My Ticker

When I was in 2nd grade at St. Ita’s school, I had a lay instructor. Among her many teaching tasks was imparting the doctrine of Roman Catholicism to 30-plus seven-year-olds. From her instruction I’m certain I learned many good tidbits that helped to properly mold and permanently shape my character, although I do not recall them at the given moment. The one and only thing that remains in my memory is the day she explained to us the concept of the word “eternity.” I can picture myself sitting at my desk somewhere in the middle row, about half way back, as she explained eternity this way:

“...imagine a huge sphere of granite, which by the way is considered to be one of the hardest stones in the world, and imagine that sphere of granite to be much, much larger than our planet earth,”

“Okay, got it" I thought as I sat with that image.

“…now imagine a dove, just a regular-sized dove, (I think at this point she pointed to a picture of a dove that was posted above the blackboard and which represented the Holy Spirit to us, young budding Catholics) and now imagine if that dove flew by just once every one thousand years and gently brushed the huge granite sphere with its wing...”

“Yeah, Teach, got that image, too,” I thought smugly.

“now, think about how long it would take that dove to completely erode or wear away that granite with only one gentle brush of a wing every 1,000 years, and you have just the teensiest, itsy-bitsiest fraction of an idea of what eternity means.”

I slumped down into my seat. I felt minuscule. I wanted to crawl inside my desk cavity. I felt tired, just completely exhausted. I rested my head on my desktop and closed my eyes. I saw myself as a tiny speck of dust floating somewhere in the middle of an expansive universe that surrounded the colossal granite sphere my teacher had just described. I recognized not only my insignificance, but the insignificance of any human being in the grand scheme of a universe that had absolutely no end. I knew then that I had no wish to exist forever.

I felt the teacher gently touch my shoulder. She asked if I was okay. I lifted my head, looked up at her and smiled, “Yes, yes I’m fine.” “Well, it’s time for recess, Ranell, so go outside and join your classmates.”

***

After Cherished Husband and I celebrated Christmas with family on the east coast, we made a trip to visit Virginia’s historic Jamestown. Jamestown was the first permanent English settlement in North America. When the first colonists arrived, the local native people (the Paspahegh tribe of the Powhatan Confederacy) welcomed the new visitors with open arms, furnishing the colonists with much needed provisions and support. However anything resembling the bond of friendship dissipated as quickly as the morning dew in Death Valley. The tribal natives were quickly annihilated and the colonists were left sick and starving. No one kept records on the natives, but the mortality rate for colonists in Jamestown between 1609 and 1610 was 80 percent. They called it the “starving time” and some colonists found it necessary to resort to cannibalism to survive.

The employee who greeted us at the archeology museum in Historic Jamestowne said we could photograph anything in the exhibits except the human skeletons, so I snapped a photo of a display that contained a gold signet ring. The ring bore the latin inscription “ Memento Mori” (Remember Thy Death.) The ring also had the initials C.L., and it was surmised to belong to Christopher Lawne, a English Puritan. He wore it to remind himself of the shortness of life. C.L. transported 15 people to “the new land" in April of 1619. He was deceased by November of that same year.

The ring reminds me of a wristwatch I saw recently. The watch is called the Tikker Watch. The Tikker System will, upon your inputting the correct information, give you an estimate as to your remaining life expectancy and then count down every second until you die. Are you with me on this?: the watch will keep time in reverse of one's expected life. So, let’s say I'm a healthy newborn baby -my life expectancy might be (depending on where I am born) about 99 years, and my watch would read something like: 98 years, 9 months, 22 days, 11 hours, 52 minutes and 44 seconds, then one second later it would read: 98 years, 9 months, 22 days, 11 hours, 52 minutes and 43 seconds, and then: 98 years, 9 months, 22 days, 11 hours, 52 minutes and 42 seconds...

Some people call it the “death watch” -kind of morbid. But the Tikker folks say its product serves as a reminder of the precious pricelessness of time itself and, that only by being constantly aware of the ephemeral fleetingness of life can we make informed decisions on how to make the most of our time.

