PLANNED RANDOMNESS

Is random really random?

Is there free will – or just fate?

Two questions bitterly dividing our family for decades.

It began after I bought a 301-disc capacity CD player (Kids, ask your parents), offering a ‘random’ option, representing ‘back in the day’ state of the art technology – previously, discs playing alphabetically, frustrating ZZ Top fans.

Unfortunately, the player switched discs verrrry slowly, but randomized.

Or did it?  

To decide, our son volunteered “Is random really random?” for his science fair project.

I don’t recall his methodology – or if there was methodology – but he did the project himself, satisfying one of our parenting strategies: Figure it out yourself!

Whether it was:

Finishing your homework – My Captor scheduled after-school ‘homework time’, but on them to finish – if they didn’t have homework, she assigned some;

Helping with their homework -I gave incorrect math answers for weeks before they quit asking;

Science Fair Projects – I screwed up my projects myself, you can too!

The last led to Parenting Rule #22: “The Science Fair Theorem” – Your parental success is inversely related to your level of participation in your kid’s science fair projects.   

But in hindsight, who knows if any of it worked – our kids went to state schools.

Same strategy for Boy Scout Pinewood Derby, my son’s car the only one prepared without parental involvement, predictably finishing dead last. Or not finishing at all, stuck midway down.

On the plus side, kids have to face crushing disappointment at some point, and he later learned to drive a stick. And Webelo Schmeblo…

But I’m sure his project received an A – it was 1998 and the last B given nationally was in 1995 – but I still don’t know if random is random – if you’re going to let them embarrass themselves, follow up questions are inappropriate.

Later, ‘Is random really random’ became a family project staple, the additional learning being “a good white board elevates any project” – and how Pfizer got the covid vaccine approved.

I relentlessly non-intervened, even for projects: “What makes mud?”, “Does One die when they hold their breath too long?” or I saw them stick the dog’s paw into an electrical outlet- part of a history report on Ben Franklin.

So, if you’re anticipating an answer to: Is random really random, I can’t help you.

And if you’re still expecting to learn something from these, I really can’t help you.

But upon further consideration: Isn’t life one big science fair project?

The most popular topics:

When is enough enough?

‘The Meaning of Life’.

‘Does fate hate me, or what’?

But today’s subject: “Does man have free will?” And if so, will it still exist after marriage?

Note to My Captor: Second thing not my idea – preordained…

The evidence abounds, but contradictory.

After an embarrassing night out, clearly there’s no free will, those IPAs were preordained.

On those rare occasions when I do something thoughtful, definitely free will – I meant to do that.

But the white board display: “Would we live differently if free will existed?

The standard answers:

If yes -I’d use my time better, be nicer to people, not get that ‘Mom’ tattoo;

If no – Not my fault I don’t use my time better, aren’t nicer to people, and not repaying my student loans.

And while “It was fate! Couldn’t be helped!” – a report card excuse back in the day – is a convenient excuse for bad behavior, it sure is fun to use every now and then.  

But perhaps the answer really is no: With free will, I might have thought of a clever end to this post…

For 204 more posts like this –each with a wish, if we’re allowed– go to beersatthenifty.com. Your phone will display every post, and you can waste an hour or two.

Or send me an email to the site, and I’ll add you to my Sunday distribution.

TO ENHANCE YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THIS POST, PAIR IT WITH THE FOLLOWING SONGS:

If I’d been allowed to choose the music, I might have gone with something different, but these two are contemplations of fate and love:

Do We Choose Who We Love?   The Waterboys

From Above Ben Folds 

They even looked at each other once across the crowded bar
He was with Martha, she was with Tom
Neither of them really knew what was going on
A strange feeling of never, heartbeats becoming synchronized

It’s been that way forever but most of the time it’s just near misses
Or kisses once at a bookstore, once at a party
She came in as he was leaving and years ago at the movies
She sat behind him, the 6:30 showing of “While You Were Sleeping”

He never once looked around

It’s so easy from above
You can really see it all
People who belong together
Lost and sad and small
But there’s nothing to be done for them
It doesn’t work that way
Sure we all have soulmates but we walk past them every day

And it’s not like they were ever
Actually unhappy in the lives they lived
He married Martha, she married Tom
Just this faint notion that something was wrong
An ache, an absence, a phantom limb

An itch that could never be scratched

Neither of them knew what was going on
A strange feeling of never,
Heartbeats becoming synchronized

Stay that way forever

Who knows whether that’s how it should be
Maybe a ghost lived in that vacancy

Maybe that’s how books get written
Maybe that’s why songs get sung
Maybe we are the unlucky ones