I thought I'd step outside the usual link-posting to share something that I'm not sure J-Fav even knows about me, which is the significance of Thanksgiving, 1984. You know, as it relates to time travel.
When I was younger, but old enough to know that my engineering mindset would land me somewhere in engineering/science-ville, I wondered for a moment about time travel. Since, obviously, if time travel became a common mode of spatio-temporal transportation, I'd be working at the time machine factory or have time-traveler buddies. (Look, I thought a lot of weird stuff up in fifth grade.)
So, the logic went: The popular press said that although time travel into the future is unlikely, perhaps one could skip back to the past. Somehow. I don't know how, something about spinning massive chunks of ultra-dense black cylinders near the mouths of black holes or something like that.
Then I wondered if I really would ever get to travel back in time.
Then I wondered if there was I way I could make sure to find out that I'd travel back in time, such as hiding a note near a landmark, or winning the lottery and saving the money for myself somewhere.
I finally decided that I would pick a date and location that I would travel back to if I ever had the chance, and meet my younger self there, and then as my (original) younger self grew up, I'd always remember that event. Since I'm bad at remembering just about everything, I figured the name of a holiday and an important-sounding year would be easy enough to reference back for a date.
So I picked Thanksgiving, 1984, in the town of West Orange, NJ.
Then I realized that if I was destined one day to travel in time, I'd be able to find out ahead of time - immediately - as soon as it was clear that I've fixed that date and location in my brain. Right? As long as it's after Thanksgiving, 1984, and assuming I won't forget that date, if I suddenly have a recollection of meeting my older self over Thanksgiving dinner in fourth grade, then I've proved that I will at some point in the future travel backwards to meet myself.
Except there's one problem.
There's, like, 100 places much more interesting to visit than that.
And then I start feeling guilty, because in 1984 I feel like there are a bunch of people I could run to and say very important things to that would change the course of their lives, and how selfish it would be of me to squander my one chance for time travel on mere tourism.
So, I suppose that it's insufficient for me to simply remember a date and place. I must still convince myself that's where I'm going, and not be seduced at the last second into traveling somewhere more interesting. Assuming I do get a chance to turn back the clock, I'd need to stop waffling about my destination if I want to know ahead of time if I'll get that chance.
In retrospect, this feels a lot less logical than it did in fifth grade.