This must be the place: ‘Your future is whatever you make it, so make it a good one’

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This must be the place: ‘Your future is whatever you make it, so make it a good one’

‘The West,’ somewhere in South Dakota. Garret K. Woodward photo

By the time this newspaper hits the streets on Nov. 12, it will have been 70 years to the day since Marty McFly was accidentally sent back to the future (1955) in a time machine created by Doctor Emmitt Brown in Hill Valley, California. The film was “Back to the Future,” which just celebrated its 40th anniversary.

The reason I’m waxing poetically about this timeless cinematic adventure is that, recently, there was a special anniversary screening of the film at the Cinemark in Asheville. So, of course, I had to scrap my plans one afternoon last week and bolt down Interstate 40 to Hendersonville Road to catch it.

Stepping into the dimly-lit theater, I was already a few minutes late, but the film itself hadn’t started yet. The place was pretty empty for a Thursday afternoon. Grab one of those cozy recliner seats and strap it for a ride through the space time continuum, this journey I’ve remained on since I was little kid.

You see, I was born in 1985, the same year “Back to the Future” was released and became a blockbuster smash, which led to two more films that completed the sacred trilogy. Myself, I didn’t come across BTTF until I was probably about seven or so, around 1992, a time when everything was on VHS tapes.

The store was Video Magic, located on Lake Street in my Canadian Border hometown of Rouses Point, New York. I remember wandering in there with my mother and little sister, each in search of something to capture our attention over the ensuing weekend. Mom was always looking for some drama, with lil sis wanting the latest Disney animation sensation.

Me? I was a young history nerd. Naturally, I begged my mom to rent BTTF. I was so excited. A film about the past, present and future? My young existential self could hardly contain myself. To note, I was born an old soul, truly. I was one of those little kids who had no problem talking to adults. At the local library, I’d take out books on World War II or the history of the American Revolution. Don’t even get me started about my adolescent love for anything Ken Burns, especially the films “Baseball” and “The Civil War.”

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After that first viewing of BTTF — in the living room of the old farmhouse I called home until I graduated high school — I wanted to watch it again (and again). By that juncture, one could rent all three films in the trilogy. So, what do you think I did with my free time on the weekends? Heck, I was a nerdy kid with no friends, who was mercilessly bullied. I had nothing else to do (aside from playing in the backwoods behind the farmhouse) expect watch BTTF.

Eventually, one Christmas I received an “all-in-one,” which was a little TV that had a simple VHS player within it. The absolute coolest gift any kid in the mid-1990s could receive. Not long after that, I was able to purchase the BTTF trilogy on VHS from the local department store. Run upstairs to my childhood bedroom, slam the tapes into the “all-in-one” and escape into the sci-fi fantasy world of Marty, Doc and that wild-n-out cast of characters.

Skip ahead to this past week. Even though I’d seen BTTF literally hundreds of times, watching it on the big screen was such a surreal, powerful and intrinsic experience. Hence why I had to “be there” and see it for myself in that format, in that setting. And even though I know the storyline and ending like the back of my hand, I was still on the edge of my seat until the credit finally rolled and the house lights came back, immediately bringing the audience back to reality.

Skip ahead to last night. As the cool evening air rolled into the Blue Ridge Mountains surrounding my quaint apartment in downtown Waynesville, the full “Beaver Moon” hovering overhead, I came across the BTTF trilogy on Netflix, which also included the notice: “Leaving Soon.” Shit. Well, now I know what I’m doing for the rest of the night. Crack a beer. Click play. Onward.

And yet, this viewing was different, or felt different in some ways. While once again immersed in the films, I found myself really connecting some deep dots within my heart and soul, my intents and actions, my long-held dreams and continued path in this universe. I started to realize just how much BTTF has impacted my life and ultimate trajectory. How crazy, eh?

All throughout the epic visual tale, I started to understand why it is I adore history so much, and why I’m always such a sentimental person when it comes to the lens by which I view history and those who were (and are) part of it. This sense that “nothing’s the same, everything’s the same” has always resided in the core of my absolute being and the lens by which I see the world and its inhabitants — a core theme of the storyline within BTTF.

I also understood where a huge part of my lifelong love and unrelenting yearning for “The West” comes from, this combination of watching BTTF III as an elementary school kid, one who was lucky enough to also travel to Wyoming and Montana on family vacations at that same exact time in the 1990s. The past is eternally alive in my heart of hearts, and I use that sentiment as a way to navigate our current social landscape.

And lastly, it’s that final scene in BTTF III, when Doc says goodbye to Marty and says, “Your future is whatever you make it, so make it a good one.” Whether I realized it right then and there as a little kid with big dreams on the desolate Canadian Border or it became tucked away in my subconscious, but those words and honest feelings hit hard, especially for someone who couldn’t wait to leave the starting line and pursue my destiny in the name of free will.

Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.

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