LEISURE

Imagine Not Wearing a Watch

One reader’s comment made me realize my parents had it right all along.

Author’s image using ChatGPT

The other day, I received the following comment on a piece I wrote:

“I no longer must sign in and out of work. Some of my friends no longer wear watches. I have a short attention span… in a hurry? Usually not.”

The writer is retired and enjoying a life of leisure. I am not there yet, though I am inching closer by the day. I still have one client that keeps me busy, and I have a fourth book in my sequel that I am in the midst of writing. When I’m not doing that, I am walking the dog, going to the gym, and planning when we can see our grandchildren.

These thoughts and the writer’s comment had me, once again, remark to myself how smart my parents were. They knew the importance of taking it down a notch to refuel our engine.

As a family, we observed all Jewish holidays (I still do). Every week, come the Sabbath, which begins Friday evening at sundown and continues until Saturday evening, we did no work, no commerce, no driving anywhere.

What did we do?

We went to synagogue, had lunch as a family, and then spent the afternoon usually playing ball, or if it were the winter, maybe building a snowman or snowfort. Sometimes, on a Saturday, we got together with friends, as long as we could walk to our destination.

My parents? They took a long nap. We knew not to bother them.

There was a point in my development when I didn’t like being so idle every Saturday and could imagine having a day of fun. I was unable to reprogram how we spent the day, which, in fact, did include fun, as we often played touch football and the like.

If I ever complained (scratch that: When I complained), I recall my parents saying that at some point I would come to realize the value of this imposed downtime.

They were right. They almost always were. But it took me decades to give them full credit and hop on board. Until then, I was just going along with the rules and sharpening my basketball and football skills so I could play with my brothers.

These were my thoughts when I received this reader’s comment.

Imagine wearing no watch? I simply can’t.

Imagine not setting an alarm. Maybe I could—not sure—but I’ve convinced myself that starting my day at 5:50 AM will benefit our dog, Teddy. Anyway, my husband and I seem unable to sleep late, so the alarm disturbs nothing.

No longer in a hurry?

My husband picks the routes he will drive based on the fewest red lights possible because they can really slow down the ride. I am trying to imagine not caring about the red lights, were I him, and again, I simply can’t.

But we both can imagine taking life down a notch. Maybe this will be the last year I do client work. Not sure.

Maybe the fourth book in my series will be my last. I actually doubt that because there are so many characters with storylines that need completing. I spend much of my life in a fictional village, and my curiosity is enormous. Plus, I care about these characters.

As I turn 69 soon, I can be honest with myself and admit I bring less energy to my game, but I still might not take my foot off the gas pedal any time soon. The foot takes itself off when I fall asleep watching television, or as happened the other night, I almost fell asleep listening to a speaker at 9:30 at night. He was feet in front of me, but fortunately, my husband intervened to keep me awake. A lovepat on the shoulder works wonders.

Back to the reader’s comment, Judy, you are just a bit ahead of me, but I feel confident I will get there, too.

I might still wear a watch, but I won’t check it as frequently.

I will still have a schedule, but I won’t count the red lights. I actually never do, but I often ask GPS for help on an efficient way to get to my destination.

I will continue to honor the memory of my parents by observing the Sabbath. I imagine them, from their celestial perch, watching me, seeing our kids and grandkids, and saying to each other,

“We knew she’d get there, but it would have to be on her own time. Jill always was that way. But look at those kids! And those grandkids! They are following her lead.”

Yes, my parents knew wherever I went would have to be on my own time. It just took my growing up to realize it, and a reader’s comment to write this confession of sorts.