Saturday, November 5, 2016


I made mention previous
of the different sorts of
'time' I've encountered.
When I was first born, all
things were timeless; time
doesn't exist  -  except maybe
for feeding time, crying time,
and the rest. Then, getting a
few years, in Bayonne, I
can sort of remember 'time'
setting in  -  a curious feeling
of things as they move along:
the fat, old black cars, the
ladies in heels and black
stockings and odd hats.
The tugboats and cargo
ships 'timing' their progress
along the Kill Van Kull
waterway. All was work,
and mostly I began to see
time as work. Then, as we
moved to Avenel  -  an
entire, and entirely new,
place, it was as if time
started up again for me,
with some other, newer
pace : woods and fields,
the railroad tracks, the
prison-farm cornfields
and tractors and animals.
The trains may have run
on strict timetables, but
I did not. As a kid, all
things were free and
easy, wide and open.
Then, of course, school
enters, and brings with it
its own form of time and
the constraints that go
with it  -  much like
work time. After that,
the 'smother' of life takes
over and a person generally
just gets lost in all of that
and all that goes along with
it. Duty. Detail. The good
thing about Avenel
anyway, in the 1950's,
was that I could still get
away from all that 'time,'
and in spite of school and
church and home. All
those screws slowly
turning never really
effected our local
and neighborhood
'kid' time. We lived a
life as if none of that
mattered. Which, I
thought, was the reason
God made woods and
streams and fields and
rivers. For kids to be able
to beat-out time with. As
I grew, of course, ten
different versions of me
had to learn to deal with
ten different versions of
time. I think that happens
to everyone along the way.
And then it stops. It stops
as the individual reaches
a completion and sort of
shuts down at that point.
Considered complete,
finished, matured, closed.
All that 'model citizen'
stuff again. It's hard,
like a crust or shell,
and it sets on and
gets harder.
I look at my dog, by
comparison, sometimes.
and consider the living
of life this way. She seems
under no constraints. She
awakes, pretty much by
the schedule she selects,
and the same for eating
and going. No 'stressful'
demand of that time  - no
expectation, no box or
stricture; just the dog's
own way of freedom
that comes with human
ownership and tending.
(Of course, in her own
way, as well, she's totally
dependent)...She thinks
nothing of interrupting
time, stopping it, for a
scratch, or a long sniff
at something in passing,
or a stop to do her
business, slow and 
dainty, and the licking 
and preening afterward.
I often think, the perfect
life. Should Mankind have
a run at things in that way,
how different would this
life be?
Then I say, is that even worth 
question? The life of this
 here 'Humankind' bears no
real relation to any animal
 life, pet or not, that I can
make, upon examination.
We do what we do because of
a different mental make-up, 
entire. I know that Science
may dispute this; but my 
real-life senses seem to tell me 
differently and they tell me
my hunch is correct. We are,
somehow, set out on a different 
course. Measurers. Makers of
bricks. The lines and angles of
Engineering and building and
constructing. That demands
a setting-to -it paradigm that
'makes' things, designs and
forms, proves the dilemmas
not equal to the ease of
solution. Human Solution.
Man, the Maker.
Homo, Faber.

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