The (mostly) true story of a time traveler

My first day in 1933 was far more difficult than I expected. It’s hard to understand how we’ve spread out, unless you go to a time when we weren’t that way. Remember, virtually all the pictures you see of the past showing the people, the fashions and the buildings of civilization were taken in the cities, towns and villages where people gathered. “The country” wasn’t in vogue through most of our history, that’s a fairly recent thing. So, when I found myself in 1933, I was shocked at how small the areas of human habitation were. The country was a big place, and again, I’d left my car in 2008.

Fortunately, I’d taken to wearing sturdier shoes than the 2008 knowledge worker usually wore, not because I knew I’d be thrust into a veritable wilderness without warning at some point, but because I tried to wear clothes that wouldn’t look completely out of place. The last thing I wanted to do was find myself in 1933 wearing a pair of running shorts, Michael Jordan t-shirt and Nikes. So, it was usually chinos, a plain shirt and heavier shoes. That turned out to be a really, really good idea.

It was pretty clearly morning when I appeared in in the scrub that would become Mira Mesa in the early summer of 1933,  so with go-bag in hand, I set off for what would become Kearny Mesa, figuring I could “dead reckon” my way to San Diego, going from one landmark I knew was here in 1933 to the next. First stop, Montgomery Field.

What I didn’t know at the time, was that there was no Montgomery Field in 1933. A lot of my life (lives) have revolved around aviation. My Navy days in my second run through the early middle part of my life had me in the air a lot, and in my first trip through the 80s and 90s, I flew recreationally. If fact, I still hold a Single Engine Land Pilot’s License, though I’d be crazy to fly until I become completely capable of staving off a time shift. Anyway, I had assumed that with San Diego’s great aviation tradition, Montgomery Field existed in 1933. I was wrong.

I was also uninformed about what DID exist in the area in 1933. As I headed south-southwest toward what would become Kearny Mesa, I came out of the low spot in the scrub that I’d appered in, and began to see a HUGE building ahead of me. It was a long, long way off, but was clearly immense. I had absolutely no idea what this building was, until about 20 minutes later, when a massive shape started to emerge from it. It was an airship hanger. My military aviation memory then kicked in, and I realized that I was looking at Miramar Naval Air Station, home to the Navy’s airship program. Obviously, the program didn’t exist in the late 20th and early 21st centuries, but here, now, in all it’s gigantic glory was an airship and its hangar. It was breathtaking.

Since the airship program was on the cutting edge of military aviation at the time, I decided to take a very circuitous route and avoid the area altogether. I really didn’t have a good answer to why I was out here, slightly strangely dressed with a couple pieces of futuristic technology in my bag. Getting to my initial destination, which I decided would be Coronado, took a bit longer, but the extra steps were worth not having to answer questions.

More tomorrow.

Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted. 8 months for you, I’m told, but just over 3 years for me. Thanks to everyone who has written, followed the blog, sent your thoughts and good wishes, and generally been interested in what’s been happening to me.

I returned here three days ago, traveling from 1936. I did indeed travel to 1933, met my Grandfather, and somehow survived the experience of being tossed into the past. The fact that I had been warned and prepared for the trip was what saved me. I’m not sure I would have lived through the experience. Don’t get me wrong, 1930s America is a civilized place, there’s simply not the safety nets or systems to keep someone from slipping through the significantly large cracks in the society of that day.

My expectation was, if I traveled to the past at all, was that I would feel myself slipping into the “mist” as I call it, a “fuzzing out” of reality and a slow sharpening back in when I arrive at the new point in time and space. That’s what it’s like. I feel subtly disconnected with reality, a kind of depersonalization a few seconds before the light starts to dim and everything around me becomes increasingly more indistinct. When my entire world seems to be the inside of a cloud, shadows start to show themselves, then shapes, and then the world returns to clarity in a few seconds. I’m not sure what it looks like from someone else’s perspective, since I haven’t talked with anyone who has seen me disappear or appear. I expected to return to the physical world near Belton, a short walk away from my grandparents’ house.

I was wrong.

On that day in December, I was driving to work and had just gotten off the 15 in Mira Mesa, when I started to feel the “mist” coming on. I swung into a parking lot, speed-dialed Molly’s cell, jumped out of the car, opened the back driver-side door and grabbed my leather go-bag, a leather, 1950s vintage briefcase that I hoped would pass for the proper period piece in the 30s (it did, by the way). I started to tell Molly that “this is it,” – I was feeling like this was a big trip, but before I could get the words out, the world went away. When it returned, I wasn’t anywhere near Belton, but seemed to be somewhere close to the spot in Mira Mesa where I had disappeared. I was in a field of scrub brush near San Diego, California, and without the benefit of landmarks, couldn’t tell exactly where, but it somehow felt close to the place I’d been in 2008. I had traveled many years into the past, but not far at all in terms of geography.

