Give me a child until he is seven and I will show you the man - Jesuit maxim
Top Dog
or Doctor Futurity, aka Mr. Don, Peers into the Mists of Time Future
by Don Plansky
“When I was three years old I was already a fashionista,” nine-year-old Nina informs me. “Fashion design has always been in my life.”
Did I put on matching socks this morning? I stare uncertainly at my feet. Will Nina notice my scruffy Keds? Fashion is not my strong suit. I change the subject.
“What’s your favorite TV show?”
“My Dad got me to start watching The Simpsons. Now it’s one of my favorites. I like Regular Show, too. Nothing is regular on that show.”
“I love The Simpsons!”
I pull out my DVD cover sleeve for The Simpsons Movie, the only item I’ve brought from my “Me-Bag” today. I show Nina my story, “Homer’s Odyssey,” an homage to my hero, Homer J. Simpson. Singularly unimpressed, she says, “That’s nice,” and politely pushes it away.
“The great thing about The Simpsons is that adults and kids can watch it together just like you and your Dad. Grownups see things in that show that kids miss,” I add with a faint touch of erudition.
Who am I kidding? Nina is more sophisticated than I was at nine—or now. She could do a commentary track for The Simpsons Movie. Fashionista? She’s already a sophisticate, light years beyond my boldest cultural aspirations. For heaven’s sake, her favorite hobby is skiing! I’ve confirmed what I always suspected: my mental age is somewhat south of nine. If summer vacation were not so near, I’d try to get a transfer to kindergarten where I could be top dog.
Raniyah and Kiawa are not on friendly terms today but agree that SpongeBob SquarePants is a great show, a cartoon I secretly admire but whose watery depths I’ve been unable to fathom with all the linguistic tools of post-modern analysis. “Patrick [SpongeBob’s sidekick, a starfish of singularly low intelligence] is funny,” says Kiawa. “Yes, Patrick is funny,” I admit. Funny is funny. Maybe third grade will work out for me.
Nina is the 14th kid from Jeremy Armes’s third grade class from Washington Elementary in Berkeley that I’ve interviewed. As a volunteer for Experience Corps Bay Area (ECBA), I’m expected to help bring some of the children up to grade level in reading and writing. This goal is best achieved by one-to-one tutoring sessions. But the kids seem to enjoy the interviews which, in any event, have helped us get acquainted while aiding me in tailoring the one-to-one sessions with Sota, Frances, Kiawa, Owen and Xenia to their backgrounds and interests. During the longueurs of the interviewing process I sometimes reach into my Me-Bag, pulling out various knickknacks and objets d’art that have become a matter of intense speculation among some of the kids. Owen keeps asking what I’ve got in the Me-Bag. Other kids have made discreet inquiries about my Senior Clipper Card ever since I asserted that it possesses “magical properties,” not the least of which is a more than 50% discount on BART.
Did I put on matching socks this morning? I stare uncertainly at my feet. Will Nina notice my scruffy Keds? Fashion is not my strong suit. I change the subject.
“What’s your favorite TV show?”
“My Dad got me to start watching The Simpsons. Now it’s one of my favorites. I like Regular Show, too. Nothing is regular on that show.”
“I love The Simpsons!”
I pull out my DVD cover sleeve for The Simpsons Movie, the only item I’ve brought from my “Me-Bag” today. I show Nina my story, “Homer’s Odyssey,” an homage to my hero, Homer J. Simpson. Singularly unimpressed, she says, “That’s nice,” and politely pushes it away.
“The great thing about The Simpsons is that adults and kids can watch it together just like you and your Dad. Grownups see things in that show that kids miss,” I add with a faint touch of erudition.
Who am I kidding? Nina is more sophisticated than I was at nine—or now. She could do a commentary track for The Simpsons Movie. Fashionista? She’s already a sophisticate, light years beyond my boldest cultural aspirations. For heaven’s sake, her favorite hobby is skiing! I’ve confirmed what I always suspected: my mental age is somewhat south of nine. If summer vacation were not so near, I’d try to get a transfer to kindergarten where I could be top dog.
Raniyah and Kiawa are not on friendly terms today but agree that SpongeBob SquarePants is a great show, a cartoon I secretly admire but whose watery depths I’ve been unable to fathom with all the linguistic tools of post-modern analysis. “Patrick [SpongeBob’s sidekick, a starfish of singularly low intelligence] is funny,” says Kiawa. “Yes, Patrick is funny,” I admit. Funny is funny. Maybe third grade will work out for me.
