time

Life (is not) in the Rear-view Mirror

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 4 Comments

As we age, we sometimes look at life through the rear-view mirror, longing for a past often whitewashed by nostalgia. As a result, some of us fall into a funk, thinking the best days are what we can only experience by looking back.

I’m guilty of writing several pieces relating to stories of past events. Most tell of fond memories of an age of innocence, holidays gone by, meeting those who would become lifelong friends, or tales of those shared experiences that molded and shaped us.

While memories are important—and worth preserving for those moments when they can ease the pain of those trying times we also share—they are sanitized, exaggerated, or altered to fit our most essential desires. They are no more life than a photograph, a brief moment captured in time.

Such a backward-looking approach to life can blind us to the many opportunities to create new memories.

Time for us is linear, despite, as James Taylor sings in “The Secret of Life,”

“Now the thing about time is that time isn’t really real
It’s just your point of view
How does it feel for you?
Einstein said he could never understand it all
Planets a-spinning through space
The smile upon your face”

James Taylor, Secret of Life

While quantum physics contends there is no difference between time and other universal forces, for us, the arrow of time only goes in one direction and, sadly, with increasing velocity.

As a wise man once said to me when describing his current situation in life, “Joe, monthly magazines come every three days.”

So, while we all wish time would elongate and slow down it is finite and fleeting for all of us.

Thus, the criticality of balancing the comfort of pleasant and important memories with our life as we continue to live it.

Over the past two years (or what will be two years on April 29th), we have been most fortunate to have our grandson Levi bringing joy and wreaking havoc of the most enjoyable kind into our lives. For him, his young mind is a sponge taking in all the world and, hopefully, creating memories that will last a lifetime. (Disclaimer: I take no credit or blame for some of his recent vocabulary acquisitions.)

At this tender and innocent age, the memories may only be fragments of his experiences, but his ability to recall such moments will grow as rapidly as he does each moment. I hope he holds fast to the memories but only enough to offer a smile or a tear, then gets on with living.

From what I can see, he has embraced my love of reading. While the realities of technology will continue to challenge the experience of holding a book and quiet moments of reading, I think we have planted the seed for a lifetime of intellectual exploration.

As you can see from his method of selecting books, not by title or name or main character but by dumping the entire content (which increases almost weekly) of his bookbag on the ground, carefully examining each one, then selecting anywhere from one to the whole bag as the book(s) of the day, he has a variety of interests.

It is these moments—particularly for me when he hands me a book or ten, climbs up next to me, and lets me read to him—I can recall with immense joy and look forward to more such experiences for as long as he will tolerate this old guy.

Whatever memories we create with Levi and his soon-to-join us brother, as precious as they are, pale compared to those I’ve yet to make. 

Every once in a while, we all need a glance into life’s rear-view mirror. Of course it is essential to remember where we came from and the people who steered us along. But what is in front of us is the most precious aspect of life. Devote your moments to it.

Hold fast to your memories to inspire you to make new ones with whatever time life grants you on this planet.

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The Soundtracks of Life

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 4 Comments

Music has always been a big part of my life. I’m sure that’s true for many people, I know it’s true for some of my friends. The music of our youth shapes us even to this day. It added color to our memories, and still keeps much of those “good ole’ days” vibrant and alive, even if tempered with time.

I always find it fascinating that I have to work at remembering names of people I’ve just met, yet just the first few notes (can you name that tune?) of The Sounds of Silence or April Come She Will and I can recite the lyrics without fail.

I often listen to the 60s channel on Sirius XM and, except for a few obscure songs, can sing along with almost every tune.

Pleasant Valley Sunday, I’m a Believer, Shiloh, Does Anybody Really Know What Time it Is?, and on to the days of Good Times Bad Times, Stairway to Heaven, Smoke on the Water, the sound of the first few notes or rhythmic beat of the drums and I am sixteen once again.

Born to be Wild… indeed.

In my senior year of high school, 1974, the theme of the prom was Seals & Croft’s We May Never Pass This Way Again. I didn’t attend the prom, choosing (or perhaps because I may not have had a choice) to experience (with several other option-less friends) a more cinematic cultural experience at a rather chic drive-in movie location, accompanied by fine, hand-crafted ales, and facilitated by our well-altered fake Id’s attesting to my being a mature 19-year-old and thus able to appreciate the fine art and refreshments.

