David Bouchier: A Few Well Chosen Words

Just three days to go, and about half the population is worrying about what to do for Valentine’s Day, while the other half doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about. It’s a difficult time, for romantics and cynics alike. The avalanche of red hearts, chocolates, sentimental cards, and expensive flowers that precedes Valentine’s Day can turn your heart to mush, or to stone. 

Several years ago I gave up wearing a watch, not because of any metaphysical uncertainty about the reality of time, but simply because the watch band began to irritate my wrist. I tried all kinds of bands – leather, plastic, metal – and eventually took to keeping the watch in my pocket, 19th century style. But then, I suppose, I had a kind of epiphany. Did I actually care what time it really was, all the time? Some watches are status symbols, but mine wasn’t.

Perhaps the most curious phenomenon of tourism is the journey to see an event or situation that no longer exists, and perhaps never existed. This is as old as history. Pilgrims have always journeyed to places where religious visions might or might not have appeared, or famous people might or might not have been buried. But the ubiquitous cellphone has given it a new dimension of strangeness. The goal is not simply to visit nonexistent sights but to photograph them, preferably with one’s own face in the foreground. Above all it is about participating in the world of movies.

It seems that the algorithms that increasingly rule our lives have decided that I am getting younger as I get older. For years I’ve been hounded by advertisements for arthritis remedies, hearing aids, lounge chairs, river cruises, health insurance, and other useful products for senior citizens. Now, suddenly, I have crossed another invisible barrier and entered my second childhood. The latest catalog to arrive in the mail with my name on it is for toys.

My life, like yours, is made up of routines. They begin in childhood with feeding routines, play routines, and then the unforgiving timetable of school. By the time we grow up, if we do, we are thoroughly accustomed to the idea that certain ritual activities are repeated every day, week, and year. We live, quite literally from cradle to grave, in a world of routines. It’s what keeps us sane. These are not just the habits of life; they are actually life itself, and we get very upset when they are interrupted.