I once read that the 'Hickory Dickory Dock' Mother Goose rhyme actually evolved from pagan rituals, from the kind of magical spells that old wives practiced at home. Along with herbs and potions, they used certain words to cast their charms and spells. Time and timing were key and much emphasis was put on lunar phases, seasons, midnight, solstices and equinoxes as they were believed to facilitate their magic.

I was unable to find who wrote the childhood chant, but I'm certain that he or she had no clue that a group of individuals known as Congress would someday possess magical powers so powerful they could tiptoe into the bedrooms of an entire nation and change the hour while it slept.

From start to finish, it normally takes me ninety minutes to get ready for work in the morning. I've been stuck in the ninety minute routine as far back as I can remember. The routine begins with one hand groping for the button on the 'nature sounds' alarm clock and gratefully hushes those chirping, croaking, screeching creatures of the ‘night forest’ and finishes when I pull out of the driveway to begin a daily navigation that winds through five school zones and a unnerving mile or so of camera-lined S-curves.

This past Sunday morning all of that changed. I had set the alarm the night before because of a full day ahead, even though it was Sunday. When the forest came alive, I hit the button and staggered to my feet. On the way to the coffee pot, I glanced out the window and knew I had passed through a time warp on the stairs.

Just like Michael J. Fox. But all thoughts of a roaring, snorting time machine quickly vanished when I remembered the time had changed. I had just gained an hour. Or so they said. As I waited for the coffee to drip, I yawned and wondered just how that worked. I still had a full, inflexible schedule ahead.

I fail to see how anyone benefited from the time changing the other way, when we supposedly ‘lost’ an hour in the spring. And now I find it hard to understand how, this fall, with two debatable wars going on, gasoline prices inexplicably rising again, millions of Americans without medical insurance, a nation in the throes of a recession, and a whole generation of young people with such low self-esteem that the crotches of their pants have dropped down to their knees, Congress had established its priorities and again focused on Daylight Savings Time.

If you’re looking for someone to blame, look no further than Richard Nixon. To change or not to change was decided by the individual states until he signed it into law. Since that time, Congress, just to throw us off a notch, still dabbles with it from time to time and makes changes to the change.

Not everyone can just drop what they're doing and feel drowsy or wide awake and refreshed at will. I believe most are creatures of habit and some, like myself, have internal clocks that never correspond with those on the beside table. I wish Timex would send every member of Congress a pre-programmed alarm clock that requires a 50 page manual to adjust the time. You can rest assured, they would make better use of their time and leave ours alone.

Getting to sleep at a decent hour has been difficult for me ever since the clocks sprang forward last spring. I've felt out of sync, but that out of syncness didn’t end at 2 a.m. on Sunday morning. It’s been two days now and I’m beginning to wonder if time ever had anything to do with it.

Two days and nothing magical has happened. Most importantly, my habit of waking several times during the night hasn’t changed. Perhaps a time change is just two chimes of a clock and a mouse running around the house, after all. If so, a trip to the pesticide department at the local hardware store should fix that.


Copyright 2009 Patricia Paris
Contact: patriciaparis@gmail.com
Member: Tennessee Mountain Writers, International Women Writers Association, Tennessee Writers Alliance, Chattanooga Writers Guild