Next year, Cabo

circa 1955: A man bringing a roast turkey to the table for a traditional Christmas dinner. (Photo by Evans/Three Lions/Getty Images)

The holiday took a cheerless turn when two sons called the cops on their dad. Staying with Pop at the ancestral Conifer home over Thanksgiving, they’d also paid a visit to their father’s ex-wife, which peeved old dad so much that he barred them from removing their belongings from the house. Since dad was well into the festive libations by that time, his boys asked an officer to stand by while they removed their stuff anyway. Noticing an uninvited uniform, dad became further enraged because his sons “brought the police into this.” When told the fruit of his loins were coming to get their stuff, he said “If you wanna stand by, you do what you gotta do, officer.” When the lads arrived, Pop insisted “the police can leave,” and “we’re done unless you go away.” When the officers didn’t leave, he wondered if we’re all living in a “police state.” Asked if he would go inside and retrieve one son’s insulin needles, he dutifully brought them out, then started yelling at the boy and handed them over with a decidedly unfatherly shove. “It rattled my ribcage,” the son said later. Weary of the man’s atrocious holiday spirit, the officers clapped him in irons, at which he sourly observed, “Now you’re going to take me to jail because I pushed something into my son’s chest a little harder than what you liked.” Deputies stuffed the turkey in the county coop.

 

The Meal who would be King

turkeyking

Tom Turkey was a thoughtful bird, and circumspect in deed and word

Yet in his feathered breast there stirred a grand ambition long deferred.

 

“We are too dignified a race to languish in captive disgrace!

We might a wider world embrace, if farmer’s fence we could erase!”

 

And turkey emperor he’d be, Tom often reckoned secretly

Who led his flock to victory and set the persecuted free.

 

He’d stalk the scratching yard by day, his warrior’s plumage on display,

And in the feeding sheds inveigh against their cultural decay

 

“No more must turkeys here inside this chicken wire bondage bide.

With strength and righteousness allied, we’ll rise in liberating tide!”

 

Tom forged his battle plans with care to catch the farmer unaware.

No quarter would commander spare in that most desperate affair.

 

The younger Jakes arrayed before, the older Toms a solid corps,

And in reserve those maids of war, determined Jennies by the score

 

With lightning speed the army struck. The gate swung wide – a stroke of luck!

Through breached defense they surged amok straight into waiting poultry truck.

 

Capricious are the winds of fate, as Turkey Tom found out too late,

No lord of sovereign Turkey State, but king of one Thanksgiving plate.

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Setting the Standard

 backintime

“Only the government would believe you can cut a foot off the bottom of a blanket, sew it onto the top of the blanket, and have a longer blanket.”     Anonymous

It almost sounds fun.

“Spring forward, Fall back.”

Short, clever, catchy.

But it’s not fun. It’s annoying and confusing, a bi-annual irritation imposed on a complacent people by faceless bureaucrats and over-reaching pencil-pushers presuming to regulate the fourth dimension for reasons never made entirely clear.

At present, daylight saving time – or “summer time” as  it’s more casually known – in the United States and Canada begins on the second Sunday in March and runs through the first Sunday in November, which begs the question why the remaining one-third of the calendar gets to be called “standard” time. Semantics aside, DST has been a seasonal – and until recently only occasional – fact of American life for the better part of a daylight-savings-timejpg-1943d348cc878305century. Then again, the modern impulse to micromanage Nature is not so surprising when one considers that Mankind has been sticking it to Chronos almost since the beginning of…er…time.

 

The first solid evidence of time standardization dates to about 2,000 BC when the Sumerians invented the sundial and instituted the 12-hour day. Thing was, as the days grew longer, the practical-minded Sumerians simply let the hours grow with them, an admirably flexible time-keeping system that left the description of sunlight hours to the…um…Sun.

“Daylight time, a monstrosity in timekeeping.”     Harry S. Truman

About 4,000 years later, a New Zealander named George Hudson decided we could go the timeless majesty of celestial mechanics one better. Hudson was an amateur entomologist with a day job who spent evenings rooting about the North Island landscape for interesting bugs to classify. In 1895 he presented a paper to the Wellington Philosophical Society advocating a seasonal two-hour shift.

