Thursday, February 25, 2010

Wrong time, wrong place

Since I was a child I have been quite certain that I was born in the absolute wrong era. I'm absolutely fascinated with Ancient Egypt, Revolutionary America, Georgian England, the entire Victorian period and the Ante-Bellum South. I would have loved to have visited the temples of Amarna in their glory, witnessed America in it's pristine state, wandered the grounds of Pemberly (yes, I know it isn't a real place), experienced a Diamond Jubilee, and wandered the grounds of Monmoth before there was a CitGo across the street. There just seems to be a simplicity, an innocence and a purity that have been slowly chipped away at as the years have slipped past. Our chaotic daily pace must have been unimaginable to those who were willing to wait for weeks for the written word of a loved one to arrive by rider, or to never travel further in a day than your coach and team of four could carry you. I can't imagine how pure the air must have been, how strong the bonds of friendship, and how passionate the heart. If our ancestors had sat, transfixed by the television, would we still labor under the bonds of colony-hood? It's a point to ponder to be certain.
BUT-ah yes, that nasty little word-BUT... Had I been born in any of the above eras I would have already died no less than five times. First by ruptured appendix at 7, then by a nasty case of strep at 9, a horrific bout of the flu at 10, a ruptured gallbladder at 33, and a nasty heart condition at any old time. And of course, that is only if I hadn't been offed by yellow fever, an abscessed tooth, a rusty nail, or any myriad of ailments that I no doubt lived through but didn't realize ought to have killed me. AND, had I been fortunate enough to survive all of the above I'd have been nothing less than atrocious to look at. Cross eyed and buck-toothed does not a diamond of the first water make. Yes folks, born even 100 years earlier and I would no doubt have been a tombstone by 7, but if not, a spinster knitting quietly at home. Far more Jane Eyre than Elizabeth Bennett...
So where does that leave me? It leaves me quite content, thank you very much. I may fantasize about chivalry and gentility, but I can experience friendship and love in a time of technology and medical miracles. I can wander the grounds of Longwood, while talking on my cell phone. I can wear my bracelet circled by ancient Scarabs, while perusing the internet. I can sit on my settee, and text my sister on my iphone. I can read Pride and Prejudice for the 500th time, while flying to Oregon. And, I get to do it all with Mr. Big Prize, who didn't show up on this spinning ball until the mid-part of this century. So, it really is the best time to be alive.

1 comment:

Kerry said...

yes, I've often thought this about you as well.
I feel the same way. There is no doubt in my mind that I belong in a time period when being pale and a little pudgy automatically placed you in the highest levels of society and your bootylicious factor was determined by how many teeth you had.