Various Shortenings

I really have no idea how it all started, but I have some vague sense that some years after my retirement was when I first noticed it. Having many hobbies to keep me busy, I did not pay much attention to this strange phenomenon at first, dismissing it as a quirk of my perception.  One's mind does tend to play tricks, you see.  As does one's memory.

It became a bit more noticeable as time went on.  When I reached the age of sixty, I discovered that indeed the seasons had become shorter, and so likewise did the year.  I noticed this because no sooner had the vernal equinox passed, and we were in glorious springtime, than the summer solstice came hurrying along, bringing with it the heat and the roses and all the summer duties and social obligations.  Before you could do much about anything, the autumnal equinox hovered near, schools had resumed, more chores began to pile up, and several holidays came along in rapid succession. And then it was winter, and the end of another year.

Soon after my sixty-fifth birthday I was conscious that the months had started to shorten, each of them, not least the month of February, which now seemed shorter than ever. It was my perception that no sooner had I finished paying the household bills than a whole set of fresh ones would show up in the mail, and from the same people!  It made no difference that I had chosen to settle some of the accounts online to save a bit of postage — the online payment notices were now coming in by electronic mail with greater frequency and efficiency.  Even the bank statements arrived with punctilio, delivered by a postal service not hitherto noted for speed.

Not long afterwards, the weeks began to shorten.  (I think I may have, in a previous posting, mentioned this oddity, when I remarked that Fridays now seemed to follow Wednesdays.) Week followed week with an almost indecent alacrity, as though impatient to get me to take out the garbage and the recyclables, even though there were no more Thursdays.

Now I find that the hours are shortening as well.  I may get up at dawn, do what a newly risen human being has to do daily, such as check the e-mail and gargle, and in a few short minutes I look at the clock and it's nearly ten.  I read the papers, what little there is of it these days, with the print media's fortunes spiraling downward into oblivion, and now a glance at the clock tells me it's lunch time already.  A short walk, if I'm so inclined, and a drive to pick up a few items at the supermarket, and it's time for the News Hour with Jim Lehrer, a program I try never to miss.  Even the News Hour has become shorter now.  They may tell you that it is because they must allow time for their public broadcasting member stations to seek pledges from their viewers.  They may say that.  

But I know better.

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It is with heavy heart that I report the passing of a good friend in Jerusalem.  This was a kind and generous man, a devoted husband, father, and grandfather.  May he have eternal rest.