Our part of Sauk Centre has been getting new paving, sidewalks, and utilities. Or, rather, the old ones are being replaced.
The folks doing it have been working in stages, so no one address had their street access cut off for more than a few days to a week or so. Except for Our Lady of the Angels, the parish church for this household.
When the street and sidewalk on the church’s north side was torn up, we’d been told that the job would be done and we could use the church again by the end of summer.
So we shifted our schedules around — and so did St. Paul’s, the other parish in town. There’s a story behind a town this size having two parishes, but that’ll wait for another day.
I like St. Paul’s just fine, but by the end of summer was looking forward to getting back into “our” church.
Then, around mid-September, we learned that the concrete in the new Our Lady of the Angels sidewalk had to be re-poured. It had failed a stress test, and the slope between the doors and the street to the east exceeded insurance limits.
No worries, though. We’d been told that the concrete would get replaced. Perhaps some time next year. The contractor, apparently, was booked solid and wasn’t at all sure when we could be squeezed in.
The local priest talked with city authorities, indicating that this was not acceptable. For the first time in years, decades, I sent an email saying basically the same thing. My guess is that I wasn’t the only one indicating that, no kidding, we really do use that building.
Time passed.
This morning, on my way to St. Paul’s, I noticed cars parked outside Our Lady of the Angels, and lights on inside. Turning the corner, I saw through an entry-area window that someone was INSIDE the church.
As I said, this was an unusually good Sunday morning for me. We can start using our parish church again.
Somehow, part of the sidewalk we use was re-poured. And, I hope, this time passed tests.
The too-steep incline issue has been solved by putting stair-steps where the slope was.
What looks like a wooden railing has been installed, too. I haven’t gotten close enough to verify that the wood-colored, rather rectilinear, railings actually are wood. Wood isn’t the structural material I’d choose for railings in this climate: but the things are there, and we can use them, so I’m a happy camper.
This is very good news: and a far better outcome than I’d expected.
Now, instead of related stuff, I’ve picked links to stuff that isn’t necessarily related:
“I’ve been poor and I’ve been rich. Rich is better!” (Attr. Beatrice Bakrow Kaufman; from Leonard Lyons’ column, The Washington Post (May 12, 1937) … via Wikiquote)
Whoever said that first, I think the one-liner makes sense.
This week I’m talking about a new book, “The Art of Spending Money”.
Instead of rehashing the usual budget advice, Morgan Housel shows how you can make yourself miserable by thinking about money the wrong ways. That actually makes sense, since knowing what’s daft helps you avoid ‘what everybody knows’ about money and life.
Bottom line, I think there’s considerable good sense in Mr. Housel’s book.
But something he said about treating money and religion — gave me an opportunity to look at curiosity from a Catholic viewpoint.
Victor Dubreuil’s “Money to Burn”, oil on canvas. (1893)
I’ve never been at either end of the socioeconomic spectrum, but I’ve slid back and forth a considerable bit.
My parents didn’t have a big income, but they weren’t big spenders either. Experiencing the Great Depression as adults probably helped.
Having enough to pay this month’s bills, and reason to think there’ll be enough next month: that definitely feels better than the alternative.
My personal wealth, the part I could pay bills with, went down to the low single digits for a few days when I lived in San Francisco. But a job and a paycheck turned that around. It’s an experience I’d prefer not repeating.
Over the decades we’ve been married, my wife and I have done a bit better.
We’ve never gone without food, but we did qualify for — and take — government handouts.
The first time was when we lived in Fargo, North Dakota. Some agency was distributing bricks of surplus cheese. Then, here in Sauk Centre, we had enough kids and a low enough income to qualify for school lunch freebies.
I’m not overwhelmed with shame and guilt for keeping my family fed by accepting what was available at various times. And we’re doing pretty well. We’ve got more than enough food under the roof to see us through a week: and own the roof. Many get by with less.
On the other hand, I’d have preferred having had more income, so that we needn’t have been so creative about keeping ourselves fed, clothed, and housed.
It certainly helped that my wife is intensely practical, and I acquired an intellectual appreciation for alternative lifestyles during the Sixties.
But enough about me.
“…Simple Choices for a Richer Life”: Money and Making Sense
Morgan Housel’s “The Art of Spending Money”. (2025)
A tip of the hat to Morgan Housel, for writing “The Art of Spending Money”: a common-sense look at rethinking how many of us relate to our money.
