What Will You Take With You?

I just spent the twilight hours of this Saturday at the movies. The audience wasn’t nearly as noisy as the last time, but perhaps that is because I picked a film that is, itself, noisy: 2012. I’m glad I made it to the theatre before they got the chance to dub it all in Chinese and I would have to wait until it came out on DVD to see it. That wouldn’t be a terrible thing, necessarily, but I like seeing big blockbuster catastrophic films on the big screen. It’s great to get the huge effect.

The only part of the Chinese cinematic experience that bothered me this time (apart from there being no heat in the building – thank you, REI, for parka vests!) was the fact that the projectionist shut down the film before the credits rolled. People sure were in a hurry to get out of there. Personally, I am one of those people that like to stay until all of the credits have scrolled. I like looking at the names, who was involved in production, how big the crew, the music score information, and where it was filmed.

The end of the world is a frightening thought – for me, at least. A dear friend of mine always says that people like to think of themselves as living in an apocalyptic age. People enjoy feeling important, like they’re living in historic times. Perhaps that is true of many people, but not me. No, I would be perfectly happy and content with a boring life’s end. Give me a good old fashion she-died-in-her-sleep-at-the-age-of-94 death and I’ll be just fine with that.

But here’s a question for you: if we in fact are living in the eleventh hour of the End of Days, and if you had a chance to save yourself, what would you take with you? Apart from the obvious “loved ones” answer, what material possessions would be important to you? I’ve spent the past hour trying to think of my own response to that question…

First, I would have to take my baby teddy bear with me. His name is Lancelot. He’s a small, khaki brown GUND® bear with softer and lighter material on his four paws. He has a sad face and always looks like he’s crying. I’ve never washed him, so when I smell him, I can smell my childhood. For a 26-year-old stuffed animal, he’s in pretty great shape. You’d never guess his age by looking at him. I always assume most people’s teddies and monkeys and whatnot are always tattered from so many years, but my bear has held up. Lancelot has been with me all my life, and he has accompanied me on every one of my adventures so far – Australia, Spain, France, College, Ireland, England, China, Wyoming. He’s better than a passport. I wouldn’t let him miss out on the big trip.

Second, a must: literature. I’d also include literature of spiritual philosophy of world religions. Would want a copy of the Bible, the Qur’an, the Bhagavad Gita, etc. I would take a copy of the complete works of Shakespeare. This is a no-brainer, and I assume needs no explanation. He has been one of the most important writers in our history and he shouldn’t be left behind. I’d want him with me. I’d also want to take some key poetry with me, as well as certain prose, novels and such. Jack Ridl’s poetry would surely be first on my list. He was my dear father poet and I carry him, like Lancelot, wherever I go. I’d also take Craig Arnold, Kate Northrop and a few other mentors’ poetry. And for goodness sake, Elizabeth Bishop comes, too. Yeats, of course, and Keats. Some Brits, some Scots, and some Irish. Sappho’s in the bag, along with Dante, Chaucer, and Poe. In short, I could just say I’d bring a few volumes of the Norton with me. And just because the world needs an asshole, let’s bring Robert Frost.

Third: paper and pen.

Will writers be a necessity on a new world? Certainly. We are important. All of us. After all, “All the world needs is farmers and poets: one to feed our stomachs, the other to feed our minds.”