My boys are fearless. I’m the one who has to rein them in so they don’t get hurt. But it’s a balance between contradictory impulses. The world should be full of wonders and surprises. But you need to think things through. You don’t sit on a high tree limb with a saw and saw the side between you and the trunk.
Some things aren’t predictable, though. Where would you hide a small spacecraft? Obviously not where anyone would expect you to.
My boy Greg has always liked to dig in the ground. Maybe it’s the odor, like petrichor. Maybe it’s unearthing the mystery, the joy of discovery. Naturally, he has a small shovel. If we didn’t give him that, he would dig with a stick or with his hands, and he might discover the edge of a broken piece of glass with his finger. At home, he’s more destructive than our pocket gophers. But I thought up here in the woods, he could act more like a force of nature. As if gophers and windstorms often dig up flying saucers. It was really not a danger that I anticipated.
At any rate, they say the best way to protect yourself from a bear attack is to play dead. Don’t run; you can’t outrun it. Don’t stand and try to fight it; it’s stronger than you are, and its nails are sharper than yours. Instead, curl up into a ball and put your hands over your ears and eyes. If our spacecraft was manned, that’s what they did. A bear will push you around to see if you’re a threat, but it won’t bite you. After it wanders off, then you can get up and get out of there.
Monologues