| July 24, 2001 | Issue 26 | Lehi, Utah |
In this issue:
Time Travel
I started getting a little excited as the year ticker rolled around to 2001. Sure, there was the whole millennium ado, but I was more excited about a plastic tub sitting in my closet. It had recently been transplanted from my parents’ garage, where it had remained unopened for twenty years.
Come to think of it, that might not make it very unique among things in my parents’ garage. Who knows how much stuff there hasn’t seen the light of day in twenty years? But this particular tub had an expiration date for its neglect: May 28, 2001.
So on that day I cut through the tamper-proof masking tape seal and popped it open.
It was a time capsule that I had made when I was 13 as part of an assignment for a social studies class. I remember taking it to my teacher that day for the final pass-off. He looked at the year it was to be opened, which was our own choice, and made some comment like, “Ah, a man after my own heart.” I guessed he was alluding to a passion for 2001: A SpaceOdyssey or something, but I just kept my mouth shut. I had picked the year just because it was a nice even twenty.
The only other thing I remembered was storing some Star Wars cards in there — which I probably thought was the neatest thing in the whole bucket. As I opened it, though, I was hoping for other fun treasures. Things that would give me a deep look into the boy I had been. Audacious predictions of what the world would be like in 2001. Or just a heart-felt page or two about life in general.
I was a bit disappointed.
Sure enough, there were some Star Wars cards, and a few other tidbits from the time: an Atari 2600 game catalog, a filled-in Mad-Lib, and a Dungeons and Dragons reference sheet, among others. There was also a letter to myself, which read exactly like something I would have written just to fulfill an assignment. Oh, and there were some fun pictures of myself, my friends Zan and Robert, and some family members. Fun in the “prime blackmail material” sort of way. Did we really look so goofy? My only prediction was that nuclear energy would be important in about 50 years.
After further reflection, I don’t feel so bad. I see that I was just a generally happy kid — though clearly destined to be a geek. Heavily into Star Wars and Dungeons and dragons, I already figured that I’d be some sort of engineer when I grew up, and I couldn’t think of an answer on the time capsule questionnaire for “Favorite sports star”. But being a geek isn’t so bad. It pays pretty well.
In the end, I think the most fun thing was a little scrap of paper at the very bottom of the tub, which read “This plastic container belongs to Zan Hyatt and should be returned.”
My photo from the time capsule
(though probably earlier than 1981, I think)
Tent Dwelling
Shannon had a few reservations about moving last year. “What if our new ward doesn’t have a father and son outing? That’s about my only chance to get rid of all you guys for a while.”
Well, her fears were unfounded. Our outing was at the beginning of June. Gerrit was about to turn two, so I figured he could come along with Ethan and I, especially since the campground was relatively close by. Worst case, I figured I could just come home. It was a pretty close call.
Cozy Campsite
June 1, 2001
With a little help from a ward member, we got camp set up in a meadow near Squaw Peak. In fact, the early evening was downright halcyon as we took a short hike through the woods.
Gerrit in the meadow
June 1, 2001
Since the area we were camping in was completely without “facilities”, Ethan and I heeded the call of nature in the most natural way. Gerrit, though in diapers, was fascinated by this. He seemed to feel left out of something really cool. So I took off his diaper for a bit. He wasn’t able to perform, but seemed to enjoy being free and easy in the woods. That experience seems to have had a great impact on Gerrit. Since then he’s partially potty trained himself at the tender age of two.
Things continued well until it was time to go to sleep. I let the boys stay up a bit later than usual in the hopes that they’d fall asleep quickly. After I was satisfied that I had settled them down, we all lay down. Gerrit then pertinaciously refused to sleep, demonstrating why having him trapped in a crib at home is such a wonderful thing. He rolled. He flopped. He bounced. He kept standing up. And that was just the stuff he did while on top of my head.
Of course he was keeping Ethan awake too, and Ethan started on about his displeasure with the whole camping thing in the calm, rational expression of a four-year-old. There was also the small tree I somehow missed while setting up the tent that was either drilling into my back or making me contort to avoid it. I’m quite proud of myself, as a father, that both children lived to see the morning. Not that morning was such a long time away when I finally got to sleep.
Mmm, Doritos.
June 2, 2001
The early breakfast was Doritos that Gerrit had been wanting all night. The real breakfast was pancakes, eggs, sausage and hash browns that tasted good in the way only camp food can. Ethan could hardly stand to eat at all, though, he was so ready to go back home.
Still, as we were hauling our gear back to the car, Ethan said, “Dad, can we come back here?”
When we made it back home, I asked Shannon how she had enjoyed her night of freedom. Ironically, she had locked herself out of the house and spent most of the evening trying to get back in before finally resorting to a locksmith.
Butterflies on Aisle Eleven
It was Friday night and I felt really tired. The house was a mess. Ethan had been to the dentist that morning and, despite our faithful brushing, he had three cavities. Gerrit had dumped a whole bag of Goldfish crackers on the kitchen floor, and at some point I realized that the ka-thud ka-thud ka-thud sound I was hearing was, in fact, Ethan and Gerrit rolling a bottle of soda down the stairs. Finally, they find a game they both enjoy: root beer roulette. We had meatloaf for dinner, which I know is not the most kid-friendly of meals, but I was still a bit disappointed that Gerrit spread his mashed potatoes all over the kitchen table and only ate ketchup.
Anyway, I was so caught up in the negative, feeling glad this day was almost over, that I very nearly forgot about my little miracle.
This morning, while on our way into the grocery store, Gerrit pointed out a butterfly that had just landed on a rough, white brick wall. Instead of hurrying into the store, I took him over for a closer look. We watched the butterfly for maybe a minute. I was so surprised that it hadn’t flown away. I put my hand beside the butterfly and it crawled onto my finger. I don’t know why, maybe it liked the chipped “Cherry Jubilee” nail polish, whatever the reason a butterfly stood on my hand!
The butterfly was so light it felt like nothing. We get so caught up in their beautiful wings — this one was yellow — but I also saw it’s distinctly bug-like legs. I felt a slight revulsion — there’s a bug crawling on me — but it was pretty cool. I’m sure Gerrit won’t remember the time his mom charmed a butterfly just so he could see it, and if there are many more Fridays like today maybe I won’t either. It did remind me, though, that neat things can happen anywhere — even in Albertson’s parking lot.