H.G. Wells eat your heart out. Yesterday I travelled back in time. For this temporal reversal I owe it all to ChicagoNow and something called QuickPress.
This is the order of events, at least as much of it as the gods of cyberspace permit me to reveal.
Thanksgiving morning I sat down before my computer screen and—as is my daily ritual— immediately visited the community of bloggers of which I am one: ChicagoNow. Everything seemed normal. Until the “para” took over.
I figured I’d write a brief verse on the occasion. Which I did. And christened it “A Thanksgiving Confession”. It drew like a magnet my usual enormous throng of readers whose number most of the time could be comfortably accomodated in a telephone booth.
Sorry, I ruefully digress. This post was published— according to the official timekeeper on the right— at 10:27 a.m. Absolutely synchronized with the actual time I posted it.
What followed was the breathtaking journey back to the past.
Later, after I attended to preparations for our communal Thansgiving Day feast, I thought I’d check on further developments among my literary associates on line. On the way there, Comcast had in its loop of stories something about celebrities who could trace their roots to those on board the Mayflower. That tickled my fancy and resulted in another outpouring of light verse. Which I entitled “Stars of the Mayflower: the Naked Truth”.
I finished this brainchild and published it just before two o’clock. Just as my son Jeremy, his wife, Laura, and granddaughter Abigail were coming in the driveway entrance. 2:00 p.m. P.M.
I waited a bit in anticipation of the post’s grand appearance on the right rail joining the other newbies on the “Latest on ChicagoNow”.
It never happened.
Instead, “The Stars of the Mayflower: the Naked Truth” had mysteriously taken a trip into cyberspace past. It had entered my ‘Recent Posts’ at 10:18 a.m.—9 minutes before my first post.
It was an unnerving thought, but I had in a sense bent the arrow of time. I felt a strange chill. I imagine like those bloggers who write about communicating with spirits do. It was something to relish.
Almost as much as that delicious turkey dinner my wife and mother-in-law so lovingly prepared.