With the swing of my magical wand, I transported you to a different time and place. You choose the destination.
Where are you and what are you doing?
Are you chasing dinosaurs?
Did you land on Mars?
Are you in Victorian London investigating Jack the Ripper?
That’s easy, Sue. I’m in New Orleans at 838-840 North Rampart Street in New Orleans on December 10, 1949, watching and listening as Fats Domino records “The Fat Man,” which some people consider the first rock ‘n’ record.
Love that, Joe!
If you’ve not watched it, I recommend TIMELESS, a time travel show that lasted a few years and managed to finish its series story arc with a happy ending. Beyond all the derring do and big explosive moments of history, they spent a lot of time visiting cultural moments, and the writers LOVED jazz so any historicial moment they could tie to jazz performers,they did.
I’m on a cruise in Croatia, on a photography safari with a group led by my son, which was cancelled last April and looks like it might be cancelled again next April.
Sounds fun, Terry! Sorry about the cancellation.
I’m at our last Thanksgiving gathering of eighteen family members seated elbow-to-elbow at my departed Aunt Fanny’s (yes, really) quarter-sawn oak table.
We’ll have six this year, two at the table and the others dining in two other rooms. Please don’t misunderstand, as I’m grateful for our health, the grace of love, and TKZ of course. But you asked ๐ …
Aww, sounds like a beautiful memory, Louis. Our holidays this year will be much quieter than normal, too.
I’m with you on this one. The siblings have kids out and about in the plague world so I’m not invited to visit either household for Thanksgiving. Sigh.
I’m in Nuttal & Mann’s Saloon on August 2, 1876, where Wild Bill Hickok is playing poker. I politely inform him to change seats, so his back is against the wall, as an ingrate named Jack McCall is about to shoot him in the back of the head. (I can also see that Hickok is holding a nice two pair, Aces and Eights.) Hickok turns around just in time to shoot McCall dead. He then invites me to the bar to buy me a whiskey.
Unfortunately, the butterfly effect kicks in and I am presently a stevedore in Hoboken.
Haha! At least you saved McCall before the butterfly effect kicked in. ?
Set the Sue-wand to November 22, 1963 at 12:28 p.m. and drop me in Dallas, Texas on the 6th floor of the Book Depository. I might be able to prevent one of the worst murders in world history.
Then you must be a fan of King’s “11/22/63,” eh? I loved that book, and it set me off on my current time travel adventures.
Done โ๏ธ Now go save him!
I’m in the fantasy world of the Mad River Magic series, around the large kitchen table, with Gram and Gramps, seven grandchildren, and Bolt (the red-headed daredevil on crutches from next door). Everyone is talking at the same time. No one is paying attention to table manners, but everyone is feeling like part of one big family. Ah, pass the eggs, the refried beans, and the taco sauce.
Love that, Steve. Have fun!
Different time, YES please. Different place, no.
It would be cool to be in Washington, D.C. on Monday, February 23, 1863 as the legislation is signed into being making Arizona its own separate territory instead of being clumped in with New Mexico. I’d carry the news back here myself to the blissfully underpopulated Arizona.
Am currently researching 1917 AZ–so much going on in the state and nationally and internationally–and so much is in transition, i.e. transportation, communication, etc. Arizona’s population in 1917 was 311,000 people. Nowadays that many people live in my apartment complex (well, not really, but feels like it).
Love the American West!!!!
Wow, Brenda. Sounds like fascinating research. Have fun in 1863!
In Disneyworld on June 29th, with my family, cousins, and uncle, about to kick off the best vacation ever. Could your wand also put my aunt there? She was taking care of her parents and couldn’t come.
Absolutely! Your aunt will be there any moment. ?
My many greats grandparents settled in Grayson County, Virginia, in the early 1700s. One of their eleven children was a daughter named Obedience. She was anything but obedient, as she had four children out of wedlock. She became a pillar of the community, and one of her sons, my direct ancestor, was a prominent businessman. Their names are recorded in the ancient family Bible, but no father is listed. Some say her lover was a wealthy, married man who protected her and his children, and others speculate different scenarios. I would love to zip back there to find out the truth. It would probably make a great historical novel!
