Opening the Time Capsule

** Quick Note:  For those of you wondering about NaNoWriMo, I did succeed in writing 50,000 words of my novel during November.  (Yea!)  But I am currently too overwhelmed by the enormity of what I have accomplished and the enormity of what I have left to do to discuss it yet.  So instead, take a trip with me Back in Time.  (Click here for some appropriate background music by Huey Lewis and the News.)  

My crazy Cousin Kelley and I love the Back to the Future movies.  Love them.  I honestly don’t know how many times I’ve seen Marty McFly fill in with the band playing “Earth Angel” at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance or watched Biff get a mouthful of manure or laughed at Doc Brown’s great expression when the model car catches fire.  (Click here for 43 seconds of acting genius.)

But it wasn’t just the dreaminess of Michael J. Fox or the excitement of hoverboards and flying Deloreans that got to us.  It was the allure of time travel itself, in all its glory, with all its complications.  One of my favorite parts of the trilogy is actually at the end of the second (and, let’s face it, worst) movie.  Marty is in the year 1955.  He has just watched the Delorean (with Doc inside) get struck by lightning and vanish.  Then, a Western Union courier arrives and hands Marty a letter from Doc, who is in 1885.  They have been carrying the letter around for 70 years, waiting to deliver it at that exact moment in that exact location.  I always thought that was so cool and wished there were a way to do such a thing in real life. 

Well, in December of 2003, Cousin Kelley and I did the closest thing we could.  We made a time capsule to be sealed for ten years, and this Thanksgiving we opened it.  (We made it nine years and eleven months.  I say, close enough.)

Time is a strange thing.  Kelley and I have been anticipating opening this thing for almost a decade.  The first couple of years, we still remembered everything inside and swore we would never forget.  Then, all of a sudden, somewhere around year seven, the contents got a little fuzzy.  The mystery deepened, the excitement sharpened, and Cousin Kelley’s pleas to open it early grew more frequent.  I held her off.

[Side note:  During the ten years between time capsule creation and time capsule opening, Cousin Kelley moved to Florida and then back to Texas.  When she moved back, she called me and left a loooong emotional voicemail about how they had packed everything up and were just about to drive away when she remembered to check the attic one more time and, “Oh my God!  Guess what was up there?  Our time capsule!  I almost left it in Florida!  You should never have let me keep it!”  I called her back and told her the time capsule was at my parents’ house in Richardson where it had always been and that I was never crazy enough to let her keep it and that I had no idea what was in that box in her attic.]

 

We were silly in 2003.  We still are.  I like that you can see my 

Toonces the Driving Cat poster in the background of my photo.

By the time we opened the capsule (the real one), we only remembered a very few things about the night we made it and the contents inside.

Here's my Facebook post from two weeks ago:

Next week, while I'm visiting my family for Thanksgiving, Cousin Kelley and I will be opening the time capsule (a.k.a. the lunch box) that we buried (a.k.a. hid in the top of my parents' closet) ten years ago when she was 23 and I was 27. We know there are letters inside (some of which will NOT be mailed to the recipients even though we pinky-swore we would), and a roll of film (thank goodness some places still develop those) and a cassette tape (thank goodness my mom still has a player that works), but we don't remember anything else. I CAN'T WAIT!

So here’s the thing.  After ten years, we expected to be wrong about the future.  What we did not expect was to be so very wrong about the past.

-- The time capsule was not a lunch box.

-- There was no cassette tape inside.

-- Every photo on the roll of film was taken inside the house in the span of an hour or two.  (We’d been expecting crazy settings and late-night adventures.  Our younger selves really dropped the ball on that one.)

-- There were no letters inside except the ones to each other.  (This is still mind-boggling.  Both of us SWEAR that we wrote letters to our current boyfriends and promised to give them to the guys no matter what, and for the past six years or so we have been dreading re-reading those awful things and planning a bonfire to destroy them.  And yet… no letters.  We were so confused by this that, remembering the 70-year-old letter from Doc in Back to the Future Part II, I had a brief panic attack that maybe we had written them and somehow mailed them already to be delivered to the boys in 2013, but Cousin Kelley assures me that is impossible.  Whew!)

