Pluto, We Hardly Knew Ye

I’m feeling just a little sad right now. I know. I know. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions which I ought not...to jump to, that is. Maybe I’ve come to expect the worst, when indeed, the end result is not always the worst. Although most of the time in my life, even when I was expecting the second or third thing from the worst, I ended up with the worst. (I'm not talking about my wife here)
Whatever my particular emotions may be or from whence they spring, the truth is I feel like I’m losing an old friend. I, of course, am referring to my dear friend, the planet Pluto. Yes, for the time being I’ll still call Pluto a planet, although it appears that might not be the case.
Very soon a handful of scientists will make a final decision. And, if my worst fears come to fruition, it’s bye bye Pluto.
Now, admittedly, that solar body named Pluto will still exist, but once you take it away from the other planets, the real planets, if you will, it’ll never be the same. I’ve grown up saying (not constantly, but on occasion) “My Very Elderly Mother Just Stood Up Near Pluto.” What do I say now? “My Very Elderly Mother Just Stood Up Near”? It just doesn’t have the same ring.
Taking Pluto out of the planet group is the beginning of breaking up a set we’ve all come to love...as a set. It’s kinda like when the Mary Tyler Moore show ended. Sure, in the show the characters were going on to other things, but it never was the same. We saw Mr. Grant, but where were Mary and Murray, and, before we knew it Ted was dead. And he wasn’t just acting.
That’s what’s going to happen on a planetary level. First they take Pluto away and then the next thing you know, Paul Harvey will be concluding his news and opinion radio program with that last story, the cute little story about the Pluto formerly known as planet that had disintegrated. It won’t hardly be noticed, because our little friend Pluto had become so insignificant that no one cared. Sure, we’d care if a planet blew up, but Pluto, hey, who cares. It’s a nothing. A ball of ice. That’s all.
I don’t think planets should be treated that way. Who are these upstart scientists to come along and say a planet can’t be a planet?. Suppose I came along and said they couldn’t be scientists. I guess that would show ‘em a thing or two. To say Pluto can’t be a planet because it’s so insignificant compared to the other planets, would be like saying that John Rocker can’t be called a ballplayer because, hey, Babe Ruth...now that was a ballplayer.
Even if they finish up this big-wig scientists meeting and say, “Okay, we’ll still consider Pluto a planet,” the damage will have already been done. It’s already too late to un-ring this bell. From now on when you think of Pluto, you know you’ll feel differently towards him. Maybe he’s a she, because we do call earth Mother Earth. But Pluto could be the younger brother. Anyway, poor Pluto. He has a stain on his name that will never be erased.
Scientists will be whispering about him whenever scientists get together and do the things they do when they get together. “Ha ha,” they’ll laugh. “Come here, fellow scientists,” they’ll say. “Look through the telescope and look at this teeney-weeney little thing we used to call a planet.” Scientists are known for their sick sense of humor. It’s all very sad.
I, for one, will go on calling Pluto a planet, but, I know, in all reality, every time I look up in the sky and don’t see Pluto, I’ll know I’ll be not seeing what’s probably not a planet. And, somehow, I think I’ll be a little less a person for not knowing and not seeing. And that makes me sad.