Emerson just wrapped up a summer arts camp where the kids helped write their own play. The production was called “Family Tree Fiasco” and my daughter played a Time Traveler working on a homework assignment to research her family tree. The play included stops in time to the 1970’s, the 1950’s, the Wild West, Caveman times, and Star Wars and was enhanced with dance numbers to “Boom Boom Pow” and “Let’s do the time warp again”.
Her dad was telling her about the movie Back to the Future, and then they went and bought all three of the Back to the Future movies. She watched them eagerly over several days, and turned to us at one point and said, “This isn’t just watching a movie, this is research.”
My friend Lilah was here visiting too, and we went to a Dueling Pianos bar, a photo booth, and thrift stores (all activities with an affinity to time travel). I bought a hat, she bought a wooden foot that has a big toe jutting out. She’s 6, almost 7 months pregnant and journeying with a little dog in tow. We talk about all that is to come. It’s a long way from the apartment we used to share on Avenue B with the bathtub in the kitchen… or is it?
There is a lot on my mind lately, making me feel fidgety and tense. On the one hand, I’m thinking to be a parent means, in some ways, to experience what a time traveler might. Boom! Flashback – it’s that little infant that you snuggled. Crack! Telescope out to your daughter’s future. Where did that little four-year-old go whom I spent all those hours playing with? All the while relishing this; watching her in this present moment.
Right after camp ended and Lilah caught her plane, I drove to my hometown, Winslow, and while I was there I went to my dad’s storage unit and retrieved a couple of boxes from high school. They were covered in red dirt and I took a vacuum with a brush attachment and went to town cleaning them to uncover time capsules from my past: a corsage from prom, pictures, forgotten letters.
We hopped in our time machine and went just East of Winslow to Homolovi, to see ruins of people who lived from the 1200s to the late 1300s, and to gaze at the Hopi dreamscape and walk around. We got caught in a quick desert downpour that soaked our shirts and then passed on. We were dry again five minutes later. We were transported. This landscape always feels like it pushes an internal reset button within me. I walk, I breathe, my eyes scan across a wide vast expanse. It is behind me, and in front of me.












