A Little Thinking About Time

Samuel Huntington died yesterday at age 81.  I was in college between 1960 and 1964.  Huntington was already a distinguished professor.  He was in his mid-30s.  To me, he was a mature, adult, all grown up.  Today, I don’t view anyone in their 30s quite that way.

Which reminds me of my high school.  My high school principal’s son was in my class.  I saw him at our 40th high school reunion, and asked him how his father was.  He told me that he had just turned 80.  I attended the same high school for six years (grades 7-12).  That meant that, my first year, the principal was 34 years old.  This is astounding to me, for the same reason.

I was born in 1942.  A friend had a baby yesterday.  This means that this child will look at me as I would look at someone born in 1876.

I had better starting thinking about something other than time.

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