Thursday, August 18, 2011

I Am the Doctor

Photo by Nathan Greenwood
Last month I went to the county fair along with some of my brothers and sisters. In less than an hour I was wondering why I had come. I'd already been on all of the sane rides twice, and managed to get tricked onto one of the insane rides and was sorely wishing I had just stayed at home and read a good book instead. I don't like the rides that people go on for thrills and this being the country fair and all the thoughts that run through my mind are all the people that would die if the thing broke, and the likelihood of it breaking, and the fact that if the maintainers are anything like the ride operators I wouldn't want to trust my life to their hands... The only thing that kept me sane on one particular trip was the thought that there was no way I had lived this long only to die on a malfunctioning ride at the county fair. If I was going to die young it would be in a car accident or something else normal, not in a freakish accident at the hands of a stupid operator.

I had wanted to go though, and my siblings had bought my ticket for me, so I had to enjoy myself somehow. We got there at about 6:00 and the fair didn't close until 10:00 and I was at my wits end what to do. I rambled at my sister, who was in the unusual position of being forced to listen to me ramble while we were standing in line for one of my favorite rides. (It didn't leave the ground.) I explained which rides I liked and why I liked them and I analyzed my reasons for liking them and came up with the following premise:

I like kid rides. I like rides that you go on with a kid and you wave your arms about and scream and get them to stare at you and ask why you're screaming. I like making up stories about the adventures that the rides represent and having a kid to tell those stories too. I like having someone to make a fool of myself too. I wasn't having any fun that day because it was the older kid's night out and there was no child for me to interact with.

"You could always come with me."
Like taking the Doctor and sticking him in a room full of stuffy Time Lords.

"We have the privilege of viewing all of time and space." We have the privilege of the freedom of the world. We have the authority, the cars, and the money to buy tickets and go to the fair. We're adults; we're mature, responsible, and stuck with the dull drudgery of running the world. We envy the children we once were running carefree with their games. They envy us our lack of school, the freedom that they see our lives. By sharing our lives with theirs we can recapture the innocence of childhood and teach them the responsibilities of adults. Only in the presence of a child can I stop behaving as an adult.

"I can't see it anymore. You make all of time and space your backyard, and that's what you have. A backyard.  But you... you can see it. And when you see it, I see it."

In front of us in line two eager excited girls were informed that they couldn't go on the ride without an adult. They ran over to their mom, but she wasn't interested in riding and told them they'd have to find another one to go on. I stepped out of line and told the mom that if it was all right with her they could ride with me. I was an adult; and for one shining moment I was the Doctor.

I could fix things, I could help children. I can enjoy the universe by showing it to others, as I enjoyed myself on that ride with two strangers. My brother and his friends were "too cool" to hang out with me, but I didn't mind them any more. I didn't get another Doctor moment that night, but I kept my eyes open.

The Doctor isn't just a character from a British TV show. He's a concept and an ideal. He's the child inside every one of us begging to be expressed, and that's why so many people associate themselves with him. You can be the Doctor and share the glorious parts of life with every one of your companions.

1 comment:

  1. Aw, I love how you stated it. I will be on the lookout for opporitunies to be like that.

    PS: I found your blog from