Dear blog reader
I hope that this finds you doing
well. I am getting better by the day. The days are getting longer and a bit
warmer. Slowly we are climbing out and up. Within the next four weeks, my next
installment of tree seedlings will arrive. It is always exciting to plant
something that will mature in the last chapter of my life. As these oaks turn
100, I will be tottering out there on my walker and my remote control chainsaw.
How cool will that be? Hopefully, I can trick my great, great, grand children
into stacking the split cords of wood for a scoop or two of ice cream. The
thought of rank upon rank of promised BTUs slowly accumulated over the span of
the last 2/3 of my life always makes me smile.
I had another epiphany this past
week. As the time approached for the great time heist, known as daylight
savings time, I figured out that I no longer have to play this game. Just
because Uncle Sam says jump, I don't have to respond "how high sir?"
Let me tell you that is liberating. I have pondered on the problem for a long
time. I considered moving, protesting, legislative action, succession, armed
revolt. All either seemed useless, senseless or feckless.
My frustration peaked again this
week as I thought about giving an hour of sleep over to the authorities.
Suddenly, the solution presented itself after I had fretted and worried. One
night tossing and turning, exhausted; I gave up. I cleared my mind and the
solution presented itself. Like a burning bush in the wilderness, my brain said
“you don’t have to play their game.” So, I am not going along with daylight
savings time. I am leaving my clocks alone. I am not springing forward. I am
putting masking tape over the lower right hand corner of my computer. Another piece of tape is going over the upper
middle of my Ipad and Iphone screens. I am free of the tyranny.
I am living in the world though
with people who have not seen the light. The first person in any parade is
lonely; wondering if anyone will follow. But you have to take that first step
and see who will follow. In order to show the world what a great idea this is,
I am meeting it half way. I plan on going to everything an hour earlier than I
did pre-DST. I went to church at 8:00 a.m. this week. I am thinking about
changing to the Methodists. They meet at 9:00 a.m. now. I am going to arrive at
work every day at 7:00 a.m., and plan to enjoy leaving at 3:30 every afternoon.
(or is that every aftereleven.) Supper will be a bit early at 4:30. But one
must stay disciplined and be ready for bed around 8:30 because that 4:00 wake
up alarm waits for no bleary eyed dreamer.
The lovely Miss Beverly thinks
that it is a great idea. However, it will not work in her situation. She is an
early morning exercise enthusiast. The idea, of getting up at 3:30 a.m. to get to
the Y for a 4:00 session of Bosu or an Insanity strength session, is . . .
well, insane. So, we will be a house divided; a house observing two different
time zones. It will be like in the bad old days in Union City, Indiana/Ohio.
Those houses which straddled the state line when Indiana
All of this prattling about DST
has revealed yet another epiphany. On Sunday morning as I was waiting for the
time thief to arrive and reset my clocks, I was sleeping fitfully. I was up
every 15 minutes looking at my phone. Has it happened yet? Has the ghost of
Steve Jobs traveled down the internet to steal an hour of my sleep? How does he
get to all of the houses in the world in one night to complete his appointed
rounds? It’s just like Santa; only Steve does it twice a year. He taketh away and giveth back.
While waiting on this theft in the
night, it struck me in blinding clarity. DST is just a mini rapture. Instead of
a major overhaul of the space time continuum, the government just messes around
with an hour here and an hour there; no forever folded in upon itself. My
exposure to the rapture predates all of the “Left Behind” franchise by Lahaye
and company by 30 years. My exposure came in the fellowship hall of Fortville
Christian Church watching “A Thief in the Night.” Pre-CGI special effects; this
movie depicts Ford Pintos weaving back and forth as they became driverless
going down the interstate. The sincerity of the pre-rapture, post tribulation,
the world’s going to end so you better be ready, crowd at church was
appreciated. They were in a struggle for my soul after all. The depiction of
planes falling from the sky, driverless cars and empty pulpits on Sunday, was a
persuasive tool for a 16 year old.
(Speaking of planes falling from
the sky, do you think the Malaysian plane was a rapture dress rehearsal, or was
it the real thing. Did God get all of the chosen on one plane in Asia and then
pulled the curtains shut on this old world? It makes you wonder.)
In the end though, it was all just
too confusing for me. Being a simpleton, I didn’t understand the jargon. So I
just gave up caring and went on to pursue more important things like dating.
Lying there Sunday morning,
keeping a constant vigil, it struck me that if I dislike these mini-raptures so
much, how much complaining will I do when the real thing comes? “Ummm, I’m
sorry God. I really hate to complain but I have been training for the Ride
Across INdiana all summer long and now I don’t get to ride in it? What’s up
with that?” Or “Excuse me. Yeah over here, what’s with this rapture thing now?
You made me go through the entire winter and just when the tulips are about to
emerge and life is about to resume you pull the plug? Why not November?
Wouldn’t right after the big turkey dinner; me being all thankful, and sleepy;
wouldn’t that be a much better time. No thinking about it, after Christmas
would be better. I already have all of those Christmas presents bought. Plus, I
was hoping for a new carbon bike this year.”
Some how over my fifty years, I
have decided that time is mine to manipulate and control; to bend to my will;
to use or waste as I see fit. All of the time is mine and you have to let me
have it in the increments that I deem appropriate. In my brain, I have climbed
to the top of the mountain, firmly planted my feet at the summit, hands on
hips, jaw jutting out as I survey all that is mine and declare that I am the
time god. Even if it’s a delusion, it’s good to be king.
Take care.
Roger
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