We drove 1200 miles on an impulse. My best friend growing up passed away. I wanted to be there to say goodbye. Maybe that is a little irrational given my presence would require over a thousand miles of driving with a 3 and 5-year old. But I was compelled. I can’t explain it beyond that.
A neon Cheeto projectile puke to the face, multiple Giovanni’s pizzas, an impromptu haircut with a pocket knife necessitated by a brush with a toy helicopter, some unheavenly foul 3-year old feet, several rounds of armadillo roadkill in Tennessee of all places, a sighting of the International Space Station, a side trip through North Carolina, at least three chicken biscuits, a scratched cornea, a temporary incapacitation by back spasm at a Louisiana rest stop and multiple truck stop peristaltic rushes later, we were home again. Over 3000 miles. I dropped out of Cub Scouts at a young age because I didn’t like the socks — but I feel like I might have gotten a badge for this.
The whole thing got me thinking about teleportation. I mean, would it not simplify our strung-out lives significantly if we could just break ourselves down into our constituent parts and instantly reassemble them anywhere we wanted?
My wife and I have always had these multi-locational (and slightly impulsive?) realities. We met while living on opposite sides of the country. Within months we had reassembled ourselves in North Carolina and had a little Harlan on the way. I’m no scientist but I think we might have approached quantum entanglement through our constant geographical metamorphoses.
Our kids are no less multi-locational — at this point they truly have no idea whether to call North Carolina, Ohio or Texas home. Harlan just now announced he was walking next door to visit the neighbor kid. Never mind he is in his underwear and Crocs. And never mind that the neighbor kid he mentioned is over a thousand miles away. For at least 700 miles of our latest road trip, Cerys demanded we turn the car around and go “back to Chad’s house in Raleigh” for some apple sauce.
Back to teleportation…
How great would it be? Have you ever just sat down and meditated on the prospect of being able to instantaneously transport yourself to any spot on earth at any moment? It brings up so many questions for me. But first things first. Why would it be helpful? My wife, kids and I are in Austin. My wife’s family is in Dayton/Xenia/Yellow Springs, Ohio. (As an aside, I think people in Yellow Springs have been teleporting since the 1800s but that is another post that I need to think out a little more.) My family is in Ironton, Ohio. I should say the greater Ironton area as most of them live in the hollers outside of town. Our second home — the place where my kids were born — is in North Carolina as are some of the best humans I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. And we have friends scattered over the continents.
Let’s just think about the practicalities here:
All this angst about not living near family? Fixed by teleportation.
The fact that I’m not licensed to practice law in Texas? Fixed by teleportation.
The fact that my dentists (aka dad and brother) are in Ohio? Fixed by teleportation.
The fact that my daughter chooses to use the worst truck stop toilet in the deep south? Fixed by teleportation.
My supreme and spontaneous urge to have a beer with my Welsh spiritual brother, Hywel, in a Cardiff pub? Home by midnight!
Problems with teleportation keep coming to mind, though. Mind you, I have been practicing personal injury and medical malpractice law for over a decade. There is no better training for imagining the worst possible scenario in every potential situation. The bad outcome. I’m an expert in imagining it in all its hideousness. What if my impulsive Cerys or Harlan decided to jump in the teleporter and head to Nana and Papa’s farm without telling me? The god-forsaken game of hide and seek has already given me a glimpse of this scenario. The part of hide and seek my kids love most is not telling me they are playing it while they sit silent and grinning in the farthest reaches of the darkest closets in our house and I sprint around screaming their names holding my spasming heart. Maybe I should have had kids when I was younger. No. Bad idea. I’ve never been as responsible as I am right now. Scary thought.
While the verdict is still out on whether I would be responsible enough to have a teleporter, I suspect it is the very definition of luxury to be able to focus on being in one place at a time. There is a certain benefit to being fully present in Texas at the moment, politics aside. I would probably misuse it anyway. Lord, at this very minute I would be casting a fly into Devils Gut swamp off the Roanoke River in North Carolina right before getting a quick pint at The White Rose on Swansea Bay in Wales. And I would probably forget that my wife would appreciate it if I fed and bathed the kids tonight. But this is something I need not stress about. They don’t even have these things yet. Mostly, though, I’m wondering if I could teleport my kids to their grandparents’ house to get a bath and a bedtime story before being teleported back home angelic in their sleep. Without losing them.
jbrettdavis 