My, How Time Flies
In speaking with a friend this week from “back in the day” during my time at Giant Food, upon reflection, even though we haven’t seen one another for years and years, we’ve known one another for forty-eight years. To me that was so very hard to comprehend when I came to the unfortunate realization of “my, how time flies”.
Joe, the gentleman I spoke with this week, has suffered through a tremendously difficult year–one that I can only imagine. I knew of his wife’s passing after sixty-three years of marriage, but he told me of also losing his sixty-one-year-old son to cancer just four months later. It’s unfathomable to me how a parent can lose a child as that’s not supposed to happen–is it? On top of all this, Joe, himself is fighting a rare form of skin cancer.
After our phone conversation, I pulled out some pictures yesterday of our wedding forty-five years ago and sure enough there were a couple of pictures of Joe and his wife Dottie. I wrote him a card and sent him the photos from that happy time–“my, how time flies”.
La Bear and I were married at my parent’s apartment in Colonial Village attended by fifty or so family and friends. While looking at those pictures, I had fond memories of all those good folks in attendance. Of course, the vast majority are unfortunately gone, but, for now, the memories still exist. Those dearly departed that I know of included my folks, La Bear’s mom, Aunt Ruth and Uncle Jack, Aunt Lucille and Uncle Charles, Ken the judge who joined us, Betty, Doc and Ann, Sam and Pat, Mac and Ann, Mason and Mary, Gil and Chico, and Preston and Meda Rae–“my, how time flies”!
I texted my friend of sixty-two years, Fred, a pic from the wedding with him and his “high school sweetheart” wife, Melinda, who we somehow lost over thirty years ago to breast cancer. Then I sent friend and co-worker, Jay, from Giant a pic whom I’ve known for forty-seven years and found out a couple of years ago that he was alive after erroneously hearing he had been killed in a boating accident years ago–“my, how time flies”.
I joined Facebook for the first time after my retirement almost eighteen months ago and I have a total of ninety-two friends. Of those ninety-two friends, twenty-three are folks I went to school with while seventeen are folks I worked with at Giant Food. I don’t arbitrarily request friends on Facebook and that’s why, in comparison, I have so few as I can’t comprehend those who have several hundred or over a thousand Facebook friends–why? I digress to say forty of my Facebook friends I’ve known for anywhere from forty-eight to sixty-two years–“my, how time flies”!
One friend on Facebook who I went to Wilson Elementary School with, Chris, is now unearthing memories that have been collected for over forty-five years as their finalizing their move from NOVA to the OBX. The items and mementos she’s shared on Facebook have been a source for reflection, but in downsizing, are now having to be set aside as, I believe, today younger generations are far less sentimental. It’s such a shame that “stuff” from our past is not always able to be kept, yet, hopefully, will never be forgotten for as long as we shall live.
Over the years, my career has forced a number of moves, which is La Bear’s proper excuse to reduce our “stuff” at every opportunity. Even here at The Compound, I don’t care what it is, if you ain’t touched or used it within six months, it’s gone! She says our children don’t want our “stuff” and it’s not really fair to leave it to them to get rid of once we’re gone. Still, though, looking around we have too much “stuff”. To La Bear’s point, I remember when we moved my mom to Richmond in 2016, I was amazed at all the “stuff” she had accumulated over the years and how it was stuffed everywhere in her condo. To say it was a major undertaking would be a gross misstatement, but it did bring a time for reflection recalling so many memories from so long ago–“my, how time flies”.
Being in the Winter of my life, for some unknown reason, I feel compelled to try and maintain relationships with those I either grew up with or worked with “back in the day” even though many years may have passed since we last saw one another. I suppose it’s because I, now, know tomorrow is never promised.
When I was young, like most young people, you believe you’re invincible and you’ll live forever. Now, that I’ve matured, I realize that isn’t the case as I never thought I would be or feel old. Time seemed to move slowly back then until, suddenly, what seemed like yesterday turns out to be years ago. Now, “my, how time flies”.
The truly disappointing and somewhat sad circumstance is it’s so difficult to get in touch with those you want to stay in contact with today. Maybe it’s because of ME and that’s okay–just tell me so! But, overall, it’s really hard to get folks to respond or to even plan a little “get together” to the point where my desire to do so is dwindling. Instead of me continuing my futile attempts, I’m going to just “pass the torch” to someone else. I can’t come to terms with how busy people can be now that we’re in our seventies. Hey, just get off your lazy self and make something happen before it’s too late–“my, how time flies”!
Early on, during the Spring and Summer of my life, I experienced what would be called “life’s firsts”. You know, your first this or your first that. Now, in the Winter of my life, I’m experiencing my “life’s lasts”. At seventy-two years of age, you ask if the vehicle you’re driving will be your last, if this was your last birthday, or your last Thanksgiving, maybe your last Christmas that’s upcoming, and perhaps even the last time you will speak to or see someone. I don’t believe “life’s lasts” are very enjoyable because they signify never, ever again and a sense of finality. Certainly, the moment I least look forward to is my “life’s last” breath–“my, how time flies”!!