Taking Time

I remember watching my grandfather as he approached the back door to go out to the garden or to get in his Volkswagen rabbit. He walked in a more or less stately manner to the door. He reached out his hand to take the door knob. Then he deliberately turned the knob all the way to the stop before he began pulling the door open, then striding through. It was all paced and cadenced.

This was a man who grew up starting the wood fire in the school house pot bellied stove. He drove a mare and buggy to deliver newspapers. In other words he lived in a time before machines, when people took time to do things right.

By contrast, I’ve always been in a hurry, and somehow ended up being late. My approach to a door knob is to run into the door, fumble with the knob, miss twice, then hit myself in the head With the door as I jerk it open.  It’s like I’ve got the Keystone cops running through my brain. (what’s left of it!)

Now, in retirement, I find that I am studying taking time. I take time to visit with friends and family. I take time to warm up a horse. I walk in my garden and fields. I sit and pet my pooches.

By the way, grandpa was born before motorized vehicles, but lived to see the first man walk on the moon.

Oh, and, all that deliberateness walking through the door – evaporated once he was behind the wheel of his Volkswagen rabbit. He drove like he was going to a fire!

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