A SNAPSHOT IN TIME. Pts. 1-2

Over the past few years, I have been increasingly reminded of the momentariness and frailty of life.

We only have to consider those old celluloid films from the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries.

We’ve all seen the black & white footage of the Titanic as it sets sail on its maiden (and ultimately, only) voyage to America. The crowds, (and resulting hoopla) which congregated en masse a day after the end of WWI. Four soldiers running up the beach at Normandy. Two go down. Their ultimate fate uncertain. Elvis. His hot hips and sweet lips. “I Love Lucy” and “The Dick Van Dyke Show.” Moments in time which once created cannot be undone or done over.

And there are the memories. Memories etched into the gray matter of flesh and blood entities. Memories that will die with the ‘rememberer,’ (short of being memorialized in print).

But on a more personal level, in recent days, and more than once, my mind has transported me back to a day and moment which transpired well over half a century ago.

I believe it was a Saturday, and my father and I had driven up to a local gas station with the intention of having some engine repair completed on his vehicle. Having parked the car, we may have walked across the street to a strip mall, or simply sat down on an outside bench. At any rate, after perhaps an hour the mechanic made my dad aware that his automobile was ready.

As I previously implied, I have no idea exactly what repair was made, nor exactly why the following scenario occurred, but when my dad examined the mechanic’s handiwork, he was anything but a ‘happy camper.’

Pt. 2

As long as I draw breath, and I retain a clear mind, I will never forget my father’s reaction to what he believed was a faulty repair job. I can tell you that daddy ‘raised Cain’ with the mechanic. Never before, and never after had my father ‘blessed’ anyone with such bombastic decibels. Even at the comparatively young age of 10 or 11, I found myself embarrassed at the kind of behavior which was, for him, a bit out of character; (though he could exhibit a moderate amount of anger, if one of his children didn’t immediately do what he expected).

I can tell you, I was relieved when my dad paid the repair bill, and we got back in our car, and made our way home.

The victims of the Titanic have long since been laid to rest, or have been missing for more than a century. The celebratory voices following both Wars to End All Wars are stilled now. Elvis and Lucy and Barney Fife have been consigned to youtube and reruns.

My father is gone now, (as is my mother), and I am approaching my seventh decade of life. There is little doubt that the mechanic who became the target of my dad’s anger has also shuffled off this mortal coil.

Snapshots from the past. Moments in time which come and go, and are only preserved on film or resident in the synapses of someone’s brain. And speaking of ‘moments,’ it occurs to me that life is too momentary, like a proverbial fog in the morning, to take ourselves too seriously, or to spend too much time brooding over anything.

Oh, the grace to relive a few selected moments from our past, and to be granted permission for a ‘do over.’ A change of heart and mind. A bit more wisdom. A bit more patience. New and better choices

…given the brevity of life.


by William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary, Vol. 57. Copyright Pending.

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