Back in those halcyon days of the mid-’90s, my grade school class was assigned the project of burying a time capsule beneath the soccer field. A time capsule, of course, is a box that contains items that represent a certain moment in time, intended to show future generations what life used to be like. My class chose, if I recall, a Spice Girls album, a Twinkie(?), and various other pieces of crap that we didn’t feel too bad burying in the ground for a few hundred years, until they were dug up by the aliens whom we assumed would then be inhabiting our planet.
While I’m not sure those items really represented my generation adequately, I was perfectly happy with the contents of the time capsule. Any reason to bury a Spice Girls album underground was sufficient, as far as I was concerned.
Truthfully, I’m not optimistic about that time capsule ever seeing the light of day again. (Of course, if it is, Shemblak and Zemur from the planet Romulak will be sorely disappointed.) But recent events in Mexico City, however, give me new cause for hope.
A time capsule from 1791 was uncovered in the bell tower of Mexico City’s Metropolitan Cathedral. Its contents were considerably more impressive than my old time capsule’s: a small case of wax blessed by the pope, several medals, coins, and small crosses designed to protect the Cathedral from storms. And maybe it worked:
“Considering the cathedral’s history – it has been flooded, fought over and damaged as the soft soil it sits on sinks – the cathedral may need divine protection.”
What now for this old relic? “A new time capsule – with items from this year – will be placed into the stone ball [base of the bell tower] when it is closed again,” but it’s unclear what items will make it in. How about some music?