Born in the USA, and Still Here…

People my age and older are always talking about how time is flying, how they can’t believe how fast the years go by. Now, I don’t know if my life is unusually chock-full of interesting content, or if there’s some other explanation, but it ain’t that way for me at all.

Oh, sure, I have occasional moments of time-telescoping. For example, I recently inherited a copy of Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA, an album I had heard plenty back in the 80’s but never owned. Not remembering exactly when it had come out, I looked at the CD and saw 1984. Hey, that’s not so long ago, I thought: just a little more than ten years. Seems longer, somehow.


But sensations of the slow passage of time far exceed compressive experiences, for me, in both frequency and amplitude. Most of the time I find myself looking back at a recent event and thinking, I can’t believe that was only a week ago. And when I reflect on the fact that I’m 42, I don’t think, Holy crap, how did I get to be 42? No, what I’m thinking is, Whew. Half done!

Of course, if I keep eating healthy like I am, and step up my physical fitness a bit, I could end up living forever, like Ray Kurzweil promises. Hmm. Well, at least Mars has plenty of water. And low gravity, and lots of big mountains to climb. See you up there!

One thought on “Born in the USA, and Still Here…”

  1. Well my friend, for most it is a conundrum.

    As Einstein demonstrated, time is relative. Even for those who stop and smell the roses. At 42 years of age, one year is the same to you in proportion to your age as 43 days are to a child of five.

    Interesting that you reflect on an experience when you were in your twenties. The proportion
    isn’t so great between young adult and middle age. Just half.

    But do you recall how long a day was when you were a child? How long is it now? I bet you
    will never capture that feeling again of how long the morning lasted when you were a child.

    Nor should you, it’s a passage. Like a telescope, no piece closer to the viewing lens ever
    approaches the diameter of the piece that first receives the light.


    Maybe you don’t feel the passage like most, but

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