Happiness in life can be elusive, but misery often follows clear patterns.
Chasing status, wealth, or others’ approval with your money almost always undermines independence and contentment.
Treating money as your identity or a social scorecard also leads to regret, while using it as a tool to create freedom has the opposite effect.
“An important fact of life is that it’s often difficult to know what will make you happy, but quite easy to identify what will make you miserable….”
I haven’t read, and won’t be reading, the book: mainly because it costs more than the household can afford. It’s not overpriced, but we’re not buying luxuries like that.
Happiness is NOT Having Just a Little More
Investor.gov’s “Building Wealth: A Roadmap for Students”.
Besides, after reading Big Think’s excerpt, my guess is that I’ve long since learned the book’s lessons.
No great virtue there: I never did see a point in buying stuff I don’t need, with money I don’t have, to impress people I don’t like.
Don’t get me wrong.
I like buying stuff I don’t need.
It’s the ‘to impress people I don’t like’ part that lacks appeal.
And I’m none too fond of being in debt.
Now, an excerpt from Morgan Housel’s “The Art of Spending Money” —
“…So let me offer you a brief guide on how to be miserable with your money.
“Direct your gaze at the socioeconomic group just above you, assuming that within it you will find a level of durable happiness. Tell yourself that you’ll be satisfied once you make just a little more money, have a little bit nicer home, … Ignore the fact that the group you’re in now used to be a dream that you thought would bring you contentment and happiness….” (“If you want to be miserable, then spend your money like this” , Morgan Housel, Books, Big Think (October 9, 2025))
Somewhere along the way, while youth was merging into adulthood, I heard someone say that “enough” money was about 20 percent more than you’ve got. I’ve tried tracking down that claim’s source, but with no success.
Anyway, the point Housel was making is that imagining I’d be “happy” if only I had more, bigger, or shinier stuff — would be an exercise in futility.
Money’s Okay: Loving the Stuff, Not So Much
Great Choice Audio Video’s “The Ultimate Home Theater Room”. (2025)
Brobdignagian bowling shoes in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. (2020)
I lean towards Tevye’s view of wealth:
Perchik: “Money is the world’s curse.” Tevye: “May the Lord smite me with it! And may I never recover!” (“Fiddler on the Roof” (film), (1971))
I don’t daydream about owning gigantic mobile bowling shoes, or the other stuff featured in Macy’s annual Thanksgiving Day Parade.
I’ll admit that I would enjoy having one of those high-end home theaters: complete with overstuffed easy chairs, a scintillating fiber optic ceiling — but even if this household had the resources, there are a great many other items with higher priority.
And I know that, although some of my my problems involve money, not being in the top five percent isn’t their cause.
Time for another excerpt —
“…Fantasize that having more money is the solution to all your problems. Tell yourself that you’d wake up every morning with a smile on your face if you had just a little more money. … Believe that none of your current fears, anxieties, doubts, and confusions in life would exist if only you had more money than you do now.
“Assume money can solve none of your problems, and that it is the root of evil and ego. This can be just as dangerous as the previous point. Money is a remarkable tool, … How tragic it is to live in a world where you believe the accumulated efforts of the 100 billion people who came before you have produced nothing worthy of your time and attention….” (“If you want to be miserable, …” , Morgan Housel, Books, Big Think (October 9, 2025))
Wrapping this bit up, money is NOT “the root of all evils”. It’s a disordered attraction to the stuff that’s a problem.
“For the love of money is the root of all evils, and some people in their desire for it have strayed from the faith and have pierced themselves with many pains.” (1 Timothy 6:10) [emphasis mine]
Hogarth, Escher, Me, and Extreme Recycling — a Digressive Detour
William Hogarth’s engraving: “The Rake’s Progress — The Heir”. (1735)
Folks can get crazy about money in quite a few ways.
One of my problems has been spending too much on stuff I don’t need.
Being on a tight financial leash most of my life helped keep that from becoming a big problem, but the potential was and is there.
M. C. Escher’s “Day and Night”. (1938)
I’m a fan of M. C. Escher, and even have a few of his works: posters, the sort of thing you could buy for a few dollars.
When I was in San Francisco, I went to an art gallery that had, among other things, an actual Escher print.
