The plot of Netflix's series "Dark" centers around the "bootstrap" or "grandfather" paradox - which poses the question of whether a person could alter events or even lives if they traveled back in time to change things that have happened. In the series, one of the characters remarks, "How well do we actually know our parents?" I'm pulling from memory because my one attempt at Googling the quote produced no results.
This isn't a dark piece delving into the theories of the paradox, nor even the good, bad, ugly, or beauty of knowing those who came before us.
But the question of knowing them and, specifically, my grandparents, has occurred to me lately, and has me reflecting on the memories I do have.
Those who raise us get to see most, if not all, of our best and worst moments. From spelling bee triumphs and getting a driver license to class failures and car crashes - and everything in between.
But it's difficult to see the other way. I remember my mom graduating college - with 2 teenagers AND straight A's; no idea how she accomplished that. I remember my some of my dad's best moments, always helping strangers for no reason, starting Platelets & Pints clubs, and finding friends wherever he goes.
A lot of the memories are hazy at best.
They're even hazier for my grandparents. There's a picture somewhere of my grandfather holding a baby in his baseball glove. I think it's my sister, though I'm sure he held me like that also. Baseball was always central in our relationship - my grandma called recently just to make sure I was watching ECU in the College World Series (they lost).
Some weekends when I was in middle school my grandma would pick us kids up and we'd ride in the fold-down seats in her extended cab Ford Ranger and make us listen to country the whole way. (Inside reference: yes, mom I did grow up listening to country - just not in our house). My grandfather would work on pitching mechanics with me, we'd walk around the neighborhood saying hi to neighbors, and he even tried to make us go to church on Sunday.
I never loved church, other than the girls at church. But I suppose going as a kid instilled a sense of reverence for something greater than me.
Some of my best, and maybe least hazy, though still hazy, memories of my grandfather are going to baseball games and playing baseball. We'd talk through situations, why the players were doing this or that, what the pitcher was going to throw next, and what the batter should be looking for. I wanted to be Tom Glavine or Greg Maddux, playing for the Atlanta Braves.
"Don't rub it!" They'd yell from the bleachers when I'd get hit by a pitch.
My grandparents always did their best to make sure they were there for us. Took us on road trips, visited for holidays when they lived far away, hosted us on weekends when they were close, tried to let us watch the Big Lebowski until they remembered how much cursing was in it, made me run and eat salads 'cause I was a lil' chunker, took us out on the boat to watch fireworks on the lake, and, of course, watched baseball with us - in person, on TV, whatever.
Though I don't know my grandparents during their younger days and these memories are what I'll always have of them, I know there's more to their lives. Just like my life there was good and bad times, painful and beautiful moments.
I got married recently - 9 days ago, actually. One of the best and most beautiful days of my life. We planned during COVID and weren't sure what the regulations were going to be so we planned for something small - parents, grandparents, very close friends and family. Luckily, the vaccine came out a few months before the date and it was safe for older folks like my grandparents to come.
I don't remember when my grandma started asking me, but it was probably around the time I turned 5, when I would get married and have kids. Every time we'd chat she'd ask if I'm dating anyone and getting married soon. When I was young I thought I'd be a bachelor forever, but I soon realized I wanted too badly to be with someone, so that wouldn't be my fate. But not just someone - the right someone. So, I had to wait. Sorry, grandma.
It was her dream to see my bride in a beautiful dress, and her grandson in a handsome suit. I'm sure she's also waiting for us to make the next big "announcement." Sorry, grandma - might have to wait for that, too.
I wish I knew about my grandparents' wedding, where they went for their honeymoon, what they ate and experienced. I wish I knew what they were like when they were young, what music they were into and what they did on Friday nights. Did they go to baseball games? I know my grandfather came along, married my grandma and adopted her kids when he was very young - half my age - but I don't know much about their youngest years.
Things were certainly different back then, but I can't imagine adopting a kid when I was in my teens! They ended up raising a damn good kid who turned out to be a great dad and, with my mom, raised another damn good kid (that's me!)
There's one of them internet things going around right now where people draw on a piece of paper taped to the next person's back. They go down the line of 3-4 people and the end result is a messy jumble of lines that nowhere near resembles the original picture. It's funny and each person interprets and puts their mark on the next.
If each person was just copying the original it wouldn't be near as fun.
The grandfather paradox asks if we could go back in time and change something, would it forever alter the future? If I could see the original picture on my friend's back I'd just copy it and there wouldn't be any interpretation along the way - it would just be boring and there would be no story.
If I could go back and spend more time with my grandfather, get to know who he was throughout his life, and learn more I would. I would probably like to change a lot about my younger years - hindsight is 20/20, eh? - I would love to know more, see more, and do more. But maybe it would forever alter who I was, who they were, and how our lives unfolded - the end result might be much different. If I'd have done a few things different I wouldn't be where I am. And what I have now is a messy, jumbled, wonderful picture of the people who made me who I am.
However good or bad or ugly or beautiful that picture is, it's the one I have and I'll always cherish it.
The one constant through all these years, has been baseball... life has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. But baseball, has marked the time. This field, this game, is part of our past. It reminds us of all that once was good and what could be again.
- modified from Field of Dreams
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