Fringe and the Long Goodbye

I watch too much television. I know all the arguments for what a time waster TV is. Sitting in my comfy recliner with a bag of Cheetos and a Dr. Pepper, what do I have to show for my evening? One hour closer to the grave, with time I could have better spent writing a poem, reading a good book, learning to play the violin, painting my masterpiece, listening to great music, volunteering at the local soup kitchen. Or all of the above, if I ever learn the secret of multitasking.

But there are certain shows that draw me in; that are consistently good, and occasionally great. My current favorite is Fringe, now struggling through its fourth year, always hanging on the edge of cancellation (one of the perennial indicators of greatness in TV land). It's well written, well acted, multi-layered, quirky, dark, shocking, funny, cerebral, and occasionally profound. It offered up a generous helping of profound a couple of weeks ago, and I'll get to that in a moment.  But if you are unfamiliar with Fringe, and feel the urge to seek out the episode I'm about to spotlight, I recommend you visit this link:  http://www.fox.com/fringe/101/   It will bring you up to speed on how our heroes Olivia, Peter, and Walter made it - relatively intact - to season four.

In the November 11 episode "And Those We Left Behind," Peter is still trying to get Olivia (his significant other) and Walter (his father) to remember him. Peter has been in parallel universe limbo since he sacrificed himself to keep the universes from colliding (if you're not a science fiction fan, please indulge me for a moment?). His plan worked, in the sense that the Fringe teams in each universe (each has its own Olivia and Walter, as well as most of the other characters) are now working together to save their worlds, despite some serious trust issues. In our universe, Olivia has seen Peter in her dreams, and Walter has seen Peter's reflection in windows, although neither knows who he is. When Peter finally makes it back, he is believed to be a spy. Olivia has no memory of their years together, and Walter is furious that some imposter is claiming to be the son he lost in a drowning accident at age seven. Whether Peter will bring them around, or if he may have returned to the wrong universe (maybe there's a third?) and needs a ticket out will be resolved in future episodes. "And Those We Left Behind" shines a different kind of light on what Peter is going though, while offering an unflinching look at a very real memory killer.

Since Peter's return, there's trouble with time. Time "bubbles" are appearing, portals that lead to 2007. The Fringe team naturally gets the call, and they eventually track the source to a home in Brookline, Massachusetts. The occupants are Kate, a professor of theoretical physics, and her husband Raymond, an electrical engineer. Kate had been close to publishing a working theory of time travel until she had to retire in 2008 due to early onset Alzheimer's Disease. Unable to bear watching Kate slip away, Raymond has used the years to construct a "time chamber" based on Kate's unfinished work. His need is to return Kate to 2007 so she can finish the equation, but he had been unsuccessful until recently, when his chamber started functioning (apparently due to Peter's universe hopping), allowing him 47 precious minutes per day with his wife of four years ago. Those minutes are used so that Kate can finish her work, and Raymond can have her back permanently. We see Kate working on the equation, not quite sure why her husband is so insistent that she hurry. At the end of 47 minutes, she vanishes and reappears in another room. It is 2011 again, and Kate reverts to her advanced Alzheimer's stage. Just one more 47-minute window will allow Kate to finish the equation, and Raymond waits anxiously for the next day.

The Fringe scientists determine that the next bubble will occur in a busy traffic tunnel that was solid rock in 2007. Someone has to visit Kate and Raymond and make sure they don't use that chamber again. It's complicated, but Peter gets the assignment, confronts the couple (just as the 47 minutes have started) with the consequences of what they're doing, and Kate makes a difficult decision. Against Raymond's wishes, she destroys the record of her work and begs him to turn off the chamber. Their happiness is not worth the death of other people. Raymond tearfully complies, and the Kate of 2011 is back to stay.

I was searching for an appropriate quote about time from Einstein or Hawking, but this one seemed to fit:

The most precious resource we all have is time.  - Steve Jobs

Time travel has been a staple of science fiction forever (and maybe longer). Star Trek used it often, and Quantum Leap pretty much covered it. But this Fringe side story takes it to another level. In his latest novel, Stephen King's protagonist uses time travel in an attempt to alter history by preventing the assassination of President Kennedy. But I think most of us, if we had the chance, would use the opportunity the way Raymond did: to return to a time when those we love were all still with us in body and mind. Alzheimer's takes no prisoners. Famously, it took President Ronald Reagan from us, and it is currently cutting short the creative life of singer Glen Campbell, among many other notables. But all of our lives have been touched by it. If yours hasn't, it most assuredly will be. In our family, my mother-in-law Viola Lewis bravely faces each day. For her and her loved ones, it is - and will be - a long and painful goodbye. 

