Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

This year over Spring break my family and I went to Disney World in Florida, and it made a believer of me. I believe in Tinker Bell and in Snow White’s castle and that Peter Pan never grew up and in Mickey and Minnie and that people can work together.

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I wrote that paragraph almost fifteen years ago when the concept of writing ten minutes a day was fresh in my mind. That opening and the following four paragraphs compose the entire mini-essay, and I am struck with how some things never really change. Only the proper nouns are different.

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The first day we were there we learned that 70,000 other people were there too; and that it takes another 30,000 employees to run the place smoothly. We learned that standing in line in the hot sun may not be the most pleasant of time-passing activities, but it can be done so that it is an acceptable alternative to pushing and shoving. We never heard a cross word from visitor or employees.

When Tinker Bell actually appeared and flew from the castle to Tomorrowland, there was a collective gasp from those whose belief in fairies had been rewarded. The believers knew if they clapped hard enough, she would appear. There was even a gasp from the skeptics too.

In the two weeks since we returned home, the United States has conducted bombings on Libya, the space program has met new problems with the explosion of the Challenger, Congress is still debating aid to the Contras, and the local papers have been filled with more-than-the-usual amount of murder, mayhem, and mania.

Disney World is far away, but I still believe. I believe it should be the real and our present world should be a fantasy. If only clapping our hands would make it so.