Moving To The Head Of The Line

This week I found myself in a line that hadn't moved in quite a while -- when it suddenly surged forward. Catching a glimpse of the head of the line, I realized that I wasn't as far back as I had thought.

Although some lines seem agonizingly slow, what's at the end can make the wait worthwhile. Take desserts, for example. Waiting for chocolate-chip cookies is just a necessary distraction before the reward! But other lines aren't so pleasurable.

I found myself in one of those 1968 when I received my draft notice. At the induction center, scores of us lined up to be poked, prodded and scrutinized from every angle. Anxieties over Vietnam ran high.

Some detest lines with angering impatience. There's a particular stretch of road on my daily commute where rude drivers invariably try to root in nearer the front of the line. But on the other hand, others take waiting to an extreme. Today's news had a story of a fellow who flew from Australia to the United States to wait in line for 11 days -- just to see a movie.

Several years ago rumors of pending layoffs and relocations were buzzing at my workplace. Each day the grapevine bore some new scenario, crippling productive work. Indecision stretched into months. A speedy conclusion -- even if we were to lose our jobs -- would have been better than the waiting.

Occasionally we can choose to completely avoid a line, but we don't always have that flexibility. That was my situation last week.

Aunt Susie was my oldest living relative. When she died this past week at age 88, I was swept with a new sobriety. Her death had moved me up one step in the line of an ever-diminishing number of "older" relatives. Certainly death doesn't always work from the oldest down, but it now seems conceivable that I could eventually be at the head of that line myself. I'm certainly closer than I was.

While the thought of death itself doesn't trouble me, there are still some important loose ends that need wrapping up. Certain critical decisions and preparations must be made before passing the torch to the next generation. I need more time to build relationships with family and friends. Will I have the chance? That depends on how quickly the line moves.

Perhaps it will move slowly, but I can't count on it. I must be careful how I use my time ... while I have the chance.

THE HEAD OF THE LINE

The line I'm in that's been so slow
Moved up one step today;
My turn's not far away.
On to the front I surely go.
Once far -- but now so near --
I see the head from here,
Brought closer with each death, I know.

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

Printer friendly version

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Parallel Tracks Of Good And Bad

The late Ron Dunn, a preacher whom I highly esteem, coined a truism I frequently lean upon: Good and bad run along parallel tracks and often arrive about the same time. Though some had warned us, nothing could have prepared us for our first visit to the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. From children to the aged, the outward devastation of pernicious disease on frail human bodies overloaded our senses. They are courageous souls in hand-to-hand combat with a vicious enemy of seemingly inexhaustible tenacity. But they press on. To cover the almost-inevitable baldness that cancer treatment wreaks, many select colorful head scarves or stylish wigs as banners for their individual battles. Calling cancer a bad thing is a gross and trivial understatement. But even amid their roiling seas of trouble, good persists in bobbing to the surface as cancer patients openly discuss both defeats and victories. Without a hint of bitterness, Mr. Boudreaux relates the loss of a leg and other traumati...
Read more

Learning With Ollie In The School Of Basics

Oliver Wickerham Gatchell wouldn't have stood for it. Nope. He was just too practical. As I saw him do many times, he would have risen up and demanded an accounting. I first encountered him in 1963. I was a college freshman, and he was a crusty, white-headed old engineer teaching the most basic entry-level course. Whispers from the older students warned us: Ollie Gatchell would strike fear in our hearts. And so he did, making that initial engineering course a baptism by fire. On the first day of class, he didn't bother introducing himself. Instead, he instantly solidified his reputation with a challenge: "OK, you prospective engineers. Let's see who can figure out how to get the lead into his pencil." Nobody could. Those mechanical pencils were easily fumbled, but we did learn how to use them--thanks to the demanding Ollie Gatchell. Knowing the necessity of discipline and order in engineering work, he despised inefficiency and imprecision. One class period found u...
Read more