Man, I can remember sitting in physics class in the 11th grade and being dumfounded. No, it wasn’t the mysteries of the universe that dumfounded me; it was physics itself — the class. I simply could not wrap my mind around that stuff. In my defense, I was an Army brat and, as was so often the case, I started school a couple of weeks late due to my father’s assignment. We were always moving. I can remember the school counselor assuring my Dad and me that I could catch up the work in physics class without a problem. In no time I would be caught up with the rest of the class. Didn’t happen! I hope that counselor dude ended up in a place as warm as the place he holds in my heart to this day. Speaking of warm, had I not been steam-rolled by physics a long time ago, I feel I’d have a better understanding and appreciation for that solar blast they are warning us about. You know, that huge solar flare that could blackout radio waves and electrical grids here on earth. And I’d better understand that “God particle” the physicists are talking about. That’s the particle physicists say they are on the verge of pinpointing; it’s supposedly the particle that was the key to turning the debris from the big bang into planets and life. As I said, understanding physics has been just out of my grasp since 11th grade. Now, that’s not to say I’m a complete idiot on the subject. Take the other day. I was going to the hardware store to pick up some screws. As luck would have it, I discovered I had holes in both of my pockets. Yep, the atoms were just pouring through the holes along with my car keys, toothpick holder, pocketknife and fingernail clippers. Mainly what was being lost in those black holes was the circular shekels with which I hoped to buy the screws. You know, the silver — coins. No chance of folding money being lost since I had none. (I should probably have taken an economics course in high school.) Anyway, I solved the physics problem by changing my pants, which allowed me to be able to count out $5 and something in nickels, dimes and quarters to the cashier, whose expression was, as they say, priceless. Bob Morgan is a retired, award-winning journalist and an author.