If you use Google like I do (which is whenever a weird or random thought pops into my head, I Google it) you learn lots of things and at the same time come up with more questions that need answering.
I think Google has become my surrogate parent now I am a graying parent myself.
Mother Rush (aka, my very own Saintly Ma, Shirley Ann nee McDonald Rush) said from the moment I was able to think and talk, I would ask questions. “Mommy, why is the sky blue?” “Mommy, why is the grass green?” And, one time whilst standing in the grocery line, “Mommy, why is that man brown?”
Me and Curious George were cousins in inquiry, I reckon. Which was a long-winded way to say, I still like asking questions.
This weekend I spent time on the early Spring cleaning of Casa D’Rush and in between random songs popping in my head — songs like Tom Jones’ “What’s New Pussy Cat,” and “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” (the Judy Garland version), Pearl Jam’s cover of the “Last Kiss,” and Disturbed’s “Sounds of Silence,” a thought about time kept nagging me. “What about time?”

Tick tock, tick tock

If you Google “Einstein Time,” in 0.56 seconds you will have 64 million, 500 thousand results to go over. I only know, because that is what I did to satisfy my curiosity. The quote attributed to Albert Einstein I liked was, “Time is what prevents everything from happening at once.”

Tick tock, tick tock

Don’t Rush Me, even the name of my column has an element of time about it. Is my time running out? Each day alive is a day closer to . . . what? Have I got every thing in order? Why do I even care?

Tick tock, tick tock

Driving into work at 6:30-ish in the morning is becoming a lot easier these days, thought I. Why? It’s not because I like getting up early any more than I have in the past. It’s just getting lighter earlier. Which led me to think, “When is Daylight Savings Time?”

And, as soon as I got to work this past Monday I started a pot of coffee (because nobody else was in the office), fired up my 2002 Windows XP Pro desk top, waited 20 minutes for it to be usable and Googled, “When is Daylight Savings Time 2017?”
In 0.48 seconds I had 30 million, 300 thousand answers to my question on the monitor before me. (Which is interesting because there is only one answer, the answer. Note to self: when I have time I need to look into the other 29 million, two hundred ninety-nine, nine hundred and ninety-nine answers.)
Oh, the answer: Daylight Savings Time starts at 2 a.m. this Sunday, March 12. It ends, by the way, on Sunday, November 5. So, get ready to “Spring Forward” this weekend.

Tick tock, tick tock

Last week, for four days in a row I woke up from a nice sleep at 2:44 a.m., 2:43 a.m., 2:45 a.m. and 2:42 a.m. I know because I looked at the clock, thought, “I still have about two and a half hours of sleep left. Yay!” And, promptly went back to sleep.
Why would I wake up at those 2 a.m. times?

Tick tock, tick tock

Sunday mornings, I like to listen to Krista Tippett host On Being, on National Public Radio. I find it refreshing, as I straighten out the kitchen, make coffee and scramble some eggs. This past Sunday was of particular interest as the guest of honor was Irish poet, author and theologian, Padraig O’ Tuama.

Padraig (Gaelic for Patrick) is from Northern Ireland and is a Roman Catholic and, listening to him, has a real love for Jesus — oh, and he’s gay. None of that was real important to me, unless you put it all together and hear his words for healing.
One of the stories of trying to help someone else heal sticks in my noggin. He told the story of a 12-year-old girl in Belfast who was having a difficult time with the whole Northern Ireland Orange and Green problem. “And she goes, ‘Answer me this: Why did God make Protestants? . . . they hate us . . .’”
Knowing she was good on the soccer field, he answered, “I know a lot of Protestants that would want you on their football team.”
It was a way of finding a commonality between the two cultures, to get past the rhetoric to relieve some of the young lady’s fears. Brilliant! Thought I.
He talked about hearing, and listening correctly (versus what you think was said) and sitting down for robust conversations with those who you do not agree with as a way of coming to an understanding. Do you think that has any merit across the pond, here in America? Do you think there is time for us, as Americans of differing opinions, to hear and listen and understand?

            . . . Tick tock, tick tock

  don rush, don’t rush me, padraig o’tuama, time