Layman's License

LAYMAN’S LICENSE

By D. R. Prescott

Copyright Donald Richard Prescott, 2011, 2016.

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Also see works by D. R. Prescott from Smashwords:

Is There Time? Nonfiction

Daddy’s Different, a Novel

Concoctions, A Collection of Short Stories

Sentience can be annoying.

C O N T E N T S

Preface

Chapter 1 The Layman’s License

Chapter 2 What I Suspect

Chapter 3 Evil?

Chapter 4 6000

Chapter 5 I.

Chapter 6 Our Place in Time

Chapter 7 Threats to Humanity (An excerpt from Is There Time)

Chapter 8 World Population Forecasts! Say What?

Chapter 9 Whoops! What Energy Problem

Chapter 10 Too Many People

Chapter 11 GDP, I Have Questions

Chapter 12 Storefronts and Other Things Electronic

Chapter 13 Why Off Earth?

Chapter 14 How Much Should We Spend?

Chapter 15 What About Aliens?

Chapter 16 Once Upon an Equation

Chapter 17 Nature’s Tool

Chapter 18 Calendar

Chapter 19 Haikus

Chapter 20 Gravity

Chapter 21 Is Gravity Important?

Chapter 22 Stellar System Nomenclature

Chapter 23 How Far Away Are the Stars

Chapter 24 Water on Mars

Chapter 25 Mars Lunacy

Chapter 26 Extinction Is Unacceptable

Chapter 27 Elusive Time

Chapter 28 Got Time?

Chapter 29 Manners

Chapter 30 Gossip

Chapter 31 Telephones Then Communibots

Chapter 32 Networking

Chapter 33 Storm Flier

Chapter 34 Still Grinning

Chapter 35 Ben

Chapter 36 Aging

Chapter 37 Release-The-Peddler

Chapter 38 Joshua Tree

Chapter 39 Stool Reading

Chapter 40 The Old Hawthorne Deluxe

Chapter 41 Expectations

Chapter 42 Label Me, If You Dare

Chapter 43 Funerals

Chapter 44 Glimmers of My Youth

Chapter 45 Done That!

About the Author

Preface

This collection represents a lifetime of dabbling. Dabbling is a wonderful thing. You may dabble at this or that without planning or forethought. Dabbling lacks direction and causes one to look back and wonder what would have happened if you had really concentrated on one subject. Dabbling is also an adventure, a journey, a quest, an enjoyment.

Fortunately, when I weigh my dabbling against concentrated what could-have-been(s), I find the scales tipped toward dabbling. Actually, dabbling had a synergistic effect on my life. As I dabbled, I found that the normal frustration about not focusing on one thing tempered my reservations by the interesting mental landscapes to be explored. My dabbling became a journey for that elusive, one thing that is so compelling that I would find myself thoroughly engrossed. Alas, I still await the transformation to anything else. For those wondering, philosophy and physics got the closest to focusing my attention competing with raising a family and surviving. Yet, I have not mastered any subject through dabbling. That is one of the pitfalls of dabbling.

I decided that dabbling was far better than doing nothing at all. I have never found myself bored or lonely that I can remember. I even have great difficulty comprehending how anyone in this variegated universe could find time to be bored. There are just too many things to experience to be lonely or uninterested. I am painfully aware as time takes its toll on me that I have significantly less time to do what I want to do and more to do than the time I have left to do it. I am convinced that my dabbling has been good for me. It will likely be good for me as long as I live.

This collection of dabbles has several purposes. It gives me satisfaction to know that I have done something in this life beyond merely breathing, eating, and managing waste products. I have no idea whether it will be useful, profitable or contribute anything of value to the universe. What this collection-to-date does is give me a benchmark upon which to measure my future dabbling as I continuously try to discover my muse or until my muse fails to keep up the pace.

This assembly of dabbles also serves to feed my ego, while contradictorily causing me to suffer mild, at times even painful, humility. Looking back at some of the things I have done, I am not certain that I have attained any degree of excellence at all. That will be for others to judge. I am no judge because I am too close.

Perhaps, the most important reason for putting this random assortment of my dabbling together is to leave something for my descendants. It gives me the opportunity to time travel, speaking to them across generations and that seeming impenetrable boundary we all cross when our flimsy bodies wear out. If there is one thought in here that has a positive effect on, or sparks a great thought in, one of my progeny, I could not ask for more. That is another reason to continue dabbling!

