Don't Blink

Time will race by you

Photo by Tyler Mower on Unsplash

I was reflecting in bed the other morning like I always do before I get up. Robin Williams popped in my head. I was recalling the first time I saw him. It was on TV; he was doing a live show in San Francisco and one of his bits was impersonating Nadia Comaneci, five-time Olympic gold medalist for gymnastics. He spoke in her high-pitched tone and was funny as hell. I knew he was going to go places.

My mind then ran through his career from that first time to all his stand-up, late-night shows, Mork and Mindy and to some of the best movies ever made. And then in a blink, he was gone.

Same thing for Hulk Hogan. We were, are, the same age. As irony would have it, I spoke with a guy who played in a park back east when the Hulkster was a young boy, man. He said even back then he stood out above all the rest because he was so big. And poof, he’s gone.

Ozzy Ozborne was part of the music culture I grew up with. Black Sabbath wasn’t one of my favorite bands at the time, but his longevity is right up there with the Rolling Stones and Bob Dylan.

Jamal Malcolm was part of the American fabric. Along with his sisters and parents on the Cosby Show. The Huxtables was the number one show at the time, and no one paid any attention that the family was black. It was great entertainment and pulled us all in for the family shenanigans. There was no discussion of racism. DEI. It was the way it should have always remained. In fact, there were many, many shows with black entertainers. Sandford and Son. Good Times. The Jeffersons. What’s Happening. Different Strokes. Baby, I’m Back. Benson. That’s My Mama. It’s a long list and they were all great and were readily accepted into everyone’s living room. And a show like the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air created superstars Will Smith and Alfonso Ribeiro.

I got a little off track but not entirely.

I grew up with Robin Williams, the Hulk, Ozzy and the Cosby’s. The good memories are interwoven into my brain. And sadly, a vast majority of the actors have died.

It gets back to one of most difficult things for the human brain to assess. Time. Where does it go?

We live our lives that we define in chapters. Chapters of grade school, high school, college. A new boyfriend or girlfriend. A new wife, an old wife. A disaster of a husband. A new husband or wife. A partner. Maybe where you dedicated yourself to others. Or a time when you were selfish. Good job. Bad job. New job. You get the idea.

All these things filled up our brains hard drive and allow us to reflect on them. Bring them up periodically and then wonder where did it go?

Not to be a downer, but there’s sad part to this. I’ve been volunteering for the past four years at the Friendship House, a resident for those with Alzheimer’s and dementia. It’s a different story entirely for them. Or is it?

I’ve played my guitar and sang to them and watched a transformation before my eyes. Before I strummed a single chord, many were staring off blankly, or sleeping. When I would start to sing, heads would turn, eyes would open, and toes would tap. Despite what we think we understand, the memories of those with dementia are not entirely lost. They are still buried in the recess of their minds.

One of the activities at the Friendship House is trivia hour. It nudges the mind and allows the brain to dig deep to recall information. I find it remarkable every time how so many quietly observe and then suddenly blurt out the correct answer. Many of the answers I didn’t even remember.

Time. I keep getting back to it. You can’t see it, touch it, feel it, smell it but you know it’s there and it keeps racing by you. We have no control over it and can’t do a thing about it.

Dinosaurs went extinct 65 million years go. They lived for 165 million years. Or light from the farthest known galaxy takes over 13 billion years to reach us. The pyramids are 4,000 years old. The United States was formed 250 years ago, and the average human span is 72 years. Don’t blink.

When we reflect on our own lives, I think of it in terms as 20, 50 or 70 years. Robin Williams lived 63 years, the Hulk died at the very age I am now, 71, at least for a couple more weeks. With the average life span at 72, I’m packing my bags.

We always tell ourselves to make the most of each day. We are but a blip in time. And I may as well empty my bags. My grandfather would also remind me that everyone leaves here with empty pockets.