Words on a Mirror

For the record, I never believed Nelson Mandela died in prison in the 1980s. Nor does the idea of a converging multiverse appeal to me, outside of comic book superhero movies that cause my inner 12-yearold to giggle by allowing Toby Maguire, Andrew Garfield and Tom Holland to reenact the pointing Spiderman meme, or permitting Michael Keaton, somehow, to return to the big screen as Batman. However, my belief in the phenomenon known as the “Mandela Effect”? That is an entirely different subject, indeed – and one that springs to mind often lately, as we draw rapidly closer to a trepidatious trip to visit the good folks at the Illinois Secretary of State’s office.

While it may seem to have sprung only recently into humanity’s global consciousness (or at least, our online version of it), the term “Mandela Effect” was apparently first coined as far back as 2009.

According to my in-depth-but-not-really online research, paranormal researcher and professional ghost hunter Fiona Broome originated the term, using it to describe memories she claims she and many others have of news reports concerning the death of former South African freedom fighter Nelson Mandela in the 1980s. Of course, history records – and most people’s memories recall – that Mandela was released from prison in the 1990s and served as the first Black president of South Africa from 1994-1999.

But Broome said she and perhaps thousands or millions of others around the globe were shocked to learn Mandela had not actually died while still in prison under the former white apartheid regime. Since then, that historically weighty example has been used as but one of the most important examples of a long and growing list of other, more innocuous seemingly false collective memories, otherwise known as mass delusions, harbored by millions or even billions of people worldwide.

Most scientists, of course, call it strictly a psychological phenomenon, driven by faulty ways each of us processes our memories and life events. Regardless, some other notable examples include:

• The Monopoly Man. If you remember him with a monocle, you are in good company.

• Oscar Mayer. If your baloney had a second name, and it didn’t contain the letter “a,” it seems there are many others who agree with you.

• The Evil Queen vs. Snow White. If you remember the Queen saying, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall…,” you and I share the delusion, because apparently the Queen addressed her enchanted looking glass as “Magic mirror, on the wall.”

But speaking of mirrors, there is an example of the Mandela Effect we encounter most every day, or at least each time we look through the window on the passenger side door of our cars, to take a peek at the traffic behind us.

Think about the words etched in that glass. If you remember “Objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear,” congratulations, friend, you, like me, are wrong again.

Apparently, the phrase on that mirror is far less conditional, all but promising us those objects are, in fact, closer than they appear.

The reason for the wording is a matter of law and safety: The mirror itself is slightly curved, allowing us to see more of the road, but simultaneously distorting its actual placement in space relative to our own vehicles. So, the government felt it necessary to warn us of this, lest we trust that view when making life-ordeath decisions at potentially high rates of speed.

But it’s not the actual mirror I’m here to discuss today. Rather, that phrase often makes me think: n Jonathan Bilyk writes about the triumphs and travails of being a modern-day dad who legitimately enjoys time with his family, while tolerating a dog that seems to adore him. He also doesn’t really like the moniker “Superdad” because it makes it sound like he wants to wear his undergarments on the outside of his pants. (Also,the cape remains on back order.)

What other things in my life may be a bit closer than I expect? Put another way: What life-changing events are gaining on me a bit more rapidly than I expected?

Don’t worry: This isn’t about our rapidly approaching appointment with the reaper (though, rest assured, he’s coming.)

Instead, it’s about a fast approaching appointment with the Illinois-version of the DMV.

Nearly a decade and a half ago, my wife and I welcomed our oldest into the world. And now, as any parent of an American suburban kid in their middle teens knows, comes one of the most simultaneously thrilling and terrifying moments in all years of parenting: The day your kid first begins to learn to drive a car.

To begin that process, according to the laws of the state of Illinois, the kid and parent must pay a visit to a duly authorized distributor of the legal document known as the learner’s permit.

This summer, that day will soon dawn for us. And while I knew the day was coming – and soon – my heart still beats a bit faster when those words on the passenger side mirror remind that it seems to be much closer than it appeared just moments ago.

So, please, bookmark this column. And feel free to wag it in my general direction should I ever, deludedly, attempt to ask that mirror on the wall, who’s the coolest and most collected dad of all?

By Melissa Rubalcaba Riske