As Baby Boomers begin to reach the peak onset Alzheimer's age, surely a cure will have been found. If not, there won't be enough hospitals to hold us all. In the meantime, all we can do is hold our loved ones close, pray, and donate our dollars.

http://www.alz.org/

On Fringe, Peter's current plight is perhaps deliberately (only screenwriters Robert Chiappetta and Glen Whitman know for sure) a twist on what Alzheimer's patients experience: instead of forgetting everyone he knows, he must try and reawaken everyone's memories of him! It would be nice if those we love who suffer from this horrible disease could eventually pass through to an alternate universe where all their loved ones wait to be introduced to them again. Maybe Fringe will one day revisit the subject, and figure out a way for Raymond to get his Kate back. 

If you own a working time machine, I'd like to hear from you. While I'm waiting, there's an unfinished bag of Cheetos and a Dr. Pepper calling me. Did I mention that I watch too much television? Let's see what's on tonight...

Once Around the Bases

Blame it all on Mantle and Maris. What they did to fire the popularity of baseball in 1961 echoed through the years with American youth. Beyond Little League and other organized forms of the sport, thousands of unofficial neighborhood "teams" were created from the ground up by the very kids who played on them. Mine was the Whetstone Sluggers, named after a enchanting pond deep in the woods of central Maine, where the members of the Sluggers spent their summers swapping baseball cards and trying to figure out what girls were all about.

The 1961 New York Yankees, and especially the pursuit of Babe Ruth's home run record by that team's Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris, kicked it up a notch for all of us.

By the summer of '62, we'd built our own ball field (quite a story in itself that I will explore at another time) about a half mile run from the Pond. We breathed baseball that summer. Any day that wasn't a rain out meant a game before lunch, and several games after. Naturally, we had our own home run race that year, which I won (again, a story for another time). But what I most carry with me about that time was how much we all loved the game and each others' company.

I wish I had photographs of that summer, but I didn't get my first camera until 1965. So what I offer you here is actually a reunion shot of part of that '62 team of mine. I don't recall that we ever had more than eight players on the field at one time (two teams of four), and that was on a good day. If we had less than four show up, we played "hit 'em where they ain't," a great game known by as many different names as there were kids that played it (and still do, I hope). The roster changed as families entered and exited the Pond community during the course of the summer. The main teammates I recall are Jim Harvey, Bob McLellan, Stuart Perkins, Alan Perkins, Clive West, our great cheerleader and occasional player Susan West, and our unofficial mentor and grand poobah Paul Just. (I apologize to anyone I left out due to foggy memory.)

The photo is a very obviously posed shot taken in Guilford, Maine, many miles away from the original Sluggers Field. Left-to-right: Stuart Perkins, James Harvey, Robert McLellan. Jim had obviously outgrown the rest of us by then (he was always the oldest player on the team), as his expression discloses. He is my oldest friend, and he recently retired to the good life in Maine. Bob is my cousin and friend, who relocated to Florida many years ago, and who still follows the New York Yankees with a passion (I graduated to the Boston Red Sox when Carl Yastrzemski arrived). Stuart I lost track of until Jim found him for me in the mid-'80s, during one of my visits to Maine. I recall he was working at the time (perhaps we caught him on his lunch break), so we just exchanged how-ya-bins and promised to catch up another time. After all, there's always tomorrow. Which I why I write this today.

I received a short note from Jim last week, the first in many years. Enclosed was the program from "A Service of Loving Remembrance for Stuart Wilson Perkins: May 1, 1951 - October 5, 2011." The service was held on October 29 at Guilford United Methodist Church in Guilford, Maine. Not far from where that photo was taken. I looked Stuart up on the Bangor Daily News obituary page. Obits always put a positive spin on things, but it looks like he had a full and rewarding life. He went to college, got married, had a son, and worked hard all his life. He gave back, first as a volunteer firefighter in Guilford, and later in Florida (where he moved in 1994) as a volunteer at Tidewell Hospice in Sarasota. I remember him as a good kid who loved baseball and his friends and family. He always showed up for work and play with a positive attitude and a smile on his face. His obituary states: "Stuart will be remembered as having the gift of never having known a stranger." That's Maine-speak for he was one heck of a good person who was loved by all. It fits him well that the kid I remember grew into a decent human being.

We only get to go around life's bases once, and Stuart Perkins rounded them in style. He could have been on my team anytime.  Maybe one day I can be his teammate again.

http://bangordailynews.com/2011/10/10/obituaries/stuart-w-perkins/