A Merrie Medley

When I was younger, so much younger than today, ahem, sorry, let me start over.

When I was young – and I’m talking 20s and 30s here – it used to seem disingenuous when older people would wonder where the time went. Come on, they lived through all those days one after the other. How could the aggregate come as so much of a surprise?

Surprise! It really happens like that.

On the one hand, it’s semi-reassuring to know that I was just as annoying as any ordinary 20-something. Goody for me, I’ve achieved retroactive normalcy.

But on the other hand, the one in a metaphoric fist, it’s true. Time really does fly faster than the speed of sound which, I think, is also why you seem to speak so quickly.

Yesterday (honest, it was yesterday, I’m not using gratuitous Beatles references on purpose) my late father’s former apprentice came over. I hadn’t seen him since well before 1993, the year my father died. Take a look at the closest 19 year old. He or she wasn’t even born the last time I saw this man. This is freaky stuff.

It’s enough to make me want to buy a ticket for the last train to Clarksville. You can meet me at the station.