So what was in the box?  Well, now, it wouldn’t be fair to give everything away, would it?  But I’ll tell you a little bit.

Inside the box were memories—photos and journals and poems and wicked little reminders of a snapshot of time.  There were smiles in there, and laughs, and lies, and a song by David Bowie.  There was proof of how much people change and of how much more they stay the same.  Oh and our favorite t-shirts from 2003.  That was an awesome surprise.

Mine says, "Hark the herald dillos sing."
Kelley's says, "Those with class drive fiberglass."
It was 2003, people.

Inside that box was a reminder of how lucky I am to have a Cousin like Kelley.  Because the biggest thing that we forgot was the coolest thing to remember—The time capsule was a gift.  It was my birthday gift from Kelley in 2003.  She gave me a box (personalized with photos of us), and two “About Me” journals for each of us to fill out, and a roll of film, and a promise—to turn that box into a time capsule at Christmas and lock it up for ten years.  What an amazing gift.  What an amazing Cousin Kelley.

 

We want to do it again.  We will do it again.  But a little bit of time needs to pass first.  I’m thinking 2015 might be a good year for TC2.  Maybe October 21, 2015—the day Marty McFly traveled to in Back to the Future Part II.  That seems as appropriate a day as any.  We’ll have to get a box big enough to fit a hoverboard.

But we shouldn’t be the only ones enjoying the fun and mystery and excitement of the time capsule.  You should make one too.  :)

Carie and Kelley’s Ten Tips for Making a Time Capsule:

1. Choose a small container.  It may be harder to fill than you think.

2. You don’t have to bury it.  That sounds messy.  Just find a safe, permanent location, preferably not in the home of any of the capsule creators.  A safety deposit box might be good. 

3. Don’t do it alone.  Make your time capsule with a family member or group of friends and make sure everyone contributes.  That way the opening of it will also be a good excuse for a reunion in case your paths have parted.

4. Be patient.  Ten years is the minimum length for a good time capsule.  Kelley and I actually tried a one-year one when we were younger and it didn’t work—we remembered too much and not enough had changed.

5. Take photos of things you know will change.  We took pictures of our cell phones.  Quite a difference between 2003 and 2013.  What will our phones look like in 2023?

6. It’s ok to make promises.  And it’s ok to break some too.  If those letters to ex-boyfriends really had existed, we would NOT have kept our promises to mail them.  And that is ok.  (Here we are reading our letters to each other.  Those were a good idea!)

 

7. Plan for the future.  This time, Kelley and I were able to develop our film and, had there been a cassette tape, we could still listen to it, but ten years from now?  I’m not so sure.  Don’t let changes in technology ruin your big reveal.  Take pictures with your phone or camera, then go ahead and develop them and , for good measure, make a CD of them too.  Put the prints and CD in your time capsule and delete the photos from your camera.

8. Don’t try too hard.  Don’t agonize over what will be memorable.  Everything will be memorable.  Fill the time capsule with the little details of life.  A list of what you did that day, your regular routine.  The receipt from the coffee you bought.  The name of the last song you heard.

9. When it’s time to open the thing, plan ahead and make sure you and your group have some privacy.  You will not remember everything that is in that box.  You might think you will, but you won’t.  Best to open it away from prying eyes and children. 

10. A time capsule makes a great, low-cost, creative gift.  Consider giving someone you love the gift of time this Christmas!

My Open Letter to 1982

In marriage, there is compromise.  Each partner brings certain qualities to the union, as well as certain beloved possessions—pets, furniture, artwork... electronics—and all of those things must find a way to cohabitate together, for better or for worse.

To our marriage, I brought a very old and much-loved VCR, and thirty-six VHS tapes.

My husband, the computer geek, frowned when I lugged these items into our home.  When he opened his mouth, presumably to make some remark about Goodwill or trash day, I told him in no uncertain terms that this VCR was a member of our family and that it would find a place of honor in our living room.  He closed his mouth and hooked it up, grumbling as he made room for this noisy, archaic stepchild amongst his U-Verse and X-Box and Blu-Ray babies.  And, thus, compromise was achieved.

