Does anybody really know what time it is?

On a recent trip to visit our son in college, my husband and I needed to adjust our watches to accommodate for a new time zone. Not just the hour time difference in Colorado, or the difference between our son’s 10 minutes and our 10 minutes...we needed to adjust for the time difference between our son’s life and our lives and the thought processes and priorities that our differences entail.

You see, there have been times when we haven’t adjusted our watches...and frustration, anger and hurt feelings ensued. There have been times when we’ve been focused on our timetable and priorities and totally consumed with our timing. There have also been times when our son has been tuned into his timetable and completely ignored our time zone. I learned this lesson long ago—and I mentally adjusted my watch before we left for the airport. My husband...not so much.

Our destination for the weekend was “The Republic of Boulder.” It’s not officially a republic, but it’s called this by many Coloradans in recognition of the liberal lifestyle of this little blue city in a big red state. It’s also home to the University of Colorado at Boulder, better know as the Buffaloes. Surrounded by stunning landscape, including breathtaking views of the famous flat irons, the road to Boulder beckons you through the valley and into what is definitely a quaint college town. Victorian architecture abounds, as do frat houses, eateries of all ethnicities and stores full of Tibetan wares. On our second day in Boulder, my husband pointed out an “Old Tibet” store. I remarked that there might be more of Tibet on Boulder’s Pearl Street Promenade than anywhere else in the world, except Tibet, of course. I love these stores and generally walk through each one admiring the handcrafted goods and enjoying the frankincense that eventually overtakes my senses and invariably puts me into a buying induced state. I always come home from one of these trips with a variety of scarves, purses, belts, jewelry and other easy to pack gifts for friends and family.

After landing at the Denver Airport, we attempted to connect with our son via cell phone It took a few tries as he was not answering his phone. His voicemail, which holds at least 25 messages, was full. I laughed when my husband wondered aloud why our son’s voicemail was full. I think this was my first clue that my husband had yet to adjust his watch. I simply remarked that of course his mailbox is full. Eventually our son saw one of my five “missed calls” and called us as we were in route to Boulder in the rental car. He sounded congested...and said he was hungry.

We arrived at our bed and breakfast within an hour. Five minutes later our hungry son was on the porch with my husband. He looked a bit thin, but my heart warmed as I glanced out the window and saw father and son hug. I stood back admiring the view. It was a poignant moment that made me catch my breath. I remembered this familiar view from years gone by...and had almost forgotten how wonderful it was.

Soon enough, I got a huge bear hug from the boy and we headed off to eat lunch at a wonderful café just off the promenade. As we walked and talked, I could tell that our son was more relaxed than I had seen him in a while. Even though he was coming down with a cold, his eyes were clear and his heart was full of appreciation that we were there. I could sense the same feelings in my husband.

It was at lunch that our son told us about the “paint can through his bedroom window” incident. It seems that all of his bedding was covered in gray paint. After lunch we took an expensive tour of Bed, Bath and Beyond...for two and a half hours. While we were in route to the store, my husband remarked that we would be in and out of there in a flash. I remained silent as I once again realized that he hadn’t adjusted his watch to our son’s time zone. I wasn’t going to tell him that the nap he desperately needed, after only three hours of sleep the night before, would not happen for at least another two hours.

Now one could ask (and rightly so) why we spent so much time with our twenty year old son in a store that sells house wares, which are generally not a high priority ticket for college students. The answer lies in our son—and his very specific and defined ideas on what he likes—right down to the color, texture, feel and quality. Yes, our second son is much more detailed than anyone, save me, gives him credit for being. It’s true that his older brother is more organized, but the younger son knows what he wants and won’t settle for less. Cost is not the factor...or time. It’s comfort, both physically and visually that always takes precedence.