It cost more than I could ever justify spending on art, but seeing it helped me appreciate why folks with such resources don’t settle for posters. The paper, even the ink, had rich colors and textures that simply don’t photograph well.
These days, if I could get either an Escher print, or one of Hogarth’s, I’d take the Escher: and that’s another topic.
Budget-Consciousness Above and Beyond the Call of Reason
Detail, William Hogarth’s engraving: “The Rake’s Progress — The Heir”. (1735)
Although it’s been years since I heard or read about misers, I’m guessing that some folks still take a good idea — not overspending — and run with it straight off the edge of reason.
An extreme and fictional example is the budget-conscious father of Tom Rakewell — I’ll say this for Hogarth, he wasn’t overly subtle — who recycled a Bible’s leather cover to resole his shoe.
That sort of bonkers budget-consciousness apparently isn’t all that big a problem in today’s America. When folks who had endured the Great Depression got in the habit of stuffing their mattresses with paper currency: that’s yet another topic.
(Mis-)Measuring Men, Merit, and Money
“…You don’t have to talk. This large person is making socialists faster than you can make them!” (1911)
I think there’s a correlation between virtue and wealth, particularly wealth that someone has earned. A person who lacks focus and self-control isn’t likely to either gain wealth or keep it.
But I think ethics and attitudes are only part of the equation, and I certainly don’t think that a public image of affluence reflects someone’s worth.
Here’s what Housel said about another way to let money make you miserable —
“…Associate net worth with self-worth (for you and others). Think of money as the ultimate scorecard for how well people have done in life — and, worse, assume that their material appearance is an accurate indication of how much money they actually have….” (“If you want to be miserable, then spend your money like this” , Morgan Housel, Books, Big Think (October 9, 2025))
I’ve said this before. Life happens: wealth and poverty, sickness and health. None of it’s a sure sign of virtue or sin. What I do with what I’ve got: that’s what matters. (1 Timothy 6:10; Hebrews 13:5; Catechism 828, 1509, 2211, 2288-2291, 2292-2296, 2448, 2540, 2544)
Is Curiosity Good, or Bad? — Yes!
Seeking knowledge for a wrong reason: Bill Amend’s “Math King”. Foxtrot (September 28, 2025)
That Foxtrot strip doesn’t have much to do with personal finance, but Jason Fox wanting “to lord it over my classmates as math king” connects with something I’ll mention.
After wrapping up my look at “The Art of Spending Money”.
Carl Hassmann’s “The Almightier” illustration for Puck. (May 15, 1907)
The excerpt from Morgan Housel’s book ends with another example of how you can make yourself miserable with whatever money you have.
“…Assume you have all the right answers. Try nothing new. Reject the mystery of life, and fight against all inclinations you have to grow, adapt, and change your mind. Be curious of no alternative viewpoints. Assume that what you know about money is all there is to know, and argue fiercely when you discover information that might go against your current beliefs. Treat money as you might treat religion, with devotion above curiosity and orthodoxy above exploration.
“Do this, and you will, I guarantee, be on your way to misery.” (“If you want to be miserable, …” , Morgan Housel, on Books, Big Think (October 9, 2025))
If the rest of Morgan Housel’s book is like this, I’d say it’s among the better ‘how to use your money’ books I’ve run across.
Each item in the Big Think excerpt identifies and discusses a common-sense approach, giving advice by presenting and explaining the opposite of good ideas.
It’s the approach C. S. Lewis used in his “The Screwtape Letters”. I’ve no idea whether “The Art of Spending Money” will be as well-known in the early 22nd century as Lewis’ book is now, and I’m drifting off-topic again.
The point is that what I see in the Big Think excerpt is common sense, clearly and entertainingly presented.
Since the ‘how [not] to think about your money’ message is somewhat counter-cultural, I see this as a useful guide for anyone wondering whether ‘what everybody knows’ about money really makes sense.
Asking Questions, Seeking Answers
Wiley Miller’s Non Sequitur: I might be offended, but that’s not how my faith works.
The only problem — and it wasn’t much of a one — I had with this extract from “The Art of Spending Money” was in the second-to-last paragraph.
