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Tic Tocks

Even thinking of Time hurts my head. I mean, is Time the thing you measure with a clock, or the actual thing itself? Is it the time I’m supposed to arrive for dinner, or the dinner itself that is paramount; the journey, or the destination -the age old question? In other words, is it more important to know when to expect something, or simply to deal with it if and when it arrives? Obviously it depends -but I’m not sure I always know which is the better choice…

I suppose there are many types of Time but I wonder if only two stand the test: clock-measured intervals (time to, or of), and the event (or result) that is the purpose of the measurement (time at) -or is that too simplistic? Too confining?

You see why I am so enamoured of St. Augustine’s apocryphal response: ‘What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is; if I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know.’

I remember walking through a city park one day and feeling hungry, wondered if it was time to treat myself to some lunch. My phone was buried somewhere in my backpack and not easily retrievable, so I resorted to the next best thing: engaging in social intercourse.

I decided to ask for the time from an elderly man sitting on a bench who seemed to be studying a book. Although attired in jeans and a bulky sweater, he looked like an academic, for some reason -a professor perhaps, from the downtown campus of the university. A rather heavy-looking book was open on his lap and he seemed to be agreeing with something he was reading, but I soon realized that his head was nodding with somnolence, not with the acquisition of knowledge. It was an honest mistake…

“Excuse me, sir,” I said, trying to be deferential to the wisdom of which he had been partaking. “Can you tell me what time it is?”

His head suddenly jerked upwards, and a slight trickle of saliva engendered a quick wipe with his sleeve. His rheumy eyes flicked around in confusion until they focussed on me. I think he smiled, but guiltily at first -like he had been caught nodding off at the lectern. Then, he managed a recovery-grin, as if the question I’d asked was more profound than what I had initially intended.

“What was the question again?” By the expression that suddenly settled on his face, I could almost hear him rattling a few generic responses around in his mouth -stalling, while he riffled through the reams of wisdom packed tightly in his head.

I smiled at his confusion. “I just asked you what time it was…” My expression, though, must have suggested an invitation to banter.

At first, his eyes blinked at the naïveté of the question. He was obviously used to dealing with more complex queries. “Was, or is…?” he countered, with a gentle voice.

“Pardon me?” I could sense we were entering a new Magisterium.

A mischievous smile appeared on his lips. “You changed tenses on me…”

Something in his voice alerted me to his mischief; two could play… “Well, I suppose the time when I initially posed the question has now passed, so you are free to tell me the answer as it was when I first asked, or to update it to the present moment…”

He made a quick attempt to look on his wrist, even though he was not wearing a watch. “How accurate do I need to be?”

The game was on! “A reasonable approximation will do, I think.”

His eyes twinkled merrily; he was enjoying this. “Is it really ‘clock-time’ that interests you, or the event for which you may already be late…?”

I had to think about that for a moment, and I studied his face to see if he was serious. “A  good point, actually…” I hesitated to confess that my question had been motivated by hunger as much as curiosity. It was certainly not a need-to-know question, but a quick glance at my face would probably have given it away.

“Some things don’t require as much accuracy as you might think.” He stifled a yawn, and then shrugged, as if he were apologizing. “If you’re tired, then you should rest, no matter the time.”

I took that as an invitation, smiled, and sat down beside him on the bench. We were both obviously enjoying the conversation. “Are you always this philosophical about things?” I asked, intrigued by the ease with which he had befriended me.

His expression changed, although I could still see the Duchenne smile-lines around his eyes. “I’ve learned to look at the world a little differently than many, I suppose. But I am old now…” he hesitated for a second before his smile re-emerged. “And so are you; so, equal greeting equal, eh?”

It was hard not to like this stranger. “My name’s G -or at least that’s what everyone calls me, anyway,” I added proffering my hand for him to shake.

“Call me Mike,” he responded, “Although, I fear that’s not how most people address me…” he added with another shrug.

“How do they address you, then?” I felt that he had given me permission to ask.

“You mean now?”

“Now, or then?”

“Pardon me…?” Suddenly merriment re-emerged from his eyes as he realized he had just been parodied.

“Maybe tenses are not as important as they used to be for us, eh, Mike…?”

“Just the events, not the clock, I think.” He considered what he’d said for a moment, then sighed. “I wasted time, and now doth time waste me…”

I recognized the quote. “Shakespeare’s Richard II ?”

He nodded, his face crinkling with delight that I had recognized it. He straightened up on the bench, stretched, and then pointed to the sky. “The sun appears to be quite high in the sky now… It must be pretty close to lunch time, don’t you think?”

“Event Time…? I thought you’d never ask…”

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