For the longest time, up through some point in my teenage years, I had the misconception that Oscar Wilde and Gene Wilder were the same person. Because, really, it wasn’t too difficult seeing Willy Wonka as a flamboyant writer.
Earlier in life, I had the wrong idea about the underground railroad. I pictured something like the Indiana Jones mine cars, only the tunnels were a couple of feet high and the mine cars were more like the flat wheeled, padded boards that mechanics use to lie on their back and work under cars, but they were on rails. I even figured they had hardhats with integrated flashlights. In my mind, the tunnels went from house to house, town to town. I’m not sure how old I was when I outgrew this idea.
What’s the point to this? I have no clue. Sometimes I’m easily confused, I guess.
