"Time"

 With so much going on – debt negotiations, a Presidential race on the gathering horizon, war in Ukraine, failing schools, and corporations and universities that have lost their moral compass – it may seem trivial to write an essay that lacks gravitas, but we all need a break, so this seemed timely.

 

Sydney M. Williams

30 Bokum Road – Apartment 314

Essex, CT 06426

 

More Essays from Essex

“Time”

May 23, 2023

 

“How did it get so late so soon? It’s night before it’s afternoon. December is here

before it’s June. My goodness, how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?”

                                                                                                         Attributed to Dr. Seuss (Ted Geisel, 1904-1991)

 

Time is both precise and ambiguous. Computer scientists measure it in zeptoseconds, the time it takes a particle of light to cross a hydrogen molecule, which has an ionic radius (don’t ask) of 0.208 nanometers, one billionth of a meter. The longest measurement of time is a supereon, three billion years. For us, time is finite. In my 83^rd year, I have lived just under 730,000 hours, barely a nanosecond for a paleontologist.

 

Stopwatches are used to measure the time it takes a runner, skier, race car, or horse to cross the finish line. But the word can be vague: ‘She won’t give me the time of day,’ ‘Will the doctor have time to see me?’ ‘My love for Caroline, my children and grandchildren is timeless.’ “And indeed there will be time,” wrote T.S. Eliot in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, “to wonder, ‘Do I dare?’ and Do I dare?’” A Tale of Two Cities begins: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” While ambiguous, we know what Dickens meant. And then there is this quote from Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring, which reflects his time in the trenches during the Great War: “‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo. ‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.’” 

 

While every hour has sixty minutes and each minute sixty seconds, hours and minutes spent in childhood seemed longer than those spent in adulthood, probably because each hour of childhood was a larger percent of our lives. And time continues to accelerate as we age. Nevertheless, we have more time than did our great grandparents. In 1860, life expectancy in the U.S. was 39.4 years. By 2020 it had doubled to 78.9 years. Will it double again for our great grandchildren? And time varies by species. An hour represents about 4% in the life of a Mayfly, while for Jonathan, a 190-year-old Seychelle giant tortoise, an hour represents only 1/1,664,400th% of his life. It is possible that future scientists might learn from the immortal Turritopsis dohrnii jellyfish, which, once it reproduces, reverts to a polyp stage and starts life all over again.

 

But we are not jellyfish. As we get older, old photographs capture the past – Caroline in her wedding gown, a child’s school play and another’s college graduation, our daughter’s wedding, and our grandchildren growing up – images of moments in time, moments savored that molded us into the people we have become. Abraham Lincoln is alleged to have once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.” Timely words from a wise man.

 

So, relax, take it easy, don’t worry. You have time. But, for me, now is the time to end this essay.