Despite my efforts, I'm blinded by science

Details of science are a mystery to me. I'm closer to Wayne Newton than Issac Newton. Heck, I'm closer to Cam Newton than Issac Newton.

That was obvious on two recent treks. In both cases, I was interested in the subject and tried to pay attention. But the details sounded suspiciously like adults in the "Peanuts" cartoons.

Wah-wah, wah-wah-wah, wah wah.

Baffling.

The first journey was a camping trip with church friends, including my smart, scientific friend Myron. One night, Myron stared at the stars and tried to educate me.

Myron was interesting. He not only explained what the stars were called, he pointed out planets. He explained solar systems and groups of stars and how ancient sailors used them to navigate.

It was interesting. It made sense. I asked questions and Myron answered them clearly and understandably.

Because not long afterward, I forgot it all.

Wah-wah, wah-wah-wah, wah wah.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks and Mrs. Brad and I were in Hawaii, on an organized hike through the rain forest, led by a guy who liked plants. Really liked plants. Everyone else did, too.

"What is this called?" he would ask, pointing to a plant.

"A rose? A tree?" I would think. Then I'd run out of plant names. Someone would answer ("ginger") and I'd think of the character on "Gilligan's Island."

The guide told stories about the plants. He explained what was poisonous and what was healthy and why. It was interesting.

Here's what I remembered: Wah-wah, wah-wah-wah, wah wah.

Mrs. Brad, smarter than me, was engaged. I tried to be – then he'd ask for the identity of another plant.

A rose? A tree?

Scientific things – like the names of plants, planets, stars and animals – don't stick in my brain. Other stuff does: When Mrs. Brad told me she had an appointment Dec. 6, I immediately said "that's a Tuesday," then impersonated President Franklin D. Roosevelt's famous Pearl Harbor Day speech about Dec. 7.

If she asked me to identify anything in the sky other than "sun" or "moon," I would be lost.

If she asked me to identify either of the trees in our backyard – both of which I planted – I would say a rose? A tree?

I regret my inability to retain information of a scientific nature. I wish I could look at the sky and tell you where the north star is. I lament that I can't remember the appearance of poison oak or poison ivy. I wish I knew what makes something a reptile.

Maybe it's because my brain doesn't connect the "why" part of science, so the logic of naming stars, plants or animals doesn't make sense.

Maybe I don't care enough – perhaps if you promised me $1 million, I would be able to identify hundreds of plants.

Maybe my brain is overflowing with sports stats, song lyrics and the names of characters from situation comedies I watched as a kid.

All I know is that when I go into nature, even with people as interesting as my friend Myron or the rain forest guide, I can't recall what things are called and I can't identify the names of plants.

A rose? A tree?

Here's what I know: Pete Rose had 4,256 career hits and Tree Rollins bit Danny Ainge's finger during a fight during the 1983 NBA playoffs.

But everything scientific?

Wah-wah, wah-wah-wah, wah wah.

Brad Stanhope is a former Daily Republic editor. Reach him at bradstanhope@hotmail.com.