I haven’t thought much about it over the years, much less
shared the story either in spoken word or print. After all, most things we
observe which defy a clear explanation, much less understand, eventually tend
to get filed into the misty realm embedded deep into our memory banks.
It was late summer of 1978 and me, my then-wife and first-born
infant daughter, were driving to her parents’ house in rural Vanderburgh
County, Ind. It was twilight and we made our way over the meandering road when
we noticed three objects glowing and blinking in the sky over farmers’ fields. They
didn’t appear to move much, yet, the closer we got to our destination, their
collective illumination seemed to intensify.
We didn’t think much of it; it seemed likely these were the
lights of National Guard choppers, or perhaps some reflections making final
approach to Dress Regional Airport in Evansville. As we got out of the car, the
mom-in-law met us in the driveway and gestured off in the distance. Did you see those on your way in?
The three of us looked at the spectacle, shimmering perhaps
a mile or so away. We were transfixed as the objects appeared to be arranged in
a slight pyramid shape and their lights were rhythmically alternating colors of
red, green and white. Never moving and holding their place in mid-air. I don’t
know how long we watched this go on, but after a while they disappeared one by
one. And we went into the house.
I vaguely recall thinking, Well, that was pretty weird and something you don’t see every day in
southwestern Indiana. It felt weird,
neither good nor bad.
The UFO craze has ebbed and flowed like a gentle
Caribbean shoreline for eons. In modern times they have been explained as atmospheric
anomalies, top-secret military exercises, wayward weather balloons and other
reasonable answers. Rational explanations all.
More popular and scintillating are those who subscribe to
the belief we have visitors from distant stars and perhaps other dimensions –
that we are being observed and studied by superior beings who have traveled the
oceans of time to be nothing more than intergalactic voyeurs.
Others suggest we are being visited by angels. Perhaps.
But the angels I have met are the unlikely folks who come into our lives from
time to time when we need them.
And some believe that such visitations include abductions
to figure out what makes us tick mentally and biologically; or some advanced
mission to prepare for an invasion.
It all piques my interest somewhat, though I don’t dwell
on most theories involving cute ETs, close encounters of any kind and cheesy
metallic dudes who swoop in and benignly proclaim,
We come in peace. If the latter is
true, I hope they are sincere.
We are so given to search universe for discoveries and
understanding – and rightfully so – yet many of us don’t know the names of our next-door
neighbors. The greatest mysteries we face with are closer to terra firma: how
to feed the starving, end war, keep our little niches of the world clean and
safe, pave a decent future we will not live to see. And on and on and on.
I wonder what our ancient ancestors thought when they
gazed up into the evening sky and saw the moon or that blazing daytime ball. I
suspect they did these things thought, but were more interested in finding
food, shelter and keeping wild beasts and other barbarians outside the gate.
That experience on a long-ago summer night still puzzles
me. I will never know what those lights shining over Hoosier farmland were.
I
would like to think those unexplained sky-high objects, in some small measure, have kept me
better grounded in the world I inhabit.
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