It would make an excellent novel. Great name for a character, but imagine being strapped with a name like that IRL? Iโd probably rebel too.
So many places and so many times to escape to. I have a degree in history, so I can imagine a lot ๐
Given all that, I escape to what I’m doing fictionally right now–revisiting early 1988 here in Portland, at the first library fresh-faced college grad me worked at.
Nice, Dale. The โ80s were a blast. ?
I know too dang much about history to make it attractive, and I’ve lived my life in a way that I don’t need to revisit the highlights. I’ve made peace with my dead, too. So as I mentioned above, last Thanksgiving with my siblings and their kids since I’m stuck in my bubble of one this year.
I always put the caveat on time travel to the past that I need to healthy and wealthy, and even then, it could easily be no picnic ๐
Be sure to add white and male. That’s safer, too.
Great question, Sue! What to choose, what to choose…? My 10 year old self riding my bike with my brother? The day I walked away from the Naval Recruiting Station in our town? The day in college when my 19 year old self made a decision which changed the course of my life again?
No, none of those…
Don’t want to put a damper on anything, but please wave your wand and send me to February of 1989, to a coffee shop in Bellevue, WA. I was supposed to meet my sister there after a conference I attended, but I forgot and drove the 200 miles back home.
We did speak that evening, but I never saw her again because she took her own life a month later. I’d give anything to sit and talk with her over coffee.
We must remind ourselves often that we never know when we’re having the last conversation with someone we love.
Deb, this is so true and so important. Life is a succession of nows. We only ever have this very moment and our lives are a string of these moments, from beginning to end. Live each moment like it is the only moment, because right now, it is. Make each conversation count, even in little ways. My mother died fairly young, and I wish I’d knew this true while she still lived.
Deb and Dale, Iโve learned this truth the hard way, too. Hugs to both of you. โฅ๏ธ
Palestine. 30 A.D. I’m listening to a great teacher.
I don’t recall the title, but one time travel novel about time cops had one agent making the snarky comment that 90% of all crowds at Biblical moments weren’t from that period. You just proved the point. Grin.
?
First lesson from the teacher. You are in Judea. You want the early spring of 3769 by the then in use calendar. Palestrina is about a day’s walk to the west.
I’d go back to March 12, 1906 to Little Sabine Creek, south of Vinita, Oklahoma Indian Territory, to intervene with Deputy U.S. Marshal Isaac (Ike) Lincoln Gilstrap before he walked into the deadly trap set for him by Charley Wickliffe and his gang. The Wickliffes were Indians, and were being pursued for the murder of another deputy marshal, J. Henry Vier. After Great-grandpa Ike was killed with a gunshot to his head, they shot out one of his eyes post-mortem.
One of the gang was later shot and killed in an ambush, but the other two were arrested and acquitted.
London – Whitechapel – April, 1888 – with my friend Will Graham. As he would have noted, Weblys and plenty of anti-biotics. Miss you Will.
September 2161 San Francisco, near Golden Gate Park. Grand opening of Star Fleet Academy. Maybe as a student in the first class?
February 1898 Florida. With the 1st Ohio Volunteer Calvary. I am named for my Great grandfather Albert. I know he was in Florida for training for the Spanish American War. I know he attended dances and collected names of young ladies. Would like to know what else he did. I don’t have any records of him going overseas although he was very active with the VFW.
Interesting that everyone is choosing the past. I choose the post Covid future, after mass vaccinations and the virus under control. The time is easy, but the place? Hmmmm…. Perhaps my dream to Antarctica? Wandering the Valley of the Kings? Petra? Watching the surfing hippos in Gabon? Diving with the hammerheads off the Galapagos? Or maybe just lounging poolside with a drink in my hand and a darling pool boy massaging my feet? Tough to pick a winner there. Anyone of them would make me happy.