Back Home by Chris Hardie
Armed and fortified with a cup of coffee, I set about the bothersome task of changing the time on the various timepieces scattered around the house.
Biannually I am somewhat miffed that it feels like an hour of my life has been arbitrarily changed by a political rule where we want to mess with the natural rhythm of nature. We want more daylight into the evening in the summer and more sunlight in the morning in the winter.
Studies have also shown that time changes affect people’s rhythms as well. I don’t need any other sleep disruption when it’s already impacted by an aging bladder at 3 a.m. that leads to the inevitable over-analyzing of life’s challenges that prevents me from returning to sleep for several hours, if at all.
Recently I had a sleep study where I spent the night at a hospital with all sorts of wires hooked up to my head and body and a breathing measurement apparatus. I was persuaded to have the study by my wife, Sherry, who was concerned that apparently I stop breathing at times while I sleep.
I should be encouraged that she is concerned and not just looking for my life insurance papers. One conclusion the study revealed is a complete absence of N3 sleep, which is the deep, restorative slow-wave sleep during which the brain is cleared of toxins and harmful substances.
My first reaction was that a whole bunch of politicians could be suffering from the same toxic brain malady. It may also explain why I continued to farm all those years and … well … It explains a lot, like getting back to the point of messing with time.
An article by a North Carolina medical group says that the risk of heart attacks increases by about 24% on the Monday following the spring transition to daylight saving time because of the sudden disruption to the body’s natural rhythm. If that’s all it takes, I better stop watching Green Bay Packers football games.
The same article says a 2020 study found a 6% increase in fatal traffic accidents in the week following the shift. And a Finnish doctor told Entrepreneur.com the rate of ischemic stroke was 8% higher during the first two days after a time change.
Health and safety risks aside, the biggest reason I hate the time change is that it’s a very tangible reminder that time marches on. Each tick of the clock means that I am another second closer to the end of my time in this place.
Recently I was at a meeting at my alma mater, the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse, with about 75 others. A speaker asked any graduates of UW-L to stand up. I joined the 25 or so who rose.
Then the speaker, through the process of elimination, asked those who graduated five years ago or fewer, to sit down. The progression continued until we got to 40 years. I was one of three left standing.
Time marches on.
The recent passing of my mother has sparked many emotions, thoughts and reflections. It’s hard not to get nostalgic, which we define today as a “sentimental longing for the past.”
But the word nostalgia is actually derived from the Greek words nostos (return) and algos (pain). The British Psychological Society says it originally meant suffering evoked by the desire to return to one’s place or origin.
I think it’s both. Time has a way of filtering our brain to return to the warm feelings or change the true memories. Were the old days really better or do we just want to believe that because we are unsure about the future? Our past – both the good times and the pain – make us who we are today.
I finished my time-changing task and poured myself another cup. I fired up my laptop and began to write.
We cannot change the past. But how we deal with today can change tomorrow.
Chris Hardie spent more than 30 years as a reporter, editor
