St Patrick’s Day and Time

It’s March 17th. Americans and Irish across the world will be donning green. Libations of various strength will be consumed. As the picture above shows. The Chicago River will turn green in its annual tradition.

However it’s a bittersweet day for my family. On St Patrick’s Day 2017. I was involved in a near fatal car accident with my two kids. It altered the paths of our lives. I have written about it before in this space. I’m not going to rehash any details. As I think about that date today. I’m struck by one thing. Thankfully it isn’t pain. It isn’t really physical progression and recovery. I’ve kind of plateaued in the area. It also isn’t about what I have lost or gained since that day.

I’ve long since come to grips with those difficulties mentioned above. My struggle is with an element of life that is not exclusive to those dealing with life altering tragedy. I struggle with the ephemeral passage of time.

I’m not good at math. But the ole abacus tells me it’s been eight years since that day. As a kid I loved the Olympics (still do Paris was awesome) As a hopeless sports degenerate. I remember being sad when they would extinguish the flame during a closing ceremony. When I was kid the Winter and Summer Olympics were in the same year. The next Olympics seemed so far away. Four long years.

For reason I still don’t understand. I also enjoyed politics. I have a piece of paper and once had a mountain of student debt to prove it. I actually majored in Political Science. Presidential election were like the Super Bowl and on the same Olympic cycle. Four long years until another national election.

As the archives of this site show I also closely follow high school and college basketball. Another feature of pop culture that falls uniquely into the quadrennial cycle. Watching an up and coming freshman becomes a national recruit never really gets old. However when that player leaves. That same slight pang of sadness sets in. It could be another long four years before a player like this is seen again.

If you want to continue playing with the fours. I am now 44 years old. Returning to our topic though. We are now done with four year cycles. If four years is a long time. What is eight?

Eight years is a REALLY long time…

A lot can happen in eight years. Post accident there were a litany of questions. On top of the many physical questions. I wondered what our family would look like. Could I be there be there for my kids? Could we even do simple things like go on vacation?

I’m embarrassed to write how often we’ve gone to Disney World, so I won’t. You can just scan the archives of this site for what I have been able to do with my son. Lambeau, Yankee Stadium, Toronto, and even Los Angeles. Cue Johnny Cash. Thanks to the executive editor… We’ve been everywhere.

Eight years is a REALLY long time…

A lot can happen in eight years. I value her privacy and youth. However my daughter had many (if not more) of the same physical struggles I had. Just as much (maybe more) rehab and recovery. What would her life look like?

She just finished up her second year of high school volleyball and basketball. Her basketball team advanced to a regional final. She has goals to improve this spring/summer and has no physical limitations. She excels academically and is most likely going to be a member of her National Honors Society.

Eight years is a REALLY long time….

A lot can happen in eight years. A little thing you might have heard of called a pandemic. The nation seemingly united to combat a global health crisis. Then… we didn’t. The societal implications of these measures are still debated and passionately argued about today.

We seemingly had a moment of national racial reckoning after a tragedy that was caught on camera. Until… we didn’t. If you think I’m trying to be provocative— I am. Opinions and passions can swing and change wildly in eight years.

Eight years is a REALLY long time…

If you didn’t like the last paragraph… Cue Sam Jackson in Jurassic Park… hold on to your butts. Or if I really want to show my age. Famous Dragnet detective Joe Friday— just the facts man…

Our nation elected a president. He was impeached, acquitted. Defeated in an election. Impeached again, acquitted. Convicted of a felony post presidency. Then elected once again.

In the middle we elected our oldest president. After coming through the pandemic. His party determined he was too old and removed him from their ticket. If any of that riles you up. You can relax… I’m done with politics. Just highlighting the point once again. A LOT can happen in eight years.

Eight years is LONG time…

Tom Brady won a Super Bowl, retired, came back, retired again. Became broadcaster AND owner, and just called a Super Bowl. That’s normal. Patrick Mahomes has won three Super Bowls, two MVP’s, and might be the second most famous player on his own offense. That’s normal. College athletes get paid— legally.

I wasn’t allowed to leave my bed when the FBI raided and arrested four assistant college basketball coaches for paying players. I watched and read about it all. Rick Pitino was eventually fired. He was never going to coach in college again. He had to go to Greece to get a job in basketball. He just earned a two seed at St John’s That’s all perfectly normal.

While that’s crazy. I’m going to close with the Ballad of Ohtani. Shohei Ohtani can’t possibly do what only Babe Ruth has done. He can’t pitch and hit in the majors as a 23 year old rookie. He did. Well his arm won’t hold up— it didn’t. Then he’ll just be a hitter. Nope, came back better, did both and won a MVP.

