HERE

 4299

I have often told my counseling clients,

"There aren't any time machines."

(and)

"You can't go back and give your younger self guidance, or fix something you once broke."

(and)

"As much as you regret something you chose to do in the past, all you can do is learn from it, and move forward."

And the failure to heed this trivial bit of advice continues to "bite" every one of us.

It "came back home" to me again tonight.

I decided I would step into my 2015 silver Nissan Altima and drive the 15 minutes which separated me from the Lakeland Cinema 18, and buy a ticket to the movie, "Here."

(Did I say, "As much as you regret something you chose to do in the past...?" Yeah, I thought I did).

"Here" was a great example of this principle.

Having bought my ticket, and walked into Theater 4, I climbed the carpet-covered staircase to the top row of seats, and took my place dead center.

Til right up to 7:59pm, I was convinced that for the second time in my life, I would be the only one in the theater. However, just as the commercials began at 8:00pm, a young man and woman walked in, and found two seats directly ahead, but about five rows below me.

Twenty minutes later, the initial seconds of the movie, "Here" flashed on the screen. In retrospect, the only thing worse than the plot, (or lack thereof), of the movie was the regrettable admixture of several GD's; (something I have never learned to tolerate very well).

I mean, the premise, plot, (and apparent outcome), of the movie becomes apparent in the first 43 seconds. For you see, as "Here" begins we see an ancient landscape of mountains, and volcanoes, and rocks and rivers. The scene metamorphoses and now we see dinosaurs scurrying across the landscape. No sooner than these prehistoric giants appear, fire begins to rain down from the sky; (presumably a depiction of the great meteorite which fell into the Gulf of Mexico and hampers their wherewithal to breathe). Now, we see grass and flowers and trees and hummingbirds and deer. And now, an Indian unleashes an arrow towards the afore mentioned animal.

Now, we see a red brick mansion in what appears to be a wilderness area, and we fast forward through the next couple of centuries, and additional homes and roads appear. And now, we are looking through a living room window, and that red brick mansion looms large across the street. And now, we see a Model T rush by the window. And now, a man and wife, and a 1940's realtor in the midst of introducing the house to them.

Billy Joel sung what became a very popular song,

"And So It Goes"

Well, "And So It Goes" characterizes the movie, "Here" as well as any four words could possibly characterize it. Because, for the next forty minutes, one 2-5 minute scene after another, populated by a host of different people, over the course of several decades, occurs in that 20x20 rectangle; commonly known as a living room. 

Of course, while the stars of the movie are A.I. age regressed Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, their screen time is shared with numerous other Hollywood "wannabees" who frequent the myriad of scenes which take place in that living room, and which speak to everything from a man who invents a 360 degree lounge chair to a returning WWII soldier who takes up residence there with his wife to a boy artist who is, ultimately, more suited to a different vocation. 

An hour later I still find myself in that same boring little living room with all those boring actors dressed in the motif of whatever time period they hope to portray and continuing to strut and fret their stuff. An hour I can never hope to retrieve. But rather than make it two hours, I stand to my feet, and find my way to the carpet-covered staircase.

An hour I would never retrieve. 

But before the final minute of approximately one - six hundred fifty fifth thousandth of my life elapsed, and I crossed the threshold towards the red lit exit sign, I glanced to my left, and waved at the young couple. 

Two people whom I did not know, and who I will, in all likelihood, never see again. And yet, I consider the scant few seconds which it took to offer them a closing salute were inestimably more valuable than the hour I devoted to that convoluted movie; which I am equally unlikely to ever see again.

by Bill McDonald, PhD

*The math in the second to last paragraph is based on the fractional amount of time one hour is to the 655,000 hours the average American male experiences in the course of 75 years.