Losing time

Daylight saving time.

No, it isn’t. We skip forward over one whole hour. I never catch up. When I was little and time really did not make any difference because somebody else marked it for me, maybe. When school was out we could stay out later playing kick the can over at our friends’ but not much later.

My dad commuted to New York every Sunday, coming home on Friday evening. Spring summer and fall he’d adjust his watch when he got home. New York wasn’t on this time change then. So I asked my mother why we were. “Farmers,” she said. “They like the extra hour of daylight to work their fields.”

Oh.

My rescue dog Lily and I like to go out on the beach before sunrise to watch it come up over the ocean. Tomorrow when we set out and the clock reads 5:30 it is actually 4:30 so we have that much more time to get our act together without missing the sun. Another hour.

But we still lose that hour. I read somewhere that some countries stopped changing the clock because people became so anxious and tired from the loss of that hour that they were not only unproductive at work but some actually had to go to the hospital. I used to work with a company out in Arizona, a place where there are no real deciduous trees, no real trees at all actually, and a lot of hot, sunny days. I once asked why they did not have daylight saving time there.

She paused and said, “Honey, we don’t need anymore daylight.”

I will be happy when I get my hour of time back next November.

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