“…Treat money as you might treat religion, with devotion above curiosity and orthodoxy above exploration.…” (“If you want to be miserable, …” , Morgan Housel, Books, Big Think (October 9, 2025) [emphasis mine])
Another tip of the hat to Morgan Housel for saying “as you might treat religion”. This is far from the sweeping generalities about ‘those religious people’ I’ve seen in mainstream articles and op-eds.
The notion that religion, particularly Christianity, regards curiosity as a vice keeps popping up. So I figure this’d be a good time to glance at why I don’t think using my brain is wrong.
Curiosity as a Vice —
St. Thomas Aquinas, Gentile da Fabriano. (ca. 1400)
Pious people looking askance at those who flagrantly display curiosity is nothing new.
About seven and a half centuries back, St. Thomas Aquinas discussed “the vice of curiosity” in “Summa Theologica”.
There’s a lot there: St. Thomas Aquinas was a very chatty writer. But it’s not fluff: there’s a very great deal packed into each sentence.
Anyway, St. Thomas talks about the “vice of curiosity” from (at least) two angles: “intellective knowledge” and “sensitive knowledge”.
About intellective knowledge, which I take to mean what my culture calls “book knowledge”, it can be a problem:
“…for instance those who study to know the truth that they may take pride in their knowledge. Hence Augustine says (De Morib. Eccl. 21): ‘Some there are who forsaking virtue, and ignorant of what God is, and of the majesty of that nature which ever remains the same, imagine they are doing something great, if with surpassing curiosity and keenness they explore the whole mass of this body which we call the world. So great a pride is thus begotten, that one would think they dwelt in the very heavens about which they argue.’…” (“Summa Theologica,” Second Part of the Second Part, Question 167; St. Thomas Aquinas (13th century) Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province (1920) via NewAdvent [emphasis mine])
I could summarize that as “curiosity is bad”, but a bit later in Question 167 there’s this:
“…Although … the knowledge of truth is good in itself, this does not prevent a man from misusing the knowledge of truth for an evil purpose, or from desiring the knowledge of truth inordinately, since even the desire for good should be regulated in due manner.…” (“Summa Theologica,” Second Part of the Second Part, Question 167; St. Thomas Aquinas (13th century) Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province (1920) via NewAdvent [emphasis mine])
What I get out of that part of “Summa Theologica” is that curiosity is good or bad, depending on why I use it.
If I’m trying to “lord it over” folks who haven’t dived down as many rabbit holes as I have, acting as if God comes to me for advice: that would be self-defeating, and a very bad idea.
No matter how well-informed I get, most folk have built-in baloney detectors that go off when someone spouts off about The Meaning of Everything.
And some folks don’t, which may be why End Times Bible Prophecies often get traction before fizzling. That’s yet again another topic.
Basically, being curious isn’t a problem. Why I use that facet of my human nature: that may or may not be a problem.
Intent, my motive or motives for doing something, makes a difference in whether a particular act is good or bad, right or wrong. So do the circumstances I’m experiencing. But “I meant well” isn’t an excuse for doing something that’s bad. It’s complicated. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1750-1754, for starters)
— AND a Virtue
Lilac blossoms: spring, 2021.
Then there’s “sensitive knowledge”, the sort of information we take in through our senses. That can be a problem, too:
“…to employ study for the purpose of knowing sensible things may be sinful in two ways. First, when the sensitive knowledge is not directed to something useful, but turns man away from some useful consideration. Hence Augustine says (Confess. x, 35), ‘I go no more to see a dog coursing a hare in the circus; but in the open country, if I happen to be passing, that coursing haply will distract me from some weighty thought, and draw me after it . . . and unless Thou, having made me see my weakness, didst speedily admonish me, I become foolishly dull.’ Secondly, when the knowledge of sensible things is directed to something harmful, as looking on a woman is directed to lust: even so the busy inquiry into other people’s actions is directed to detraction….” (“Summa Theologica,” Second Part of the Second Part, Question 167; St. Thomas Aquinas (13th century) Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province (1920) via NewAdvent [emphasis mine])
But paying attention to the beauties and wonders surrounding us isn’t basically wrong. It can be a good idea.