I don’t recall the name of the movie, nor the actors, nor the theme of the story. Sometimes what seems to be a good use of time at the moment turns out not to be so. Such is life, but regrets never accomplished anything.

My point for revisiting that moment in time was the appropriateness of the theme. While we may have loved the music, and can still sing all the words, we didn’t appreciate how prophetic those words were or how quickly the time between those moments and now would pass.

Now I find myself a part another song from that era.

In 1967 (FIFTY-THREE YEARS AGO) the Beatles released the song, When I’m Sixty-Four. At the time of its release, me and most of my friends were eleven years old. Old people were sixty-four. Antique cars were sixty-four. Dinosaurs were sixty-four.

I could not grasp the concept of BEING sixty-four.

Now I am fast approaching sixty-four.

“Will you still need me, will you still feed me?
When I’m sixty-four?”

Yet even as I approach this now seemingly young age–60 is the new 40, or so I tell myself–the lyrics and music of those days still reside, alive and well-cared for, deep in my memory.

Of all the many songs and artists of those days— Neil Diamond, Harry Chapin, Chicago, Blood, Sweat, & Tears—Paul Simon and Simon & Garfunkel remain my favorites. Even today, with my fingers battered and bruised from an active life, tinged with arthritis, I can still pick up my guitar and play the songs.

Simon had a way with words and a masterful ear for setting music to his poetic lines. One of my favorites, interestingly enough also about the aging process although that was far from my mind back then, is the song Old Friends from the Bookends album.

Old friends
Old friends
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends

Old friends
Winter companions
The old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city
Sifting through trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends


Old friends
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear

Time it was
And what a time it was
It was. ..
A time of innocence
A time of confidences

Long ago. .. it must be. ..
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
They’re all that’s left you

(Music and Lyrics by Paul Simon)

Sixty-four a moment away, seventy on the horizon…preserve your memories and sing the songs of your halcyon days. We will never pass this way again.

Forty Years

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 3 Comments

Time does indeed pass in the blink of an eye. It was forty years ago on this date I began my career with the East Providence Police Department.

Patch old

Original patch when I started

Forty years.

It doesn’t seem possible.

To serve on a police department, while challenging, terrifying, hysterically comical, and, too often, heart-breaking, it is also the front row seat to the most amazing show on earth.

Police officers see things most people couldn’t ever imagine. It is a reality few ever experience.

There were moments of profound helplessness and sadness.

A few days after my wife and I discovered she was pregnant, I responded to a medical call. I was the first one there.  As I walked in the house, a hysterical woman handed me a very cold, very dead, four-month-old child.

A SIDS death.

I can still hear the whole family screaming at me to save that child.

No one could, but they expected a cop to try.

There were moments of humor some would find abhorrent, but in the midst of a bloody fatal car accident, or suicide, or homicide, it keeps cops sane.

Without attributing this to any specific department or individual, I heard a story that illustrates cop humor.

It would seem there was this old school detective who, at the end of each day, would light his pipe and smoke at his desk as he did his daily reports (they did that back then in the dark ages.) Part of his routine was to prepare the pipe beforehand so it would be ready when he returned.

Some officers noticed this pattern and wondered what would happen if some of the tobacco was replaced with some excellent quality marijuana from a disposed case.

This was done with great stealth and cunning.

The detective returned, lit the pipe, and within a few moments the squad smelled like a 1970’s college dormitory. We, ah, they found this hysterical. But the best moment came when the Detective Commander, an old school guy, walked out of his office and said,

“Hey (name withheld to protect the innocent) what’s that tobacco you’re smoking?”

“Why?” said the now relaxed and happy for the first time in years detective.

“Cause my kid has incense that smells like that.”

The room, I hear, roared with the laughter of those in on the gag.

We had our moments.

There was great satisfaction in bringing cases to a full conclusion after a lengthy trial and the professional reward of a job well done.

In the twenty years I served on the East Providence Police Department, I worked with a fantastic group of men and women.

