By dark and dreary mundane passings, are clipped. (Psst! Wanna read some poetry?)
A travelling salesman approaches an old codger, sitting in a chair outside the flyspeck-town’s general store.
“Excuse me sir, do you know what time it is?”
“Oh, ‘bout Tuesday, ah reckon.”
“No sir, I need to know the correct time. I have a train to catch.”
“Tuesday’s close enough. Ain’t no train till Friday.”
Once, people toiled from sunup to sundown, not caring what time it was, and only vaguely knowing, when the church bells rang, to tell them that it was time to tithe.
As towns and cities grew, it became more important that most folks were doing things at the same time, so the Latin horas became English language hours.
Passing Time was chopped up into 1/60th pieces of the hours. Compared to the ‘hours’, these little chunks were MINUTE (my-nyoot), and that’s what they were called. The original meaning of, tiny, small, is still pronounced that way. Centuries of mush-mouth slide have changed these chunks of time into MINUTES (minnits).
With the arrival of the Industrial Revolution, especially steam trains and their schedules, even smaller bits of time became necessary, and the MINUTES got carved into 60 smaller bits. Since these were the SECOND smaller sections of the hour to be established, that was what they were called.
As modern technology relies more on computerized electronics, and even quantum services, time must be chopped up into finer and finer little portions. The state-of-the-art technologists of even only a half century ago, would probably be astounded by the use of millisecond – thousandth, microsecond – millionth, nanosecond – billionth, and picosecond – trillionth.
It’s no wonder that Ethel GPS put me in Oregon, instead of Ohio. She probably just needs new batteries in her watch. I’ll watch to see if you stop by again soon. 😀