Time After Time
Posted: Sunday, December 18, 2011
by Jack H. Schick
Ron Lahti was on vacation so I was sitting in his office at a small conference table. I was diligently working on getting the procedures for making a Rail Road 40 diesel fuel blend down on paper. I was on light duty. I’d badly sprained my ankle when I stepped on a big ant hill while I was playing soccer with my dog. I had a cast on my right foot for three weeks. There had been a huge turn-over of employees at the refinery as the WWII generation retired so, instead of laying me off on disability pay, they assigned me to put together a training manual for the new employees in the Light Oils Blending department.
One time when his ugly mug appeared in the doorway he said, “At 11:15, go over to the Personnel Office, they have paperwork for you to sign." He snidely added, "Oh, that’s right, you don’t wear a watch!”
I gave him that glare I'd developed, because I knew he hated it, and said, “What time is it, now? Quarter after ten?”
He looked at his expensive, elaborate watch then looked up at me, with that arrogant smirk that he knew I hated, and said, “No! It’s almost seventeen after!”
That afternoon I looked up from my work—well, actually I was day dreaming. I was burned out from spending an hour and a half jotting down notes on the leaded gasoline blending process. There he was, peeking around the door jamb watching me. “What?” I said in that tone that I knew always got his goat.
“What time is it?” he asked with an irritating grin on his face.
“Three, twelve!” I blurted out.
He looked down at his watch, first got a dumfounded look on his face, then an angry one. “How can you do you do that!?” he snapped.
“I can do that because I don’t wear a watch!” I snapped back.
My sense of times is great. I noticed it first when I was a kid. I remember going down to the fishing hole at Hager’s Woods one evening to try to catch eels. I must have been 11 or 12. My dad told me to be back by ten o’clock. I didn’t focus on it. I just stilled my mind, imagined what I’d been doing and ‘guessed’ how much time had passed. I figured I’d gotten to the fishing hole about 6:30 and used that as my base line. When I thought it was right, I left and walked the mile back to the house in the dark. I got home at 10:03. My dad was asleep in the lounge chair ‘watching’ baseball. After that, I noticed I could pretty much do it all the time.
I learned a neat trick from Boogie Bateman’s dad when I was in high school. We went way up-state turkey hunting one time. Boogie was in the band so we couldn’t leave until after the Friday night football game down at Central Bucks West. By the time we got to our motel at Coudersport it was almost two in the morning. Mr. Bateman told us to get some sleep and he’d wake us up at 5:45. I noticed there was no alarm clock.
“How’s he going to wake us up at 5:45, with no alarm clock? Is he going to stay awake all night?” I asked Boogie.
“He’s got an alarm clock in his head,” he said. “All he has to do is tell himself what time he wants to wake up, and he’ll wake up then, even if he’s only be asleep a couple of hours.”
Sure enough, he woke us up at 5:45. I was amazed. I wanted to be able to do that too, so I practiced. Before I’d go to sleep I’d repeat over and over to myself 6:30 (or something), and, with eyes closed, focus on an image of the dial of a clock. It worked almost immediately, and it got easier and easier. I just had to ‘say it’ to myself a couple of times and I’d wake up at almost exactly the time I’d chosen. At first I thought it was because the alarm clock was right next to the bed and, maybe, I somehow was 'seeing' it in my sleep. But, I removed it from the room and had get up and to go out to the kitchen to see what time it was. It still worked.
Over the years, I’ve noticed that I cheat a little. I always take note of what time it is. I’ll see a clock on a wall or a desk. I’ll catch a glimpse of someone’s wrist watch. I’ll remember what they said on the radio. It helps break down the passing time into smaller pieces and makes it easier to estimate. I’m not, never late (or way too early). Sometimes, especially if I’m distracted or real busy, time flies or drags. Usually, though, I’m real good at knowing what time it is—without wearing a watch.
Sometimes it’s a curse, though. Unless I’m really bushed, I almost always wake up five or ten minutes before the alarm goes off. Sometimes that little extra bit of sleep would help. Sometimes I realize how much time has passed and that I’m late. I get nervous and feel helpless. Sometimes, as I focus on the minutia, as I sense the minutes and hours passing, I lose track of the years and decades.
I’m old now. That turkey hunt was over half a lifetime ago. Mr. Bateman is long gone. He couldn't know when it would, but his alarm clock finally rang. Boogie and I have grandchildren, now. Time has sped passed, minute by minute, hour by hour. It will continue to, no matter how closely I watch and count it. I'm aware of it. I can feel it tick-tick-ticking by right now. It bothers me. I sense time passing and I hope I can wake up before my alarm clock goes off.
This Article has been viewed 457 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
No comments yet.We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.