One night when we were watching my VHS tape of Clue (awesome movie), my hubby decided he needed some popcorn, so I dutifully paused the tape.  However, when the making of the popcorn took more than five minutes (why? I don't know) the tape came un-paused and I had to rewind and pause again.  Annoyed, I complained aloud:

"I have never understood why VHS tapes un-pause themselves after five minutes.  OBVIOUSLY I'm not ready for it to play again, otherwise I would've hit play."  Then the hubby informed me that staying paused for too long is bad for the tape.  "Oh," I said.  "Well, then they should STOP after five minutes then, not PLAY.  It still doesn't make any sense to PLAY if the viewer is not ready yet.  No one wants to be on the way back from the bathroom and hear their movie start up again without them.  It causes unnecessary stress.  They should just STOP.  Why did they make them this way?!”

There was a long silence from the kitchen.  Then the hubby said, "Yeah… you know, you're right…  You should write a letter to 1982."

And so, ignoring the hubby’s sarcasm, I did.

My Open Letter to 1982

 

(I was pretty darn cute in 1982...)

 Dear 1982,

So, first of all, what is up with the VCR pause button?  Could you not have come up with a better plan than simply making it play again after five minutes?  How about making it stop?  How about making it start beeping at four minutes and forty-five seconds so that at least we have some warning as we are hurrying out of the bathroom or pouring our popcorn into a bowl?  And while we're on the subject of VCRs, why did you make them so damn hard to PROGRAM?  People are STILL talking about that.  In 2013.  Seriously.

But you know, 1982, you weren't ALL bad.  I mean, you did bring us Poltergeist and E.T. and The Dark Crystal and Tron (what a strange year for movies...) and iconic songs like Thriller and Eye of the Tiger.  Plus, I’m pretty sure that was the year my mom first read Bunnicula to me.  It’s still one of my all-time favorite books.

I was only five years old for most of 1982, but it was a big year in my little life.  I started Kindergarten that year, and got my puppy Lassie, and spent a lot of time playing with my Lite Brite and my brother’s Hoth Imperial Attack Base playset and sitting on a stool in the arcade at Richardson Square Mall to play Pac-Man and Galaga.  And I did ALL of those things in my favorite three-quarter sleeve rainbow shirt, which I would have worn every single day if my mom had let me.  Those are good memories.

Then again, I can’t forget that 1982 was the year that took away my Pappy and, on the day of his funeral, gave me my first stitches.  That was a hard day for many reasons.

I can't believe it's been thirty-one years since I've seen you, 1982... Where has the time gone?  I guess I'll forgive you your faults, since I've made my share of mistakes since we saw each other last; no person, no year, can be perfect.  So let's let bygones be bygones.  Let's put the past behind us and look forward, together, into the future.  Thirty-one years from now, in 2044, what will we have to complain about?  My money's on arthritis, too many freaking movies with Suri Cruise in them, and the fact that my VCR still un-pauses after five minutes.  (Sigh.)

Till I finally get my time machine and we meet again,

Your friend,

Carie

P.S.  I really wish I still had that cool rainbow shirt.

P.P.S.  AND the Hoth Imperial Attack Base Playset.  That thing was AWESOME.

 

The Christmas Letter

With a few interesting exceptions, I am not a fan of Christmas letters detailing the ups and downs of the sender’s year.  I have never written one myself.  But, it turns out that I am not the only aspiring writer in the family, and the last thing I would ever want to do is stand in the way of someone else’s desire to share their stories with the world.  So, with that said, I hope you enjoy this holiday letter from Gabby, the tabby cat.

[Disclaimer:  The views and opinions expressed in this post belong to Gabby the Cat only and do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of the blogger herself.]

Greetings From Gabby

Dear Feline Friends and Their Humans,

Greetings!  Meowy Christmas and Happy Mew Year to you all!  I hope this letter finds you and your furry loved ones well.  I know that everyone is busy this time of year ingesting curly ribbon, bathing obsessively, and searching for the warmest spot to nap, but I thought I should catch you up on everything that’s been going on down here in Austin.  We’ve had a big year too!

