Prophet warning

Abbie went to Kansas City a few weeks ago and we tried out iChat. For those of you who don't memorize all of Apple's cute little iTitles, it's basically a program that lets you videoconference (I believe that's the word for it these days). Anyway, it reminded me of my five year old self. I don't remember much about that self, of course, but I do remember that I always figured that one day I would talk to a TV and it would talk back. Probably I just thought that "telephone" and "television" sounded alike, and so of course that meant they were destined to become one. Now that I've done it, I have to say it was pretty cool - but I also feel like I've lost a little something... just because that was always going to happen and now it has.

I also remember sitting in the kindergarten classroom (probably learning about the calendar or something) and having a very emotional realization that there was a future coming. I remember trying hard to imagine 1990, and then 1991.... Even just the numbers sounded so exotic (I had probably only recently learned that it was 1985). Maybe "imagine" is the wrong word, because it wasn't a visualization and I certainly wasn't trying to extrapolate technological details. I was really trying to feel the possibility. And, for some reason--and I remember this very clearly--it got more and more intense as I pushed the number higher and higher. I had to stop. I can't remember exactly, but I know I never got to 2000.

And it wasn't about trying to picture myself as an older kid, although I certainly did plenty of that whenever the older kids took our kickball. I'm not sure exactly how to express it, but I wanted to get some kind of grasp on the fact that there was this whole year that existed in some sense, and it had a name and everything, but it hadn't happened yet. And I guess what got me was the fact that this year was definitely going to happen... and I would probably be there when it did... and yet there was so long to wait that it was inconceivable. The grown ups had named it, and it was real, but it was positively emotional to try and grasp it.

I can almost remember that feeling now if I try to picture a very specific future date. Like 2036. What do you think of that date? I think you immediately calculate your age, as if that's going to help. Then maybe you do some other people's ages, and then you... start thinking about something else.

As you can probably tell, I have issues with time, and I also have issues with math and numbers, and so the combination is a doozy for me. Maybe it can all be traced back to this one day in kindergarten.

Although this post might suggest otherwise, I have hardly ever remembered this experience. In fact, I only remember one other time, when I was an angsty teenager, and I concluded that my inability to get past the late 90's meant that I wouldn't live that long. I think I spent longer than usual in the stage where you think you have superpowers that you just haven't discovered yet. It's embarrassing to admit that.

Here's a poem:


As imperceptibly as Grief
The Summer lapsed away -
Too imperceptible at last
To seem like Perfidy -
A Quietness distilled
As Twilight long begun,
Or Nature spending with herself
Sequestered Afternoon -
The Dusk drew earlier in -
The Morning foreign shone -
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone -
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful -


Emily Dickinson (#935)