Moments — a most human endeavour...

As good friends are apt to do I enjoyed a good meal and honest conversation the other night; when we weren’t serious we were laughing out loud. And being the generous type, we are also apt to invite others into the conversation,


We are familiar enough with the people who have to endure our questions, our dietary considerations, and the lapses in memory when it comes to our usual wine that the connection has moved beyond the pleasantries of simply ordering a meal.

“How is your back doing?”

“How are the wedding plans coming along?”

As always the wine was perfect (whatever it’s called), the chef was spot on, and because it was a little quiet there was ample time for conversation that went beyond the table.

“I have learned that chemistry in a relationship is everything…”

“Don’t you think it would be fun to surprise my boyfriend with a Nerf Gun fight?”

“Yes, I work all day, and then come here and work until eleven…”

“I was married thirteen years…”

“Send each other love letters…”

“No… I really appreciate your insight…”

The conversation ebbed and flowed; broke off and then came back together. Generations and gender engaging, sharing, and connecting — perspectives to savour and connections that left me smiling as I said goodbye and headed into the night.

I wonder if I will get invited to the wedding?


Moments — 86,400 seconds

I’m not sure she meant to be so loud when she lamented, “There is just not enough time in the day”. She was though, and I heard her from the other side of the room.


One day. 24 hours. 1,440 minutes. 86,400 seconds **. This is all we get to work with. This is all the time we get each day to do everything we believe we need to do.

And everyone is equal in this regard — there isn’t someone who is getting a second more or a second less.

I can’t be sure what was causing her frustration with time but I can only assume she was juggling number of things she needed to get done. Had she just been overly optimistic with what she could get done, was it poor prioritization, or maybe she’s just not very efficient at getting things done. The only thing I can be certain of, no matter what the reason, she wasn’t very happy.

Every day we allot time for what we have to do and manage our 86,400 seconds accordingly; it becomes one of the purest examples of opportunity cost… If I go out with friends for drinks I suppose I can’t go to the gym, unless of course I get up two hours earlier, but then I won’t be able to see the kids off to school…

It’s a constant exercise of juggling these 86,400 seconds, and more importantly, using them efficiently to get done what you want to get done. Sadly, they are one use only.

And hopefully another 86,400 seconds comes along.


** I really hope my math is accurate

Moments — a moment in time.

It was hidden in a box and forgotten. Correction, some people knew there was a box and generally knew what was in it — although arguably, this did mean it was forgotten. I only found it through happenstance when I was looking for something else.


If I was to guess I’d say the photograph was taken circa 1956. I would also say it was taken at a Christmas party, and if I was to imagine…

It was their first Christmas party since they had gotten married, and everyone took the opportunity to get out of the cold and celebrate. With cocktail and cigarette in hand, people were laughing, talking about getting the family together for the holidays, and speculated what the new year will bring. Beside the tree a playful conversation was happening about what would be under the tree on Christmas day, although no answers were forthcoming. The playfulness would continue, people would kiss under the mistletoe, and they would dance the night away listening to Elvis Presley.

It’s a moment in time that was captured, was forgotten, and then rediscovered — it’s a fortunate opportunity to glimpse into the lives of others, their stories, and ultimately to celebrate who they are (and were). My mother, god rest her soul, won’t be able to tell about what they were talking about, but my father is still sharp and should remember.

Alas, our stories are really so very short.