I stood shoulder to shoulder with them in those moments of terror.

We took a stand when those who would corrupt and corrode the department for their own political purposes refused to follow the law and forced them to leave when no one thought we could.

I was privileged to work with other local, state, and federal agencies experiencing the true nature and potential of cooperation in seeking justice.

I spent twenty years catching bad guys with some of the most exceptional people I have ever had the privilege to know.

Time has allowed me to reflect on those moments. Yet, no matter how bad some days and nights were, I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.

Pro Bono Publico.

Patch new

The patch today

Trivial Pursuits: Life’s moments in an Emergency Room

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 1 Comment

In one of those moments in time, I found myself sitting in the waiting area in a hospital emergency room. The specifics are unimportant.

While I sat there, watching the slowly moving second hand struggle to make one revolution, I realized the absurd amount of time we waste on trivialities.

Sitting there for those passing hours, I engaged in the mindlessness of Facebook and email. Alternating between a debate over Trump vs. Obama and sorting through nonsense mail.

A family arrived ahead of a rescue bringing a loved one. The hospital paging system bellowed “CPR team to the CPR room” drowning out the sobs, uncertainty, and fading hope.

I tried not to intrude, but in such a small environment, with all the growing evidence of an unhappy end to the rescue run, I couldn’t help but notice the tears, the hugs, the hopeful looks, and the ones who understood the reality.

What drove this home was a moment after the family had all gathered, accepted the news, and started discussing the next steps.

Two young brothers came in, running to their grandfather as he fought back the tears. He tried to soothe their baptism into the reality of death by saying she was in a better place.

I don’t know if this was sudden or expected. A drawn-out struggle to the end or a quick exit. What I know is it made all the nonsense we waste time on not just silly, but obscene.

It won’t matter what President turns out great. It won’t matter what political philosophy proves most useful. It won’t matter if whatever party occupies the White House is the cause of the end. What will be, will be.  Not one word in cyberspace will make any difference at the moment of one’s death.

What will matter, is the time we lost worrying about the trivial when the things that matter were right in front of us and we missed it.

All those moments lost to the dust of life can never be regained.

In the last moments before they left the hospital. One young boy sat next to his grandfather, holding his hand.

One young man learning to face the realities of life and death and one husband facing the specter of regret for lost time.

Think about it while the time is yours to spend.

The Best Year(s) of Life

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 6 Comments

One route for our daily walk takes us past Cumberland High School.  Walking by the place I spent four years of my life sparked memories. It got me to think about those very different times.

As often happens, my mind’s synapses fired off sounds, images, memories, and thoughts.

I wondered about what I might consider the best year of my life. It became evident there could be no such thing. The many good years I’ve had have far outweighed any bad ones. The year of falling in love and marrying. The year of my daughter’s birth. Each of these, and others, were among the best.

I tried to broaden the perspective. To think of what I might consider the best year in the various stages of my life. One rose above the others.

The summer between my junior and senior year of high school rose to the top. 1973, 17 years old, on the cusp of adulthood without the full responsibilities. I had a car, a great job at Almacs, and great friends from school and work.  A future of possibilities before me.

It was a great time of my life.

It was a summer spent walking the beach with friends, at Scarborough or Horseneck. Talking waveabout our plans for the future, or for the next night.

Listening to the music of Steely Dan (Reeling in the Years)  Seals and Crofts (Diamond Girl), and Chicago (Feeling Stronger Every Day.)

Waiting in the warm sun for the perfect wave to body surf to shore, hoping against hope the pretty college-age “older” women would notice, even if we knew they were out of our league.

Shared experiences between friends who continue to be part of my life.

1973 was part of that all too brief time when one lives life for the moment. Not much of a past to regret and too naïve of the future to worry.

One of the many concepts of Einstein I struggle with is his concept of time. He once said, “The distinction between the past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.”

I hope Einstein is right. I hope the past is still out there. The stubbornly persistent illusion lets me close my eyes, feel the warm sun on my skin, look for that perfect wave, and hear the sounds of time playing the music of my memories.