“…On the other hand, if one be ordinatelyintent on the knowledge of sensible things by reason of the necessity of sustaining nature, or for the sake of the study of intelligible truth, this studiousness about the knowledge of sensible things is virtuous.…” (“Summa Theologica,” Second Part of the Second Part, Question 167; St. Thomas Aquinas (13th century) Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province (1920) via NewAdvent [emphasis mine])
Mr. Squibbs, in “Small Problems”: Studio Foglio (illustrator C. Baldwin, colors by C. Wright)
If some of this sounds familiar, it should. I’ve talked about curiosity, religion, being human, and all, that before:
Scenes at McStash Mills, near Hillsboro, North Dakota.
I’m embarrassed.
Three weeks ago I talked about a fire that one of our daughters and son-in-law kept from getting out of hand. What I said then was mostly accurate, but left out the parts that made it a good story.
As I said, embarrassed.
Particularly since I’d asked our daughter to look it over and correct any mistakes or omissions: which she did.
But somehow I didn’t notice her contributions.
So this week I’ve pared back what I said — and added what our daughter had to say [with a couple of my notes] about a small fire that stayed small.
A Hot Day, High Wind, and Kindling-Dry Corn Leaves
Scenic, no. Good farmland, yes. Red River Valley, near the Goose River, looking south.
There’s an old Red River Valley joke where a newcomer asks “does it always blow this way?” and the local replies, “no: sometimes it blows the other way”.
This particular day — our daughter describes it better than I would:
They had decided to plow the field with 70 mile an hour wind. It was thick with corn leaves and it was almost 100 degrees. We’ve never seen anything like it. The corn leaves … piled up against anything that stopped the wind.
Corn leaves — dry corn leaves — had been accumulating on the mill’s waste pile. That’s where the fire started.
The situation could have been much worse. Our son-in-law had dug a holding pond, kept it full of water, had pumps and hoses on hand: and everyone there knows how to react.
Now, back to our daughter’s account:
“I NEED YOU”
…I had been finishing up making lunch and had called Aaron to find out when he’d be in. The noise on the other end was horrible, but I just could make out the word “fire”.
As soon as I asked what’s on fire, [our daughter] was out the door like a rocket to go help.
I asked if he needed me, I could hear him say it was under control, but I stayed on the line while getting my shoes, work gloves, and N-95 mask on [a filter designed to stop 95% of small airborne particles] just in case….
…I was just getting out the door when his tone changed I could make out “I NEED YOU” and I got on my bike and made a bee line for the back. The fire had jumped the berm we’d built up the previous year and had caught a sawdust bin on fire.
Thankfully, sawdust doesn’t burn terribly impressively when it’s been left out for a few years, but it does burn nearly forever if you don’t stop it; and with the wind, the danger was it traveling across the road and into the woods.
If it did that, well, that would be that. Even the fire department wouldn’t be able to stop it. Aaron already had the hose dousing the thing, but the pump was on the other side of the holding pond. I helped move the pump (it still wasn’t as long a hose as we would need to be truly effective).
They called Hillsboro’s fire department. It would be some time before the trucks could get there, but I doubt that they’d have dawdled.
What with making themselves heard over the wind and all: at the other end, it probably sounded like the desperate distress call in a corny action thriller.
By the time an older Hillsboro police officer arrived, our son-in-law was hosing down the waste pile while our daughter was handling smaller fires elsewhere, using a sturdy hoe she’d picked up.
She’s the same height as her mother, five-foot-nothing, with shoulders she inherited from both of us. She’s not by any reasonable standard overweight: but slender and delicate she is not.
Anyway, conversation ensued. The police officer saw a doused main fire and householders at work, putting out hot spots.
So he said something like ‘looks like you’ve got this under control. Should I call off the fire department?’ Her response:
… “We do have it approximately 98% contained, but if it goes bad, we won’t be able to stop it.” It was precautionary….
Just then, our daughter spotted a smouldering wood beam that’d been discarded. It wasn’t good enough for a customer, but it wasn’t bad enough to throw away. The beam wasn’t much over four inches across, and maybe a dozen feet long.
…It had been dropped just north of the berm and would have been used for some future project, since we hate throwing away and burning anything that could be useful.
The annoying thing about it was that it was burning from underneath. No way for Aaron to douse the thing from a distance and it was out of reach of the hose. The only way to put it out would be to turn the fool thing over.
As she headed toward it, hoe on shoulder, the police officer said —
…”Don’t you think you should wait for the…..”
THWACK! I caught it on the far side, gave two quick tugs, and yanked it completely over. I then yelled for Aaron to send a stream of water over the berm toward me and he hit it right where I needed it.
