Letters To An
Overseas Friend.

The kindling station.

Felt good just working wood. So I made enough for several fires.

In continuation of our discussion on imagination, I was reminded of this story:

There once was a guy. We’ll call him, I don’t know… Archimedes. He was at a child’s birthday party one day. Archimedes was a grown up, but he was at the party for some reason. Let’s say because he is family. It’s not important. At this party, there were bubbles because kids love bubbles. And lots of bubble solution. And plastic cups. And plastic straws. Archimedes remembered something from his distant past:

1. You pour a little bubble solution into a cup.
2. Then you use a straw to blow into said solution.

Result: massive foam, whose massiveness was only outsized by massive fun. Bubble beards. Bubble coifs. Bubble clouds. And, as children make outrageous stretches with their outrageous thought processes, a bubble castle that, to the more inelastic imaginations of grownups like Archimedes, looked like an amorphous pile of foam on the lawn. Why the castle? So bombers can sprinkle sand on it and watch the castle explode. That’s why. Sometimes you build so you can destroy.

As the children in the post-toddler cohort did this, a toddling girl watched from a distance, looking like she wanted in on that. Badly. Archimedes saw her. And handed the now smiling toddling girl a cup ‘n solution set up. Why? Depending on who you ask, because he doesn’t think. But don’t worry. Before straw could come to mouth, the other grownups, let’s give them a representative and call this person Everyman, shut that down. “SHE’S TOO YOUNG,” said Everyman. “SHE’LL DRINK IT,” Everyman educated. Smart Everyman. Stupid Archimedes, depending on who you ask. Shameful Archimedes, didn’t think it through, did you? Well that is a problem but that’s no problem because problems have solutions, thought Archimedes. “She looks pretty smart to me. Why don’t we start with water in place of the bubble solution and see if she grasps the concept of blowing into the straw?” Queried Archimedes. “NO,” said Everyman.

The older kids played on. The toddling girl spectated. The older kids eventually moved on to other activities. So did the toddling girl. And an adequately good time was had by most.

Proofs of concept. Fart jokes. Things that look like other things. These were our competing interests…

When I try to do something cool and fresh (fresh to me) with the youngsters, it fails I’d say about 80% of the time. A frustrating number to be sure, but then you get a reminder that that means you succeed 20% of the time. This evening’s small scale aviatorial dream was one of the 20%. Some notable failures from the past include the Lego man that walks by himself (lifeless), vinegar powered vehicles (more intricate than I anticipated), harnessing the power of lightening (please), and anything remotely related to aviation*.

Rory recently got a book of paper aeronautical designs, and she wanted to make a plastic bag parachute. But we’re mad scientists. We don’t do tried, tested and true. We do this:

It’s based off a mental image I have of a Leonardo da Vinci drawing. Although I realize now I might be thinking of his helicopter. How accurate my design was, I didn’t care at that point. Because it actually worked!

The real thing doesn’t even look like it has any right to not fall apart in my hand. Believe me, the photo is too flattering. I am not a delusional man. I was emotionally prepared for the disgrace of failure. But before accepting defeat, you must have persistence. That’s why I love a good rapid prototyping session (it even sounds cool: RAP-ID PRO-TO-TYP-ING). But while I was doing real and important science through iteration, Max preferred to distract us with word games (like calling it a fart-o-type and a para-fart). Rory insisted our creation was a worm and needed to make the thing look more worm like. Efficiency suffered. I just couldn’t keep everyone on the same page.

Worms have eyes I’m told:

Cool is relative. Of course.

The best laid plans of the children and this man gang aft agley. But not this time! Rory got to enhance the visual design of our craft. Max got to entertain us all with his comedic stylings (as well as gathering raw materials), and we all achieved slowed aerial motion via manipulated air flow. By any measure, the evening was a success and a good time was had by all.


*In spite of that, I believe I am still looked upon as a trick-full magician. But for how long?