Photo of the wrapper from a Freida brand chocolate bar.

Norway Arts, Flying Pancakes, and Mr DVMP on the Speed of Time

No one’s completely sure of who coined the idea that guests and fish get stinky after three days. In our case, though, we’d have gladly hosted our latest guest longer than the week she stayed. Sure she smelled—like a dog—because she was nicest of dogs! What made her all the more endearing is that, like for me as a novelist (click here for info on my books), each day of a dog’s life comprises multiple three-act stories. They’re beginnings, middles, and ends full of excitement—be they about shooing away delivery people, investigating cats, chasing squirrels… or learning to enjoy lettuce! (Our dear K-D doggie appears in leopard print)…

Speaking of last acts of great stories, now begins our final journey within Norway…

Map of Southern Norway with my vacation route marked off.

By the time we looped all the way back to Oslo, our guide book was worn, dog-eared, and bore a Costa Rica banana sticker…

(Note: all posts about our visit to Norway are here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here.)

Photo of Rick Steve's guidebook for Scandinavia.

From Balestrand, we returned our rental car at nearby Førde Airport and boarded a small airplane for the capital…

Khashayar walking in the rain into little Førde Airport.
Khashayar trades our wheels for wings at Førde Airport.

Norway is a land of arts and music; we checked into our lodging and were greeted by this bit of whimsy right across the street…

Mural on the side of the building of a monkey plugging its ears with its fingers, a giraffe towering over it.

We spent much of the first day admiring fine art at the National Art Museum

Evening Glow by Harald Sohlberg (1893)
Evening Glow by Harald Sohlberg (1893)

As we departed the museum, we happened onto the Dissimilis Festival in front of the Nobel Peace Center—two days of free concerts by entertainers with developmental disabilities and functional impairments. It was a moving display of pure joy…

Photo of a performer on stage at Dissimilis Festival near the Nobel Peace Center.

On our way home, we stopped to buy snacks and found a mini milk chocolate packaged within a Grimms-esque picture. Inside, it told the tragic story of a pancake seeking freedom…

Photo of the wrapper from a Freida brand chocolate bar.
Come for the sweet, stay for the bitter fairy tale of the runaway pancake.

Today’s Guest Blog Post…

Is by Mr DVMP, of Mr DVMP’s Blog (home to the unbridled excitement known as Mr DVMP’s blog). Born in New York and raised in Florida, he now posts weekly from Texas, where he and his wife live with four furry animals. His site features humorous looks at his favorite things: eating, breathing, and living. Here, he riffs on the Speed Of Light vs. the Speed Of Time…

Mr DVMP in colorful monochrome boxes, ala Andy Warhol.
Mr DVMP is a colorful writer—and artist!

Shining a Light on Flying Time by Mr DVMP

I’m sure any of you really genius-ish-y smart folks probably know that the speed of light is 299,792,458 meters per second.  And I’m sure my brainiac buddies have all memorized a few dozen prime numbers and the first 100 decimal points of PI. Well, believe me, I don’t, and can’t, and never have. The only PI I know that well is pizza or apple filled. The only Prime I ever deal with is rib or Amazon. And as for that speed of light number, I had to look that up.

And even after reading Mr. Google’s wildly dumbed-down A.I. regurgitated description, I still have a hard time fathoming the concept that the speed of light is 299,792,458 MPS. My idea of fast is rooted more in my extensive childhood research of the Road Runner, Speedy Gonzalaz, and The Flash versus the heady work of Roemer, Maxwell, and Einstein.

So with that said, do you know what a non-intellectual wiz like me thinks moves even faster than that incomprehensible Speed Of Light? That would be the Speed Of Time. Yeah, I know; all those aforementioned ‘geniuseseses’ are probably laughing because physics-wise, there is no frame of reference for measuring time. I get it. Time is a dimension, not a material substance. I’m not that dim of a pear-shaped glowing filament incandescent light source.

But I am one of those feelings-forward dorks that understands humans sometimes mix non-tangible unquantifiable emotion with hard scientific fact. Like they say, “time flies when you are having fun”, but the clock does not actually move faster based on our enjoyment level. Yet my weekends sure ‘feel’ faster than my weekdays at work. And any kid staring at the classroom clock will swear those last few minutes of school are the slowest moving ever, while vacation days fly by faster than, well… the speed of light. And I know the calendar does not vary much, but each passing year sure seems to zip by faster and faster.

So yes, I know technically light moves faster than time, but the passing of light never made me feel old. The other day my wife reminded me that we have known each other for over a quarter of a century. That doesn’t seem possible. Didn’t we stand on a beach saying “I do” just a few years ago? It certainly feels like that except when I think about how many attendees to that ceremony have since passed away.

I don’t feel old, but when I think about the cell-phoneless and home computerless world I grew up in, I’m reminded to a kid I’m a dinosaur. The stuff I think is current events shared experiences, is today’s fodder filling history books. I’ve even lived long enough that how we add, write, and talk has changed.

They don’t teach cursive anymore and new math is now old school. Words that were okay when I was a kid are now taboo. I worry I am getting to the age that I won’t adapt anymore. My dad lived to be 96 and till the day he died he still called every female waitress “girlie” and disabled people “retarded”. He wasn’t a condescending rude bigot like Archie Bunker (note the dated reference), he just didn’t have it in him to adjust to the appropriate vernacular anymore.

As memories of dad bounce around my head, it hit me that while light might not bend, it sure feels like time does. It turns and twists, muddling my memories and jumbling the timeline of past events. The rapid speed that time moves can be really cruel. Like my dad is one of those folks that attended my wedding, but is no longer with us.

So all you brain-smart folks can go ahead and quote all the quantifiable data about how quick the Speed Of Light is. To me, the Speed Of Time is faster. And more merciless. And… well… I could go on, but I don’t think I have any more time.

Photo of solar eclipse by Mr DVMP.
Photo of solar eclipse by Mr DVMP.

I think I’ll always wish cursive writing would come back. Please chime in below about the thing from your childhood that you most long for.


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