–Meteorite Crashes Through Ceiling and Lands on Woman’s Bed [NY Times October 14, 2021]
What followed the fireball in the night sky was the hard thing, like a paving stone
flung in a Parisian rage. Or a fastball high and inside, head-hunting, soaring skew
like a tooth flying loose from a gravitational sucker punch. In 2020, an Indonesian
coffin maker was startled by a 4.4-pound meteorite that came through his roof.
Is God a comedian? As Mike Tyson said, everybody has a plan until
they get punched in the mouth.
This time the stone missed, spraying drywall on a woman’s head
and landing next to her on the pillow. Was this karma, Ms. Hamilton of BC?
“I’ve lived through this experience, and I never even got a scratch. So
all I had to do is have a shower
and wash the drywall dust away.” Along with space dust.
God, because you missed, there must be a meaning. Where
did that rock come from? Panait Istrati, most obscure
of writers, Romanian vagabond du monde:
It’s such a long path from the hamlet of Baldovinesti
to the City of Lights! When I measure the distance I covered,
I have such pity for myself. When does a rock
become civilized? Help, I’m a rock!
Chicxulub, Tunguska, Vredefort.
What a cold coming this was. Wouldn’t you think someone
was out to get you? That some astounding malevolent bird
dropped a bit of cosmic shine on your pillow? That some mule
of fate wanted to kick you in the head? Some drone pilot sicced
an MQ-9 Reaper on your suspicious quietude? Wouldn’t you think
there’s a meaning?
We talk about the odds of it. Oh probability, you are our Milton,
reconciling the ways of God to man. Probability and a warm shower
might do that. But Halyna Hutchins said she came from the Arctic Circle
surrounded by reindeer and nuclear submarines before she was killed
in Hollywood by a prop gun with a real bullet.
Tell me about your trajectory. Tell me about the odds.
Note: All italics are quoted directly from the NYT article referenced in the title, except: the
Halyna Hutchins, quote – from NYT Oct. 23, 2021; Panait Istrati (C’est un si long chemin, du
hameau de Baldovinesti à la Cité-Lumière! Quand je mesure la distance parcourue, j’ai tant pitié
de moi.) from Pour avoir aimé la terre; and the Mothers of Invention Help I’m a Rock!