Post-Thanksgiving Lack-of-Thought Process

The kids had never seen "Back to the Future" before, and as we were pulling an all-day Doctor Who fest at the house of some friends, it seemed relevant to pop in the first BTTF movie of the trilogy to bring them to an awareness of this 'classic'.

It was funny and embarrassing at the same time. It's hilarious, but I'd forgotten how much swearing there was. And this was from 1985!! Do you remember how we counted the swear words in Star Wars? It was nothing compared to BTTF.

Thankfully, it's a subject we have discussed with the children on numerous occasions, due mostly to the fact that they are surrounded by such language in school (and on TV and in the movies), and I'd rather they understand how to combat it from a young age than be struggling with it later on. We remind them constantly how pointless are those mindless words which add nothing to understanding or comprehension, but merely accentuate the speaker's lack of good communication skills.

They were greatly entertained by the movie, but being our children, afterward they also eagerly picked it apart. There were comments of "I can't believe that ..." and "It should've been ..." and “It doesn't make sense when ...” as we talked about it. (These are the kinds of discussions we have around our dinner table or in the car.)

It brought to mind another time-travel movie we had seen recently: the new Star Trek reboot. Of course, that relied on a lot of semi-science that has become somewhat accepted over the course of the last two or three generations of Sci Fi enthusiasts. Good ol' black holes! Always good for a spin around the space-time continuum.

Then on Saturday, when we watched "It's a Wonderful Life" for the millionth time, and some of the same issues came up. That's the trouble with time travel: it's in a lot of stories, and a lot of it just doesn't make sense.

For example.

It's a Wonderful Life. Time travel by angelic intervention. Removing the existence of one person. There's a lot of issues with this one. First of all, the concept of “never existing” while leaving everything else exactly the same. Given an omnipotent God, it's possible. But it hurts my head to think about. If George had never existed, Harry's entire life would've been different because every moment of George's life, every interaction with his brother, his mother, his father, the World, would've moved Harry along a slightly (or hugely) different path. So how does he end up on the same exact spot playing the sliding shovel game with the exact same guys, only drowning this time instead of being saved by his big brother? It's not logical. But it is implied by Clarence's statements that Harry drowned “that day” - which means that everything else was exactly the same. And “every man on that troop ship died” - except that without George, it's doubtful the troopship was in exactly the same place at the same time, although, again, that's what Clarence implies.

It relates to the Butterfly Effect, if you're familiar with it. Every second of every day, lots of decisions are made based on events and conditions of that moment in time and space. If even one tiny moment is changed, the effects ripple throughout the future. If for some reason our oldest child had never been born, what are the odds that the other three would be exactly as they are now? Knowing how conception and genetics works? Nine months of Cheryl's life would've been completely different; every choice we made in those nine months would be different, because a lot of the choices were dependent on the fact that we were going to have a child. What are the odds that all the genetics would've lined up exactly such that the other three would've been created exactly as they were?

Sure, an omnipotent Being could've set it up so that the other kids were born exactly the same. But then every moment of their lives would've been completely different because so much of it was influenced by the existence (or non-existence) of their Big Brother. And, in the same way, every moment of Harry Bailey's life would've been completely different because his Big Brother would not have been there.

Perhaps the greatest objection I have to the story line is the fate of Mary Hatch. That girl was too bright and spunky and strong to have ended up as the weak, fainting pansy librarian. I doubt she would've made a very good librarian. Sure, she wanted to stay there in Bedford Falls, and the stock would've been limited – but she would've managed. Look back at the graduation party, for example. She's pretty, she's surrounded by admirers, she's vivacious – if George hadn't been around, there are plenty of other guys who would've been proud to spend the rest of their life with her. I find it hard to believe that George Bailey was the only worthy young man in town.

Clarence says that George really did have a wonderful life, but that is not what he is presenting; instead, he is showing George that he is critical to the success of the town. He is, in fact, giving George much of the credit – too much, in my opinion. Certainly George played a part, but Clarence is in danger of giving the false impression that the town owes George for saving it. And that is not the point.

Clarence merely needs to show George that life would go on without him. His parents might've had a daughter instead of another son (Harry), or they might've had Harry, only at a different time. Mr. Gower might've accidentally poisoned a kid, or perhaps some other delivery boy would've had the same experience as George and “saved the day”. Mary Hatch would've found some other boy to focus on. Pa Bailey might've died years earlier from the stress of dealing with Potter, or he might've lasted longer because he wouldn't have been so depressed by the fact that his oldest son didn't want to stay with the S&L. But the main point would be that George missed out on all those relationships by not being there, and it was the joy of those relationships that meant the most to him; it was all the little moments of happiness aggregated over the course of a lifetime.

Clarence needed to show George that the eight thousand dollar episode was just a temporary setback. And that he needs to have more faith in his friends to help him when he is in need. George is suffering from too much ego, and needs to realize he's just as human as the rest of us.

He could've just shown George how his friends responded to Mary's call for help, how they all “broke the bank” to bring him money, and did it willingly. He might have come to understand better that it is the relationships we need to treasure, not the false images of ourselves. Of course, then the movie would've been much shorter.

