When Things are Closer than They Appear

The great thing about getting older is that you don’t lose all the other ages you’ve been. Madeleine L’Engle

Do you realize I have never seen the small of my back? I have seen photographs of it, of course, and in those angled groups of mirrors found in dressing rooms one is using to try on clothes to see how they fit. But I’ve never actually seen, with my own eyes, my own backside.

I was pondering that totally uninteresting tidbit of information as I set down a book I’d just finished reading dealing with a bit of American history. As my mind wandered the deserted streets between my ears, I found myself thinking about history as those times or events that lie behind us. Many of us look at history as if we’re passengers on a train pulling out of a station that falls further and further behind. 

Another history buff and I were talking about our common interests and he made an interesting observation. He said, “You know, we westerners look at history as something that lies behind us. We're constantly moving forward, away from it. Other cultures look at the past differently. They see the past in front of them. It’s receding, of course, but it’s the future that’s out of sight – behind them, so to speak. It hasn’t happened yet.”

Interestingly, people in addiction recovery take that second view of history. The Promises of twelve-step recovery programs states, “We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it.” Rather than running from the awful or shameful things they may have done to themselves or others while in the throes of their addiction, they use those experiences to help them grow into a future filled with hope rather than shame; with courage rather than fear.

There is an old saying that those who ignore history are doomed to repeat it. I suppose that is true, to a degree, but I prefer a more positive approach: Those who study history are bound to find solutions to current conundrums. I know it hasn’t got the same panache as the original, but perhaps it is more helpful. I don’t like doom and gloom. I can’t recall a time when doom and gloom saved me from anything. If anything, it paralyzes me, whereas a clear-eyed view of lessons learned has helped keep me out of the deep doo doo I might otherwise step in.

Now, I know that walking backwards around the house or driving in reverse down the street would not be very healthy for most of us (I wish I would beep when walking backwards), but keeping an eye on the past can be very helpful. For instance, I could be worried about receiving one of the Covid-19 vaccines. I don’t have a crystal ball, so I can’t look into the future and see whether it is safe, effective, or whether or not I will get the disease and die without the vaccine. The future is a mystery.

However, I can look into the past and see the polio and smallpox vaccines I have received and, voila, I have not gotten those diseases. My kids received their MMR (Measles, Mumps, Rubella) shots at the prescribed times and, voila, never came down with those particular diseases. My father received tons of shots when he entered basic training in the army back in the 1940s and, voila, lived to be ninety years old. Consequently, when I made an appointment to receive my Covid-19 vaccine, I did so with full confidence in the scientists who developed the vaccines, the labs that produced the product, and the medical personnel who put those doses into my arm.

Some folks may remember the thalidomide debacle in the 1950s (a drug which caused major issues, like birth defects). Of course that is precisely the sort of rear-facing history that helped to prevent a lot of mistakes after that. Science practices, tests, refines, improves. Scientists aren’t perfect, but they’re willing to acknowledge their mistakes and learn from them.

I may never see the small of my back, but I’m glad it is there to lead me forward (masked and vaccinated) here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Time Marches On – I’d Prefer It to Dance!

 

Perhaps the misfortune that you do not like, leads you to a beautiful destiny that you never dreamed of. Anonymous

Life is a pilgrimage, or so it is said. We travel a road full of twists and turns, beginning in a womb and ending in a tomb. We find ourselves eventually holding court beneath a stone with name and dates engraved, but it is really the tomb of an unknown. Immediate family may pop by for a visit, but it won’t last long, and when that generation passes on, the stone with its engravings will sit and, over time, begin to wear away with exposure to the constant bombardment of sun and rain, snow and ice, and the vegetative mastication of not-so-innocent mosses and lichens that latch onto the engravings, seeking to devour the very stone itself – over time.

“Time marches on; it waits for no man,” said my grandmother. She knew a thing or two about time. Although she was in her nineties when she died, I am sure I thought she was in her nineties back when I was just a child, and she was likely in her forties or fifties, instead. The concept of time is wasted on youth. What the heck do we know? 

Time. Nothing lasts forever. Heck, some things come broken straight out of the box. I bought a new laptop that I spent months troubleshooting online, as well as shipping it back and forth with their technical support staff. It is still a five pound paperweight. The manufacturer insists it works fine. Their computers tell them it meets all their specifications and returns no errors. My experience tells me something different. Life’s too short to keep up the fight, so I’ll just have the bleeding thing cremated with me when the time comes to topple from the frying pan into the fire.

Time. It seems there is a magazine with that moniker, although odds are pretty good my mug will never grace the cover of that periodical. That’s OK. I’m not out for fame or fortune, although a little more fortune would be nice. Fame, on the other hand, isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I’m not famous and (by Somebody’s good grace) I’m not infamous. It has been ages since I have even looked at a magazine rack in a store, so I don’t know what periodicals are left standing. Perhaps their time has passed, too.

Time. It comes and goes. I have a desk clock I inherited from my great uncle, Gus. It hasn’t worked in years. Clock experts have looked at it, but none have been able to restore it to a functioning condition, but that’s OK. It has the correct time twice a day and dresses up the curio cabinet in the living room very nicely. I may try to find a specialist to look at it, but only time will tell if I will ever get around to it.

Time. I am obsessed with the topic, it’s true, and I think my interest was inherited. The first thing I ever coveted from a very early age was a wristwatch. My mother told me I could have one when I learned to tell time. I studied the hands on the kitchen clock daily until I knew far more than the basics. Hour hands and minute hands were easy. I made sure I knew the “quarters past and the quarters to” and the “half pasts and the thirty minutes tils.” 

I saved money from odd jobs, allowances, and birthdays until one day I was finally ready to buy a decent wristwatch. I went to the jewelry counter at Ballard’s JC Penny store and picked out a wonderful looking timepiece for which I had exact change. Sadly, I didn’t have enough extra to cover the sales AND luxury taxes imposed at the time, so I left empty handed.

That’s OK, though. Empty handed is exactly how we enter this life, and that’s how we’re going to leave it. It’s what we do between those two points that gives time its value, and that’s all the time or space I have for now in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)