George Hudson

George Hudson

Although Hudson’s bold proposal never made it out of committee, the notion was picked up in 1905 by Englishman and avid golfer William Willett, who abhorred the sight of able-bodied Londoners unproductively idling in bed on sunny summer mornings almost as much as he hated having his 18 holes interrupted by thoughtless dusk. Willett was a man of some stature within the Empire and in 1908 managed to get a Daylight Saving Bill before the assembled House of Commons. While the bill never found sufficient Parliamentary support to become law, its principles found favor elsewhere within the Empire. In 1911, the mayor of Orillia, Ontario, one William Sword Frost, adopted daylight saving time within the borders of that fair city. When Frost left office in 1912, DST left with him.

War saved daylight saving time. Imperial Germany and its ally, Austria-Hungary, instituted the practice during the Great War in hopes of saving coal, and the Allied Nations soon followed suit. Winston Churchill was a staunch DST promoter during the Second World War, arguing that it enlarged “opportunities for the pursuit of health and happiness.” Detractors argued it was a bloody nuisance.

“An extra yawn one morning in the springtime, an extra snooze one night in the autumn is all that we ask in return for dazzling gifts. We borrow an hour one night in April; we pay it back with golden interest five months later.”     Winston Churchill

These days, countries from Sweden to Samoa and from the Netherlands to Namibia change their clocks twice a year. For what it’s worth, more countries don’t practice daylight saving than do, and many others – including China and Russia – gave it a test drive and then gave it up as not worth the hassles. Thanks to their relatively stable solar environment, very few people living between the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn has ever been told to Spring or Fall anywhere.

caution-changeclocksAmerica’s experience with time-tampering affords many excellent examples of the hassles that can happen when the thinking classes are allowed to complicate the simple. Officially established on these shores in 1918 as a wartime measure to conserve resources, daylight saving time was quickly abandoned when peace broke out later that same year and public enthusiasm for clock-resetting dimmed – except in New York City, which retained daylight saving so Wall Street could more easily stay in synch with European markets, and in Chicago and Cleveland which kept the practice to stay in synch with New York City.

Following a short second national act during World War II, the concept was firmly tabled from coast to coast until the 1970s when meddling economists proposed that DST might in some way alleviate the energy crisis. Arizona and Michigan formally opted out of the program, and then Michigan opted back in. Indiana, which has knowingly and with malice aforethought apportioned itself into two different time zones, bounced in and out of daylight saving on a county-by-county basis until the state legislature made DST the law of that still-divided land in 2005. And, for awhile there, Minneapolis and St. Paul were separated by both one river and one hour. Long scheduled from the first Sunday in April until the last Sunday in October, daylight saving’s current dimensions were established by act of Congress in 2007, a tweak purported to reduce dependence on incandescent lighting and strongly supported by proto-helicopter-parents demanding an “extra hour of daylight” on Halloween.

“I don’t really care how time is reckoned so long as there is some agreement about it, but I object to being told that I am saving daylight when my reason tells me that I am doing nothing of the kind.”      Robertson Davies

blog_fall_backIn general, agriculture doesn’t like DST. In general, industry does. Environmentalists and energy watchdogs maintain that daylight saving time conserves energy and reduces carbon emissions, but numerous public and private studies have failed to persuasively quantify any such benefits. Many DST proponents insist that clock-changing saves lives by giving commuters an extra hour of daylight driving. Interestingly, one governmental study found that while there does seem to be a very slight dip in traffic fatalities over the course of DST, there is a significant increase in car crashes in the two weeks immediately following its annual implementation that experts ascribe to fatigue resulting from disrupted sleep patterns.

Biologically, more time in the sunshine means more nourishing vitamin D. It also means a higher risk of skin cancer. Some research suggests that rising earlier eases depression. Other research suggests that going to bed earlier makes depression worse. A whole bunch of research finds as much as a 10 percent increase in heart attacks during the three weeks following a time change.