A Little Girl Grown Too Soon

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 1 Comment

I will be away from writing for a few days. Off to celebrate my daughter’s wedding.

A little girl grown all too soon. Such is the speed at which life flies by.

A moment ago she was a tiny human being newly arrived in the world.

Today, a beautiful, dynamic, and independent woman beginning the latest chapter of her remarkable life.

It has been an amazing privilege to hold that little girl’s hand, all the time knowing the day to let her go was fast approaching.

Life continues and I look forward to it.

“The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time…”

James Taylor

A Baby, A Child, A Woman, A Bride: Life and Coming Full Circle

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 4 Comments

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time…

                                                                                  James Taylor

In a few short weeks, I will bear a new title. Father of the bride. Just the thought of it can bring both tears to my eyes and a smile to my face.

Kelsey’s first look at me was as I said her name minutes after she was born. She opened her eyes and reduced me to tears.

A smiling, terrified, joyful, blubbering mess.

Our daughter, Kelsey Broadmeadow, just a short time ago an infant in our arms.

It seemed twenty minutes later, she was heading off to school. Now my wife was in tears.

Our little girl was growing up.

High school lasted fifteen minutes. College, five. And Law School was over in a moment.

Yes, she is a lawyer. I never said she was perfect.

Now, the ultimate life changing event.

Our little girl is to become a bride.

There is a tradition of giving away your daughter in marriage. I cannot understand how I could be expected to give away a piece of my heart.

She was never mine to give away.

My job was to enjoy the privilege of watching her grow into the person she has become.

From those first moments, after she entered this world, my job was to hold onto her. Knowing the time to let her go would come all too soon.

Letting her choose her own path. I hope we have lived up to our promise.

She has made her choice. I can only hope he knows how lucky he is.

Who knows what the future may hold for her and her husband? I hope they have the same opportunity to feel those tears, to wear that smile, and to experience life as it continues the cycle.

It has been the greatest thing having her as part of our life. Now we have the opportunity to celebrate as she begins a new chapter of hers.

If James Taylor is right, if that is indeed the secret to life, I have enjoyed every moment. I just wish they would not have passed by so fast.

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time….

This father of the bride could not have wished for a better life or a more incredible daughter.

…Try not to try too hard, it’s just a lovely ride.

(In case you’ve never heard the song, here’s a link)

 

Appreciating the Magic of Memory

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 3 Comments

Most people misunderstand how memory works. We think of it as a recording of our daily lives. It is not. It is a compendium of images, sounds, smells, and tastes; voices, conversations, laughter, and feelings; moments of ecstasy and sorrow, joy and tears, the common and the unique.

We don’t record our memories, we ingest them. They become the spark that lights up the synapses and neurons of our brain.

It is why the smell of freshly mowed grass sparks a memory of Little League baseball game from long ago.

It is why the sight of a school bus triggers the echoes of a loud end-of-school song sung endlessly home on the last day of fourth grade.

It is how the taste of cranberry sauce ignites the memory of a conversation with a long dead grandfather.

It is why we recall all the words of a song we haven’t heard in years when we see the ocean.

It is how we remember voices of friends and the experiences we shared.

Our memories aren’t part of us. Our memories are us. They make us what we are today and how we will change tomorrow.

It is one of the things which defines our individuality. Even those seemingly shared experiences; first love, graduation, flying on a plane, catching the final out of a championship game are seen in our own unique way.

I had a moment today to lie in the grass with my daughter’s dog and just watch the clouds wink in and out of formation. Taking on shapes. Morphing into creatures or food or faces.

Something I recall doing often in my youth.

With all the distractions in the world, I do not think we take enough time to simply look up at the clouds. To watch a wind-blown spider web jump in and out of visibility. To see sunlight catching the needles of a pine tree, changing the hue through the whole spectrum of green.

When was the last time you took a moment to lie in the grass and look at the sky?

When was the last time you listened to the memories in your mind as they linked and jumped and danced in your brain?

When was the last time you took a moment to listen to yourself breath? Let the sun warm your face? Felt the breeze wash over you?

Don’t think you have time for such things? All too soon, you may find you were right.