I realized immediately that I had a long trip to Belton, Indiana ahead of me. The only problem was, I’d left my car in 2008.

I’m not here indefinitely. Dan tells me just over 2 weeks, so I’ve got to be judicious with my time. Over the next few days, I’m going to try and give you a brief account of what I went through in 1933, and share some things I feel compelled to tell you about. I have to warn you, it’s not all good news.

More tomorrow. [Read more →]

There is a countdown clock running. Every second that clicks away, means we’re a second closer to Rich leaving us again. He arrived here two days ago. I was in the kitchen, washing new glasses and dishes and putting the away, when I heard voices outside on the porch. I immediately knew that Rich was back. Putting the glass I was drying down, I crossed the front room in a few steps. It’s cool enough to have the front door open, with the screen door shut, and as I got there, I could see Rich and Dan both standing there, Rich’s back to me. The first thing I heard clearly was “I was trying to get to Molly. Damn it!”

I smiled and said “Looks like you found her.” The look on Rich’s face was wonderful, a combination of surprise and relief. He bounded up onto the porch and grabbed me in a hug. My husband was home. For a short time, anyway. Dan quietly made his exit, and we spent a few moments alone, not talking, just hugging, before going inside to find Samantha.

*     *     *

It’s late at night, two days after Rich’s return, and I’m the last one still awake at this place that Dan calls “Mobius Manor” I’m not sure exactly what it’s for, but Rich was insistent with Dan that he build it for him. It’s very nice, not exactly my taste, a log-cabin type style, but nice and comfortable. The setting is beautiful, in the middle of the woods, on a piece of property that Dan tells us the Rich who left the time capsule in 1952 purchased through a trust. Who is in control of the trust, I’m not sure, and no one’s talking. Both Rich and Dan claim they don’t know who is calling the financial shots, and I have to tell you, this concerns me a little. No, actually it concerns me a lot. I thought there were a lot of unanswered questions before, but that was just the beginning. This thing is getting deeper and deeper, and the only people who seem to know anything about it aren’t here. Richard Girrard obviously knows the whole story, but not the 50 year old Rich that’s here. The Rich he’ll become knows it, but he doesn’t exist in 2009, so I don’t have access to him. I guess that I, like everyone else here, has to wait for time itself to reveal the story.

In two days, Dan’s mother, also named Samantha (we named our Sam after her) will be here. We haven’t seen her in a number of years, but there are always Christmas and birthday cards. We used to see her often, but once Samantha got to about age 3, things seemed to change. She was still as attentive, just from a distance, by phone and later, email. Her husband, a successful attorney in Chicago, had died that year, so we attributed her withdrawl to that. Dan had no explanation, either.

Dan swears he hasn’t told his mother what’s going on with us, but I suppose it’s possible that she’s reading this blog. Samantha does email, but at her age, I’d frankly, be surprised if she was all that web savvy. Maybe I’m wrong. When Dan told us last night about his mother coming, it was obvious he didn’t know why. Samantha and I were shocked, as was Rich at first. We had just finished dinner, and were having some wine. All of us were in extremely happy spirits, but Rich’s mood changed when the information sunk in. He wasn’t upset, you could just tell that he was considering something complicated.

What would Dan’s mother have to do with that?

Anyway, Rich snapped out of it 15 minutes later, and our conversation turned lively again, as my husband told us about his adventures in the thirties. He’s got several notebooks of information – notes, stories, and information. It’s been 3 years (for Rich) since he typed on a keyboard, but he said he’d do a blog post in the morning. I told him how much the audience of The Time Traveler Blog had grown, and how many emails we’d gotten, and Rich was floored. He was a little uneasy about the story being so widely known, but both Dan and I assured him the number of cranks were few. He loosened up about it at that point.

Hopefully, more from Rich tomorrow.

Mobius Manor is getting crowded, but I have to admit, it’s a fun crowd. Rich got here yesterday. It was one of the most shocking, yet wonderful things I’ve ever experienced. It was about 8 in the morning, and I walked out onto the large front porch with a cup of coffee, knowing that according to the information that came to me through the buried ammo box time capsule, Rich would appear any minute. I have to admit though, that despite the fact that I had built this house in about a third of the time that was really needed, all on the prediction that my friend Rich Girrard would suddenly appear here from 1936, I’m not sure that I truly believed it would happen.

