The secret to slowing down time

Sunday I was at a baby dedication pre-party. My friends, Brian and Jill, had twins a few months ago. Sunday night the twins were "dedicated" at church, which is a little ceremony some of us Protestants like to do, where parents dedicate their children to God, and the community promises to help raise them well.

I think it started as a desire to do something for families with more liturgical leanings, when the church's prevailing theology doesn't allow for baptizing or christening. New parents seem to want to do something religious with their baby.

That's all secondary to the story I was going to tell.

Sunday afternoon, before the dedication, Jill had a little to-do at her house. Because she likes to-do things. So do I. They're nice.

Several of us were discussing why we liked our 30s better than our 20s. Mainly the answer seemed to be because you were an adult, but no longer a flailing jackass.

Brian's father was standing near the conversation. The man claims to be 73, but looks much younger. He is normally laconic to the point of invisibility. Nonetheless, I turned and asked him, "Which decade did you like best?"

Maybe it was the babies, or the room full of young eager ears, but apparently I had asked him just the right question. He was suddenly full of words about his personal history, his time in the Air Force, and the decades of the 20th century.

He shared with me the secret of making time go slow. "You know how when you're in high school and you're counting the days until you get out? And in the service, you count the days? As soon as you stop counting, time flies by."

"So keep finding reasons to count the days?"

"That's right," he said.

I expected some homily about not counting down, about living in the present. Goes to show what I know.