 Issue: Coda

by Mike Metheny

On Anniversaries (& Extraterrestrials)

As a grade school kid growing up in (then rural) Lee's Summit 40 years ago, my young imagination was captured by a book called "Flying Saucers Have Landed" by George Adamski. I haven't seen it since and have a feeling that, by current adult standards, it probably wouldn't measure up to more credible literary works.

Still, I will never forget how it first caused me to consider the possibility that we weren't alone in the cosmos, especially on those warm summer nights when I'd look up at the stars through the window screen and wonder what kind of truth might be "out there."

Today, years of sightings, unexplainable phenomena and tantalizing "X-Files" later, it's tempting to believe that we have indeed been visited, even though the chances of such contact still seem remote. Call me a hopeful agnostic, with an eye toward the infinite sky.

There is one thing, however, that seems certain. If we have been observed by beings smart enough to get here from there, once they had a chance to look us over and see how we seem hell-bent on self-annihilation, they would surely heave a collective sigh, shrug a collective shrug, and say something like, "We have nothing to learn from these people. Let's move on."

And how fortunate for Gort, Klaatu and E.T. that they have that option!

We, on the other hand, remain faced with the daily challenges of earthbound survival as the variety of ways to destroy each other continues to advance beyond limited gray matter and collective common sense.

History doesn't lie. There are the dates we all know "that live on in infamy," when humanity showed its uglier side and took things another step closer to the edge. No matter your age, they are the milestones that shaped generations and forged new destinies.

December 7 remains an anniversary that has been rightfully acknowledged since 1941, when a surprise attack drew the US into World War II. The first nukes brought that bloody battle to an abrupt end, albeit with foreboding results.

Late October of 1962 is forever stained into the memories of those who recall when "the other side blinked." For a period of several days that autumn we were closer to World War III than anyone could have imagined.

And November 22 has been causing pause since 1963. It was on that sunny afternoon in Dallas, also nearly 40 years ago, that the murder of one man literally changed the mood -- and direction -- of an entire country.

September 11, however, is something altogether different. On a clear Tuesday morning, nearly one year ago, ordinary civilians just trying to do good work and take care of their families were suddenly thrust onto the front lines of an unwanted war, a war that would begin with thousands of innocent, defenseless people brutally crushed and incinerated as a disbelieving world looked on.

And so, now we have a new date for the history books. A date that will forever signify a crossroads when the global mindset was altered for the eons.

How will present and future generations mark this somber anniversary? On 9/11/02, we will begin to find out.

Will there be more tawdry halftime marathons? Will there be slick theatrical releases that trivialize the horror by reducing it to a profitable "entertainment vehicle?" Will frowny-faced talking heads temporarily give up the guffaws before returning to rim shots and "happy talk" on 9/12?

Maybe an entire day of nothing but total silence would be best. A Day When the Earth Stands Still. A day of contemplation, and a day when the value of a deep breath of clean, crisp air is fully appreciated. And, yes, a day when every occupant of this tiny dot in the void gives serious thought to longterm consequences.

Because, like it or not, the approaching 9/11 will also be another day when we will again be forced to wonder not if, but when and where the next shoe will surely drop, as we savor each and every moment of a finite existence.
And, as the millennium of our new discontent continues to unfold.

...I don't know about you, but the next time one of those saucers lands, I think I'll be thumbing a ride.

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© Kansas City Jazz Ambassadors 1996-2002. All rights reserved.






	Search our site:		by Mike Metheny On Anniversaries (& Extraterrestrials) As a grade school kid growing up in (then rural) Lee's Summit 40 years ago, my young imagination was captured by a book called "Flying Saucers Have Landed" by George Adamski. I haven't seen it since and have a feeling that, by current adult standards, it probably wouldn't measure up to more credible literary works. Still, I will never forget how it first caused me to consider the possibility that we weren't alone in the cosmos, especially on those warm summer nights when I'd look up at the stars through the window screen and wonder what kind of truth might be "out there." Today, years of sightings, unexplainable phenomena and tantalizing "X-Files" later, it's tempting to believe that we have indeed been visited, even though the chances of such contact still seem remote. Call me a hopeful agnostic, with an eye toward the infinite sky. There is one thing, however, that seems certain. If we have been observed by beings smart enough to get here from there, once they had a chance to look us over and see how we seem hell-bent on self-annihilation, they would surely heave a collective sigh, shrug a collective shrug, and say something like, "We have nothing to learn from these people. Let's move on." And how fortunate for Gort, Klaatu and E.T. that they have that option! We, on the other hand, remain faced with the daily challenges of earthbound survival as the variety of ways to destroy each other continues to advance beyond limited gray matter and collective common sense. History doesn't lie. There are the dates we all know "that live on in infamy," when humanity showed its uglier side and took things another step closer to the edge. No matter your age, they are the milestones that shaped generations and forged new destinies. December 7 remains an anniversary that has been rightfully acknowledged since 1941, when a surprise attack drew the US into World War II. The first nukes brought that bloody battle to an abrupt end, albeit with foreboding results. Late October of 1962 is forever stained into the memories of those who recall when "the other side blinked." For a period of several days that autumn we were closer to World War III than anyone could have imagined. And November 22 has been causing pause since 1963. It was on that sunny afternoon in Dallas, also nearly 40 years ago, that the murder of one man literally changed the mood -- and direction -- of an entire country. September 11, however, is something altogether different. On a clear Tuesday morning, nearly one year ago, ordinary civilians just trying to do good work and take care of their families were suddenly thrust onto the front lines of an unwanted war, a war that would begin with thousands of innocent, defenseless people brutally crushed and incinerated as a disbelieving world looked on. And so, now we have a new date for the history books. A date that will forever signify a crossroads when the global mindset was altered for the eons. How will present and future generations mark this somber anniversary? On 9/11/02, we will begin to find out. Will there be more tawdry halftime marathons? Will there be slick theatrical releases that trivialize the horror by reducing it to a profitable "entertainment vehicle?" Will frowny-faced talking heads temporarily give up the guffaws before returning to rim shots and "happy talk" on 9/12? Maybe an entire day of nothing but total silence would be best. A Day When the Earth Stands Still. A day of contemplation, and a day when the value of a deep breath of clean, crisp air is fully appreciated. And, yes, a day when every occupant of this tiny dot in the void gives serious thought to longterm consequences. Because, like it or not, the approaching 9/11 will also be another day when we will again be forced to wonder not if, but when and where the next shoe will surely drop, as we savor each and every moment of a finite existence. And, as the millennium of our new discontent continues to unfold. ...I don't know about you, but the next time one of those saucers lands, I think I'll be thumbing a ride. RETURN TO AUGUST/SEPTEMBER 2002 MAIN INDEX © Kansas City Jazz Ambassadors 1996-2002. All rights reserved.