Sometime in the late 1960’s, I
remember sprinting out of Overland Elementary School in West Los Angeles on the
last day of the school year euphoric about the coming summer vacation. At that
young age, the three months without school seemed like an eternity…and I really
couldn’t even envision the eventual coming of Fall…and the inevitable return to
school. As a kid summer seemed to last forever…but now as a greying adult, the
seasons pass by in the blink of an eye.
For me, the typical year is a
handful of milestones that come-and-go with what often seems like only days in
between. We ring in the New Year at a wonderful party each year with dear
friends. Blink once and it’s March and time my wife’s birthday. Pretty soon
we’re lighting a couple of sparklers and after what seems like only
days, it’s time to hop on the Harley for the annual early August
trip to the Black Hills. Before I know it we’re watching the College Pigskin
Kickoff Classic, carving pumpkins, stuffing turkeys, spinning dreidels and
decking the halls.
As I got older this accelerated
passage of time never really made sense to me. Then one day, when I was working
at the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers main office in DC, my
boss at the time and I were talking about this very subject. He seemed perplexed
regarding my lack of understanding on this phenomenon, and asked sincerely if I
really didn’t know why time speeds up as you get older. I assured him I didn’t
know, at which point he said simply this… “well it’s not that complicated…just
think about it.”
He then proceeded to reach into
his desk and pull out a 25’ tape measurer while asking “how old are you right
now?” “Forty three” I responded at the time. He then started SLOWLY working the
yellow tape out from the metal casing counting (“10, 20, 30, 40, 41, 42, 43”)
as he extended out to the 43 inch mark. [Just a side note…if you’re over
forty and you haven’t done this…try it. You’ll recognize quickly you have a lot
of life in the rearview mirror]. I remember being struck at how much
yellow measuring tape extended from the housing. Then he said, “how long do you
think you’re going to live?” “Well” I responded, “the way I feel now maybe
seventy.” He said “I’m going to give you five years…let’s make it 75.” Then
while keeping the 43 inch mark pinched between his thumb and index finger, he
moved the tape out to 75 and said, “looks like you got less ahead of you then
you do behind you. Now…think of it from my perspective…” he continued while
moving his fingers up the tape from 43… “I’m 62.”
He went on to explain that when
you’re young…like maybe 10, you have your entire life ahead of you. The three
months of summer not only seems like an eternity when you’re in grade school,
but with the limited frame of reference at that point in our young life… summer
vacation represents a big part of your life and really is a long time. As you
get older, that type of span gets shorter and shorter. Eventually, the years
seem to go by as rapidly as seasons, which seem to go by as quickly a months,
which seem to go by as fast as weeks, that often appear to go by in little more
than a day.
The first week of every October
I have to start writing my holiday cards. Seems insane I know, but the list has
swelled to over 330 and if I’m going to write something meaningful in all of
them, I have to start early. I keep this big Excel spreadsheet with all the
card recipients, and one of the rituals each Fall just before I begin is to
scrutinize the list for address changes and accuracy. Every year though I have
to do something else, and that involves the somber and reflective practice of
highlighting in yellow the rows of addressees who passed away in the course of
the year. There gets to be more of that as you get older too…so whatever you’re
doing this weekend, see if you can’t keep that in mind and focus a little bit
more on the people and pets that really matter most to you. If you can…take a
little time to do something you enjoy too.
Have a great weekend.
Close your eyes. Somewhere,
nestled in the Latin Quarter of Paris, there is a quaint little café with the
sooth haze of cigarette smoke, the distant hum of conversation, the warmth of
laughter, and the unmistakable soothing clinking wine glasses. In the corner of
the bar is a 3-person combo…and they’re playing this…
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