Why Make Things Easy When They Can Be Difficult?

"Measuring Up"

*based on a semi-true story....

He was sitting in a clump on the couch, tapping a pencil against his forehead, social studies book spread before him.

This was his thinking position.

“Dad?” asked my 12 year old scholar. I could tell by the inflection in his voice and the wrinkle in his brow that my son had one of those questions. 

“Yes?” I answered, rather hesitantly.

“Why do the English use the metric system and Americans use the English system? That doesn’t even make sense.”

For the sake of clarity, I live in the United States, a country which cantankerously clings with bald eagle talons to the English system of measurement.

“Well,” I began, “Americans are a little complicated.” 

Is that the best I could do?

“But the metric system is so easy,” my son pursued the issue. He wasn't wrong.

“Look at it this way," the gears were grinding in my brain, "Americans have a really hard time imagining ‘25 degrees’ as a nice, comfortable summer day.” 

I was proud of my example. 

“Well, water boils at 100 degrees Celsius and freezes at zero. Seriously, that’s so easy,” the young man was relentless.

And he was correct. Multiples of ten. That’s the metric system. Easy.

However, the United States refuses to adopt this simple and easy-to-use system of measurement. The U.S. stands obstinate with Liberia and Burma as the only three countries in the world to still recognize Imperial Units as the official standard of measurement.

I gave some further thought to his most excellent question. 

“You see, buddy,” I said in my most convincing father-knows-best voice, “Americans have always had a … difficult time adapting to something new. Americans can be a little ... stubborn.”

My son made a snorting sound from his nose. 

“Or a little stupid,” he mumbled as he flipped a page in his textbook.

Yeah, I chuckled to myself, or a little stupid.

Bookstore Jonesing

Emily's Used Books, Brainerd, MN

I am a victim of an infliction called “bookstore jonesing.”

I open the door and the aroma grips me first, sinking its papercut teeth into my nostrils. I willingly give myself to the musty, pulpy fragrance. I inhale like a stoner taking a hit. 

I am hooked.

There is nothing like the scent of my local used bookstore. Once lured inside, my senses become a mushy, short circuited knot. 

I lose myself in canyons of classics and I scale ravines of fiction. I bathe in the Sea of Forewords and plod through the Desert of Afterwords, while every syllable of every story whispers from the walls like stains heard but unseen.

Fluorescent glare guides me and skinny aisles beg me, stay for just a little longer.

Warning: this humble store is a black hole. Once its gravitational force sucks you in, you are an addict for life.

Ain’t it great?

Perpetual Nocturnal Abyss Time

It has happened again, friends. We’ve “fallen back.” 

Daylight Saving Time is in the rearview mirror and the gates of infinite darkness have opened; we’ve started the inescapable plunge into the obsidian hell called winter. 

We’ve now entered “Standard Time,” or more accurately, “Perpetual Nocturnal Abyss Time.” 

Personally speaking, the beginning of November to the end of February is a tipsy season I like to call “Cocktail Time.” One for you, two for me. 

Cheers!

So why are we made to suffer through this change every year? As if the impending doom of another frigid winter isn’t enough, we must face the prospect of living on the dark side of the moon for the next four months. 

It’s really a bit much for even the cheeriest of souls.

Blame Germany

Daylight Saving Time (DST) started in Germany during the First World War ostensibly as a means of conserving coal. This new concept initially seemed to be a smart idea. However, it is now an antiquated notion currently employed by only about 70 countries in the world. 

Even worse, the application of DST is a worldwide hack job. 

Really, it is an international you-know-what-show as each country follows its own set of rules and protocols without regard to neighboring nations: the European Union switches to Standard Time a week earlier than the United States and Canada, while Chile and Paraguay are the only two countries in South America that even bother observing DST. 

Then there is Lord Howe Island in Australia, which adjusts its clocks by 30 minutes, rather than the traditional hour.

Why? Because Australians like a good laugh.

An Act of Congress

The European Union has discussed ending DST altogether, but some voice concern over such a radical move. (Fun fact: Iceland has not used DST since October 29, 1967. And Iceland is doing just fine, thanks). Just to make life interesting, under Brexit, the United Kingdom could end up in two time zones; one employing DST, the other not. 

But the United Kingdom has got nothing on the good ol’ United States. At least 19 states have either enacted or passed legislative bills electing to keep DST permanent. But like everything in the U.S., it’s not that easy. 

In typical convoluted fashion, making DST permanent would literally require an act of United States Congress. While all states are legally allowed to forgo DST (most of Arizona does, and all of Hawaii does; Indiana did, now it doesn’t), Congress must pass a law allowing states to observe DST year round, if they so choose. 

To put another way, it is possible that someday the U.S. could have states that observe DST in its present state, others that employ DST permanently and still others that forgo DST entirely. All at the same time.

In 1969, the band Chicago asked “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?” There can be no doubt they were referring to the Daylight Saving Time fiasco.

The Price We Pay

While DST proponents argue that longer hours of daylight in the summer may help reduce road accidents, conserve energy used for artificial lighting and give farmers an extended workday (in fact, the agricultural industry has lobbied against DST for years), we all know why the time change is still observed: to give people longer summer nights to rest and relax.

Now heaven knows I’m not opposed to rest and relaxation. But for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. What is the price we pay when we “fall back?” 

A season of blackness. 

We drive to our jobs in the dark. We pick up groceries after work in the dark. We walk the dog in the evening in the dark. 

We get into our jammies at 5:45 PM, because the murky gloom of the late afternoon messes with our sensitive circadian rhythms. We fight the feeling of constant exhaustion because our bodies are slowly being drained of precious vitamin D.

We sink deeper and deeper into that dim winter funk. 

We get fat. We get depressed. And yes, we have cocktails.

Are those few months of longer summer nights really worth it? Let me sleep on it and give you an answer in the morning. 

When it is still dark.