ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, January 13, 1997 TAG: 9701150027
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: Ben Beagle
SOURCE: BEN BEAGLE
I wasn't happy to hear that people all over the country are now going nuts about time capsules - the century turning just a couple of years from now.
As usual, I will not be in step with your average American foolishness. One reason for this is that I don't have the strength to dig a hole for a time capsule.
Second, I don't have anything to put into a time capsule that would interest anybody. I'm willing my old Radford High School football helmet to the children - whether they want it or not.
It's a valuable antique, although it is not made of leather, if that's what you're thinking.
It has no face guard, no chin strap and I wouldn't recommend wearing it in any contact sport. But it's historic.
I don't know whether the kids will realize the value of this heirloom. If they want to use it as a pot and plant mother-in-law's tongue in it, that's up to them.
(No. I'm not going to get into a discussion of how I came to own this helmet. The statute of limitations may not have run out yet.)
Anyway, I'm afraid these capsules are going to become a matter of prestige; of keeping up with the neighbors.
You take a guy named Thurman, for instance, who has nothing to put into a buried bag or box that would interest even a Martian 103 years from now. His neighbor, Lamar, comes over and says: "Hey, Thurman. You ought to see my time capsule. I'm putting my Phi Beta Kappa key in it and Alice is donating her Miss America crown. And the two boys are throwing in one of their seven Super Bowl rings.
"The two girls are selflessly giving us all their Olympic gold medals and we're including the dog's best-in-show ribbons. I'm hiring a prestigious heavy-equipment firm to dig the hole."
Thurman has a few losing lottery tickets and his college diploma, which was marred when somebody spilled beer on it on New Year's Eve in 1967.
His wife, Carmelita, has a ribbon for finishing third in the Miss Dixie Cup contest in 1966 - which is not the kind of thing you'd want even a Martian to know.
I think the only way to even out such a situation is to put money in your time capsule.
If you send the money to me, nobody will know how much you put in there and I'll hire somebody to dig the hole.
After I get the money, I may not be immediately available to answer your calls but you can write me care of general delivery in Seattle.
LENGTH: Medium: 53 linesby CNB