After more than two hours of picking out sheets, a duvet and a down comforter, including a down feather top mattress cover, we piled everything into our son’s truck and headed back toward our B & B—or so we thought. At one point, our son started to make an unexpected left turn. My husband quickly asked where he was going. Our son replied that he was taking us to his house (which he shares with nine other students) so we could see it and help him put together his new bedding. I felt, not heard, the groan from my husband as his much-needed nap was pushed back even further. I softly touched his knee and he remained silent. Just as we were turning toward our son’s “not a frat house, but a frat house,” his phone rang and we were saved by the bell…or rather by whatever song it was that blasted from his pocket. It seems he needed to meet up with some friends for a study group. Next thing you know, we were back at our B& B and, after arranging for our son to pick us up at 8:00 p.m. for dinner that night, my husband was napping comfortably, but not so silently. Me? I escaped the noise and headed out to do my part in freeing Tibet...by my patronage, of course, of the old Tibet, the new Tibet and the Tibet of tomorrow that dominates the Pearl Street Promenade. My favorite purchase is a multi-colored scarf made from 100% recycled silk with a tag that proudly says “handcrafted in Nepal.” I bought it as a gift, but a few hours later it casually hung around my neck. This was my symbolic gesture that I was on Boulder time. Well, that and the “Free Tibet” bumper sticker that came with the scarf.

When I finally returned to the B & B, I only had a few minutes to freshen up before our son was to arrive and drive us to his favorite Italian Restaurant. When the phone rang at 10 minutes after eight and our son asked where we were, I casually glanced at my husband and said, “Waiting for you to pick us up.” As our son explained that he thought we were picking him up, I saw the look on my husband’s face. He already had one cocktail and was thinking that he was the only driver insured for the rental car. Our driving meant that he would have no more cocktails that evening. This was his dilemma. My concern was the limited parking in front of the B & B, and how hard it would be later to find a spot close by...and not governed by one of those confusing “no parking anytime except…” signs. Regardless of our individual concerns, I quickly said we’ll be there in 10…and our son said make it 20 so that he could take a shower. As I hung up the phone, I quickly told my husband (before he could say a word) to adjust his watch immediately. I explained that we were now on Patrick time...and when in Rome, or Boulder...or any college town for that matter...you know the rest.

Off we went to our son’s house. We helped him put together his bed and clean up the paint mess. We also met a few of his roommates. We finally arrived (over a half-hour late) for our dinner reservation. We got the best table in the house with a wonderful waiter...and the food was delicious. Even though it was well past my husband’s normal bedtime, it was over dessert that he and his watch finally started ticking on our son’s time zone. They were perfectly synchronized as they devoured the Banana’s Foster Crepes in the center of the table. Just like at home, all it took was a little ice cream to bring them together.

From that point on, it was my husband who forged ahead with gusto, and if not with complete understanding, then with respect and consideration for our son’s time zone. Even the next day’s three-hour trip to Costco trip, complete with two overflowing baskets, didn’t bother him. In fact, he enjoyed it, and he enjoyed seeing what our son likes these days. As they walked the aisles, side by side, they were in perfect step. No more jet lag. Just father and son out fooling around...and eating every free sample and weighing in afterward on what each liked best.

I grinned when they stopped to admire some watches in a display case. It was then that I thought to myself… “Does anybody really know what time it is?” It’s a lyric from a Chicago song, but its Colorado timing was perfect. I got to see father and son come together once again...and acknowledge that my little boy is not so little anymore, nor is he a boy—and my husband, big and responsible as he is, is still a little boy at heart.

Time is an interesting concept. Simple and complex, it involves our past, our present and our future. It can keep people apart and it can bring people together. And it changes constantly. As we were packing our bags into our rental car to leave for the airport, our son made sure we knew the best route back to the airport, and the most convenient location of a gas station. His timing was perfect. Seems he had adjusted a bit over the weekend to our time zone and priorities. He didn’t even rib us about getting to the airport two hours early.

We can’t set our watches to accommodate one another all of the time, but we can allow a bit of leeway for jet lag, daylight saving time and different priorities. We taught our son to be independent and to march to the beat of his own drummer. Why then should we expect him to keep our time? Indeed. Why would we expect anyone to keep our time…when something different invariably winds each of our watches? We never know what makes someone else “tick,” and sometimes finding out involves setting back the clock or moving it forward. Or…we can just stay in the same time zone and miss one heck of a journey.

So yes, we had a great “time” in the “Republic of Boulder.” I brought back something special from this trip…other than my multi-colored scarf. I brought back a new, more adjustable watch, as did my husband. Time is relative, just ask Einstein. It speeds up or slows down depending on how fast one thing is moving. So, the next time someone asks me what time it is, my answer will be, “What time would you like, my watch is adjustable.”

After all, “Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care?”

© 2006 Teresa G. Franta