Nina is the 14th kid from Jeremy Armes’s third grade class from Washington Elementary in Berkeley that I’ve interviewed. As a volunteer for Experience Corps Bay Area (ECBA), I’m expected to help bring some of the children up to grade level in reading and writing. This goal is best achieved by one-to-one tutoring sessions. But the kids seem to enjoy the interviews which, in any event, have helped us get acquainted while aiding me in tailoring the one-to-one sessions with Sota, Frances, Kiawa, Owen and Xenia to their backgrounds and interests. During the longueurs of the interviewing process I sometimes reach into my Me-Bag, pulling out various knickknacks and objets d’art that have become a matter of intense speculation among some of the kids. Owen keeps asking what I’ve got in the Me-Bag. Other kids have made discreet inquiries about my Senior Clipper Card ever since I asserted that it possesses “magical properties,” not the least of which is a more than 50% discount on BART.
My 65 years of terrestrial existence have been singularly devoid of external incident. Nothing much has happened to me. I have no great stories of adventure to recount. I have hardly traveled anywhere. As to internal experiences, effectively invisible to others, these have been momentous and decisive but inexplicable. The situation appears otherwise with several of the young interviewees.
Sota was only four years old, living with his family on the northeastern coast of Honshu, Japan’s main island, when a magnitude-9 earthquake unleashed a ferocious tsunami on March 11, 2011 that took the lives of nearly 16,000 people. He was alone with his dog, Akira, whom he saved from drowning. The two of them scampered up the slopes of Mount Fuji. When it was safe, the boy and his dog made their way down the mountain to a police station where he was reunited with his family.
Bennett, like his classmate, Calder, is an only child. He exudes a quiet intelligence. He’s fascinated by planes, constantly looking at videos about them on YouTube. He recently flew to his Dad’s hometown in Honduras. He and his family are planning on a trip to Iceland as well as a Bahaman cruise. Many of the other kids are well-traveled.
The interviews that take place at a table at the end of the hallway near the stairwell, far from the keen eye of Mr. Armes, sometimes take an unexpected turn. Before I open my mouth, Raniyah demonstrates a backbend on the floor. When she pops up she makes the unmistakable signs of someone about to do a cartwheel.
“I don’t think you should do that, Raniyah. It’s dangerous.”
This was not covered in any of the ECBA training sessions. Shall I use up one of my lifelines and ask for help from Jeremy Armes? Better save it for later.
While Nina fills up her notebooks with clothing designs, Elizabeth, who loves writing, math and science fiction, draws animals, trees, mountains and buildings. She wants to be an architect. When I was examining Owen’s flamboyant but structurally precarious building the other day, constructed out of paper and straws, Elizabeth came over, and said, “I can fix that,” then strategically placed a straw to bolster the collapsing edifice.
Sota was only four years old, living with his family on the northeastern coast of Honshu, Japan’s main island, when a magnitude-9 earthquake unleashed a ferocious tsunami on March 11, 2011 that took the lives of nearly 16,000 people. He was alone with his dog, Akira, whom he saved from drowning. The two of them scampered up the slopes of Mount Fuji. When it was safe, the boy and his dog made their way down the mountain to a police station where he was reunited with his family.
Bennett, like his classmate, Calder, is an only child. He exudes a quiet intelligence. He’s fascinated by planes, constantly looking at videos about them on YouTube. He recently flew to his Dad’s hometown in Honduras. He and his family are planning on a trip to Iceland as well as a Bahaman cruise. Many of the other kids are well-traveled.
The interviews that take place at a table at the end of the hallway near the stairwell, far from the keen eye of Mr. Armes, sometimes take an unexpected turn. Before I open my mouth, Raniyah demonstrates a backbend on the floor. When she pops up she makes the unmistakable signs of someone about to do a cartwheel.
“I don’t think you should do that, Raniyah. It’s dangerous.”
This was not covered in any of the ECBA training sessions. Shall I use up one of my lifelines and ask for help from Jeremy Armes? Better save it for later.
