Here it is, the first Monday of Central Standard Time, and I’m feeling — addle pated?
So I, classically trained, blame all my present angst on Benjamin Franklin. He was among the first of we Americans to argue for the strategized life that harnessed not only the power of our acquaintances but of time itself and turned it to our favor. He thought we’d save candle power if we rose earlier and worked harder and — lived the Daylight Savings Time Life
But I ask you, what did he know?
Oh, I can picture it: a thousand followers of Benjamin Franklin will descend on me and call me names and ask what the heck do I think I know that HE didn’t?
Well, I grew up on a farm where I was taught among other things to tell the time by glancing at the sun. When it was directly overhead, Dad said, it was noon.
But his comment came before Daylight Savings Time. How could he have anticipated America’s preoccupation with saving daylight. Dad was only a farmer, what the heck did he know about time and how it was best used?
Well, he knew a lot, I’d argue and I still belive he did.
So did he know enough to go up against the great Benjamin Franklin? Well, maybe. (I’m Dad’s daughter, don’t forget.)
And every fall, while Daylight Savings Time stretches longer and longer, I resent our arbitrarily darkened dawn. Each day, I rise, muttering to myself, “It’s awfully dark for 6 a.m. Surely, the day should be lighter by now, right?”
I’m in the minority. I know it. Most people would rather take their daylight on the tag end of the day. But I like a lighter morn, myself.
But regardless of all that, here I sit today trying to adjust myself to another head-jerking readjustment of the day’s timepiece. Is it four or five o’clock? My computer says one time and my kitchen clock another while my biological clock bounces back and forth. I am so confused. Come on guys. Make up your minds and give us, the poor grunts of the world, some peace. Please!