Thursday, November 08, 2018

adjusting to standard time

I've always been a day late and a dollar short, it seems, when presented with the obvious and failing to see it.  That trait which I was somewhat aware of in my youth has become more pronounced in my aging years.  To wit; I've been awakening every morning this week at between 0200 and 0230.  disconcerting to say the least.  Last night, after work, I was so tired I skipped super and went to bed at 1830.  Again this morning, at 0210 I was awake; wide awake!  And then, for the first time, it dawned on me;  (pun intended)  my body physiologically is still functioning on daylight savings time.  So at 0200 to 0230 my body thinks it's 0300 or 0330, which is my usual habit/time of rising for the past 40 years or so, give or take.

So now that I've figured out what, I suspect, most of you knew a week ago what  are the important points to take from this revelation, if, indeed there are any?

Well the first thing I see on Facebook in reference to this phenomenon is; Hurray, hurray we get and extra hour of sleep on Sunday.  Really?  Really?  It's Sunday for Christ's sake: sleep as long as you want.  What? you can't?  Exactly!  if you're like me and too bad if you are, you sleep a certain number of hours routinely exempting those mornings after a night out on the town and your drunken stupor keeps you asleep and or semi-conscious for longer than normal.  It's really a misnomer to believe that turning the clocks back will afford you anymore sleep.

What then are the advantages of turning the clocks back one hour?  Well, you get an hour more daylight in the morning when you're in the shower getting ready for work and an hour less when you have leisure time after work.  Snarky?  Well yes, it is.

So then the advantages seem to be nil for turning back the clocks.  Are there any disadvantages?
How about the statistical increase in motor vehicle and pedestrian accidents.  Just this week I've seen numerous videos of cars passing stopped school buses.  I wonder if this has anything to do with the decrease in awareness brought on by the fatigue generated in the first few weeks of the transition back to standard time. Maybe, It's worth considering.

Because it's now dark when we are driving home from work visibility is reduced and therefore more difficult to see cyclists and walkers,

During this transition there is an increase in heart attacks.  Stress induced?  Maybe.

There is also purportedly an increase in crime. 

There is also an increase in occurrence of depression.  I'll make a guess here, a speeding into seasonal affective disorder  time of the year.

Here is an interesting piece from which much of the above was gleaned:

My vote, not that anyone is asking or cares, is to quit frigging around with the clocks.  Leave it be daylight-saving time year round.

But since no one listened to me, at least take the time to change the batteries in your smoke detectors this time of year.

Monday, September 10, 2018

Morning Rain

In the early, early morn
The gentle rhythm of rain
Pattering on my roof
Brings a meditative awakening.

Without conscious thought
The cleansing away
Of troublesome dreams
Leaves peaceful serenity.

To the balcony I traipse 
Soaking up the music;
Tapping, dripping, splashing
On the pavement below.

And so it is with
Cleansed mind and soul
I greet the new day

Infused with a 5 year old’s enthusiasm.

Monday, June 11, 2018

Morning on the river

Dawn arrives early this time of year. She was up and reflecting off the feathery white clouds lingering lazily over the sky-blue river.
A blue jay lands on the clothesline from the nearby cedar tree; seemingly looks me in the eye as I peer out the kitchen door’s window and squawking as if to say; food, food, feed me.
The Blue heron lingers, fishing off the rock pile, that once supported our no longer existent dock, for nearly 20 minutes. Perhaps looking for a crayfish breakfast

Two mallards frolic nearby, while further out a lone cormorant dives in search of fish.
A gaggle with goslings float to within a foot of the boat ramp staring at the driftwood snake placed across the ramp by me to deter the geese from leaving their excrement on the lawn.

  It worked; after a few minutes of evaluating said “sculpture,” they reenter the river and continue west, up river.
In the background a laker floats by; movement almost imperceptible on the glassy surface.

Ahh, morning, the river community awakens.

Saturday, April 07, 2018

Triolet to Spring

                         Triolet to Spring

Spring, April spring, where art thou Spring?
Why-for has’t thou forsaken me?
Birds, so frigid, can barely sing. 
Spring, April spring, where art thou Spring?
Flowers in frozen ground still cling.
New leaf buds absent from your tree.
Spring, April spring, where art thou Spring?

Why-for has’t thou forsaken me?

Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Circadian upset

In the midnight blue
     Of autumn's night
I ponder my circadian plight.

Plying my craft from dawn
     To dusk
Back to my abode I trod,
     An empty husk.

The sofa beckons my weary bod.
     Eyelids flutter;
The new's "music" makes me nod.

Then at bedtime , do I awaken.
     Refreshed anew,
 Alert, my rhythm shaken.

But again when Moon is nigh,
     I'll briskly walk to work
And lend to you my watchful eye.

Saturday, November 04, 2017

Death of Americana

Remember when we first moved to Main St.?  There were kids In the neighborhood, lots of kids.  The Durant kids, Leblanc kids, Larocks, Meads, Colburns, Van Tassels, Manns, Crings, Otts, Mouricks, Bennetts, Fraser's, Hollerans, Barnes, Wards, Barleys, Wrights, Spillmans, Robinsons, Lacomb's, Caseys, McDougals, McNallys, Bogart's, and Woodcock's, just to name a few.

    Remember the school had 750 students K-12?

Where are all those kids today, 40 years later?

Gone, almost to a person, from the area; gone to areas of greater economic prosperity.

A community will falter and die when its youth leave the nest and don't return to raise their own brood.  

LaRock kids have moved on. The Leblanc house is empty and the Bennett's house is occupied by a childless couple.  The Van Tassel kids are here; Andy and his wife Lynette moved into Colburn's house and have two kids. The Colburns are all out of the area.  All the Spillman, Holleran, and Casey kids have moved on.  The Meade girls are gone as well as Millie Robinson's kids.

A few have stayed: Kevin Crosby, Patrick Barse,  Andy VT, but by and large, the kids that grew up with our kids have moved on, taking the heart of this small rural community with them.

  Now the State is bribing the community (village) to dissolve and become part and parcel of the Town.  The remaining social fabric of the village i.e. the fire Dept. will be hard pressed to hold off the appeal of 50% tax reduction in perpetude.

    And so another remnant of Americana dies away, relegated to memory of the few left who will soon enough take those memories, also, to the graveyard of used-to-be.

Sunday, July 16, 2017

Dream noises

     Two and a half hours after snuggling in the arms of Morpheus, I'm dreaming.  The specifics of the dream leading up to the critical event elude me.  I'm at the top of a stairway with a sack of groceries in my arm; one of those brown paper sacks of old.  There is an abundance of canned goods in the bag and one falls out of the over stuffed sack, ripping the top of the bag just enough to allow another can to fall in pursuit of the first.  Then like a cascade, the cans hit the oak hardwood stairs with resounding bang, bang, booms. Over and over again until I approach wakefulness and the thought; wtf, I didn't have that many cans in the bag.

Groggily my eyes squint open and come to that fleeting realization of a dream fading and reality foggily establishing itself.  But wait; the cans are still banging down the steps; bang, boom, booooomm, bang, bang, boom.

I get up and open the bedroom door and come into the living room to witness Diane and Crystal watching the neighbor's setting off a spectacular fireworks display to rival Morristown's 4th of July fireworks.

" You missed it" they said.
"I can't believe you slept through all those explosions " Diane said.

Sleepily I replied, " I thought it was cans falling down the stairs!"

Peels of laughter echo off the camp walls, drowning out the sounds of tumbling canned goods.