As 2013 comes to a close, because this probably will be my last post of 2013 (unless, of course, something comes up that I can’t resist blogging about before my next turn a week from now), I had thought of doing one of those cheesy end-of-year lists related to the topic of science-based medicine. Unfortunately, I couldn’t come up with anything I haven’t already done. I even thought of coming up with a list of New Year’s resolutions for 2014. In fact, I even thought of making the first one—in a self-deprecating manner, of course—to be to stop being so mean, nasty, and dogmatic, the better to satisfy my detractor
s. But then I remembered that nothing is likely to satisfy my detractor s and, besides, my ever-lovin’ cuddliness is what makes me so popular. Besides, I have to be me and gotta be true to myself, and all that rot, so that idea went out the window. Of course, what was worse than my inability to come up with something was that I couldn’t think of a way to make it funny. When you’re trying to be funny following the inimitable Mark Crislip, you’d damned well better be funny. So, until my humorous instincts come back, serious it has to be.
But serious doesn’t necessarily mean heavy. The end of a year is a time both to look back on the year before and look forward to the year to come. This year in many ways was a good year for us here at SBM. We launched a Facebook page, reinvigorated our Twitter feed, and have experienced a significant growth in our traffic. Those who know me and/or follow me on various social media know that I’m a big Doctor Who fan, I have been since the 1980s. So the last two big events of the year, the 50th anniversary special in November and the Christmas special on, well, Christmas got me to thinking about time travel, and thinking about time travel revived memories of a topic I covered on my not-so-super-secret other blog four years ago and had been meaning to treat here sometime. It’s a fun topic to finish out the year, not to mention a way for me to blatantly sneak Doctor Who references into an SBM post.
Being a Doctor Who fan and all, not surprisingly, I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be able to travel through time and visit times and places in history that I’m most interested in. For instance, being a World War II buff, I’d certainly want to be able to check out what everyday life was like here in the U.S. during World War II. Given my affinity for psychedelic music and that I was only four years old during most of the Summer of Love, I’d think it cool to check out Haight-Ashbury, although I suspect my reaction to the reality of it would be similar to that of George Harrison when he checked it out for the first time. I guess, if pushed, I’d have to admit that if I were old enough to have been a high school or college student in 1967, I probably would have been one of those straight-laced, short-haired types destined either to go to college to become a doctor or engineer, or to go to Vietnam to fight. Despite loving the music, I never had any interest in experimenting with the drugs. Beer, wine, and—occasionally—a martini or two are my drugs of choice and then only for medicinal purposes, as they say. Heck, I never even tried to smoke tobacco. Even as a child I couldn’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke to the point where it was never even really a temptation.
In any case, what provoked my original bit of musing was a post a few years ago by Martin Rundkvist, who wrote about Fear of Time Travel, where he imagines what it would be like for a modern person to be transported back in time:
First, imagine that you’re dropped into a foreign city with only the clothes you wear. No wallet, no hand bag, no money, no cell phone, no identification. Pretty scary, huh? But still, most of us would get out of the situation fairly easily. We would find the embassy of our country of origin, or if it were in another city, contact the local police and ask to use their phone. A few days later we would be home.
That’s not the scary scenario I rehearse. Imagine that you’re dropped into the city you live in with only the clothes you wear. No wallet, no hand bag, no money, no cell phone, no identification. And it’s 500 years ago. (Or for you colonial types, 300 years ago in one of your country’s first cities.)