We are creatures of the sun, soaking in the smiles of the warmth and the laughter of light. You don’t have to look to flowery poetry and descriptive prose to realize this; just notice the lines outside the plastic surgeons’ offices, not to mention your face, which is starting to resemble a reptilian life form.
That’s why the end of Daylight Saving Time is so devastating to most people. Setting the clock back an hour so that darkness descends an hour early elevates the blackness to the level of an Alfred Hitchcock movie.
Taking away just the tiniest amount from our addiction to the light can cause people to go stark raving mad, and that’s just in the state of Iowa, which is considered very normal by corn standards.
I know it doesn’t affect everyone, but for those of us who might be considered legally blind by three in the afternoon, it’s a huge adjustment. Even without the early nightfall, I basically can’t tell the difference between a horse on fire galloping across the road in the distance and an open-all-night liquor store sign that rotates and says “Free check cashing!”
My peripheral vision is so bad that in the past I have phoned 911 to report an airplane burning, claiming that fire was quickly spreading across the runway when in fact it was just a woman with red hair boarding late. By the time this is discovered, of course, traffic has been rerouted across several bridges and the National Guard has been put on alert for possible rescues. Schools have been closed, and many towns have emptied out to the screams of “Run for your lives!”
So you can see, even on a good day things can turn sour. Between cataracts, night blindness, nearsightedness, farsightedness, strabismus, lazy eye and crossed eyes, it’s no wonder my eyes are so bloodshot that most people think I’ve been on a three-day bender.
But when the end of Daylight Saving Time rolls around, I go into a different mode.
Knowing I have all these visual problems that will be heightened by the early darkness, I pretty much just grab things to feel my way around. I hate to burden other people with my problems.
Like sometimes at a social gathering, I just follow shadows of things, assuming they are people, and joke and slap them on the back.
Sure, it’s embarrassing when I find out I’ve been talking to the air-conditioning duct for half an hour about my personal life and discussing the results of Sunday night football with a potted plant out in the hall. But for some reason, other people don’t find this odd.
There is nothing like a truly caring empty room, unless you ask the sign outside the restroom that says “out of order” to a party, and then people tend to shy away and avoid asking you to the next party.
I also tend to leave work early when it gets dark this soon.
OK, I can use this excuse. But this is easy for me; I can then just follow shadows of things out to the parking lot. One time I found myself in the middle of a whole herd of sheep that had escaped from a truck.
Silly me, I thought someone said we were posing for a group photo out in the parking lot, so I stood around smiling for a couple of hours until someone noticed and led me away.
But darkness isn’t the only problem with the end of Daylight Saving Time.
The real mystery is, should the word “saving” end with the letter “s” or be left singular? I was disappointed it wasn’t asked at the political debates, and I’m certain the answer is in those deleted emails.
So, is it Daylight Saving Time or Savings Time?
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Nancy Katz has a degree in creative writing and is the author of the book, "Notes from the Beach." She has written the column Around Town for the Cape Gazette for twenty years. Her style is satirical and deals with all aspects of living in a resort area on Delmarva.
