Forest City Courier, Sept. 29, 1938

Lost yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered or they are gone forever.

When Horace Mann wrote these words, he painted very clearly in two sentences the irreparable loss of time. Time, that word that has an indefinable definition. The scientist says that what we call time is the duration measured for all things, with a beginning and an end between an eternity past and an eternity future. A man with only a layman’s viewpoint defined time in this way: “Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.” Perhaps the most common idea of time is a division of duration counting from one event to another, as from the breakfast hour to the ringing of the school bell, or from the beginning of a task to the finish. The Indians kept an account of long periods by “winters,” of months by “moons” and of days by “sleeps.” They took no accounts of weeks. Years ago there was no agreement as to when the day began. Some counted from sunrise, some from sunset and others from noon. By general custom, we now declare the day to be from midnight to midnight. However, we define or think of time, it can never be recovered when lost. And how all of us waste minutes and hours of it every day. Modern machinery and such is invented to save time. Back in olden days we used to have to wait till the village grocer weighted and wrapped up sugar, lard, coffee, etc. Now we can get it already packaged, saving time at our shopping. We are forever hunting ways to save time, but we do not seem to worry about losing it. Time is immeasurable, yet there never seems to be enough of it.

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I like the modern way of building houses with the kitchen window looking out on the front lawn. I have seen some house plans like that. After all, this very necessary room is the most important one. All housekeepers will agree that this job of cooking get monotonous sometimes, and instead of looking out on the garage or woodshed, how much more pleasant would a view of green lawn, flowers and perhaps a glimpse of the highway where, you could watch the world go by as you washed the dishes, peeled potatoes, or took a pie out of the oven.

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The few cool days of last week put pep in our step and sent us scurrying out to what was left of last year’s wood pile. The open fire place with a cheerful blaze seems to be a promise of delightful days and long winter evenings to come. Sewing or reading an interesting book by an open fire is something to look forward to. Even the overflowing darning basket (which we are inclined to put off as long as possible) takes on a new interest, and becomes a delightful occupation if we, can sit before a glowing fire.

 

Reprinted with permission from The Daily Courier. Copyright owned by The Daily Courier.