I found this on their site:

The Tikker Watch was designed to provide you with a constant reminder that life is truly short and we should take advantage of the time we have on this planet… Buy one now and you will see how it immediately and positively affects you and those around you. Start a new way of looking at life today! 

I don’t need the Tikker Watch, nor a gold signet ring with a latin inscription, because I had a teacher who, when I was 7 years old, taught me about “eternity.”

***

For auld lang syne, my jo,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne,

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!

And surely I'll be mine!

And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne,

We two have run about the braes

And pu'd the gowns fine;

But we've wander'd many a weary foot

Sin auld lang syne.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
And gie's a hand o' thine
And we'll tak a right guid willy naught,
For auld lang syne

Should old acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot
And long, long ago

Saw this in Jamestown, Virginia

Tikker Watch

I sincerely wish each and every reader of my blog (yes, all five or six of you!) the most well-contented 2017 you can muster. 

***

When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive - to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love. 

-Marcus Aurelius

“How can the past and future be, when the past no longer is, and the future is not yet? As for the present, if it were always present and never moved on to become the past, it would not be time, but eternity.”

         -St. Augustine of Hippo

Dear Santa,

This year finds me, as I assume you already know, still residing in Privatopia. And unlike last year, I won’t claim to speak for everyone here, but as you pass over northwestern Illinois, you have my permission to skip my home. I want for nothing. 

And I don’t mean to be disrespectful or anything, but I can’t help but wonder if your good intentions may or may not be misinterpreted by some.  Sure all those toys, games, books and gadgets are fun, and I mean it sincerely when I say “children need toys,” as play is an important part of a child’s development. Heck, even I revel in the distraction of an occasional puzzle or game, what with the U.S. election results and the president-elect’s post-election cabinet picks. But have you looked at those children in..., oh I don’t know, let me close my eyes and put my finger on a world map…,  Aleppo? Have you seen the look in the eyes of those kids? Surely no one with a beating heart…

Wait, wait, let me try that again, but this time just in the U.S. …, hmmm, my finger takes me to North Dakota and a young native American child holding a sign, “I can live without oil. I cannot live without water.”
Again…, this time it stops in Flint, Michigan.

Hold on, Santa, I’m just going to keep it local, right here in Privatopia. Shouldn’t be any problems with children here, right?

But, Santa, did you know that, according to Psychology Today, children raised in more "affluent households show a significant increase in health issues, like depression, anxiety and substance abuse,” like almost 2-to-1? It turns out that some children of privilege are afflicted with an illness, called “affluenza,” which retards their psychological, emotional and social development. Now I don’t know if it’s true, but a common story making the gossip circuit in Privatopia is that there is a father here who hands a blank check to our Privatopia association at the beginning of each year with the statement: “This is for any fines my children incur. Just fill in the amount at the end of the year and let me know the total.”

Santa, can you see where I’m going with this? It can’t just be about money and possessions. There are more important things in life. Right? 

Aw, I’m sorry, Santa. I don’t mean to rag on you. You’re probably just like me, hoping to do things that make the world a better place for all. Hey, keep up the good work!

And by the way, you know that tip you sent me this past summer about keeping my locks as “glistening white” as yours with the use of Ajax? Well, that may have worked for you, pal, but I’m telling you it took a solid week of coconut oil conditioning to get anything that remotely resembled softness back to my hair. But, like I said, “keep up the good work.” I appreciate your effort.

your pal,


Rae

courtesy of the New York Times

courtesy of me (notice part of my blue & white "Privatopia" sticker in the lower right corner)

If you want to see last year's Santa letter:

http://topeacenquiet.blogspot.com/2015/12/christmas-in-privatopia.html

“To perceive the world differently, we must be willing to change our belief system, let the past slip away, expand our sense of now, and dissolve the fear in our minds” ― William James