“I’ll be 9, which is almost 10, which is practically a teenager…so don’t call me little…”
That is how some of the conversation at our house has gone recently.
“Whoa! Slow down there partner, you’re still 8 right now, and you will never have the chance to be 8 years old again, so make sure you REALLY enjoy these next couple of days. And when you turn 9, don’t rush into teenager. Enjoy being 9; it only comes around once in a lifetime.”
As I rapidly approach my collision course with the half-century mark, I truly understand the quote “Youth is wasted on the young.” Continue reading “Practically a Teenager”
Or at least that’s the perception. You can ask just about anybody in any culture, east or west, and you will find that everyone agrees: time seems to go by much faster as we age. I recently heard a radio interview with David Eagleman of Baylor University College of Medicine, and he has a theory about this. He thinks that when we are young most of our experiences are new, and our brains are writing down every detail, forming neural networks to record all the details of the experience for future reference. And, when the future comes, our brains reference the previous experience. “Oh I know about this,” and the second, third and fourth similar experiences don’t get recorded in such detail. That lack of time spent recording the experiences makes it seem like the experiences didn’t last as long when we look back on them.
For instance, Eagleman said, “think about your first kiss.” So I did think back to my high school days, and I do remember the details. Where it happened, what it felt like, what he was wearing, how totally underwhelmed I was. And it did seem like the kiss took a very long time.
And, the first day you drive to work at a new company, the commute always lasts longer than it does at the end of your first year on that job.
Summers used to last forever too. And so did the school year.
So did my first semester at college, but the last semester of my senior year in college is a blur in my mind. Continue reading “We Go Slower But Time Goes Faster”
The cicadas buzz in the closing Queen Anne’s Lace, much of it brown and curled at the edges, aged with a summer almost spent. The sedges are burgundy-brown, decorated atop by the occasional Monarch, and showy goldenrod shoots skyward in clumps of blazing yellow. The prairie has entered its burgundy and gold period. Only a few tall thistles remain in the uncut weeds around the pond, daring to inject some pink into the landscape. Continue reading “Endless Summers of Childhood”