Sunday, June 4, 2023

Time blog post #602


  I have to start out by begging forgiveness for this blog. It’s self-serving and likely of little or no interest to anyone, nonetheless, it’s what emerged this week. What follows is not a short story, it’s more like an essay (apologies to real essayists).




This started out as a short story but ended up something entirely different. As I sat down to write my blog this week, I wanted to tear out what little hair I have left just to find the time to complete it… on time. Normally, I write my posts on the weekend before the Thursday 5:00 a.m. posting date. Now it’s Wednesday night and I’m out of it. Out of what? Time, of course.

Time. Time, time, time…. When you’re a kid it seems to stretch out endlessly before you. At my age, there never seems to be enough of it, and the horizon isn’t as far distant as it once was. Even the nature of time has changed. In the carefree kiddy days, it was loafing. Loafing so much, you struggled to find things to fill your time. Then it became working… and struggling. Struggling to find the time to do your things.

Now, its struggling to find the energy to do your things. And what does that equate to? Not enough energy, things take longer to get done, and, of course, that translates once again to time.

I keep asking this question, but, as yet, I haven’t found the right sage to give me the answer: How do days go so slowly when weeks, months, years fly by at an accelerating rate of speed?

So this week, I’m admitting failure and simply putting my thoughts (bitches) on paper. I am of a certain age, yet reasonably healthy (if I’d quit falling down). I’ve outlived my parents, my wife, one son, a brother, countless other relatives, and a ton of friends and acquaintances. Why? I have no idea.

My lifestyle is not particularly healthy. I’m sedentary, overweight (but not as bad as I once was), eat packaged foods, drive too fast (once again, not as bad as when I was younger), and was sickly as a child.

Although eight years older than my sister and eleven years older than my surviving brother, I suspect I’m healthier than both. Why?

Can’t put it down to “good genes.” They have the same ones I do.

Lifestyle? They hunted and fished and hiked forest trails while I sat at the typewriter (and later the computer) and wrote stories.

Nurturing? I lost my wife in 2009 and have lived alone for the last fourteen-plus years. They each have loving, supportive spouses.

My children? Well, my elder, Clai, passed away January 22, 2021 from sepsis. His heart compaction rate was so low, he couldn’t push liquids through the kidneys and the liver. He lived a life tortured by a Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). In my day, we called it Multiple Personality Disorder. Additionally, he was disabled by a spine that looked like an “S.”

My younger son (whom I won’t name as he would likely take a hatchet to me for publicly discussing his problems), is disabled by failed back surgery and has lived with constant pain for over thirteen years. As if that weren’t enough, he’s suffered a heart attack (fortunately while standing in the waiting room at Presbyterian Hospital). This week and last week, I went with him through the laborious process of moving his health care to the Veterans Administration. These last few days have been stressful for both of us. And as I’ve said, I ain’t moving so fast these days.

Ergo, this pitiful post about time. But it does give a bit of insight into this guy that some of you have been reading for years.

Forgive me and don’t give up on me. I’ll post something more interesting next week.

Stay safe and stay strong.

Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say… so say it!

A link to The Cutie-Pie Murders:

My personal links:



Twitter: @dontravis3

See you next Thursday.





New Posts every Thursday morning at 6:00 a.m. US Mountain time. 

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