While Nina fills up her notebooks with clothing designs, Elizabeth, who loves writing, math and science fiction, draws animals, trees, mountains and buildings. She wants to be an architect. When I was examining Owen’s flamboyant but structurally precarious building the other day, constructed out of paper and straws, Elizabeth came over, and said, “I can fix that,” then strategically placed a straw to bolster the collapsing edifice.
As I observe, interview and tutor the kids, I’m reminded of Michael Apted’s Up series of documentary films which, beginning in 1964, followed the lives of 14 British children from age seven to fifty-six (so far) with one episode every seven years. The first film, Seven Up, opens with the narrator stating, “The shop steward and the executive of the year 2000 are now seven years old.” I wonder if the passions and gifts of Jeremy Armes’s third-graders will unfold in accord with their inmost natures (swadharma, Skt.), or will their skills and talents be obscured by economic factors, ill fortune, family tragedy, illness or psychological trauma? Perhaps difficulties will serve to enhance, not diminish, their lives. For a moment I glimpse their lives unfolding without obstruction. . .
Elizabeth has designed a monumental domed palace “from the inside out,” inspiring and beautiful to behold. There’s plenty of room for everybody, including Phaedra and Jaiya, who are still best friends and agree that Top Dog has lousy food. Theo has just finished the 14th volume of his popular science fiction series, Aliens from Outer Space, filled with comic scenes between funny-talking aliens and humans. Raniyah, who loves math (she recently pointed out a hidden pattern in the multiplication table to Mr. Armes), has helped with the specifications of Bennett’s spaceship, currently docked and awaiting the opening of Elizabeth’s massive domed ceiling for the trip to distant Alpha Centauri. (Marc served as the chief civil engineer for Elizabeth’s wonderful edifice.) All the colorful clothes of the inhabitants are styled, of course, by Nina. Phaedra tends to the medical needs of the human population, while Frances, whose favorite show is Animal Cops and who wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up, takes care of all the sick animals. Kiawa and Judah are still running wild, but there’s plenty of room here for boundless energy. One of the other tutors, Jeffrey, told me that “Kiawa is one of the alpha males [“Top Dog,” by another name] during recess,” and I’ve observed him leading his posse as he moves at lightning speed across the basketball courts. He will find a place here, as will all the others not mentioned: Cyrus, Greta, Julian, Maya, Olivia, Riyaz, William, and Lily.
Epilogue
I hope one day to receive an honorary doctorate in Futurological Studies. No longer will I be known by the pedestrian “Mr. Don,” but rather, the day will come when I may well be addressed as “Doctor Futurity,” respected and esteemed throughout the world as the man who boldly dares to peer into the mists of Time Future, though, like the blind soothsayer Tiresias, he cannot see what stands before him.
Don Plansky
6-6-15
Elizabeth has designed a monumental domed palace “from the inside out,” inspiring and beautiful to behold. There’s plenty of room for everybody, including Phaedra and Jaiya, who are still best friends and agree that Top Dog has lousy food. Theo has just finished the 14th volume of his popular science fiction series, Aliens from Outer Space, filled with comic scenes between funny-talking aliens and humans. Raniyah, who loves math (she recently pointed out a hidden pattern in the multiplication table to Mr. Armes), has helped with the specifications of Bennett’s spaceship, currently docked and awaiting the opening of Elizabeth’s massive domed ceiling for the trip to distant Alpha Centauri. (Marc served as the chief civil engineer for Elizabeth’s wonderful edifice.) All the colorful clothes of the inhabitants are styled, of course, by Nina. Phaedra tends to the medical needs of the human population, while Frances, whose favorite show is Animal Cops and who wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up, takes care of all the sick animals. Kiawa and Judah are still running wild, but there’s plenty of room here for boundless energy. One of the other tutors, Jeffrey, told me that “Kiawa is one of the alpha males [“Top Dog,” by another name] during recess,” and I’ve observed him leading his posse as he moves at lightning speed across the basketball courts. He will find a place here, as will all the others not mentioned: Cyrus, Greta, Julian, Maya, Olivia, Riyaz, William, and Lily.
Epilogue
I hope one day to receive an honorary doctorate in Futurological Studies. No longer will I be known by the pedestrian “Mr. Don,” but rather, the day will come when I may well be addressed as “Doctor Futurity,” respected and esteemed throughout the world as the man who boldly dares to peer into the mists of Time Future, though, like the blind soothsayer Tiresias, he cannot see what stands before him.
Don Plansky
6-6-15
