On Moon Trees

Growing up in Oklahoma afforded me absolutely stunning views of all things celestial. With open prairies all around us to our east and south, and hills to our north and west, there was no shortage of perfect spots to view the heavens. I recall being very small, perhaps 4, sitting in my late maternal grandmother’s lap under a hot July night sky. She pointed upward and said, “Pick a star.” Confused in general, as one would imagine, but especially at such a tender age, I recall indicating I required elaboration. “You pick a star, I will pick a star, and Papa will pick a star. And then, when it’s time for us to leave this world, we…