K.M. Topping's Blog

I’m no physicist, so I take Einstein’s word for it that his Theory of Relativity proves that time travel is possible. At least theoretically.

But, as Stephen Hawking has pointed out, if time travel really is possible, then why is it we have never been visited by people from the future?

Some scientists argue that traveling backwards in time is impossible because of what they call the “grandfather paradox,” which introduces the idea of someone traveling back in time, killing his own grandfather before his father was conceived, therefore making his own existence impossible.

I can’t even attempt to answer any these questions, but what I can say is this: if I could time travel, I would wouldn’t go to the future, I would go back to the past, and try to correct some of the mistakes I ‘ve made in my life.

Wish you had the keen eyesight of a hawk on the lacrosse field? Try wearing a hawk feather in your hair.

At least that’s what the ancient Native Americans did to improve their eyesight for lacrosse games. To run faster, they also wore the tails of horses or wolves. And to gain the power to strike opponents with the force of a rattlesnake, they would eat one before a game. But rabbit meat was considered taboo, because rabbits easily lose their wits when hunted and no player wanted to behave like a rabbit when on the playing field.

The Native American belief system that all living things possess spirits was at the root of their culture and influenced their daily life.

A people so dependent on nature for their survival, the Native Americans played lacrosse to please the Gods of Thunder, believing that the victorious team would earn their tribe fair weather, plentiful crops and good health.

That is why, for the Native Americans, winning a lacrosse game really was a matter of life and death.

What would you think if your best friend bet his wife and kids on the outcome of the Super Bowl game? Assume he’d lost his mind?  Suggest he seek counseling for an obviously out-of-control gambling addiction?

If it seems inconceivable, think again.

Think back a few centuries, to a time when lacrosse was more than just a game. And winning really was a matter of life and death.

Many people may already be aware that the sport of lacrosse originated with the Native Americans, but very few understand that it wasn’t just a form of recreation, it was much more than that.

When two tribes argued over the rights to fish in a stream, a lacrosse game would settle the matter. It was a brutal, war-like game, used to toughen and train young warriors for combat.

In fact, the Native American term for lacrosse, “Tewaarathon,” literally means “Little Brother of War.”

Because the victorious team would win the favor of the Gods, winning meant everything.

Losing meant starvation, sickness and disease.

The fate of the entire tribe rested on the outcome of a game and people bet heavily. Each bet was met by an item of equal value. Usually the wager was a treasured tomahawk, a fine necklace or prized horse. But once in a while it was a wife or child.

Fifteen year-old lacrosse player Hunter Crispian, his absurdly smart little sister, Tilly, and his quirky best friend and lacrosse teammate, Chase are sailing to the Bahamas on a family vacation. “It will be the adventure of a lifetime,” Hunter’s dad promises. Talk about an understatement. Caught in a strange, sudden storm in the Bermuda Triangle, Mr. and Mrs. Crispian vanish into thin air and the three children are transported back to the year 1711, smack into the middle of a highly-charged conflict between two Native American Indian tribes. When the tribal chiefs declare a “Tewaarathon” or lacrosse game known as “Little Brother of War,” Hunter and Chase soon learn that this will be no ordinary lacrosse game. In a contest without pads or helmets, rules or referees, the stakes are high. Win and the children shall go free. Lose and Hunter will die.

Fifteen year-old lacrosse player Hunter Crispian, his absurdly smart little sister, Tilly, and his quirky best friend and lacrosse teammate, Chase are sailing to the Bahamas on a family vacation. “It will be the adventure of a lifetime,” Hunter’s dad promises. Talk about an understatement. Caught in a strange, sudden storm in the Bermuda Triangle, Mr. and Mrs. Crispian vanish into thin air and the three children are transported back to the year 1711, smack into the middle of a highly-charged conflict between two Native American Indian tribes. When the tribal chiefs declare a “Tewaarathon” or lacrosse game known as “Little Brother of War,” Hunter and Chase soon learn that this will be no ordinary lacrosse game. In a contest without pads or helmets, rules or referees, the stakes are high. Win and the children shall go free. Lose and Hunter will die.

Fifteen year-old lacrosse player Hunter Crispian, his absurdly smart little sister, Tilly, and his quirky best friend and lacrosse teammate, Chase are sailing to the Bahamas on a family vacation. “It will be the adventure of a lifetime,” Hunter’s dad promises. Talk about an understatement. Caught in a strange, sudden storm in the Bermuda Triangle, Mr. and Mrs. Crispian vanish into thin air and the three children are transported back to the year 1711, smack into the middle of a highly-charged conflict between two Native American Indian tribes. When the tribal chiefs declare a “Tewaarathon” or lacrosse game known as “Little Brother of War,” Hunter and Chase soon learn that this will be no ordinary lacrosse game. In a contest without pads or helmets, rules or referees, the stakes are high. Win and the children shall go free. Lose and Hunter will die.

This is my first post! Hooray! -Hunter