Teresa Fannin, reader, writer, gardener, chocolate fan & tea drinker

Tag: time

Time

A remarkable thing happened last night, well, early this morning. I turned over in bed, opened my eyes and looked at the clock. That is not the remarkable thing. What was remarkable was the digital readout was 1:59. And something in my not quite awake brain clicked. I lay, mesmerized, waiting, watching. And then suddenly the readout was 3:00.

Remarkable! I closed my eyes but sleep did not come. How astounding… One hour gone. Where? I’d never see it again.

Time is a grown up thing. It was what adults do. We all measure our lives in milestones. Do we recognize the milestone at the time? A milestone for me was the measurement of time, and when it expanded, when I could tell someone ‘oh, that was weeks ago. I think I was six. Then the little guy at the back of my brain must have put up a post-it note because the first time I said ‘months ago’ I smiled. Another milestone.

Time is immutable. Clocks are a human construct to get us in sync. Clocks are controlling. Time just simply exists. Clocks belie the basics of time.

Bugs me when someone says ‘that’s a waste of time.’ By whose standards? How do you know I’m wasting time? How dare you judge my use of time?

When I was a Manager of Labor Relations and doing some cool work in organizational development an employee came into my office with an issue. I clearly remember saying “I’m not sure I have time, I’ll get that on my calendar” [because that was what you said to deflect] And the employee’s response was ‘if you wanted to do it, you’d do it right now.’ He left my office and I could feel the heat in my cheeks. He was totally and absolutely right. What he wanted done wasn’t interesting. It wasn’t challenging. But, hot damn, it was my job. I dropped what I was doing and worked on his issue. At that moment, my time belonged to him.

Time is not a commodity, although I say my time belonged to the employee, that wasn’t true. That was the best use of my time to accomplish my goal of doing my job well. Doing my job well, got me raises and promotions. Using my time to my benefit is what is important.

Time is a straight line. Even tho I love science fiction, I don’t believe in time travel. I don’t want time travel. Not only would it be confusing–the rules would have to be ironed out absolutely and there is no way in this universe that would happen! You only get to go this way once. Sometimes I get too involved, too harried to remember to value time. Recently I found a prayer attributed to John Cardinal Newman, it reads, in part:

I have a place in God’s counsels, in God’s world, which no one else has;

whether I be rich or poor, despised or esteemed by man,

God knows me and calls me by my name.

God has created me to do Him some definite service;

He has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another.

Time is like that, created by God, given to each of us. Use it well.

Now I have to go turn the three clocks in the house, not connected, to the right hour.

timesense

When Bayley was in elementary school we would talk about time and Bayley time. She seemed to operate on her own internal clock which had no regard for any input outside of her. My mom was pretty much the same way, maybe even worse and always made me wonder if there is a time gene in that whole genome study. If there was, I got the Z side to the A that was my mom or vice versa.

Lucyle would be late for Mass, late for parties, late for class, and, she was the teacher! Sunday morning Dad would be ready, dressed and in the living room, back when Mass was only on Sunday. He would patiently wait, and when we would walk in late, Dad was okay with that, seemed okay with that. He loved Mom and he was excellent in loving her.

Me? It drove me nutzy! And I saw the impact it made on others who were waiting for her, besides Dad that is. And I know it shaped my own timesense, how I look at time, what I do with time and how I value time for myself and for others.

My biggest struggle as an adult was, is, living in the present. Because I lived with Mom’s singular timesense, and for years was ruled by it, I look at time as a commodity and something to value for others.  I have no clue if Mom cared or even realized how her own sense of time, or lack thereof, went down with those in her social circle. I know at school, Mother Amadea, the school principal, never worried about Mom’s class. Those kids wouldn’t be caught dead doing something wrong, ’cause Mrs. Hannick’s soft voice and deadly stare was terrifying. Well, maybe not so much to me, but to others, well, yeah!

Every once in a while I wondered if Mom was embarrassed by her lack of timeliness. She’d give that little giggle and she’d be this very charismatic person and people would forgive her. I also disliked that. If you were on time, there was no need to be in someone else’s forgiveness. But, it didn’t seem to bother mom.

Last Monday, because we rarely set an alarm now that Tom’s retired, we had to be out of the house by a certain time, get the dogs to the groomers for their monthly bath and then to the CPA who is doing our taxes. I’m dashing around, trying to get something to eat, getting the car set up to transport the puppies and Tom is brushing his teeth, shaving, showering, dressing and getting the dogs’ food ready. I’ve done all that, well not the shaving, and sorted the laundry, made the beds, gotten the newspapers and he’s just putting down the dogs’ food. Sigh.

Bayley got a double whammy on that time gene, the A, or Z, from both a grandparent and her father.