Thursday, January 12, 2012


It’s nothing to brag about but I believe I have a good imagination; at least I imagine that I do. However, I am not sure I can imagine all the changes (good and bad) science and technology will bring us. The other day I shared my lack of vision with my smart friend Jim. Like most of my friends, Jim had an opinion. He thinks cloning will be the next big thing and that if people our age live another 30 years they will most likely live past 100. That got me thinking.

Let’s imagine that someday cloning yourself would be as easy as copying a document. Maybe Time-Life will introduce the “Home Cloning Kit,” (some assembly required, must be 18 or older, and has been know to cause depression in some cases).

Having a duplicate me to have around would make old age more attainable. With someone to help shoulder the stress my life expectancy should naturally increase. Plus, if I can get past all the creepy stuff that accompany cloning, it would help solve the all too frequent problem of needing to be in two (or more) places at the same time.

For instance, last Saturday I needed to be in four places. To begin with I have found that I am much happier if I have my column written Saturday instead of Sunday night (Grandfather Clock is about to strike nine).

I couldn’t do that though, because my younger sister, Joanne, and her family had come down from the North Country to have a weekend at a hotel in the Cities. Some things can wait and some are clearly more important than others.

I didn’t have all day to do that either because I wanted to watch the basketball team my son coaches play in a tournament here in town. But, I also wanted to go see my cousin Sheri perform with her band, “Locklin Road,” in Le Center for the official kickoff of the St. Patrick’s Day season.

I would never trust anyone else to write my column (not even another me) – even if it meant an improvement. Maybe time with my sister would have been a better option to send my clone to. Family comes first. I could get a full report from my clone at the end of the day.

“So how was time with Joanne and her family?”

“Not so good. I kept mixing her and her daughters up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t keep their names straight. They look so much alike. They should wear name tags.”

On second thought, maybe that’s not such a good idea.

Maybe the basketball tournament would have been a good choice.

“How was the tournament?”

“I didn’t stay.”

“Why not?”

“Apparently there are expected rules of decorum that you aren’t aware of.”

“Such as?”

“Well it seems that referees are sensitive about their eyesight. I was asked to leave.”

Forget that one. Perhaps I could have sent my clone to see my cousin play Irish music.

“What’s this I hear about your behavior in Le Center?”

“I thought you liked to dance.”

“But not on tables, and certainly not the jig, how embarrassing. And singing with the band? I can’t sing.”

“Maybe you can’t, but I can. It was fun. You know you should spend more time with your cousins. They’re fun.”

“I know, I know. Don’t start OK?”

You know when I think about it, I can’t imagine how cloning would add years to my life; it would only seem like it. One of me is more than I can handle anyway.

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