I awakened in the early morning hours with a host of thoughts associated with time. Time is a chameleon of sorts that expresses itself in a never-ending stream of thoughts. I've often said that the only time we have is now, and the only place we have is here. I've been wrong before.
I talked with a friend on the telephone last night. I first met him when he interviewed me for a job as a child protective services worker over 52 years ago. That was a long time ago, but the conversation took me back in time, and the kaleidoscope of memories it triggered was time well spent.
I still remember much from those early years as a child protective services worker. I occasionally provided testimony in court related to investigative findings of child abuse. Invariably, the defense attorney for the parent(s) always asked, "Mr. Forrester - Do you have any children of your own?" My being a parent would have had no bearing on the evidence of the case playing itself out in court, and I thought it was an irrelevant question. The attorney for the state never objected to the question.
Okay, so in reality, I was a wet behind-the-ears child welfare worker. At the age of 22, being referenced as Mr. Anybody seemed awkward. Over the years, nothing has changed much in that regard. I usually provide gentle redirection to anyone that calls me Mr. Forrester and tell them that my name is Don.
Speaking of time, fifty-two-plus years ago doesn't seem that long ago. At the time, the secretary in my office assigned responsibility for providing support for me was putting her husband through college. He later got a contract with the New England Patriots to play football. Interestingly, her husband referred to her as Good Time, and she referred to him as Big Time.
In the opaque darkness of our bedroom this morning, I could barely make out the shape of a couple of beer steins on the top shelf of the bookcase in our room. During the time that the General was pregnant with our firstborn, we both took a ceramic class, and in those months, I painted a couple of steins. Why we've kept them, I don't know, but I suspect the kids will know what to do with them after we're gone.
Yesterday, I watched while the neighbor across the street assisted his five-year-old in riding his bicycle for the first time. Of course, the bicycle has training wheels on it. That too was a trigger for another place in time.
When we first moved to Austin in the mid-1970s, we often took our five-year-old to the hike and bike trail on Auditorium Shores and let Craig ride his bike while we walked and enjoyed the beauty of Town Lake.
So I've been wrong. The only time we have isn't now. We have all the yesterday's available in the memory bank of our minds.
The only time that seems to stand still is the interim between beginning construction and finishing construction on a new home. Trust me, it takes forever and a day.
Time also can be future-oriented. A lot of folks miss the present because they are eager for some future accomplishment to take place and they have no use for the here and now. What a waste of precious time.
The picture of Auditorium Shores looks very different from the way it looked when we moved to Austin. Back then, the State Capitol could be seen from any direction coming into town. Those days are gone. Some might call it progress. I think of it as a crying shame.
All My Best!
Don
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