In Star Trek, they bypassed the angelic route and went for the ol' handy-dandy Worm Hole in the Black Hole trick instead. This is a very popular Star Trek method for Time Travel.

Seems that Spock Prime inadvertently created one of those Worm Holes when he created a Black Hole to take out a supernova. The way I understand Black Holes, they suck matter in like a giant Hoover vacuum, which means that all that matter would be a bit compressed when it went in; and nothing ever escapes a Black Hole, except for this theoretical Worm Hole that spits out all that matter on the other side of somewhere. Presumably anywhere in space-time. Could be past, could be future. It's a cool plot device, very handy in these situations. Certainly better than the “race around the solar system at top speed and sling around the sun” method, which I never understood.

I'll grant them that one plot device, but some of the other ones were just a bit too much. Like having the Romulans wait around for twenty-five years for Spock to show up. I have trouble believing the head honcho is going to hang on to his hatred that long, hanging out in space. In the DVD, you learn that they spent some of that time in a Klingon prison. Still doesn't quite seem like a good justification. Twenty-five years is a long time. And, oddly enough, they didn't appear to age one bit.

Then there was the clever contrivance of stranding Kirk on a moon that (1) just happened to be the same moon on which the Romulans stranded Spock Prime, which also happens to be within viewing distance of Vulcan; and (2) it just happens to have a Federation Outpost on it; and (3) it just happens to have Scotty manning the Federation Outpost, who (4) just happens to believe that it is possible to beam people from a stationary object to a ship in warp drive, the formula for which (5) Spock Prime shows to Scotty as one that was actually devised by Scotty Prime in the 'prime' universe.

It was a rollicking fun movie, aside from the mind-bending contrivances, but we still had a great discussion of those issues around the dinner table. Or was it the dessert table?

Back to the Future. There was a great story hidden there amongst the bad language. But .. but ... I just can't accept the photograph thing. If someone has gone back in time and altered the future, people might start disappearing from photographs (although it makes more sense that the photograph would disappear altogether – see the discussion on the Butterfly Effect above). But fading?? Partially? As in, disappearing limbs? Heads? Until only their feet remain? Oh, please!

No, what should've happened is that the writer should've come up with some better, more clever way to show Marty that he had messed up the timeline. Here's the problem. The photograph either was taken, or it was not. If it was taken, it had three people in it. If Marty's actions in any way affected the future, the photograph would not have been taken. At all. It would take too many coincidences to line up the future such that the photograph would've happened, with the exact same poses and clothes and background. Even allowing for Marty to enter the past and not alter much, the moment he accidentally got hit by the car (and George didn't), that photograph should've disappeared – or it should've remained the same throughout the rest of the picture (because the atoms of that picture are now the “property” of the past, not the future).

If we accept that the picture would've disappeared, that means Marty would disappear as well. The slightest change in the past, and there is no way that Marty could've happened exactly as he was. Since he didn't disappear, that means both he and the picture – their atoms – are now part of the past, and everything in the future is either nothing (he destroyed the future by removing atoms from it) or “on hold”, waiting for the atoms to reappear.

The return to the future is also a major problem. If we accept that Marty made a slight change to the past, and now his father is a success (as are his sister and brother), then we are faced with some other dilemmas: (1) Why are they living in the same dumpy house? (2) Why is his “first” novel just being published? (3) Why does he have the exact same siblings? (4) Why is Biff now such a mouse? Let's address these each separately.

(1)They wouldn't be living in the same dumpy house. A successful George, as evidenced by the slick tennis look, means a better house. In a better neighborhood. Which means that Marty would not have been dropped off at his house, but at some complete stranger's house. And if the stranger heard some kid trying to break into his house, presumably with a key that didn't work, and said homeowner had a handgun for “home protection”, well, Marty might not have survived the night.

(2)George might have restricted himself to short stories or comic books or something for the first twenty-odd years, while the kids were growing up, waiting for the appropriate time to come out with a novel. But the arrival of the novel on the day that Marty comes back is just too cute. It would've been better had Marty noticed some awards on the walls or other books on the shelves that would've marked his Dad as a successful writer. Or if they'd just said, “Oh, look, dear, it's your LATEST novel.”

(3)Another Butterfly effect problem. Marty changed the past. Marty has no guarantee that he himself exists anymore, at least in the exact-same-physical sense. Given the randomness of genetics and conception (millions of Y chromosomes in combinatorial mixing with those X's), it's highly unlikely that he would. It's more likely – and would've made a much more interesting tale – if Marty came back, but in a different body, with different memories. Or if he came back, and there was already a Marty there, one who was completely different than he had been. Or if he came back to a family where there was no Marty. Or, more likely, if he came back to his own space-time continuum to find that everything was exactly as he had left it. And Doc was dead. And his life and family were just as miserable as before.

(4)So Biff got hit by George, and supposedly that gave George enough courage to stand up to him for the rest of his life. That's not going to change Biff. Biff is going to find some other sucker to lean on. And it's very likely Biff would've been the exact same schmuck as he was before, only without any interaction with George. That's the way bullies operate. Once they know someone can't be picked on, they respect them, and don't pick on them anymore – but then they go off and find new victims.