I then heard the officer say under his breathe “Stronger than I am” .
As I said last month, folks from the fire department showed up, the last problematic hot spot got hosed, a small fire hadn’t become a big one, and nobody got hurt.
For that, I’m glad and grateful.
It wasn’t, I gather, the first fire they’d handled, and it’ll likely not be their last. Fires, and fire weather watches, happen in that part of the world.
Come winter, they’ll be dealing with other situations: including but not limited to shoveling out after blizzards and keeping the access road open.
Finally, the usual links: my earlier effort at describing that windy day, and times I’ve talked about why family matters and using our brains is a good idea.
I called what I’m sharing this week a “fable”. That’s a misnomer.
It’s a very short story, about twelve hundred words. But since it doesn’t have talking animals, I gather it should be called a “parable”.1
I’m calling it a fable anyway. That’s because in my dialect of English, a “parable” is what we call the super-short stories Jesus told.
The word, again in my dialect, has “Biblical” connotations — and I sincerely don’t want to sound like someone trying to be “Biblical”.
You may have read this fable/parable/story/whatever before. I’ve been sharing it at roughly 15-year intervals — first in 1996, on my Brendans-Island.com website; and again when A Catholic Citizen in America was on blogspot.
Once upon a time there was a village. South of the houses was the top of a very tall cliff. North of the houses were high, grassy hills.
It was a beautiful village. The people there were happy and safe, as long as they did not go near the cliff.
There was a sign near the cliff, and a fence. The sign said:
DANGER! CLIFF! DO NOT GO NEAR THE EDGE, OR YOU MAY FALL OFF!
The fence was between the sign and the houses. The sign and the fence had been put up long ago, to keep people from falling off the cliff. Because no one wanted to fall off the cliff, no one built houses near the fence.
One day, Tom, Sharon, Bert and Courtney were playing in the open space between the houses and the fence. As they ran, Tom (who wasn’t looking were he was going) ran into the fence.
Tom’s head hurt, and so all four went to the village for help. Sam, who lived in the house nearest the hills, put a cloth on Tom’s head, and gave him cool water. Soon Tom’s head was better.
Many people in the village were worried because Tom ran into the fence, and hurt his head. Everyone knows that it’s not good to hurt your head.
Sharon said, “The fence is to blame!” Tom said, “Yes! if the fence were not there, I would not have hurt my head!”
“The fence kept you away from the cliff,” said Sam. But only a few people listened to Sam.
Many people in the village thought that Tom was wise. Nobody in the village had fallen off the cliff, but many had run into the fence.
They said, “If the fence had not been there, Tom could not have bumped his head on the fence.”
Soon almost everyone in the village agreed. They said, “The fence is to blame!” Then they tore down the fence.
Now everyone in the village could see the cliff. They could also see the sign in front of the cliff.
Bert thought the cliff was beautiful. He said “Look how far you can see, from the edge of the cliff!” Bert could see even farther from the hills behind the village, but the cliff was closer.
Courtney was afraid when she thought about the cliff. She was afraid when she saw the cliff. She was even more afraid when she saw the sign near the cliff.
The sign looked bigger than it had when it was behind the fence.
Courtney decided she didn’t like the sign. She said, “The sign keeps me from having fun!”
Bert said, “The sign is to blame!” Courtney said, “Yes! if the sign were not there, I would not be afraid, and Bert could have fun!”
“The sign reminds us to stay away from the cliff,” said Sam. But only a few people listened to Sam.
Bert and Courtney told Sam to keep quiet. “When you talk about the sign, you make people feel bad,” they said.
Many people from the village thought that Bert and Courtney were wise. They said “If the sign was not there, nobody would be afraid, and everyone could have fun.”
Soon almost everyone in the village agreed. They said, “The sign makes us afraid! The sign keeps us from having fun!” Then they tore down the sign.
Bert said, “This feels good! Now there is no sign to make us afraid, or to keep us from having fun.” Almost everyone in the village agreed.
One day, Tom, Sharon, Bert and Courtney were playing in the open space between the houses and the cliff. As they ran, Tom (who wasn’t looking where he was going) ran near the edge of the cliff.
He lost his balance, and fell off. Nobody ever saw Tom again.
