Bennett Sewell Art

My name is Homer Goforth and I’m a dog in a hurry or at least I used to be.  You remember that software package that we got when we were born from the command and control and storage time unit, which said our time was limited and we would never know how much we had left.   I remember when I was about four in human age and I spent a lot of time thinking and feeling to put my life plan together with this information.  My Granny Coteau told me many times that “a stitch in time saves nine” and that “a penny saved is a penny earned” if it works for thread and for pennies it ought to work for time.

 

 

So I decided to save as much time as I could and write the time down that I saved on a little bitty piece of paper and put it in the old black chest in the closet in the attic.  I figured when I got old I might need to reach into that chest and get that time I saved and use it. So when I went to the store to get a loaf of white bread for my mother, I would run there and back; write the time down and slip it in that chest.   I tried many things, hurry, hurry, hurry always to do more than one thing at a time.  Somethings worked well and others didn’t.  Some of the things that didn’t work well was talking too fast with food in my mouth at the dinner table, skipping more than three showers and not picking up my wet towel, passing the filling station when the gage reads empty and running with more than one romantic interest at a time.  I got real good at it.  My chest was full of little pieces of paper, two or three minutes here, an hour there, as I worked through my life plan that I had made up early.

 

Then one day I looked around and saw so many of my friends not in a hurry, they were doing little or nothing, enjoying themselves and seemed to be happy without worry. They must not know what is going on.  So I continued my journey as my hair turned gray and grew faster in my ears, I forgot more and more names, my right knee began to hurt and I took longer to get out of a low chair.  I hurried harder.  Then one night after a long hard day at the office, I said to myself, “I wonder how much time I have left.”  You might have asked yourself that same question.  I went home, opened my time chest in the closet in the attic and opened it with great anticipation.  There was nothing in the chest.

 

But before I could get the lid all the way up, I was engulfed, surrounded, and washed over by memories, some good and some painful.  At this stage in my life there were no indifferent memories.  I then realized with great joy that all those years I had not only been saving time but had been making memories.  So I closed the chest, went downstairs to talk to my family and friends, relaxed and enjoyed the moment making some more memories of a different kind without regard to time.