In the chapter titled “Playin’” in my book, Daddin’: The Verb of Being a Dad, is a short essay titled, “Slow Down, Booger Butt.” It relates to a time that my youngest son – then seven – and I played on a swing set at an elementary school. As we swung higher and higher, he called out to me with the phrase I had used on him at times. It brought smiles and laughter.
Looking back, it might have been one of the early reminders that slowing down can be a good thing. It also foreshadowed the future.
He, now in his early 30s, and I were chatting the other day about a variety of things, one of which involved “getting things done.” I shared that, for example, I could still accomplish projects and labors on my little piece of heaven (25 rough acres), or in the small garden at home, but “I just need to move slower.” With that statement came the next realization: “I think I have always been in a hurry to get the current thing done so I could move on to the next one. It hasn’t always served me well. Slowing down is a good thing, I think.”
Actually, I know.
When I was a kid, dad would sometimes get the bug to head to the nearby hardware store to shop for one thing or another. He would invite me to tag along, an invitation I always accepted. After he would park the car, I would jump out and head to the store, until I heard his oft stated, “Slow down and I’ll walk with you.” He meant it literally, but I believe it also means a lot figuratively.
When I finally landed a management/administrator-level job in the university world, I created “Dion’s Quirk List.” The idea was to let my employees know my quirks so we could spend time succeeding as a team instead of them trying to figure me out. I was told by several people over the years that that list was a gift to them. One of the items on the list was that my default mode was “in a hurry.” Luckily, I slowed down over the years.
One of the reasons for slowing down was reading the book, Slow Down and Get More Done, by Marshall J. Cook. I read it, absorbed a bit of it, and moved on, fighting the “get on to the next thing” habit. Age and wisdom have made real the lessons that the book could not.
Slow down. When going for a walk, try sauntering (read Thoreau’s “Walking” essay where he explains the art of sauntering); when working on a project, enjoy the process instead of being in a hurry for the result. In life and living, it pays to “slow down, booger butt”; I believe we pick up more along the way if we do. Don’t be afraid to say, “Slow down and I’ll walk with you” to the people in your life; mean it, literally and figuratively.