“I want to be President so I can stop the war in Vietnam."
“Oh, honey, that’ll never happen,” she laughed.
Grownups always ask questions like that, as if a five-year-old could possibly narrow it down. The truth was, I wanted to be a nurse. And then a scientist. And an archaeologist. And a teacher if I had time. But mostly, I thought I’d be an inventor. Whatever nurses couldn’t fix or scientists couldn’t explain and archaeologists hadn’t discovered for teachers to teach, an inventor could take care of in about an afternoon. With time leftover to hang from the monkey bars.
It was a typical boring Sunday when I first got in touch with my creative side. We’d already been to church that morning with the other six people in our tiny congregation, but Baptists believed Sundays were for sermons and it always took at least two attempts for the preacher to get it right. That’s why I never saw even one episode of The Magical World of Disney or any of its Sunday night cartoons. By the time we got home, it was too late for Tinkerbell twinkles. Not even Professor Ludwig Von Drake or Mathmagic Land were part of my childhood. Sunday nights were for church, not fun.
“If I was a grown up, I’d invent a box that would make the World of Disney start playing after we get home from church,” I declared in a wistful voice.
“That’ll never happen,” my parents said. In 1964. Fifteen years before the first VCR hit the American market. We could have been so rich if they just hadn’t made me go to church every Sunday night. I knew it was a great idea. I was just ahead of my time.
When I was a kid, you only knew what time it was if there was a grownup around to ask. Owning your own wristwatch was a rite of passage. You had to earn the right to sport an analog timekeeper by knowing how to read one—digitals hadn’t been invented yet. There were a lot of styles back then, from pendant necklaces to pocket watches. But nobody ever wore one on their fingers. I wondered why.
“When I grow up, I’m going to invent a ringwatch,” I announced.
“That’ll never happen,” they said. Five years later we were in a jewelry store where, on display, I saw a selection of tiny little watches mounted onto rings. We could have been so rich. But I was ahead of my time.
Soon I grew up and gave up on inventions. I became a nurse to my children, a scientist in my kitchen, an archeologist in our garage, and a homeschool teacher. Technology was changing so fast, there were no new ideas left for me to invent just so other people could make money on them.
Then came Superbowl LIV—or 54, if you’re not familiar with the numerals invented by ancient Romans. February 2, 2020, Miami, Florida, and all the amazing commercials that are the real reason football fans support teams throughout years devoid of coronaviruses—so they can eat hot wings with friends and laugh at the genius ads created by Budweiser and FritoLay.
Not this year. This year the big winner was Hyundai and its new Smaht Pahk Sonata. A car that parks itself while you watch from the safety of the sidewalk to the amazement and gratitude of all your friends. No more DMV road tests with parallel parking skills. Just you and your instructor standing in front of a pizza parlor watching a driverless car do what most of America cannot.
I was thinking about this while my friend, Pam, and I were shopping recently. It was raining outside, and while I checked out, she got her car and picked up my soggy purchases and me at the front door.
“You’re an officer and a gentleman,” I told her as I ducked inside and buckled up. “You know what would be really great?”
“If you tipped me?” she
asked, shaking the water from her hair.
“Exactly! Who cares if a car can show off and parallel park itself right in front of you? What we need is a sedan with its own valet feature. A car that will drop you off in front of Hobby Lobby, go park itself wherever shade can be found even if it’s a mile away, and then pick you up at the front door again when you whistle for it, all cooled off and ready to go. Now that would be smaht.”
She was silent while she considered my genius idea. “That’ll never happen,” she finally said.
“Why not?”
“You’re ahead of your time.”
Story of my life. It’s okay. I’m on to something new. An improvement on our overheating Tempurpedic mattress. Cooling vents that kick in during hot flashes, but just on the woman’s side of the bed so her husband won’t complain about freezing all night.
Just to be sure I wasn’t ahead of my time, I googled it, and you know what I found out? It’s already on the market. You know, either there are spies everywhere or else there are no good ideas left to invent. But I was determined to try.
What about a hamster cage that powers a paper shredder? While the furry little guy gets his exercise, the wheel generates enough energy to pulverize my junk mail.
Or an egg cuber, a space saving gadget that could make a round egg fit into a square hole.
Maybe you're like me and multi-tasking is your thing. Wouldn't it be great if you could have your hands free to make dinner and still scroll through Facebook? The answer is a nose stylus! Sure, you'd look a bit like Pinocchio, but you'd be efficient.
I don't know how I come up with this stuff. The internet, of course. Every one of these ideas has already been invented. See what I mean? There’s nothing new under the sun. I’m too late to cash in on any other time saving contraptions.
I’ve thought about it long and hard and all that’s left is the one idea no one laughed at when I was a kid. With all that time I'm saving, I could re-discover my inner five-year-old, head off to the nearest playground, and hang from some monkey bars.
There’s just one problem. Now that I’m past my prime, I’m no longer ahead of my time.
It’ll never happen.
My thanks to TopTenAlternatives.co for the use of the fun photo above. The original can be viewed at https://toptenalternatives.co/
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