Time Traveler

How wonderful would it be to hop around to a different point in time from our past? I always wanted to visit the 6th C BCE, have a chance to meet the Buddha in person, or… Rumi, later on.

Visit the French Revolution to watch Danton go at it with Robespierre.

So many choices.

Or watch my parents meet for the first time and see my father enchanting Mom with his ever-present, irresistible charm. He must have been a fascinating young man if the letters I found in the attic revealed the true sentiment of these women whom he enthralled.

Mom was a young girl growing up with my grandma and what she was allowed and not allowed to do, according to the strict ethics of a barely post-Victorian era.

Going back to witness the Crusaders traveling to the Holy Land and seeing in person how they behaved, what they did and didn’t do, and who they did it to.

Find out what the truth is by the simple fact of being there.

How about going back to Roman times and the Crucifixion? That would just blow my mind. Having a conversation with Seneca about it; next, discussing the reasons behind his decisions with the man responsible at the time, Governor Pontius Pilate.

Or walk around Rome, and live-witness what took place in the arena of the Coliseum.

Watch Cesare Borgia, partnering with Pope Alexander VI in 1502, plot to get rid of his enemies to retain control of Papal lands. only to die at 31 y/old in a skirmish.

There are so many instances in the History of The World that I’m curious about. The only real connection to the past, the historical events, is what we’ve been told.

But as we know by now: History was written by the victors. Sounds legitimate enough. Books, teachers, college professors, and editorial opinions of people with subjective views.

Finding out for ourselves by traveling through time without the ability to interfere — of course — would be nothing short of mind-bending ‘Quantum Physics for everyone’. And what an experience that would be!

Is it coming soon? Would science and religion allow general access to such a feat? Don’t bet on it.

My question is: what would it do to people in the long run? How would it change, if anything, the way we are?

Food for thought, my dear friends, if you let your imagination run wild.

As such, I see my mom with her soft-as-silk hands holding my dad’s face forcing a good luck kiss before taking off for the office.

“See you later, handsome” — she’d tell him. Every morning.

Then, when everything was quiet, she’d open another window to check on her magnolias growing in the garden. If she saw something growing where it shouldn’t be, she’d call her partner.

A housekeeper made a gardener (a woman with hundreds of years of knowledge, yet unschooled) and they both rushed out with all the weapons needed to fight the bush invasions.

It was a sight to behold. Mom and her partner in crime, Maria Concepcion, the maid, fight the elements.

When the sun hit her face, she would accommodate her favorite straw gardener hat to prevent sunburn, and if you looked carefully, you’d notice her beautiful green eyes hand had a streak of gold in them. And in the shade, that feature became even more pronounced. It would have made a perfect portrait.

A buzzing insect flew by her and she would bow her head in case it was a bee.

The weather was hot, so they both wiped the sweat from their foreheads with their arms. A sigh or two was heard before their work was done, and they were both hoping for a refreshing gust of wind that never came.

Maria and Mom had struck a deep friendship, especially when Maria almost died of a bout of pneumonia and had to stay in the hospital for weeks.

They were both kind, compassionate people that were lucky enough to meet each other by chance. Or fate.

Dad loved the fact that she enjoyed watching soccer. They were too funny arguing whether a foul was committed but not referee-called. Same thing with the penalties. Mom was literally a soccer fanatic. Just like Dad.

Maybe that’s the reason why they married.

And she was an avid reader and a quick learner. Never bored, she always managed to find fascination in the most ridiculous things. Dad wasted no time picking on her and made some pranks he thought for sure would work, only to incite her curiosity further.

One time, he did succeed. He persuaded one of his friends to pretend he was a representative for a publishing company that made encyclopedias. All she had to do was answer ten questions correctly to win the latest edition of Encyclopedia Britannica. On the phone.

She did her part but was tricked with one fake question about the capital of a fictitious country that of course, she had never heard of. For that reason, the “agent” said she didn’t win it. “Sorry” — he said.

Perplexed, she asked everyone she saw, even bothering the neighbors, if they had ever heard of such a country, and of course, they hadn’t because that country didn’t exist.

So, she brought her complaint to Dad, who was hiding behind his newspaper, pretending to read, but was betrayed by a muffled chuckle that she heard.

Oh boy. “Did you have anything to do with that?” she said after my dad could no longer contain his laughter.

“Oh, you! You…you’re in trouble now”, as she started chasing him all over the house with a frying pan casserole.

They were having a good time. Those were good, healthy, wholesome days.

I remember the good times like they happened yesterday.

I also remember she made him buy her a full collection of the Encyclopedia Britannica, express delivery and with an “I’m sorry” note. That’s what you get for playing pranks on the wrong person.

Days of heaven, you could say.

While they lasted.

Life has a way of not always going as planned, and this was such a case.

Very dark days were ahead that no one could have ever envisioned or anticipated. Days of founded and unfounded terror. Days of absolute madness. Days where everything went wrong and nights when we were afraid to go to sleep.

Argentina’s military juntas had seized control of the government and everybody was a suspect. The good times were over and replaced with insecurity and paranoia.

Suddenly…everyone was a communist.

Thankfully, even though they were constantly harassed as they had associations with students, they were exempt from detention and horrors of the kind the soldiers were committing regularly.

They were lucky that way, since in Argentina, in those days you didn’t know what to expect, and the unthinkable could happen to anyone, any time or anywhere. And for no particular reason.

Now, back into the here and now; I still reflect on those moments with love and tenderness. I can’t think of a better way to spend ten minutes before crashing into reality.

And the dishes still have to be done.