As I write this, I have a number of items on the burner that are included in this lifetime compilation of dabbles, in various stages of completion. I finished a novel, Daddy’s Different. I viciously tore it apart and reconstructed it into a final draft and published it. Most people would say I was rewriting but it was more than that. What is the distinction between rewriting and reconstructing? Someday, I might figure out the difference.

There are at least three, and possibly four, sequels to Daddy’s Different, cluttering my mind. I revised a play, Snags, a project steeped in personal history and not yet been on stage. I was involved with the Tessmann Planetarium at Santa Ana College, which progressed nicely after acquiring a $750,000 NASA grant funding its renovation. Having finished that project, other things demanded my attention.

The list of my want-to-dos is nearly endless and distracting! I tell you this so that you, whoever you are reading this, must remember that I will likely leave a number of things undone, partially edited (to my standards which usually exceed my capability) or just started or annotated to be continued. I sure hope so. What would life be like if you finished everything you ever wanted to do? I shudder at the thought. I am convinced that things-left-undone is a natural state. Therefore, my best advice is to dabble every chance you get. It is seasoning for living a full life.

You will find that I have not tried very hard to compartmentalize dabbles. Dabbling is essentially a random event spawned by curiosity and driven by mood. The result is a potpourri of dabbles. These dabbles range from poetry written on the fly to essays written as a notion struck me or major projects taken on for reasons since obscured by time. There are some things accomplished at work that particularly pleased me. They may have some meaning to you in your profession or, for no other reason, as a passing curiosity about life in the corporate world.

Short stories or novels that I have written are self-contained projects even though technically they are also dabbling. I do plan a hard copy accumulation of all the things I want to pass to others. This is an evolving, living accumulation of some of my dabbling, some of which be left, I hope, unfinished. Perhaps a descendent will take up the charge and transform undone notes and ideas into future editions with shared authorship with this old methane generator. That would be outstanding.

Life is short and I am getting old too quickly for my taste. I must hurry. Excuse me; I have some serious dabbling yet to do…

Donald Richard Prescott

Orange, California 2011

Chapter 1 The Layman’s License

Each of us has somewhere between twelve and thirteen billion brain cells. This abundance of those tiny marvels of evolution endows us with the ability to think and reason, along with a penchant for making mistakes repeatedly. Most of us, with varying frequency, consider ourselves superior in some way to most everyone we meet, as well as having a healthy dose of smugness about society in general.

There are a finite number of people, mostly self-appointed, who tend to lump the balance of humanity into a category known as laymen, lay women, lay person or lay people. I know that the hair on some people’s neck tingle at titling this book layman instead of layperson. Many use these terms as generic to mean male or female, old or young, without giving the gender implications a second thought. If you have a problem with that, I am at a loss to help you. Read on and I may try to avoid controversial, gender specific terms, on second thought, maybe not.

Unfortunately, those who casually use that term fail to recognize that they are also lay people. No matter how good we think we are, each of us is limited, not only in our expertise, but also in a multitude of human activities. It is human. Perfection is a brass ring that humans do not seem to be able to grasp.

Every day, everywhere, people seek each other out to talk about their ailments, their politics, their religion, the national debt, sports, cars, sex and, an all-time favorite, other people, which is the fodder for the really juicy gossip. Each of us has an opinion. Each is convinced that his or her answer is the ANSWER (capitalization intended.) We frequently tell ourselves that the rest of the world wallows around in a manure pile, then knowingly hang and shake our heads before going about out daily businesses in a reverie of imaginatively constructed self-righteousness.

Perhaps, my reaction to the word, layman or layperson if you prefer, is a defensive, deluded response to my own ignorance and lack of competencies about more things than I would like to admit. Yet, I cannot rid myself of the thought that even laymen are sometimes reasonably good analysts of the human condition as the non-lay experts. (Is there is such a category for human beings?) Rarely, but sometimes, we even verge on brilliance; do not expect any in this book.

Undoubtedly, there are more answers than there are problems, by a significant multiple, bobbing about on the sea of humanity. It is likely impossible considering the psychological and physiological ambiguities of human beings to develop cohesive answers to problems where people have differing opinions. Come to think about, would such solutions be only a series of compromises? Worse, would such solutions even be right or good or of any value at all?

