Suddenly in the End Zone

Suddenly, it's too soon.

Most of the slings and arrows of life follow the same pattern. Gradual, gradual, gradual and then suddenly sudden.

Last week, we arrived in Boston for a meet the parents event. This time, we were the parents of Mary and we were meeting the parents of Jon.

Upon our arrival, we decided to take a walk along the river Charles, the muddy water made even more famous by the Standells as they sang about the city that they loved.

We started our walk at about 4:30 in the afternoon. The day was cool with the sunlight only occasionally peeking through the poting cloud layer. Although leaves were aplenty, the peak season had already passed and left its memory on the ground. Early in the walk, we passed by a goose and he must have decided that we had some food or were a threat because suddenly all of the geese under his influence were out of the water and hot on our trail.

They followed us for fifty feet and must have come to the conclusion that we were neither threat nor food source as they slipped back into the river as suddenly as they had appeared.

By the time we got to our car, it was Five o'clock and the darkness was gathering around us.

As for Lynn and I, we are rarely out at night anymore. Our vision has diminished to such an extent that it's very difficult to drive at night. Driving is already the most dangerous activity that most of us engage in and it becomes an even bigger risk when ya can't see.

At home, our teevee schedule starts at 6:30 with David Muir, he of the perfect hair, who delivers us our dose of bad news every night. Then it's a flash through PBS news hour and then a fourteen minute zoom through Jeopardy. Next we're on the stream catching the big shows until it's 10 and we head for bed.

No time for night.

But here in Boston, after our walk we visited a tavern for burgers and beer. The darkness descended. When we left the tavern an hour had passed in real time but darkness was everywhere. Suddenly, I felt kinda drunk even though it was just one beer. Five hours had seemingly disappeared as the surrounding streets had taken on the aura of a midnight hour. I wasn't drunk, I was feeling midnight but if we hurried home we could still catch Muir and the bad news as 6:30 became 7;00.

Heading to Mary's mini-Cooper, I reminded myself of one of Yogi Berra's greatest obsevations, "It gets late awful early around here."

Same thing happens as we get older. The daylight surrenders with less graduality and the night arrives more suddenly. The more gradual, the less shocking is the sudden. I'll be 75 in two weeks. I'm beginning to learn these things in an end zone a couple hours before twilight.