Well, that's enough for now. Some time in the near future, we're going to watch the other two in the BTTF series so I'll have more to complain about.

Many Blessings, Many Thanks

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Paintball Birthday

Paintball. Guys and guns. And paint. It's every mother's dream. The boys gets to be outside, in the mud, firing a gun at other people - without really hurting them - and everything comes out in the wash.



It was way out in the middle of nowhere. If anyone else out there has a used farm and can't figure out what to do with it, turn it into a paintball arena. You wouldn't believe what people will pay for the pleasure of shooting other people with paint! (I believe ... that my wallet is now empty!)

Four hours of paintball fun. Twenty-six guys. Running back and forth across a grassy field, splattered with mud, splattered with paint, trying to keep track of friend and foe, shielded by barrels, stacks of tires.



Four hours. Plenty of time to wear out the birthday boy. He looked worn out. He acted worn out. He came home and lay down on the couch and slept.



Or did he?

Unexpected Delirium

It was in the third hour of my Green Belt class when the trouble began; an aching in the bones and an overwhelming tiredness. I was hoping it was the dullness of the material (it was, after all, statistics), or perhaps the chocolate bar I'd purchased for the morning snack (it was for a good cause; aren't grace points awarded for children's charities?). I barely comprehended the instructor's words for the last hour or so before lunch; all I could think about was getting to my car and closing my eyes and sleeping it off. I assumed it would pass.

It did not.

After lunch, a period of time which was spent sleeping in my car rather than eating at my desk, I struggled through another hour of the material before calling it quits. At the first break, somewhere between one-thirty and two, I packed up my materials and went back to the car and drove home and crawled into bed and stayed there.

Until Friday morning.

What happened Thursday? I have no idea. It's a blur of half-waking, mostly-sleeping imagery in no particular sequence and completely lacking in meaningfulness. Friday morning was spent mostly in bed as well, with a break here and there to get up and check to see that the house was still standing (or at least that it had stopped swaying).

At lunch, I took a little trip to the school to pick up a crockpot which had contained some soup, and a little girl who probably could've walked home. The crockpot full of soup had been brought to feed the teachers who had stayed late every day this week to hold parent-teacher conferences. The soup was gone. The girl was fully prepared to walk home, as it only takes ten minutes. But she was happy to take the shortcut route in Dad's car.

Afterward, it was back to bed for me, properly dosed up on analgesics and antihistamines. Sometime around dinner, I finally felt good enough to get up and stay up. I'm not sure if pizza was quite the right prescription for so soon after an illness, but we'll see.

Tomorrow is James's birthday. He has a lot of things going on, and I don't want to miss them.

Another Day Older

Happy Birthday, big brother!

It's so weird having a big younger brother.

I think Mom was saving all the good food for you, so you'd be big and tall. Or maybe it was all those treats at 7-11.

We're so glad you came along, though. Certainly we didn't want Craig to grow up all alone! But being the younger brother isn't always fun, so perhaps God decided you needed some compensation for it, and gave you a few advantages. Like height. And curly hair.

So those warnings we gave Craig when you were both younger - "You'd better be nice to him, because he might grow up to be bigger than you, and then you'll be sorry if you haven't!" - were real. I do hope he was nice to you, and that you have wonderful memories of the years you spent hanging around with each other.

And I hope you have a wonderful time on your birthday!

Middle School Lock-In

Church lock-ins are always exhausting, especially for the parents who feel the moral obligation to stay awake the entire time, watching over the younglings like a mother hen. And generally the next day is a complete wash, as the better part of it is spent in bed making up for the lost sleep-time.

This lock-in was no exception, with the result that it is now Sunday afternoon and I'm still exhausted, and the kids are complaining that they're too tired to do any chores (yes, we have chores on Sunday!), and we'd all be better off by just taking naps this afternoon. But there are activities to attend this afternoon, and high school devotional time tonight, and no rest for the weary.

Adam, James and Deb had a great time at the lock-in, playing the games and eating the food and watching the movies and just hanging out. [Mary, as a pre-teen non-Middle Schooler, stayed home with Mom.] Adam and Deb at least had the good sense to take a nap when they were tired, sometime around three in the morning. James didn't nap at all. He kept asking me to run out to the store for him and buy him an energy drink. Which I didn't. Until eight o'clock on Saturday morning as we were leaving. And then it was donuts and drinks for everyone. Yep, donuts and Monster, the breakfast of champions.

While we were there, we watched "Monsters vs. Aliens", "Up", "Igor", and "Monsters vs. Aliens" again. Hoping that some of the kids would get tired from the monotony (and the darkened room) and fall asleep. Which some did. And some adults came close to falling asleep as well. But then there were those roving bands of young hooligans, just looking for an excuse to play a prank on an unsuspecting adult -- proving once again that one must remain vigilant around teenagers. I kept my eyes pried open with toothpicks.


James didn't sleep.


Deb found a cozy place to curl up in her sleeping bag during the movie.


After a couple hot games of Heroscape, Adam was ready for a nap, too.