Considering how complex our Universe is, I have decided that it is time for this layman to voice a few obviously exceptional opinions; note I do not claim brilliance. I am convinced that there is nobody better qualified to inform everyone else of that which they err, or by some miraculous good fortune, are doing right. I am a layman (male version!)

I intend to unclothe many diverse subjects in this book at the risk of displaying, unwittingly, of course, varying degrees of ignorance about virtually everything. I may even become momentarily as vulnerable as the fabled king with no clothes—a risk I am willing to take; you might need a little comedy in your life.

I will qualify this work as solely the author’s opinions. Naturally, you will discover that I am usually right. Whatever your point of view, mine will be slightly better, even if we share the same premise. The reason is genetic. It is inborn; we know that we are right, regardless of the facts.

Incidentally, if it appears that my opinion changes tomorrow, it is not because I was wrong today. It is because I was astute enough to make minor adjustments in my thinking, making today’s opinion just a little more accurate. This is fundamental human activity at its best, or worst. If you do not believe it, look into politics--an intensely human activity.

Now, I am doing what has been one of my driving desires for decades—writing. I have always wanted to write and have, more or less, since grade school. I found out that it is hard work, but scratches an itch that I need to scratch (cliché intended, okay!). When you are done with a piece, it feels great, not quite orgasmic, but nearly; of course, I am over sixty; a younger me might have reworded that a bit. I suppose artists and composers feel the same way. It feeds the ego and exercises the mind. (I am convinced that inflated egos significantly out number great minds.) It also is therapeutic; it soothes a savage gremlin within. My only concern is about how much I have written and mislaid, discarded or forgotten. Where there any gems in those?

As you read my ever-growing work (which you must because you cannot stop yourselves,) you will be able to impress everyone, explaining how you could have done it better. Congratulations! I urge you to do it. I hate to admit, and will admit it only this one time, that you are probably as good as I am, maybe better. The only difference is that I am writing at the risk of personal criticism. You are not! If you are writing, more power to you. Go for it!

Now that I have succeeded in capturing your undivided attention, I have a request. The next time we meet, treat me as a member-in-good-standing of that august group worthy of your respect—lay people. You will most certainly be as cocksure of your opinions as I am of mine. You will have my respect, if not my agreement. Remember, if there is power in numbers, we outnumber non-lays! Come to think of it, I can’t remember ever meeting anyone who knew everything.

I have intended this book to be flexible where you can read some topics quickly and come away with a thought or, at a minimum, a feeling. Whether that thought or feeling is complete, right, or substantive is up to you. (If you print out any part of this book, you might even be able to use unread portions in a bathroom emergency providing that you have used soft enough paper.) There may even be some parts of this book that might conflict with other parts. That is allowed because I have a Layman’s License, and remember this; I am also a chronic dabbler!

Standby… more is coming. Are you ready for what I suspect?

Chapter 2 What I Suspect…

Very few people care about what I believe. A small number care about what I know. However, a fair number of people might care about what I suspect, if only they knew I suspected it.

Making distinctions between believing, knowing, and suspecting is a simple task. I believe only two things. I know nothing for sure. I suspect a lot.

I believe that I exist. I believe that there is deeper meaning to our existence. Beyond that, everything else falls into either knowing or suspecting. When asked for concrete evidence that I exist, I have to resort to my unreliable senses, which, in themselves, may be merely illusions.

By believing only in my existence and the possibility of something larger, am I tossing myself into a dark place, fragile and vulnerable, fraught with insecurities and fearing my end? Strangely not. It is what I suspect that provides me a sense of anticipation every day and everyway. I long to know what I do not know but I have little hope of ever knowing anything with absolute certainty. Suspecting that something wonderful and awe-inspiring awaits me is sufficient for now.

Knowing is beyond belief and perhaps more fleeting. True knowledge should be immutable. Could such a thing exist? Personal knowledge is, repeatedly, incomplete or subject to modification. New information often sculpts our knowledge. While it may seem that I know I exist, my methods of proving it have failed me. It has not been demonstrable, conclusively or repeatedly. Consequently, I admit that I actually know nothing! (That may