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Living in an Age of
Technological Wonders
by Michael J. Hallowell
It’s
been a busy time at Casa Hallowell since I penned my
last column. Jackie and I now have our first two
grandsons, born within three weeks of each other. All
contributions of booties and diapers (we call them
“nappies” in the UK) will be gratefully accepted, and if
any IRAAP devotees know of a remote control which can
“pause” or “mute” babies, I’d love to hear about it. I’m
only joking, of course, but I do wonder what sort of
world the new additions to our family are going to grow
up in.
When I was a teenager, life was simple. You left school
on Friday and started work on Monday. All you
had to do was work hard, pay your taxes and feed the
cat. It’s different now. A multitude of “providers” now
fight with each other to get your custom for broadband
Internet connection, TV, phone and power supply. When I
was young we had two TV channels. Now I can access over
a thousand at the touch of a button. It’s all about
communication, and the world is full of it. Great, huh?
Well, not really. Oh, it’s good in some respects. When I
want to source information for an article or column I
simply move my mouse and its there on the screen. But in
other respects it makes me feel uncomfortable. If it’s
easy for me to find out stuff, how hard can it be for
others to find out stuff about me?
Technology is a powerful tool. It enables those who
control it to spy on others without their knowledge or
consent. The bottom line is that this technological
advantage is not just open to abuse by humans, but also
by those who may hail from more distant parts, such as
another solar system. This might sound wacky to some,
but I have reason for mentioning it.
When I was sixteen years old, I was really fascinated by
the UFO phenomenon. I signed up to a couple of
newsletters (delivered by post – no Internet back in the
early ‘70s) and went to a local meeting organised by a
few guys who were as passionate about the subject as I
was.
One Saturday afternoon the phone rang at home. I was in
the house alone, and I answered it. A
male voice asked if he was speaking to Mike Hallowell. I
answered in the affirmative. The
caller then described in perfect detail the décor in the
room I was standing in, and even
mentioned that there was an empty coffee mug on the
coffee table.
Nowadays I’d be concerned, but it was a different world
back then. There weren’t as many nuts
around, and I was more curious than intimidated. The guy
started to ask me about UFOs. How long
had I been interested in the subject? What did I think
about the Antonio Villas Boas affair?
Had I ever seen a UFO? He wasn’t overtly friendly, but
neither was he unfriendly. He just
seemed curious. Eventually the conversation drew to a
close, and that was that. I never heard
from him again.
In retrospect, the incident was strange. How did he get
my home phone number? Well, it was in
the public directory, so no mystery there. But how did
he know about the interior of our
lounge? To this day I can’t answer that. Nor do I know
why he chose to ring me or what the
point of the call was. Our house had a sizeable garden
in the front and a larger one in the
back. The only way anyone could have spied upon me was
to look through one of the two large
windows at either end of the room, and I would have to
say that the chances of that happening
without me noticing would have been very slim indeed.
And yet…and yet the caller knew things
that he shouldn’t have been able to know.
I can’t help but think that there was some connection
between his knowledge of our lounge and
the UFO subject. Both were mentioned during the
conversation, and it might just be that he was
trying to let me know that my life wasn’t as private as
I thought it was. If he was trying to
warn me off studying the subject then I didn’t get the
message. Even today, I don’t know why
he’d have wanted to. It wasn’t as if I had stumbled
across some secret government files or had
experienced a really Close Encounter of whatever kind. I
was just a snotty-nosed teenager who’d
read a couple of books and attended a couple of
meetings. The whole thing is still a mystery.
It’s only a hunch, but if I was being watched then I
don’t think that it was anyone from terra
firma who was doing it. Maybe it was someone from “out
there”. This doesn’t bother me from a
personal perspective, but it does from a global one. If
extraterrestrials are watching us, then
their advanced technology probably allows them to do so
with consummate ease. More, there’s
probably little we can do about it.
The UFO enigma is still as great today as it was in 1947
when Roswell occurred. Will we ever
find out the truth? We probably will, one day. I’m in no
great hurry to find out, but if the
answers came in my lifetime I suppose it would be nice.
I’m not a great believer in the more
outlandish theories, such as the idea that aliens are
thought-forms produced by our minds or
that they hail from another dimension. These are popular
ideas in the UK, but I still believe
that they likely hail from another planet in our galaxy
and that UFOs are pretty much “nuts and
bolts” craft technologically superior to anything we’ve
ever dreamed of.
Still, I learned a long time ago “never to say never”.
We live in a weird universe, and nothing
is impossible. A few weeks ago I attended a convention
in Devon. Larry Warren and Peter Robbins
of Left at East Gate fame were there. They are two of
the nicest people I know, and I believe
their testimonies with all my heart. Meeting them is
always a privilege. They don’t claim to
have all the answers, either, but, like me, they seem to
enjoy the thrill of the chase. We all
have a defining moment in our lives, one which
irrevocably changes our future destiny. Theirs
was the appearance of a UFO at Rendlesham Forest. Mine
was a bizarre telephone conversation
with a guy who knew that there was an empty mug on my
coffee table.
Would my interest in UFOs have continued if that guy
hadn’t called? I don’t know, but the subsequent
forty-five years have been one helluva ride, and I
wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
©
Mike Hallowell, 2007 |
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