CHRISTMAS DOWN SOUTH. It's Chri stmastime in the south. I pulled my Christmas box of decorations out this morning, then sat on the...
I read an interesting article on MSN.com today about scientists conducting experiments on mice in an effort to better understand how memory is formed.
According to Reuters, Japanese scientists have implanted a tiny camera inside a mouse’s brain to conduct the research that may someday help prevent diseases like Parkinson’s. In all seriousness, this might cause a big breakthrough someday, but just hearing about a camera inside a mouse’s brain evokes all kinds of silly images in my head. For one thing I was dazed when I begin reading the article, due to the lack of enough sleep lately, and as I read the article I thought about what we might see if we viewed the inside of a mouse's brain?
For instance; what if we could see a mouse’s dreams?
“Hello, Mr. Mouse, and welcome to the cheese factory. We have all kinds here: Swiss, American, Brie, you name it, we got it. What would you like to partake in today?”
“Wow, me? Well, sir, if you don’t mind I’ll have everything on the menu.”
Suddenly, Mr. Mouse’s blissful dream ceases and we’re sent spiraling downward into a nightmare of horrific proportions. . .
Mr. Mouse is lying on a splintered and coarse board, unable to move for some reason. Oh, what dismal fate will the little guy face now? Mr. Mouse looks around, horrified to see his comrades lying all around him in a sea of misery. “My brethren. My valiant soldiers, why must we meet this bleak fortune?” Right then, a severe screeching sound fills Mr. Mouse’s ears. It’s the sound he’s heard for countless hours, that wretched metallic scream that haunts the night, when he and his friends and family are out seeking sustenance. He realizes this sound is not a scream at all, as his eyes come front and center with the gigantic furious metal arm coming downward toward his tired body. “Why?” he thinks, “Why must I come so close to sheer bliss, only to be thrown into the hands of death?” He remembers the wise words his father once told him “To be a mouse is to search, defiantly, for nourishment and comfort. If one day, you meet the end, make sure that it was worth it, for all that matters is reaching that point.” Mr. Mouse bravely faces the sinister arm as it comes violently swinging down. And then nothing. . .
Mr. Mouse wakes up to see his wheel, and his bowls, and his shavings on the floor. He’s alive, and he’s wondering what those giant monsters are still doing outside of his home.
If only we could look into the minds of mice, or any other animal. Maybe we’d stop with the Disneyfied personifications. It’s still fun to think about.
I hope the scientists really do inspect the neurological inner-workings of the mouse brain, so we can someday cure some debilitating diseases. Excuse me for my silly fantasies. I’m just tired and not cut out to be a scientist.
The Boogeyman Man From Planet-Lackawanna-
Motherhood is an art impossible to explain, one which requires a vast sea of love, devotion, compassion, and understanding, unmatched by any affection we will ever know again.- Ann Clemmons
Words are the core of our souls, without written, vocal or lyrical expression we lose sight of one another or worse, ourselves. Words bring forth the essence of the human spirit; so express yourself without abandon.
Beatrix Potter’s Journal, 17 November 1896, from the National Trust collection.
Alone in her world
of make believe
weaving her stories
of magic and light
She brings joy
to the eyes
of innocent minds
less jaded and free
For only they know
what's in her heart
holding the secrets
she guards so well
Life's hidden mysteries
belong to those
whose wisdom and truth
shine on in imagination
Written for Ann
Of The Horoscope Junkie
Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”'
F. Scott Fitzgerald. (Lines from The Great Gatsby)
"A Southerner Talks Music"
"A book must be the ax for the frozen sea inside us."
An author values a compliment even when it comes from a source of doubtful competency.
- Mark Twain in Eruption
"I like a good story well told. That is the reason I am sometimes forced to tell them myself"