[meteorite-list] OT; happy fathers day to all you dads!

[MexicoDoug at aol.com]

Tom K. wrote:

>Hey List, I just wanted to wish all the dads a happy fathers  day!  
>I heard a funny fathers day thing today;

>"All dads want for  fathers day is some time alone with your mom, 
>so get the heck out of the house and let daddy have the kind of 
>fun he had with mommy before you came along and ruined  everything!"

Tom, the way you put it - I know my Dad would want me to be the one left IN  
THE HOUSE, and that He would take His ballerina to do the things they enjoyed  
most, while humming the Barcarolle or another favorite under clear skys with 
his  handsome telescope with that eerie purple sheen, perfectly aligned on  
"star-drive" with time to kill...
 
        * *  *            * *  *            * *  *            * *  *
"Doug, get your *ss over here kiddo!!, You're not gonna believe  this!!"
 
Nearly thirty-three years ago, and I remember it better than this  morning...
 
"A BOLIDE!!!  He actually got a BOLIDE!  We were just there in  the Tetons, 
and this photographer catches a fantastic fireball in his  exposure!  What a 
lucky b*stard!"
 
Dad is possessed, shouting excitedly returning from the mailbox, madly  
waving the latest issue of Sky & Tel like it was HIS winning lottery  ticket!
 
"Is everything OK Walt?"  Mom doesn't seem to be too concerned knowing  Dad...
 
"Doug, look at this fireball!  It'll knock you off your chair!"   When will I 
see a bolide?  After all those nights we go into the mosquito  infested 
swamps to photograph meteors!  And this fellow gets it right over  the Grand 
Tetons!"
 
"But Dad, that doesn't look like a fireball - Isn't it daytime?", I was a  
little perplexed since the photo looked like a nice day besides the smoking  
streak which destroyed the tranquility of the scene.
 
"Doug, this isn't a regular fireball like some of the small ones we've  
seen." (I still hadn't ever seen what I considered a fireball, which already had  a 
mystic significance around the household, but I was ashamed to admit that, 
and  had seen many meteors during our trips to the dark).  
 
"Yeah, Dad it doesn't look like any of the fireballs I ever saw..."
 
"Doug, this is what's called a bolide.  Bolides are fireballs that can  be so 
big that they're sometimes brighter than a full Moon, and you can see them  
when the Sun is shining.  They leave trains of smoke and if you are lucky  
you'll see them exploding as they rumble by."
 
"A Bowloid?  what?..."
 
"Bolide Doug, get it straight - I'd give my right arm to photograph just  one 
bolide in my life.  Doug, you haven't lived until you see a  BOLIDE.  We'll 
keep watching - we'll see one, don't worry!  Oh, if I  could only have one of 
these bolides rip through the sky with my  camera..."
 
"B-o-l-i-d-e..."
 
Dad continued to devour his S&T and contageously was heard mumbling the  word 
"bolide" all evening.  I was a little confused because I knew I was  just a 
kid, but I thought I had been living long enough.  Still, I had  never seen a 
BOLIDE, which now took the principal seat in the Mt. Olympus in my  mind's eye. 
 I was very excited because I now thought we would see a bolide  sometime 
soon...even though I had yet to completely digest the fact that a  meteor which I 
always associated with dark nights, could be seen blowing-up  enroute during 
the day.
 
Shortly thereafter, we left yet another time for a trip to the dark  
swampland 70 odd-miles away.  I did my job carrying one tripod for Dad's  equipment, 
and then we arrived at a place he fancied, and Dad began his  meticulous setup 
of the ungainly big camera mounted on his eerily glistening  purple telescope, 
which had to be the world's best as far as I could  imagine.  I was curious 
as much as impressed that when Dad magically  manipulated his equipment, this 
would cancel out the star trails that all the  other cameras he also set up 
would record.  I faithfully did the rest of my  chores - mainly to keep out of 
the way and to be handy with the mosquito  repellent, and watch...and watch.... 
keeping a vigilent eye for heavenly  visitors.  Another night and 15-20 faint 
streaks later the excitment was  even greater.  But no BOLIDES yet...
 
It's wonderful that Dad left a place of our very own to meet whenever we  
want, in the skies.  And you can count on me Dad, I'll be there with  you.  Maybe 
tomorrow, we'll finally get to live this time, maybe we'll see  a BOLIDE...
 
I'd give everything I ever had to spend another sulty-warm night there with  
you and the mosquitos, Dad, or for just another moment together...
 
Love, Doug