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Sometimes you want it to fly.  Other times, you want it to stand still.

Sometimes it goes by in the blink of an eye.  Other times, it drags, like hauling a load up a hill.

Yet, it never changes. It is a constant. And at the end, you always want it.

It is always there, ever moving, ever moving.

If you haven’t figured by now, I am referring to time.

We “sprung forward” here last night setting our clocks ahead ONE hour for something called Daylight Savings Time. When you get right down to it, there is no actual “daylight savings.”  The sun just rises later, then likewise sets later, so in reality, we are not actually “saving” any daylight, just displacing the time when the sun sets.

The concept of time has mystified the masses and inspired much music.   Many songs have been written about time.  Here’s some of my favorites:

Time after time.  (If you fall I will catch you … I will be waiting.)

Time in a bottle.  (But there never seems to be enough time …)

Time keeps on slippin slippin slippin into the future.  (Fly like an eagle to the sea.)

Does anybody really know what time it is?  (Does anybody really care?)

Time waits for no one and he won’t wait for me.  (No favors has he.)

Time has come today.  (Which has a rock and roll classic “yeeeeah” at the end.)

Time is on my side. (Yes it is.)

It’s the time of the season for loving.  (Who’s your daddy?)

I hope you had the time of your life (Which is a parenthetical title for Good Riddance.)

TiK ToK (On the clock but the party don’t stop, no. Oh whoa whoa Oh.)

Anything by Morris Day and the Time should count too. O E O E O.

Time is money.  I looked it up and was not totally unsurprised it is a quote from Benjamin Franklin in Advice to a Young Tradesman, Written by an Old One.

There’s a whole news magazine called simply, TIME.

Heck, my font for the draft is Times New Roman.

There is a character named Father Time with a grey beard carrying an hour glass we see from time to time around New Years Eve.  Not sure who Mother Time is but sometimes time CAN be a mother.

I am punctionally challenged and that all goes back to time.  If there was no time I would never be late.

Down time. Up time. Every time. All the time.

There’s more I could say, but I’m running out of time.  But I leave you with one thought, never wish away time in your life, because time is too short.

 

img_3046It started off simply enough. I was on my way to a Super Bowl party and called the host to see if they needed anything.

“Glad you called. Turns out we got a bunch of cheese, but no crackers.”

“I’m on it,” I replied. “I’ll bring some crackers.”

Simple enough it seemed. There were two minor hitches it turned out.

First, the entire town was at the local grocery store picking up last minute items, wings, pizza, chips and beer, lots and lots of beer.

Second, there was nearly an entire aisle of the store devoted to crackers. See cover photo. Who knew?
There were more than just Triscuits, Wheat Thins, Ritz and good old fashioned Saltines.

There were toasted crackers, water crackers, baked crackers, wheat crackers, wheat free crackers, rice crackers, matzo crackers, ground pepper crackers, whole grain crackers, no grain crackers, pretzel crackers and pita crackers.

Then the aberration crackers, Chikin in a basket, Cheeze its, Cheese Nips, Goldfish Crackers, Animal Crackers, Oyster Crackers and Graham Crackers.

I quickly ruled out the Graham family of crackers but my mind was boggled at the selection.

I called the host. “Hey, uh, I’m having trouble finding the crackers,” I lied.

“Not to worry,” he replied. “Just pick up some brew. Billy Bob bopped by with a big box of crackers. That’s what he does. He was just late. Cracker Billy is always good for the crackers on Super Bowl Sunday. “

Now, “Cracker Billy” was a term of endearment for our southern friend. He took the nickname as a source of pride for his long time roots in the Georgia south.

Indeed, before the Braves moved to Atlanta in 1965, the minor league baseball team of the Southern Association was actually called the Atlanta Crackers. The Negro League team was likewise known as the Atlanta Black Crackers. (This is not to be confused with the Chiropractic Society of Atlanta known as the Atlanta Back Crackers. OK, I made that one up. The other names are entirely true.)

In any event, the term “Cracker” as applied to a group of people is tricky. Some, like Billy Bob find it OK. Others find the term offensive. Polly may wanna cracker, but Polly don’t want you to call her a cracker if you get my drift. So, it’s wise to stay away from the term.

So, I was looking in the craft beer aisle which was JUST as mind boggling as the cracker aisle. And there I saw it. Florida Cracker Belgian-style White Ale.

img_3048

Crackers and beer all in a can. Doesn’t get any better. Billy Bob loved it.

img_3027Wedwand comes alive again tonight.

OK I’m totally freaked at four things.

ONE: It’s 2017. I have things in my refrigerator with an expiration date marked “0417Beelzebubgobad” and I’m thinking “well that mustard is good for a few more years” when BANG it hits me. It IS 2017! I gotta be eating more hot dogs and brats cause damn, its 2017! That mustard’s going bad.

TWO: Groundhog Day is this week. Thursday as a matter of fact. I haven’t done ANY shopping at all yet.

THREE: Going into this year’s baseball season, the Chicago Cubs are the defending World Champions! Hell yeah they are. Never gets old.

FOUR: The President of America is a former Game Show host. Now I don’t exactly recollect how Alex Trebek got to this office, but it’s a fair assumption that the electorate prefers responses in the form of a question than actual answers.

That said. There’s required homework to continue further. Back to a simpler time. 1968.

You must watch this video. Tommy Boyce. Bobby Hart. “I wonder what she’s doing tonight.”

Great song, obvious lip synch. Odd ruffled sleeves. Orange and Green velvet suits. The tambourine gets dropped unceremoniously at 20 seconds. Not a trumpet to be seen in the brass interlude.

Simpler times. Yet struggles existed. Maybe they weren’t so simple. 1968 was a rough year. Maybe ruffled sleeves weren’t the answer.

The past seems simpler since we lived through it and survived. But it wasn’t all that simple when it was “going down”. Stop children what’s that sound.

These days we perceive as harder times, yet struggles still exist, not unlike struggles survived in the past. I wonder what we’re doing tonight. Whatever it is …

We will survive.

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