2012 started out pretty routinely in the Juettner household.  January was cold, necessitating a bit of snuggling for the sake of warmth.  Of course the rules of snuggling must always be followed.  Rule #1: Try to snuggle with someone who will snuggle you back, because it’s more fun that way.  Rule #2: If a consenting snuggle-partner can’t be found, take what you can get. Rule #3: Never ever snuggle with a dog, no matter how warm he looks.

 (<-- Rule #1, in effect)

(Rule #2, in effect -->)

Disgusting.

Speaking of dogs, this one is still here, unfortunately.  We were all hoping he was just passing through, but it now looks like the clumsy oaf is here to stay.   I honestly do not know what my humans see in him.  He just keeps getting bigger and BIGGER and despite all the diplomas he brings home I haven’t seen any improvement in manners or grooming.  For a couple of months they came to their senses and started keeping him in a cage, but now he’s out again, draining our water bowl and taking up too much space on the couch.  I just don’t understand why they need him when they already live with four purrfectly good cats.

Equally disgusting.

In February, Gink turned thirteen and we had a small  party/intervention for him.  Now I’m not one to hack up a hairball and tell, but everyone knows Gink has some issues.  So Zora and Toby and I simply suggested that it might be time for him to give up his little “friend”.  Well, talk about the litter hitting the fan!  It did not go well.  That doll is still hanging around the house.  My human washes it once in a while, but I don’t care.  There is not enough soap in the world…

Me in the penthouse

Spring and summer were fairly uneventful.  We got a new kitty condo, so now I’m living the highlife.  And our humans left for a couple of weeks.  I had mixed feelings about it.  On the one paw, they took the dog with them, so that was a plus.  But on the other paw, I had to listen to 14 days of Gink muttering to himself about how he was going to kill the poor girl who came over to give him his medicine.  (Seriously.  The guy has issues.)  Anyway, eventually our humans came back and order was restored.

In August, I kept waiting for our female human to start leaving the house again, like usual, but… she didn’t.  For some reason she’s been hanging around the house a LOT more, demanding attention and sticking her nose in our business.  It’s really been an adjustment for us all.  Zora hasn’t been able to continue her “sofa art” and I don’t have the quiet necessary to pursue my study of string theory.  (My theory is that if the string moves, I must pounce on it.)  But it is nice when she uses her opposable thumbs to open the porch door.

Toby is actually a dog-supporter.
I try not to think about it.

Then last month everyone had a big hissy fit over the election.  At times like these, it's difficult to keep one's opinions to oneself.  I’m all for the legalization of catnip, but once they start talking about equal rights for dogs, that’s when I get fuzzed up.  Our kind know how to handle ourselves in public, which is why we are allowed our freedoms, but those good-for-nothing canines need to be kept on leashes—short ones!  Sorry, I don’t mean to get political.  But some of those ideas being thrown around really poof my tail!

Now it’s December and we’re all getting ready for the holidays.  Zora is hiding in gift bags and Gink is spending "quality time" with his doll by the fire, while visions of belly rubs dance through Toby's head.  (I don't know what's dancing through the dog's head and I don't care.)  My favorite tradition is probably the annual tree of toys.  Every year, my humans set it up and say, "I hope we don't lose any this year..." and that's my cue!  Each night, after they go to bed, I take one toy off the tree and hide it deep under the couch.  Then the next morning, they wonder out loud where it could be.  And the best part is when the finally look under the couch in January and find all the toys I hid for them.  They're always so happy and excited!  Humans can be quite adorable at times.

Well, that’s about it!  2012 is swiftly drawing to a close.  We’ll all be hiding under the bed from New Year's Eve fireworks before you know it!  So keep your litterboxes clean, your food bowls full, and don’t forget to leave some milk out for Santa.  (I’m keeping an eye out for him this year.  I want to ask him if he’ll take the dog.)

Peace and Paws,

Gabby