Humans are an adaptable species, thank goodness, and being made to Spring and Fall every year of our nasty, brutish and short lives is a small price to pay in return for conquering the darkness and triumphing over time itself.

Unless we’re not.

“You will never find anybody who can give you a clear and compelling reason why we observe Daylight Saving Time.”     Dave Barry

the-simpsons-s22e16-daylight-savings-is-not-a-failed-bank

Phantom Firefighter Fouls Foyer

Faced with possibly spectral contamination, the property manager of a Conifer Road business complex asked JCSO to investigate the unearthly residue haunting her hallways. Sometime the night before, she said, entities unknown had discharged the full contents of a fire extinguisher inside the building’s dark and ghostfire2forbidding service passage, leaving the place thickly coated with fire suppressant chemicals. Eerily, the depleted extinguisher was found still attached to the wall in its accustomed position. It could have been someone who works in the building, she said, or any member of the public. She didn’t say it could also have been ghosts, but it could also have been ghosts.

Poe House Blues

halloween_cats_bats-wide

     A frosty eve in late October, at home I idled, barely sober

Cheetos-dusted fingers tapping many a curt and snotty tweet

     As I wallowed, iPad beeping, all at once there came a peeping

     Like somebody slyly creeping, creeping from the darkened street.

“Just the neighbor’s cat,” I figured, “creeping from the darkened street,

     “to ‘pon my patio excrete.”

 

     Lurching up to give that frickin’ animal a vicious lickin’

 I heard outside the caustic croon of fairy voice in plaintive bleat

    If not the cat to take a poop, then who had overrun my stoop?

    What thoughtless Tartar lay in siege, my customary sloth to cheat?

Sweatpants striped with pizza sauce and mismatched socks upon my feet

    I staggered from my furrowed seat

 

    Tarrying at the door awhile, still hoping to avoid such trial,

“No solicitors!” I cried, “Begone with your petition sheet!”

     “More magazines I do not need, nor have I interest in your creed,”

     “I beg you come no more a-peeping. Creep you back to darkened street!”

In answer came a stern command with peeping, cheeping, cheerful heat.

    Peeped the creeper, “Trick or Treat!”

 

     Near lost in unswept Autumn litter, plastic scepter’d, gown a-glitter

A tiny princess brightly reigned o’er unread news and stained concrete.

    What was this creature fiercely beaming? Surely I was merely dreaming.

    Fearing awkward consequence I rasped in desolate entreat.

“What is it finds Your Majesty before my humble peasant suite?”

     Chirped the princess, “Trick or Treat!”

 

     Mind in shock and awe recoiling, Hot Pocket in my gut a-boiling

What awful tribute must be paid before I could regain my seat?

    Half a box of stale Froot Loops, a pantry full of Ramen soups

    What had I to pacify the sequined despot, so petite?

“Sorry kid,” I said, a-tremble, “but I got nothin’ good to eat.”

    Piped the princess, “Trick or Treat!”

 

    Back into my pig sty turning, nervous bowels within me churning,

Surely there was somewhere in that mess a single morsel sweet.

    Rooting through the Barcalounger, there was I, pathetic scrounger

    Desperate to find a scrap to buy relentless child’s retreat

Pray let me find a loose Tic Tac down here below the sofa seat!

    Smiled the princess, “Trick or Treat!”       

 

    Falling, sobbing, to the floor, my courage failing and ears a-roar

I caught a glimpse of my salvation wrapped in cellophane discreet

     Cracked and crushed and dirty, but, that ancient mint from Pizza Hut

     Might even yet snatch triumph from the bitter jaws of rank defeat

“Here you go,” I muttered, weakly rising on unsteady feet.

    “It ain’t pretty, but it’s a treat.”

 

    “Thank you!” sang the elfin queen. “And have a happy Halloween!”

Then off she danced down leaf-strewn path unto the darkened street.

    Many Octobers since have flown, and many Autumn winds have blown

    Many an Arby’s wrapper since has drifted ‘round my arch-less feet

But still my strength and wits must fail each time those cruel words repeat

     upon my doorstep – “Trick or Treat!”

 

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