Thursday, August 29, 2002, 11:00 p.m.
I think I sound strange, too. I'm still trying to find my inner dialogue, so please bear with me. Or don't.
This reminds me of something. John at SubLunar Orbit likes "maps. If I had the dough I would collect antique maps." I know whereat he speaks. I like maps too. You don't have to be going anywhere to enjoy reading a map.
When my brother and I were about 13 and 12, respectively, someone gave us an antique microscope. At my young age, I didn't really appreciate the value of the microscope. It came in a cedar box which was lined with red velvet. Inside the box, the microscope was disassembled, of course. The microscope itself was mostly brass and very heavy. It had a hardwood base stained to match the box. As I recall, there was a vital piece missing from the microscope, but we were able to make it work anyway.
On the base was a brass plate with the name of the man who once owned the microscope. I don't recall his name, but the person who gave it to us said he was someone who worked with Louis Pasteur. Ooh, I said.
However, I was more interested in the four or five slides that came with the microscope. The slides were real glass, very thin, and chipped. A couple of them were doubled up with a specimen inside. Can't recall what the specimen was (could have been bubonic plague for all I know). There was at least one blank slide. There was one slide in particular that I was drawn to. It was a tiny map. Without viewing it through the microscope, you couldn't tell that it was a map. Once you got it under the microscope and focused, there was a perfectly vivid map of the United States. It showed all the states east of the Mississippi and just a few west of the Mississippi. I though that slide was so cool.
Now I wonder whatever happened to that microscope.
© L.M. Carnes 2002.
All original content herein owned by L.M. Carnes unless otherwise noted.