Michael Burkett

This morning, my son told me that he & his pal, Brian, are going to build a time machine, so they could zap themselves back to pre-history & cavort with the dinosaurs. Should they succeed, I’m going to ask them to drop me off in my own childhood. Nothing against the Jurassic period, but it hardly seems as exciting as a world where anything is possible. Sure, there are disadvantages to being a kid. There is homework, chores, siblings with not sense of territorial imperative. On the whole, though, kids are pretty lucky. They can find a penny on the sidewalk & feel rich. They can find a fossil shaped rock & feel like Indiana Jones. Kids never feel guilty for eating too much or exercising too little. They can run butt-naked through the sprinkler without giving millisecond’s thought as to what the neighbors might think of their chubby little thighs. When kids are sick, everything in the world comes to a stop except mom, the Campbell’s soup company, & TV. When they get mail it’s always from: a friend, Highlights magazine, a greeting card, or a box-top prize. Kids believe that death means falling down, getting up & resuming play. To kids, life is forever. In a sense, they’re right. When you live & play & cry & love, entirely for the moment, as kids do, there is no such thing as time….only time machines