OPINION

Outtakes: After falling back, time to spring forward

Frank Weaver Jr.
Suburbanite correspondent
Frank Weaver Jr.

I won't have to engage myself in the annual ritual everyone who's reading this column must do tomorrow. That is, spring forward at 2 a.m.

That's right, folks, tomorrow (actually on Sunday, March 14, 2 a.m. becomes 3 a.m.) we're back on Eastern Daylight Savings Time. That means we turn our clocks, wristwatches, timepieces, sundials, hour glasses, etc., ahead one hour.

For many, it means no more sun setting when there's still enough daylight to cruise the lakes one more time without having to turn on the boat's running lights. No more late afternoon darkness that signals the fish are hibernating for the night. In doing so, they're telling us to come back tomorrow morning when they're hungry again.

I'm not so sure about you, but for me it also means no more searching for a much needed flashlight just to run outside and pick up the morning newspaper without stumbling; the one we all need in order to enjoy our morning cup of steaming hot coffee.

You will all need to do this. Turn your clocks ahead, that is; not enjoy a morning cup of Hot Joe. Otherwise you'll be late for church services. But not me. I'm already there! Been there since last fall.

Recently, I received one of those newfangled wrist watches that gives you everything while it's happening, including the weather. Except, of course, minute to minute updates from the Oval Office at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. My only problem with it is, I don't like it. It's too complicated.

I would imagine what must have happened is, a few years ago a couple of egg-heads with more dead time on their hands than they knew what to do with, had one too many glasses of ice cold carbohydrates. So they put together whatever scrambled eggs remained in their noggins, and decided to do the same thing to watches as some other egg-heads did years ago to the telephone.

Today, spring-forward and fall-backward mean nothing. You can't turn your watch forward or backward. There aren't any knobs. Instead, there are four buttons, two on each side of the watch. You press and click a combination of these in synchronization to the beat of the late Rock 'N' Roll singer, Bobby Darin's 'Splish Splash'. Or at least it seems.

Year after year I've struggled twice annually. Year after year the program designed to operate the watch has ferhoodled me. And year after year I've felt washed-out by the robotic mind of a time machine. I wasn't about to ask the wife for help. She might take me for an alien. So I turned to the only family member I could fully trust not to laugh at her bald-headed, pot-bellied, octogenarian father. My DDD (Dear Darlink Dotter. That's what I affectionately call her.).

“Wendy,” I started softly and very nicely with a hint of pleading in my voice last fall. “This is your DDDD (Dear Downright Delirious Dad. That's how she affectionately??? refers to me.).”

Knowing with a husband and four daughters on her hands, her precious time is limited, I cut right to the chase. “It's that time of the year again, Sweetie. Time to fall backward. If you could reset my watch without Mom knowing, I'd be forever in your debt and won't bother you again until spring.” Actually, that part about forever being in her debt, I was just joking. I sure hope she knows that. For some reason, we failed to hook up last fall and, consequently, I spent the entire winter one hour ahead of everyone else. As a result it fixed my “spring-forward, fall-back” problem. And I promise it will never happen again.

Come fall, I'm buying another watch and set it for the “fall-back” winter mode. Now I'll never have to remember to deduct or add an hour to my watch whenever anyone asks for the correct time.

Comments may be emailed to: Frankweaverjr@aol.com