Time Depends

Recently, one of our children—while engaged in deep thinking—asked an interesting question about growing older that frankly had not occurred to Shelley or me.  As a person grows older, does it seem that the years go by faster or slower? 

My initial thought was not a complex one, responding, “Well, it depends.”  There are times in one’s life when things move rapidly.  Sometimes too much so, like when a child seems to grow up before your very eyes, not only in strength and stature, but emotionally and intellectually.  We saw all of that in our kids and now that they are grown with children, professions, or other great responsibilities we must rely on our memories and pictures of them to remind us just how fast time has passed.  It seems too quick for me.  But I was involved in a military career and possibly the rapid maturing of our kids was consistent with the rapid pace of military life where opportunities to pause and “smell the roses” were infrequent. 

Looking back, in the military the passage of time tended to be related to the job at hand.  When I was in a combat unit, either overseas or here in the United States, the pace was sometimes frenetic.  Nonetheless, we were constantly busy.  Indeed, frequently the operation tempo—or “OPTEMPO” for short—hardly paused between distinct events.  After an extended time in the field where activity was heightened, even on “slow” days, no sooner were we back in garrison than we were off to the races on another pressing matter.  Maybe it was preparing for the Annual General Inspection (AGI) where a unit was evaluated. From the unit’s equipment readiness to uniformed inspection in ranks, to the cleanliness of barracks, to the accuracy of one’s identity card and “dog tags,” everything was inspected in minute detail.  And it never seemed that we had enough time to prepare adequately for these “white glove” inspections.  The ramping up for an AGI was every bit as busy as moving and shooting on the ranges where we honed our gunnery skills.

That military pace, however, was very different from the painstaking life of a staff officer in the Pentagon or the State Department.  I served in both environments and those assignments seemed to drag from day to day, interrupted only by thoughts of returning to a troop unit as soon as I could escape the clutches of bureaucratic torture. 

Military schooling has a slower pace as well.  It was a time to learn new things, build relationships with fellow officers, and contemplate future career moves.  And of course, spend time with family.  Events moved slower to accommodate family activities and social occasions with classmates and their kin.  There were the cookouts, softball games, little leagues, dance recitals, and excursions to recreational areas.  Slow was good then.

When I took up legislative duties after a very rewarding military career, life in politics tended to be slower but was occasionally punctuated by mad minutes of high anxiety or drama. In hindsight, most of that was unnecessary and unwarranted.  During the 16 years I spent legislating, life seemed to move much slower for me. 

I suspect some of that came with age, but that slower pace afforded me time to think.  Having time to reflect then was a luxury that was only interrupted by campaign seasons.  But when it was time to move from campaigning to governance, a slower and measured pace was much desired.  Like the ambulatory trees that could move about the forest in J.R.R. Tolkien’s iconic The Lord of the Rings, the “Treebeards” embodied wisdom, patience, and a deep connection with nature. Among their utterances is this:

“I am not hasty. I have had much time to think. I am not hasty.”

Politics was a time for me to develop some wisdom, a modicum of patience, and to indulge my love of conservation.  Not everything was “hasty.”  So, in retrospect, my political career seemed to move slower than the military one.   

So, I conclude this. It depends. If you’re busy, the years take to flight. But when you’re less busy, the years pass slowly.  I suppose that’s the tempo I prefer now as an author of a couple of books with others ahead.  And while I am earnest and eager to accomplish my writing projects, like the proverbial Treebeards, “I am not hasty.” 

Nor do I want to miss the contemplation that comes with life along the Potomac, where grandkids come to visit, play, and rush before my eyes from one fun endeavor to another.  I can’t move as fast as they do now.  I don’t want to.  I prefer observing slowly how fast they are growing up.  And in that regard, the speed of the years? Well, it depends, doesn’t it?