One minute sounded like a pretty substantial amount of time to my 10-year-old brain. I thought of all the minutes I’d endured at school, the hands on the wall clock inching along at such a slow pace that sometimes I’d ask my teachers if perhaps the clock was in need of repair. I thought of the minutes I’d spent in the waiting rooms of doctor’s offices, re-reading the Highlights magazines I’d already read a hundred times, waiting for my allergy shots. I thought of the minutes I’d spent waiting for my favorite TV programs to come on, and the minutes…