Fifty-Five Ways to Say Hello

Cedar Valley News
August 20, 2026
Fifty-Five Ways to Say Hello
By Chloe Papadakis

I spent Tuesday night at my kitchen table with a red pen and the program for the fall festival, and I did the hardest part of my whole job. I decided what to leave out.

There is only so much room. The Karsten twins play their fiddles, and the quilting circle gets the long wall, and somebody’s grandmother’s baklava goes on the tasting table, and a dozen other lovely things, this year, do not. I sat there feeling like a small and mean little god, cutting one beautiful thing here so another beautiful thing could breathe. Every yes was a hundred quiet noes.

I have been thinking about the people who once had the very same job, on a scale I can hardly hold in my head.

Today, the twentieth of August, is the anniversary of the day in 1977 when a spacecraft called Voyager 2 lifted off the Earth. Bolted to its side was a gold-plated record, and onto it a small committee, led by Carl Sagan, had tried to do an impossible thing. They had a few short weeks to decide what, out of all of human culture, everything we have ever sung or said or made, would go on one disc and fly into forever as our hello to whoever might be listening.

Think about the meeting. You have room for one afternoon of music, to stand in for every song the species has ever written. What makes the cut, when the cut is forever? They chose Bach. And Mozart. And then, gloriously, Chuck Berry, and a girls’ initiation song from central Africa, and a bamboo flute from Japan, and a blind bluesman singing in the dark. They recorded a mother speaking softly to her child. Thunder rolling in. Whale song. A kiss. Laughter. Footsteps in the grass. And they gathered up our plain human hello in 55 different languages, so whoever found it would know we came not from one tribe but from a whole loud chorus of them.

Then they sealed it in gold to last a billion years, and they let it go.

I read about it, and I felt suddenly less alone at my table. Because it is my job too, and it is yours. We are all, every one of us, keeping a record. Every time you decide which songs your children will know, which recipes get written on the card and which are quietly let go, which traditions you carry and which you set down, you are the committee. You are choosing what, out of the whole of your one life, is worth keeping and worth passing on. You are pressing your own small gold disc, one ordinary evening at a time.

We do it, I think, without noticing how holy it is. My daughter is four. She does not know yet, when I sing her the song my mother sang me, I am recording it onto her, the way they once recorded us onto the disc. She will carry it into a world I will not live to see, the way Voyager carries our hellos toward a shore none of us will ever reach.

Because it is still out there. Right now, tonight, past the edge of everything we know, farther than any object human hands have ever made or sent, the little gold record is flying through the dark, carrying 55 ways to say hello, and it will still be flying long after all of us, and our children, and their children, are gone.

Sagan said the strangest, most hopeful thing about it. He said sending it was like casting a bottle into the cosmic ocean, and the casting itself, whether or not it is ever found, says something hopeful about the life on the little planet it came from.

So here is what I carried back to my festival program, and now hand to you. You are making your record whether you mean to or not. In what you sing, and cook, and teach, and gather people around. It will outlast you. Choose it as though it matters, and with love, because it may be the most hopeful thing you ever do.

What is on yours?

Cedar Valley News has a Facebook group. If you have comments and want to join the conversation, you are welcome. Here is the question I cannot stop asking: what is on your record? The one song, the one recipe, the one tradition you would send into forever. Come and tell us. And if we get something wrong, tell us, and we will run the correction. https://bit.ly/40p8jKy

Cedar Valley News is free, and it comes to your inbox every morning, six days a week. If this morning’s fictorial was worth your time, please forward it to someone who would value it. And if someone forwarded it to you and you’d like your own each morning, just reply with the word “subscribe.”

This fictorial is part of the fictional Cedar Valley News series, written by Evan Swensen, Publisher, and Claude Marshall, AI Developmental Editor. While the town of Cedar Valley is fictional, the Golden Record is real. On August 20, 1977, NASA launched Voyager 2, and on September 5, 1977, Voyager 1, each carrying an identical gold-plated copper phonograph record. Selected by a committee chaired by Carl Sagan, the record holds greetings in 55 languages, a montage of Earth’s natural sounds, and roughly 90 minutes of music from many cultures and eras, along with images of life on Earth, and was designed to last about a billion years. Both spacecraft have since entered interstellar space and are now more than 11 billion miles from Earth. Sources include NASA, the Smithsonian, and the United Nations.

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