Thursday, August 16, 2012

Slowing down time

The whole point of lying around a little seaside town is to slow down time. You walk, not drive. Pause, not rush. You eat breakfast when it's 10 or 3:15. You wake at 6 a.m. and can't sleep any more and are surprised how long the day has been by the time evening rolls around. Still more hours left to... to... well, the rest of the evening hasn't been planned and will just happen when it happens.

The little reminders of normal pressures are benign and ineffectual. Take marketing. Here's a bit of marketing. It's a sign I've always loved—and always stopped to admire every year in the same little seaside town as I amble by. Inside a few old fellows sit and chat while the elderly barber slowly dabs warm lather around a pair of ears.

The sign is small, tattered, understated and dryly funny. "We repair homemade haircuts." It evokes the picture of a little boy dragged into the shop, placed on a board across the arms of a barber chair, and coaxed to undergo the rhythmic snip snipping of a simple tool in the hands of a dignified and attentive provider of an unhurried and useful service that human beings endure and sometimes even enjoy as their minds wander, their bodies relax and their sentences roll on into the soft summer nights.




Mark said...

Sign me up.

brandsinger said...

Thanks, Mark.
Some people actually get off the grid. Some people never get on the grid. And some of us are able to step on and off. Me, I'm afraid I'm still on. On the grid and on the griddle!