"Flip Wilson dead at 64."

It was at the top of a list of the news headlines on my Internet service provider’s home page. "Hmm," I muttered and went on with my search for stock prices. Then it occurred to me that, if all his death warranted from me was a "Hmm," then when my time comes it would certainly make less of a ripple in the scheme of things. My death wouldn’t make news on any home page, and my personal home page would go on living unchanged until some little known administrator noticed that it was inactive and archived it, much like God had archived me.

Lately I’ve noticed that I go "Hmm" a lot more, and not just when people I know die, although more of that is happening. That is to be expected as the earth’s population increases and the people I know get older. The real reason for my "Hmm" is that the older I get, the less impressionable I am. This also makes it increasingly difficult to have a really good time on vacation.

My increasing lack of impressionability was brought to my attention about fifteen years ago while riding in a utility van driven by Jack, a lifelong friend. As we went around a corner from Broadway onto 43^rd street in Manhattan, a loud bang came from the front of the van and we listed to the left. We stopped and Jack quietly got out to see what was wrong. Returning a minute later he said, with as much calm as if he was reporting the temperature, "The wheel fell off."

I said "Hmm.." and my young girlfriend broke into hysterical laughter that, to this day, reoccurs when the incident is mentioned. Her reaction was to our apparent indifference to a situation that she perceived to be a crisis. What a difference nineteen years makes.

One of the questionable benefits from becoming less impressionable is that you grow less likely to be aware of it, and when you do realize it, you are not concerned. You don’t have to remember as much because there are fewer things that you deem important enough to remember. For example, I’ve always had trouble remembering a person’s name when I’m introduced, and if I’m introduced to more than one person at the same time, it becomes a hopeless situation. But thanks to my growing indifference, my inability to remember names is, like warts on a toad, no longer a big deal. I’ve become comfortable with it.

There was a time when computer crashes, files disappearing, and other computer error messages made me to want to break things. No more. Problems have become things to bypass or ignore. But the really good thing about my increasing indifference is that by the time I realize I’m dying, I probably won’t care. I suspect my last words will be "Hmm…"

• • •

www.tcnj.edu/~hofmann/hmm.htm

Recently someone said to me, "It's been ten years."

"Amazing!" I replied. "Are you sure it's been that long?" The more I thought about it, the more I was amazed. How could the time have passed so quickly? Once a decade has passed, it seems just like yesterday that it began. However, ten years is a long time if you have to wait for it to happen.

Imagine being sentenced to ten years of hard labor or being in labor for ten years. Ten years in a dentist's chair would be a lifetime. Perhaps time really does speed up when you're having fun, and slow down when you are miserable. Einstein's theory of relativity probably relates to time in that the speed of time is relative to what you are doing. I must have been having a lot of fun.

I started reflecting on my life over the past ten years and discovered that there was very little that had not changed. It was a period filled with lots of losses and lots of good things. The person I was ten years ago and the person I am today have little in common, both physically and philosophically. I'm thankful for that. At least I think I am. Recently I went to my 40^th high school reunion. It was a lot like revisiting Pompeii after the volcano erupted.

When I looked closely at those around me who I've known for ten years, I discovered that not everyone has changed as much as I. Some have changed a lot, others have changed some, and still others have changed very little. I also noticed that the ones who have changed the least are also the most boring, but I have not figured out why that is.

If we look at our lives in ten-year increments, it starts to get scary. In my case, when both of my parents were my age they had only two increments left to live. If the next two decades go as fast as the previous ones, I had better start doing some serious planning. If my theory about time is correct, I could plan to have a lot of bad times so that I live longer, or I could plan on having really good times but a shorter life. Research has shown that married men live longer than single men do. If time really does speed up when you are having a good time, then it validates the study.

I have decided to look at the rest of my life - the two remaining increments - as a free buffet. I will try a little of everything that appeals to me, and not worry too much about what is good for me and what is not. And I won't save the desserts until last. If I'm really lucky, some bad things will happen to give more value to the good things - and help me to live a little longer. And just perhaps I can squeeze in an extra increment or two.

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