Sharon, Bert and Courtney were very sad. They all said, “The cliff is to blame!”
Soon almost everyone in the village agreed. They said, “If the cliff was not there, people would not fall off!” Then they tried to tear down the cliff.
They dug, and hammered, and pulled at the edge of the cliff. Soon a huge piece of rock, soil, and grass tore away from the edge of the cliff.
Sharon had been standing on that piece of grass. Now the cliff had a new edge, and Sharon was gone. The new edge of the cliff was closer to the village.
Sam ran up. “Stop!” he shouted. “You are bringing the cliff closer to your houses!”
Bert and Courtney shouted, “The cliff is to blame!” Almost everyone in the village agreed. Then they tore another piece off the edge of the cliff.
This time Bert fell off the edge.
Courtney and everyone else in the village were very sad. They were very mad, too. They said, “The cliff is to blame!”
They tore another piece off the edge of the cliff. The edge of the cliff was next to Courtney’s house now. Courtney kicked at a piece of dirt near the edge of the cliff. She lost her balance and fell off the cliff.
Now almost everyone in the village was very, very mad. They missed Courtney, and Bert, and Sharon, and Tom. “The cliff is to blame!” they shouted.
Then they tore another piece off the edge of the cliff. A huge piece of cliff fell off. Courtney’s house fell off, too.
Sam tried to stop his neighbors, but he couldn’t. Most of the people in the village were too mad to listen.
Sam’s neighbors tore at the cliff. Every so often, one of them fell off. Each time this happened, the rest got even more mad. They tore at he cliff even harder.
More people and houses fell off the cliff.
Soon the only house left was Sam’s. The cliff had been torn back to the edge of the hills.
Sam’s house rocked back and forth on the edge of the cliff. Then it fell off.
All the houses in the village were gone.
Most of the people in the village were gone.
Sam walked away. A few of his neighbors went with him. They had not been near the cliff.
They built another village. This village was high up in the hills. It was a beautiful village. South of the new village, where the old village had been, was the top of a very tall cliff.
There was a fence near the cliff. A sign was on the fence. The sign said:
DANGER! CLIFF! DO NOT GO NEAR THE EDGE, OR YOU MAY FALL OFF!
The protoplanet WISPIT 2b, as imagined by R. Hurt. (IPAC)
WISPIT 2 is a protostar, a very young star that’s still growing. At the moment, it’s roughly as massive as our Sun, and very roughly a third of the way to Kappa Aquila: a very bright, very hot, star that’s about 11,000,000 years old.
WISPIT 2 is also noteworthy because scientists got a photo of one of its planets: WISPIT 2B, a whacking great — no, I’ll let someone with NASA explain it.1
“The Discovery: “Researchers have discovered a young protoplanet called WISPIT 2b embedded in a ring-shaped gap in a disk encircling a young star. While theorists have thought that planets likely exist in these gaps (and possibly even create them), this is the first time that it has actually been observed.
“Key Takeaway: “Researchers have directly detected – essentially photographed – a new planet called WISPIT 2b, labeled a protoplanet because it is an astronomical object that is accumulating material and growing into a fully-realized planet. However, even in its ‘proto’ state, WISPIT 2b is a gas giant about 5 times as massive as Jupiter. This massive protoplanet is just about 5 million years old, or almost 1,000 times younger than the Earth, and about 437 light-years from Earth.
“Being a giant and still-growing baby planet, WISPIT 2b is interesting to study on its own, but its location in this protoplanetary disk gap is even more fascinating. Protoplanetary disks are made of gas and dust that surround young stars and function as the birthplace for new planets.
Within these disks, gaps or clearings in the dust and gas can form, appearing as empty rings. Scientists have long suggested that these growing planets are likely responsible for clearing the material in these gaps…”
Basically, this is a big deal because this is the first visual evidence we’ve found that planets grow in these gaps.
WISPIT 2: Infrared Images
WISPIT 2, WISPIT 2b (the purple dot to WISPIT 2’s right), and rings around the protostar. Image from the Magellan Telescope in Chile and the Large Binocular Telescope in ArizonaLBT’s LBTI/LMIRcam’s thermal-infrared image of the WISPIT 2 protoplanetary system. CC1 is an unconfirmed giant planet. Annotations by Laird Close and Gabriel Weible (University of Arizona) (2025)
Now, I like and appreciate the effort artist-scientists put into images like the one at the top of this post. They’re an excellent was of showing us what researchers are finding.