I had just taken a sip of coffee, and as I pulled the cup from my mouth, I saw him walking toward the house.

“Dan?” Rich asked, surprised to see me. Of course he would be surprised to see me, I thought. The Rich who told me he’d be here was much older, and this meeting was part of his past. The Rich in front of me didn’t know I’d be here. This Rich smiled and came trotting up to the porch, his hand extended. He was a little thinner. A little more fit than the last time I’d seen him. Significantly more in shape than the Rich who left here 8 months ago. 3 years in the past had been good for him. I was a little startled too, when I noticed that he seemed to have more hair. How’s that work? I asked myself, making a mental note to ask Rich that same question later.

We shook hands briefly, then he hugged me, slapping me on the back.

“What’s the date?” He asked.

“August 14th,” I replied. “Two thousand nine.”

He nodded, and considered the answer. “Just about what I was shooting for!” He said, excitedly.

Seeing my puzzled look, he explained. “I’ve been away for 3 years my time, and I’m starting to learn to control where I end up. I’ve even been able to hold off traveling twice!” He said, a proud look in his eye.

Then, Rich looked around, seeming to see the house for the first time. “What is this place? Where are we?”

“Well, I call it ‘Mobius Manor,’” I answered, “it’s your design.” I smiled, for once knowing something my friend didn’t.

“I designed it? What are you talking about?” He said. “Wait a minute,” he said, almost interupting himself, and turning around to look out from the house. “Where are we?”

“A couple miles outside of Belton.” I answered.

Rich frowned, sighed subtly and suddenly seemed distracted, looking off to the side as he seemed to be calculating something in his head.

“Why would I come here?” He said quietly to himself. Then, seeming to remember I was standing with him, to me, “I found that I’ve been able to direct my traveling to both places and to people.” He shook his head. “I was trying to travel to Molly. Shit.”

“Looks like you made it,” said a voice behind us, from inside the house. Rich and I both spun around. It was Molly.

Rich’s face lit up like it had done every time they were together when they first met. In the space of two heartbeats, Rich crossed the porch and took Molly into his arms, hugging her tightly. I could hear her softly crying as she held him.

I decided to go check on a couple jobs I was working on in the detached garage/workshop.

I have to admit, as I worked on sanding one of the legs of a chair I’d bought along with 3 matching pieces at an estate auction, the feeling I got from being an important player in the reunion I just witnessed choked me up a little. My two best friends were together again, and of all the things I’ve done in my life, the money I’ve made, the businesses I’ve built, the degrees I completed, this one project, that was just paid off with Molly and Rich embracing was the most satisfying I’ve ever been a part of.

I got to the workshop, a smile still on my face, and heard the chirp of my Blackberry, telling me an email had just arrived from one of my important contacts. I pulled the phone out of my pocket, and read the message.

For some reason, my Mother is coming to Mobius Manor. She didn’t say why, just that she’ll be here on the 18th.

What’s this all about?

Dan here. Molly and Samantha got here a couple days ago. I picked them up at the airport in Indianapolis, and brought them to the house. I was happy at how much Molly liked it, but Samatha? Not sure she was all that crazy about being here. Sure, she’s happy about seeing Rich, but as for the house? I think she’s a little uneasy about it.

Molly and I have agreed to update the blog without reading the blog, if that makes sense. We had a long talk the night she and Samantha got here, and decided together that we wanted to play this out on the website as it happens, from our own perspectives. I didn’t want to read what she’d written, and she wanted to stay insulated from my thoughts. There will be plenty of time to read the whole story later.

I hope.

As I said before, I believe Rich knows things about the coming years, and wants Molly and Samantha (and hopefully him) to have a safe place to live. I think the answers are all here, in this “storage device” that was in the ammo can/time capsule, and though I’ve got the cube that it fits into, I have no idea how to access the information on it. There’s no cable, power cord or anything. I put the cylinder in the cube the only way it seems to fit, but nothing happens. I’m guessing that Rich knows how it works.

And speaking of Rich, he’s due to return in a week, on August 19th.  I understand his visit will last two weeks. I’m very much looking forward to it. He’s coming from a time some 3 years after he left. We here at “Mobius Manor” have traveled forward in time about 8 months, while Rich has traveled over four times as far.

I also wanted to tell everyone who has written that we appreciate your emails very much. I wish we had time to reply to all of them, but as you can image, we’ve been very, very busy, and I have to say it…Time is short.