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A Boomer’s Journal

By Tom Anselm

By now you will hopefully have recovered from that evil manipulation of our biological clock  known as Daylight Saving Time.

I have come to wonder if it  might be the work of sinister social planners who think it is a clever idea to  arbitrarily change the clocks of the world for the purpose of keeping us always slightly off balance.

They merrily call it “Spring Forward”, as if this light-hearted play on words  can ease the pain of losing an hour of precious sleep.  Now, this comes from a guy who is gone almost before the head hits the pillow, and who can take an hour nap midday and not suffer from insomnia one teensy bit. But I speak for those who, like the lovely Jill, have a hard time falling out much less staying in dreamland for any extended period.

Speaking of dreams, it is no coincidence, I fear, that one of my craziest nighttime stories came in close juxtaposition with this time-changing madness.  Long story short, it found me creating a play about a guy on his deathbed  being visited by many people from his past, living and dead.

I have also  wondered why those in charge have felt it necessary to make these adjustments in the middle of the night.  Why not play with the clocks when it would make sense?  Like, how about late afternoon?  Wouldn’t it be cool,  especially for those who work for a living, to see “4:00” on the digital clock and be able to pack up and head for the parking lot?  Of course by the time you got to the car, it would be 5:10. But hey, what’s a mere 60 minutes in the grand scheme of things when you have the opportunity to pull into the driveway and still see the sun?

It is proven that light makes a body far less depressed.  And you even might have time for a quick stroll around the neighborhood before dinner.  That would be a good thing, right? But then you hear the report that there is a 10% increase in heart attacks on the Monday and Tuesday after the change, due to sleep deprivation and messing with body’s Circadian rhythm. So that should be something you don’t want to mess with, especially if you’re from Circadia.  (Which makes no sense, I know… I just like saying “Circadian.”)

I do enjoy playing around with the phenomenon of time-change. I like to tease Jill and say, “Gee, it’s really only 7:30” when we are yawning on the couch watching the latest rerun of “Modern Family”, which sets the wife’s teeth on edge.  The comment, not the show, which is so wrong in so many ways that it is “just right.”

And would I be  considered a time traveler into the future if, at the moment  the change occurs at the stroke of 2 a.m.., I was still awake to experience it? Which is unlikely, since I usually fall asleep reading by 10:30, book on my chest, head back, drooling. On the plus side, I must admit that having a longer period of daylight lately has felt kinda nice considering the INSANE winter that, hopefully, is finally behind us. So there is that.

At any rate, a few weeks should be enough for  this time stuff to  be a moot point. Besides, we can always look forward to recovering that hour  when we get to “Fall Back” in October.

One last thought then I’m done, I promise.

How would you like to be that poor British sap who has to move them rocks around at Stonehenge when they change over?