A Very Large Array

The road to the Very Large Array goes past the Ponderosa restaurant in Magdalena (population 808) then out into the flat grasslands of New Mexico. Suddenly you see the first of 28 white-painted radio dishes pointing to the heavens, each taller than a 10-story building. You have arrived at the world’s largest radio telescope.

My friends and I visited the VLA on a sunny April afternoon in 2003. It was quiet as we stepped onto an orange shag carpet inside the nondescript control center building. Frank Sinatra sang in the distance. 

We climbed the stairs, entered a windowless control room, and discovered that this massive scientific instrument, the largest in the world, was staffed only by one man: a technician wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, and sporting a grey ponytail. 

His boombox played “Fly Me to the Moon” as the technician fiddled with the controls of the mighty array. Then I noticed that this master of the universe was eating an Arby’s “Baked Potato with Everything.” He had carefully placed little cups of sour cream and bacon bits like moons around the asteroid-shaped potato. 

At 3 p.m., the man tapped a keyboard, took a bite of potato, and caused the giant radio dishes to scan the universe. Frank Sinatra took a breath. 

A sixth grader with an iPhone has greater access to the world now than anyone in history. But the internet creates sameness. A mongoose and a galaxy are equal in size and importance on the digital screen. 

Our brains are no longer conditioned for reverence and awe. 

But that afternoon, I felt both awe and reverence. To go from a bacon bit to black holes in a single breath – now that was cause for wonder.

A Fire on the Hearth

We had extremely cold weather here recently. Alligators froze in an icy swamp east of Raleigh. Children ice skated on a rarely frozen creek nearby. And at 7 a.m. this morning, my birdbath was a rock-solid disc of ice. 

On my way to the birdbath, hot water kettle in hand, I noticed that someone had raked the leaves on the edges of our garden.

I soon spotted the obliging gardener. He weighs about two ounces and sports orange, black, and white feathers. He’s an Eastern Towhee. In the process of looking around for insects, he turned those leaves back as neatly as the sheets in a Marriott hotel. 

Something truly is happening to the weather. Earlier this week, PhD economists meeting in a windowless room in a Grand Hyatt in San Antonio declared that climate change may overturn everything. 

When the conversation is about the climate, I find it hard to satisfy every expert. Some say the wood burning in my fireplace is a good thing because it’s a renewable resource. Others say I’m polluting the atmosphere. 

Either way, a fire flickering on my hearth on such a cold winter morning does wonders for my spirit. 

Big Bin

Show me how you throw away your trash and I will describe your civilization. 

In Switzerland it’s really hard to find trash anywhere except in a trash can. But leave a receptacle of any kind uncovered on a street in New York City and New Yorkers will put trash in it. This includes a window box, a bicycle basket, or the bed of a pickup truck. 

The Swiss are a law-abiding people. New Yorkers are quick to take advantage of any situation, including throwing away their sandwich wrappers on windowsills. In Switzerland the trains run on time. In New York we throw trash on the train tracks. 

The Vessel is another kind of receptacle in New York City. Built in 2019, the Vessel is an intertwined set of stairs rising 16 stories into the air. Intended to be a viewing platform and a centerpiece of Hudson Yards, the Vessel became a jumping-off place for four suicides. It’s been closed since 2021. 

Because of the Vessel’s resemblance to a trash can, my daughter renamed it “Big Bin.” Another popular nickname is “the Great Shawarma.” When I recently stopped by “the Great Shawarma,” I noticed a litter of empty coffee cups and plastic bags around its base.

Meanwhile, the City of New York is replacing 23,000 wire street-corner trash cans with a sleek new design. If only New Yorkers will use them. 

Ah, civilization.