I voted. Having invested my political hopes and desires in the narrow slit of a pale blue cardboard box in the classroom of an elementary school near where I live I now wait for the results of our national elections to be announced. There was the moment I voted and there will be the moment the results are announced.
Events are the names we give to moments. We think we live from moment to moment, digitally, to use a metaphor that most high-tech people would relate to. Life, however, is analogue. It’s a continuous function that goes on between those moments, running over those moments in its blind fury and enthusiasm. To take a cue from Allen Saunder’s (not John Lennon’s) quote “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans,” I would say that life is what happens in between the moments. Maybe it’ll go viral.
When I was a kid I remember climbing into the car in Ohio and being driven down to Florida. There was Ohio. Then there was Florida. Nothing in between. Ohio was boring. Florida was a lot of fun. I almost drowned in the swimming pool at our motel. I remember going around and around underwater, having slipped out of my inner tube without the slightest clue how to get back to the surface. I’ve since learned to swim.
I used to sit in the waiting room with my mother waiting to get a shot. Before I knew I was going to get a shot was ok. Getting the shot was not a lot of fun.
Life is mostly like a waiting room.
I used to do things with my father. Damned if I can remember most of them now. If only I could have paid more attention. If only I could have committed everything we did together to memory. If only all of my life had been visible, tangible, to me. I have so many questions, but it’s too late now.
Oh, they’re announcing the results on tv. And the winner is …