But they’re illustrations. They’re visual representations, showing the forms of objects which often wouldn’t be visible, even if we were close enough.
I gather that the newly-made photos of the WISPIT 2 system show what it looks like in infrared light: light with wavelengths longer than what our eyes can detect.
Normally I’d dive down rabbit holes until I learned which wavelengths were involved.
But I’m doing something else this week. So I’ll just run through what I found Wednesday afternoon, and leave it at that.
The “Magellan Telescope in Chile” is probably the twin Magellan Telescopes. The Giant Magellan Telescope is, the last I checked, still under construction.
They’re both/all optical telescopes, but apparently some of their instruments are sensitive to part of the infrared band, too.
The LBT, Large Binocular Telescope, is another double instrument. It’s LBTI/LMIRcam ‘sees’ in the 2.9 to 5.2 micron range: which is in the frequency range that we call infrared light.2
Definitions: WISPIT and Stellar Associations
The Scorpius-Centaurus association, circled in blue. Roberto Mura’s map.
Let’s see. What else?
WISPIT stands for WIde Separation Planets In Time: a sky survey that’s finding giant planets in orbits that are wider than expected.
Current theoretical models for how planets form don’t fit what we’re finding: which means we’ll be learning something new. And that’s exciting. For me, at any rate.
WIPSIT 2b is already about five times as massive as Jupiter. If it was circling our Sun, it’d be past the far side of the Kuiper belt. Again: doesn’t fit current models, which is cool.
WISPIT 2 is “part of the Scorpius-Centaurus OB association, likely belonging to the subgroup Theia 53” (Wikipedia).
Stellar associations? Very briefly, stars, gas, dust, and all the other stuff in our galaxy is moving. Astronomers have been getting better at tracking where in space stars are, which way they’re moving, and how fast.
They found that many stars are moving in roughly the same direction, and at roughly the same speed, as other stars. They call these groups of stars stellar associations.
The Scorpius-Centaurus association is an OB association, which means that its stars are massive, bright, and young — as stars go. My guess is that either WISPIT 2 has a lot of growing left to do, or that OB associations also contain smaller young stars. Or maybe something completely different.
There’s almost certainly an answer to how the definition of OB associations works, but finding and confirming it would take more time than I like.
I’m also pretty sure that WISPIT 2 is actually part of the Scorpius-Centaurus association, although illustrations showing where that particular group of stars is doesn’t include the constellation Aquila. Not in the sources I checked.3
A Great Deal Left to Learn
SPHERE/VLT’s images of dusty discs around nearby young stars. (2018)
These are exciting times.
I grew up in a world where scientists thought there could be planets orbiting other stars, but nobody had found one.
The last I checked, scientists have confirmed and cataloged upwards of 3,000 exoplanets; with a great many more ‘probables’ awaiting scrutiny. (After posting, I looked it up — as of October 2, 2025, there are 6,022 confirmed exoplanets.)
We’re finding planetary systems ‘under construction’, where the fusion fires of the star haven’t yet started burning, and the planets are still forming.4
Scientists have been learning a very great deal about planets, stars, and how they’re forming: and are learning that there is a great deal left to learn.
“WIde Separation Planets In Time (WISPIT):” Richelle F. van Capelleveen, Matthew A. Kenworthy, Christian Ginski, Eric E. Mamajek, Alexander J. Bohn, Rico Landman, Tomas Stolker, Yapeng Zhang, Nienke van der Marel, Ignas Snellen; (August 25, 2025) via arXiv
Something new each Saturday.
Life, the universe and my circumstances permitting. I'm focusing on 'family stories' at the moment. ("A Change of Pace: Family Stories" (11/23/2024))
I was born in 1951. I'm a husband, father and grandfather. One of the kids graduated from college in December, 2008, and is helping her husband run businesses and raise my granddaughter; another is a cartoonist and artist; #3 daughter is a writer; my son is developing a digital game with #3 and #1 daughters. I'm also a writer and artist.
I live in Minnesota, in America's Central Time Zone. This blog is on UTC/Greenwich time.
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Spiritual theologian, author and speaker, specializing in prayer, Christian spirituality and mystical theology [the kind that makes sense-BHG]
