Pauses

Have you ever had a moment where time unexpectedly stood still?  I'm not talking about your wedding day or the birth of your first child.  I mean a time when something suddenly hit you and your mind had to take a moment to process?  

A few years ago, I was experiencing health problems.  I was at the University of Michigan hospital, worried about a procedure.  My eyes were down as I walked through the hallway; I did not want to be there, I did not want to be alone.  Already late for my appointment, I found myself lost in the expanse of the hospital corridors with no sense where my appointment was.  I stopped for a moment in front of an old photo on the wall, looked up, and paused.

The photo was of medical students from 100 years earlier, students who had studied at the University of Michigan medical school.  They were so earnest in their work, so serious.  For a moment I stood stock-still, people had to walk around me.  I did not care.  The picture mesmerized me.  Although the students' clothing was dated, their faces looked just like any other student today.  One student in particular was looking at the camera, looking at me.  I stared at that student and thought: what was he thinking when that photo was taken?  Was he worried about an exam?  Thinking he did not fit in, that he was not at smart as everyone else in the room?  Was his mind elsewhere, was he thinking of the cute girl he had met the day before?  In that moment, I was stricken by the fact that we think of our grandparents, our great-grandparents as an outdated species that could be nothing like us.

Boy, is that wrong.

Tonight, my husband and I watched an episode of Boardwalk Empire, set in the 1920s. (Don't judge our HBO habit).  The final scene was an early-morning shot in which the citizens of Atlantic City lined the coast to catch a glimpse of the first female aviator to fly the span of the continent.  Um, that was strange.  Just today at work I had an email saying "Look outside!  The space shuttle should be overhead soon."  A co-worker told me that he had been coming back from court to find cars parked on the side of the freeway, people on the grass looking at the sky.  The space shuttle was flying by.  Literally, we are the same as those who have gone before.  

Let's not forget to pause.  To catch our breath.  Life is short.  

   

Climbing Out A Window

A few days ago, an amazon.com package appeared on my doorstep.  Joy of joys, amazon.com always means a new book!  The problem was, I did not remember recently placing an order.  Not one to ask questions when a new book is looming, I ripped open the package and there it was- a book I had ordered months ago but forgotten about:  The 100-Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson.  Greg's German colleagues had recommended it during one of his visits to Munich, and I had been waiting for the English translation to become available.

The book is intriguing- a man is scheduled for his 100 year birthday party when he realizes his life is far from over, he does not want to be in his nursing home another minute, and out the window he goes (he must have been spry for 100).  How many times have we, in our lives, wanted to do just what that man did?  Escape our reality - escape work deadlines, upset children, financial responsibilities - if only long enough to catch our breath before we get caught?  

Which leads me to a true story.  In court and very stressed out one week, I casually looked over to the Bailiff.  He gave me a smile and a nod of the head; I gave a nod in reply and dropped my eyes, noticing the hand cuffs strapped to his belt loop.  Handcuffs, I thought.  Ugh, it would suck to be in handcuffs, without a phone, e-mail or....heeeeeey, I thought.  Wait a minute.  No phone.  No e-mail.  No one from work could reach me! No WORK STRESS!!!  My mind was a whirlwind of desire - at that moment, for longer than I care to admit, I imagined how nice it would be to sit in a cell with nothing to do but read.  It sounded idyllic. For a few minutes, I imagined that jail was heaven.  When I got home and told my husband, he imagined I sounded crazy.  

Which leads me to my question of the day:  do you ever take time to be irresponsible?  Do you take an afternoon off to go to the park with your kids?  Do you sneak out of work early to meet your significant other on a weeknight, just the two of you?  I don't often, and feel sometimes like responsibility is stifling.  Maybe it is time for me to climb out the window.