Sunday, August 18, 2013
Growing up there was no such thing as time.
I think I remember my grandfather giving me one of his old watches once, and Santa dropped one off under the tree for me the year I became a big boy. I can't remember having a timepiece on my wrist through my high school years and even college for that matter. However, I don't think Mom would have sent me off into 'the wilderness' college life without one, but I just can't recall. She packed everything else for me, so I gotta believe a watch was in that trunk somewhere.
When we headed off on our adventures of the day, we mostly went watchless. Somewhere along the line, one of the guys showed the rest of us how to properly draw a sundial in the dirt and this served us well. Especially, if in our intensity of playing army, hitting golf balls across Gullivers or being stuck in the late innings of a tension-packed game of baseball, we didn't hear the 2:14 whistle at the mill sound that always signaled it was time to get ready to deliver papers at 3 PM.
Now that I think of it, time lurked everywhere in this kids growing years. I just didn't know it.
Time was like God; it was and is everywhere.
Tick, Tick, Tick.