The March of Time

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 2 Comments

I have never been one to focus on age. I believe it a waste of the limited time we all have. Of course, as a young boy, I engaged in the universal desire to be older. When asked, I was 6 ½ years old or almost 13. It seemed that achieving a greater age brought some instant benefits. For some reason, I thought 19 would be a perfect age.

I was wrong.

There is no perfect age. There is your age, and you best learn how to enjoy it.

What stimulated these thoughts about age was on-line forms and surveys. Whether it be purchases, surveys, or updating important information, at some point we face the age selection box.

Since I am now fast approaching 60, it seems I have to scroll almost to the end when picking by age and to the beginning when picking the year of my birth.

Soon, all too soon, I will be at either end of the selection process.

You would think, with all the creativity and knowledge in this country, someone would find a way to gather the necessary information without reminding me of the inexorable march of time.

Generational Perspective

/ Joe Broadmeadow / 4 Comments

Here is a bit of a perspective for my fellow members of the Cumberland High School Class of 1974.

In 1974:

The President of the United States was Richard Nixon, until August 9th, and then Gerald Ford after Nixon resigned due to the Watergate hearings. Ford pardoned Nixon. Both Ford and Nixon are dead

The Soviet Union was intact, armed with nuclear weapons, and still our sworn enemy. Alexei Nikolayevich Kosygin was the premier. He is dead

There were no cell phones, internet, or cable television

We landed on the moon for the first time 5 years before in 1969 and for the last time in 1972. Only 12 men have ever walked on the moon. We have not been back since nor do we have a real timeline for returning.

The Symbionese Liberation Army kidnapped Patty Hearst. She later joined them and participated in a series of bank robberies. She is now 61.

Muhammed Ali fought George Frazier in the Rumble in the Jungle. Ali is 73 Foreman is 66.

A gallon of gas was $.55

The speed limit was changed to 55 to conserve gasoline.

President Ford announced an amnesty for Vietnam War deserters and draft evaders.

The Kootenai Native American Tribe in Idaho declares war on the United States. It settled peacefully. The only time a war was declared and resolved without a shot being fired or anyone killed.

The World Population: 4 billion. (now 7 billion)

India successfully tests a nuclear weapon. They become the 6th Nuclear power. (There are 9 now, 15923 total estimated nuclear warheads in the world as of 2015)

The first MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) is developed.

After 84 days in space, the American astronauts aboard Skylab return to earth.

A 3.2 million year-old hominid skeleton, 40% complete, is found in Ethiopia. She is named Lucy. Dr. Johanson, the paleontologist who found her, says he named her for the Beatles song Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.

The pocket calculator goes on sale. (I got one as a graduation present, it cost my parents 84$)

Bar codes are used for the first time.

Salty Brine was still on WPRO announcing “No school, Foster Gloucester.”

Movies of 1974

The Sting, The Exorcist, Blazing Saddles (my favorite), Serpico, Death Wish

#1 Song of 1974

The Way We Were

Other songs:

Time in a Bottle, Hooked on a Feeling, Band on the Run, Can’t Get Enough of You Babe, Kung Fu Fighting

(How many of you sang these songs as you read them?)

1974 holds the record for the most #1 Billboard hits in one year, 35.

TV Shows:

Kojak, The Price is Right, The Six Million Dollar Man

Here’s one that may bring some of you to tears

Born in 1974:

Leonardo DiCaprio, Alanis Morrisette. Jimmy Fallon, Victoria Beckham

So why the walk down memory lane? The end of a year lends itself to a momentary review of things. A recap of the path of our lives. We have come a long way from 1974, some of those class members didn’t have the opportunity to reach 2015.

As time moves on, as the year changes from 2015 to 2016, as we all approach our 60th birthdays, I thought I would remind us of where were all those years ago, the events that shaped us, and, more importantly, get us all to make the most of the time we have left.

The reality of life is that most of us will not be around when a Cumberland High School Class of 2016 graduate writes a similar memoir of his or her graduation year. It is important for all of us to be mindful of today and use the time we have wisely.

I wish you all a very Happy New Year, I apologize for reminding those of you trying to ignore the significance of 2016 age-wise, and hope you all have many more memories yet to create and cherish.