There are two clocks at the center of Wareham. This is the one in front of the Post Office:

The second one is in the background, just to the bottom right of the clock’s pole. It’s in front of a bank building that is no longer occupied.

To adjust or set the time on the analog clock, someone has to get a ladder and manually adjust it. The contrasting colors make it easy to read from a distance. Other than for a few days around the Spring and Autumn time changes, it keeps good time.

To adjust or set the time on the digital requires the push of a button on a computer. On a sunny day, it’s hard to read; at night, it projects the time quite a distance. It can take weeks for the correct time to be on display after the Spring and Autumn time changes. Frequently, it’s off by several minutes; since the bank left town, it is off by hours. They are not synchronized because they aren’t kept (or neglected) by the same people.

Seeing two times at once irritates me more than it should. After all, I can check my phone if I really need the correct time; if I’m phone free, it means there’s no need for me to know the correct time. There’s just something jarring about it.

When I see these two clocks, when the asynchrony bothers my sense of order, I try to remind myself of some larger truths:

The sky will be blue or gray regardless of the Main Street clocks.

The trees offer shade and shelter no matter the time.

How I live my minutes, hours, days, and years can’t be measured or contained by any clock.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1opYDbKOctmQBdbh3mPybbulDY2wUP4Ye/view?usp=sharing

The Pan-Mass Challenge brought its annual activity last weekend: thousands of cyclists and thousands of volunteers to help them as they ride from one side of Massachusetts to the other. Every year, I see the riders make the trip, part of the Dana Farber Cancer Institute’s fund and awareness raising. On their backs, the riders bear this sign every year: PMC. These are signs on the move.

During the rest of the year are the other signs, the permanent ones. These, too, are PMC. They mark the route for the riders and for those driving their cars along it. Be aware of the bicycles is the message for the two days of the annual challenge. Be aware of life’s fragility is the message for the other 363 days. Be aware. Look around. See.

I’m not posting a picture of the permanent signs – where’s the fun in that? But if you are ever in Massachusetts, between Worcester and the Cape, keep an eye out. They have a white image on a light blue background…And think of the thousands of people who devote their own time and resources to help others. A sign of the Kingdom?

There are several more of these on the streets around Tobey Hospital than there were a few years back, mostly because renovations and expansions involved moving the Emergency room entrance – for walk-ins and for ambulances. While the ambulance drivers are well aware of all the changes over the years, people bringing themselves or relatives in aren’t. It’s not as if most people visit the ER on a regular basis, and the anxiety of needing medical attention makes it very easy to ignore the new entrance and to automatic-pilot it toward where it used to be.

This is understandable, but not helpful. Panic doesn’t help the ones in distress or those caring for them – it’s why ER staff remain calm and why certain friends and family members are better than others when an emergency occurs. It’s also why some are better than others at discerning whether the emergency is real or not – practicing triage.

In this ever evolving life, it’s easy to lose my bearings, to ignore changes and new patterns in favor of former conditions. It’s even easier to confuse what is a matter of concern and what is an emergency. Sometimes, my triage skills are wanting; sometimes, I make snap judgements based on prejudice or past experiences that really don’t apply to the situation at hand; sometimes, I forget what is necessary and what is merely important.

I’m using this sign as a touchstone, something that centers and grounds me in the present, something that reminds me to look around and base my actions on what is rather than what was or what I assume might be.

In this God-Self-Neighbor reality, this sign can keep me acting out of love rather than panic.

[This is one in a series, Seeing Signs. Click the words above for more information.]

You can’t see it, but just behind the IN-N-OUT BURGER sign, is a small park. To get there, just cross the street on the crosswalk currently occupied by a blue car.

You can’t hear them, but children are laughing, running on the grass as the planes pass over.

You can’t smell the exhaust, but dozens of cars are idling on the road behind the sign, waiting to order burgers and shakes to go. You can’t smell it, but there’s a jet fuel scent on the brisk breeze blowing the palm leaves.

You can’t taste them, but thousands of burgers and fries are being enjoyed by hundreds of people just beyond and around this sign.

You can’t touch them, but this spot is filled with flawed, beautiful, unique people who will make this world a better place because they graced it – and a few whose broken spirits add to the world’s suffering.

Everything you can’t see, hear, smell, taste, or touch is here because of this sign and the planes that fly over it. It’s as good a place as any to ask in an everyday sense and in a profound sense: Why am I here?

Answer #1: To eat a burger and watch the planes

Answer #2:

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