Well it won’t last. He’ll get hurt again. Yes and no. He got hurt again. Second Tommy John surgery before the age of 30. Hasn’t slowed him down though. Has won two MVP’s and a World Series. The Dodgers gave him 700 million dollars. All perfectly normal. Oh I almost forgot. For a moment he had a Pete Rose gambling controversy. All perfectly normal.

As the personal, political, and world of sports so perfectly illuminate…

Eight years is a REALLY LONG time….

With all that being said, and it was a lot. I’m struck by a few other things as write this out. The last eight years have been both trying and transformational. You know what doesn’t feel like a long time ago?

Walking both of my kids to their first day of preschool. That was over a decade ago. Dealing with the butterflies on my first day teaching middle school math. I wasn’t even certified to teach it. I was a History and Government teacher. That was almost twenty years ago. If I close my eyes I can still feel the aches and excitements those days brought.

I still teach occasionally. When I hear a bell or take attendance. It doesn’t take much thought to go back place on the first day of school. As I was writing. That daughter who I once walked down that preschool hallway. Who lived through the same car accident. She just drove her car home from school to pick up some lunch from the kitchen. Those two dichotomous realities do not separate my memories from dropping them off daily at that small parochial school.

Occasionally I’ll jump in a pool and get whiff of chlorine. Just like that— I taste it. I don’t want to, but the mind is funny organ. I taste the chlorine that they put on a respirator to keep me alive. It’s all I really remember about the accident. Once again— intentionally provocative. Our mind does funny things with time.

Eight is a long tim— wait, is it really?

I’m not sure. Especially in my mid 40’s, I’m somewhat ambivalent. We’ve firmly established a lot can happen in eight years. However as someone who traffics in words. It sure seems like the English language loves to use time as a frequent subject

Time waits for no man…

Father Time is undefeated…

Time heals all wounds…

Time flies when you’re having fun…

What do these even mean? Are they even true? Why the over reliance on on this seemingly amorphous concept? Perhaps in this increasingly polarized world. It is the only thing that is truly universal.

This world can argue about anything. But as I write. It is Monday March 17th. Heck in our overly connected digital world that we keep in our pockets. We are all essentially on the same time. Almost universally, we graduate high school around the same time. Marry and procreate in a similar age range. Retirement is seemingly federally mandated in the same range as well.

Is this a good thing? With my life experience, I would argue no. Do you know why a lot happens in eight years?mAt the risk of sounding trite— a lot happens every single day. The drudgery of a clock restricted day does it’s best to numb us to that fact.

When I was in wheelchair. Part of my rehab was simply to stand up. For as little as thirty seconds. Didn’t seem like much. If I was focused solely on time it would seem greatly insignificant. It wasn’t. I’ve used up my cliche quota. So I’ll cut right to it. If I didn’t do those insignificant thirty seconds. I wouldn’t be walking the lengths that I do today,

I’ve come to this conclusion about time. While it is necessary for functioning and healthy society. It is ultimately just another human construct. Whatever your religious or spiritual persuasion is. It’s not surprising that the highest deity or order often exists apart from time itself.

I am a Christian. One of my favorite passages is Psalm 139. Where David writes that he was known by God before he was in his mother’s womb. That absence of time and this deep knowing is comforting.

The point of this tome? Yes, show up on time for work. Take care of your responsibilities in a timely manner. Don’t let that ticking thing limit you though. As this little treatise shows. For better or worse, I have inherent need to express my thoughts. I would prefer to do it musically. It’s how I operated most of life. Trust me it would be shorter and less painful.

I can’t do that— right now. The longer it goes the more doubt creeps in the my left arm will ever work properly again. However I haven’t given up completely. Why, because there’s that word again. Not time but long. What is a long time. What are long odds.

Ultimately just more fallen and restrictive human constraints. The only answer to all the questions and observations is another recently en vogue mantra. Be present. Live in the moment you are currently in. If you are in good moment. Enjoy it, as Thoreau said “suck the marrow out of life.”

If the opposite is true. It is just a moment. It could be moment spent on a respirator. It could be months in bed or in a wheelchair. These moments can add up. They can become heavy. However there is marrow in these moments as well.

We can see blood, we know it’s important. Blood is that ticking clock in your pocket or head. Marrow is the spongy tissue that lies deep within or bones. It stores your blood. Or if you following the analogy. It stores your time. It gives you a reservoir of cells to fight off illness. It gives a reservoir of experience and hope to deal with the darkness. Suck the marrow out of life.

The remedy of the fickle master that is time is this reservoir of marrow. The ability to laugh or smile at the ticking arms of a clock taunting your efforts to outrun it. Enjoy this holiday, and enjoy this…. time.