The Trailing Edge

Good morning, readers! Our friend Ben is couch-potatoing for awhile. He wants to learn about real news, fake news, kids' programming, "adult" programming, marketing, management, game shows, home-shopping, American cinema, and how the world laughs with us when we laugh. He's also updating his diary. Ben has a lot to say, but sometimes it requires a trip to Colonial Williamsburg for Jas, Trevor, and Warren to interpret. So for the foreseeable future, we will be back to random blog observations from The Urban Blabbermouth and Vol-E, who are never at a loss for observations, even if Ben would read them and look at us askance over the tops of his bifocals. When Ben returns from his fact-finding mission, I'll post the announcement in big letters with an eye-catching graphic. Meanwhile, thanks for reading...everything. /v

                Previous chapter From the journal of Warren Hopper, as told later to Jasmine Judge I got an immediate reminder that Ben had never ridden in a car, when he sat in his seat, unbuckled, and I had to show him how to work the seat belt. He might as well have been taking a trip on the International Space Station -- he was so fascinated by every light, chime and gauge in my Nissan. It had been a long time since I’d had a kid riding with me, but I felt compelled to say the same thing to Ben: “Look at anything you like, ask me anything you like, but please don’t touch anything.” A friend of mine had learned this the hard way when his young son impulsively yanked on the center-console emergency brake lever when the car was going about 40. If not for the seat belts, the injuries would have amounted to much more than just a lot of painful bruises around the midsection. I saw the purple mark and never forgot it. Ben seemed to understan...

           Here's where our story begins. Previous chapter Ben apparently enjoyed a restful nap. He retired to his room after a relatively light lunch and stayed there for a couple of hours. I should have done the same. Instead, it was at my body clock’s personal ebb tide when Ben emerged, smiling, and said he was eager to resume our studies. He had questions about everything. As before, he was really intrigued by restaurants. On the front page of the advertising circular he’d looked at was an ad for a place called El Sombrero, a couple of towns over. Ben wanted to know more about Mexico and why so many people seemed to like food that originated there. I called Trevor in to assist, and he did a beautiful job of filling Ben in on Mexico’s relationship with Spain (which would have been current during the American Revolution) and key developments since then. “When we get back to history, which will be soon, we’ll talk about the Louisiana Purchase in...

                        Previous Chapter Now that Ben was aware of photography, we all felt freer introducing him to materials that featured images. We were no longer strictly limited to the printed word. I had another goal for Ben. Just as his notations had stymied me, I saw that the present-day version of the written word was difficult for him to slog through. We would have this gap unless he got some guidance. Having served as a Literacy Volunteer for many years, I got the job. The day after Gerry’s visit, we’d all slept in a bit, so I left breakfast preparations to the guys and went out in the morning. Though I was tempted to make a side trip to see my folks, I postponed it; I wanted to get started with Ben as soon as possible. My first stop (after Starbucks) was a local chain drugstore. I picked up several pairs of reading glasses, hoping at least one would suit Ben. Whatever he couldn’t use, I planned to casual...

                     Previous chapter Gerry intended to head back to East Rutherford at the end of the evening. Our sofa was available for an overnight, but he said he had “always hated that thing.” But it was quite suitable for conversation. We transferred the pot of brewed coffee to the small but comfortable living room. For the first time, we lit a fire. Actually, Warren and Trevor laid it but Gerry got it going. He’d been doing it since he was a teenager, staying here with his grandparents. Ben informed us that he “much enjoyed” a good winter fire and would be pleased if we assigned him that chore, along with his barn tasks. “So, Ben,” Gerry asked, “What types of 21st century things have you learned about from this crew?” Ben proceeded to tick off various innovations such as zippers, electricity, radio, telegraph, telephone, indoor plumbing, microwave ovens, refrigerators and automobiles. Gerry nodded. “Good. What abo...

Previous chapter Friday. We ate a light breakfast and lunch because Gerry had warned us that an Italian feast would be arriving with him shortly after sunset. I wondered: With New Jersey traffic being what it was, especially on Friday afternoons, he might be delayed. Nonetheless, we made sure that we and the house were ready to greet him. Gerry had asked us so many questions about Ben, it was even more amusing when Ben started quizzing us about Gerry! Ben seemed to have established a mental picture of our friend, mostly based on his name and age. He considered 40 to be a “mature” age -- this was hilarious to us. Gerry was inordinately fond of fart jokes and paintball weekends. Out of respect, we declined to tell Ben anything about Gerry’s stretch in Federal prison, even though it hadn’t been a long one and the process that he hoped would lead to the conviction being overturned was underway. Gerry is fundamentally honest and decent, albeit naive and gullible. He comes from the...

                                 Previous chapter The next day was busy, as we knew it would be. Ben handled the lice issue with as much equanimity as he did everything else, and of course he was well aware of the problem. He apologized for having brought an old worn-out comb with him and asked if we might get him a newer one when Trevor went to the store. He showed us his lovely comb, carved from ivory. As one, we stood with our hands behind our backs, refusing to touch it.  Warren had decided to go to the store with Trevor, since a supermarket was right next to the drugstore and we now had a fairly sizable shopping list anyway. The guys thought I could soften Ben up on the subject of present day cleanliness standards, promising to take a more “hands-on” approach with him once they got back. I smiled inwardly, trying and failing to picture my two post-doctoral buddies becoming strong-arm...

            Previous chapter The story starts  here... November 18, 2030, 11:00 p.m. Here I go again, journaling in the night... Just glad I don’t have to sneak now. God, what a day. It’s all I can do to just breathe. Because beyond that, there’s just nothing that will calm my mind. I keep telling myself to grow up. If things were reversed, and I woke up in Ben’s time, and this thing happened, I would have to deal. Getting hysterical would make me look, well, hysterical. Every living person during that time dealt with this, and they survived. Ben dealt with it his entire life. We really are a bunch of wimps here in the 21st century. This is my journal, and no one else will see it, so I don’t even have to go into detail. But I’m thinking that writing it out, wringing out all the horror onto the page will help me to feel better. Maybe even to sleep. I’ll bet the guys are tossing and turning. Trevor will be at the drugstore tomorrow morni...