I watched Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris (2011) this morning, It’s a romantic comedy, but is well written and it tapped into my love of literature, art and history (and time travel). These days, people ‘poo-poo’ the Liberal Arts, but I can never get enough. OK, well, I say that yet I have not read a book in a while (probably a few years). I don’t visit the Memorial Art Gallery or Artisan Works….but I want to and I should.
Owen Wilson plays a writer who is visiting Paris with his entitled fiance played by the lovely Rachel McAdams. He ends up walking alone through the streets of Paris. He gets lost and stops to collect his thoughts. An old 1920’s era car tools up and some raucous Parisians invite him to get in. They are dressed in 1920’s apparel and drinking Champagne, smoking copiously and being well, raucous! He ends up meeting Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald (one reason why I loved this movie – Scott’s my boy), he ends up meeting a tough and opinionated, BUT HONEST Ernest Hemmingway, and others. Very remeniscent of Somewhere in Time (1980) starring Christopher Reeve. I am really jealous of these characters – because I want to do that! I want to go back in time and meet my heroes.
But, When Would I Go?
The classic time travel question: When in the hell are we? I have often thought of this and I cannot really decide on an answer. Considering it will never happen, I can dawdle and not commit to a specific era. Initially, I think about my own personal past and how I could maybe go back and visit my younger self. I don’t think I would alter my choices, but maybe I would try to set a few things in motion. Maybe buy a load of gold and bury it somewhere I know will not be disturbed until I get back to my present so I can open my new present. Quantum Physicists can poke a million holes in that plot I’m sure.
No, really. Where and When Would I Go?
There are so many places and time periods I would like to visit. I would love to witness some iconic speeches (FDR, MLK, JFK). Maybe solve some of the mysteries that haunt our society. Like the movie, I would want to party with the rabble rousers of the 1920’s. I really feel like I could hang with those cats. I don’t measure up mentally by a long shot, but I think I would get along with them and match their joie de vivre. I would not get along with Hemingway so much I don’t think. His ‘grace under pressure’ and general heroic themes are beyond my ken. But I don’t know for certain – maybe I’d like him.
I’d like to visit Shakespeare, just to see what really happened. But that’s too far back and I would get the plague or be burned at the stake for being a witch.
I’d like to witness the founding of this country. Thankfully the good stuff happened in the summer, because I don’t think I could deal with an outhouse in the winter.
I’d like to visit the days of the Civil War, but then again I wouldn’t (for obvious reasons). Plus, outhouses.
I would like to find Andrew Carnegie as a young man and just hang out with him. Try to learn from him. But life was tough back then and I could maybe get the flu and die. Plus, rampant pollution – some outhouses. Oh and exposed electrical wires and Edison electrocuting an Elephant.
I already mentioned the 20’s – but I forgot to mention I would have liked to have been in Hollywood from about 1919 to maybe 1928.
Skipping the Great Depression, because unless you are a pure historian, who would want to witness that. Maybe visit my relatives and see how they did things back then.
I’ve been fascinated with the 1940’s my entire life. “The Greatest Generation” and WWII have captured my imagination in movies since I can remember. I know it was not all ” doughnuts and USO dances”, but there is still something magical about the time period. But for the same reason me and Papa would not have jived, I’m not sure I have the courage to face almost certain death in battle, or endure years of a POW camp. What people endured during that time period boggles my soul.
There are pieces of the 50’s-60’s I would like to witness, which I alluded to earlier in this bathering. A lot of what I would want to experience are again in Hollywood. (I’m a sucker for Hollywood history).
OK, So I cannot Decide
There are many pluses and minuses to when and where I would want to visit. I find that my sensibilities contain a hodgepodge of them all. I credit with some of my wonderful humanities teachers and professors of my past.
I’m not as talented or versatile as Jimmy Buffett, but his song “School Boy Heart” is right in line with how I see myself.
“School Boy Heart”
I got a school boy heart, a novelist eye
Stout sailor’s legs and a license to fly
I came with nomad feet and some wandering toes
That walk up my long board and hang off the nose
I suppose
The need to focus never arose
So something like a Swiss army knife
That’s my life
Frankenstein had nothing on this body of mine
The villagers still flockin’ to see, to see me
Breaking free, breaking free
Cause I got a school boy heart, a novelist eye
Stout sailor’s legs and a license to fly
I got a bartender’s ear and beachcomber’s style
Piratical nerve and a Vaudevillian style
I suspect I died in some cosmic shipwreck
With all hands spread all over the deck
What the heck
Then some kind of obscene and unscrupulous mind
Began to pick up what he could find
Added ice, shook me twice, rolled the dice
Now I got a school boy heart, a novelist eye
A sailor’s legs and a license to fly
I got a native tongue from way down south
It sits in the cheek of my gulf coastal mouth
I got a school boy heart, a novelist eye
Stout sailor’s legs and a license to fly
I came with nomad feet and some wandering toes
That glide up my longboard and hang off the nose
When I was a young lass, I was convinced (and maybe still am) that I died on the Titanic. (This was long before the J.Cameron movie, so I wasn’t jumping on the bandwagon.) I have always been drawn to that story, so who knows? If past lives are a thing, maybe I did go down with the ship. (I mean, what’s up with meeting people that you are SURE you’ve met before, but you haven’t? That has to be a past-lives things, right?) Anyway, my time-travel plans would include: Visiting Laura and Pa Ingalls on that wide-open prairie. Drinking hooch at a speakeasy in a flapper dress. Sitting in the audience of the concert when Harry Chapin recorded Greatest Stories Live. And yeah, maybe I’d go stand on the deck of the Titanic and feel the cutting wind of the North Atlantic against my upturned face. But I’d try to snag a seat next to Molly Brown.
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When I was a young lass, I was convinced (and maybe still am) that I died on the Titanic. (This was long before the J.Cameron movie, so I wasn’t jumping on the bandwagon.) I have always been drawn to that story, so who knows? If past lives are a thing, maybe I did go down with the ship. (I mean, what’s up with meeting people that you are SURE you’ve met before, but you haven’t? That has to be a past-lives things, right?) Anyway, my time-travel plans would include: Visiting Laura and Pa Ingalls on that wide-open prairie. Drinking hooch at a speakeasy in a flapper dress. Sitting in the audience of the concert when Harry Chapin recorded Greatest Stories Live. And yeah, maybe I’d go stand on the deck of the Titanic and feel the cutting wind of the North Atlantic against my upturned face. But I’d try to snag a seat next to Molly Brown.
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