DST sneaks in without mishap

We have been a week into the new daylight-saving time and still the sky hasn't fallen, contrary to predictions from high-tech Henny Pennys who said the early switch would create chaos in the world of business and industry.

In a world that's constantly changing, I'm surprised at the groundswell of concern over still another tinkering with our time system. But such skepticism is not new. In my youth, when DST began in this country, there were dire predictions, especially from farmers, that the cows wouldn't give down their milk and that the chickens would be so confused they'd quit laying.

Some people simply resent the government's interference in their lives, even to the setting of clocks. In Robertson Davies' 1947 "The Diary of Samuel Marchbanks," a protester was quoted, "As an admirer of moonlight, I resent the bossy insistence of those who want to reduce my time for enjoying it. At the back of the Daylight Saving scheme I detect the bony, blue-fingered hand of Puritanism, eager to push people into bed earlier, and get them up earlier, to make them healthy, wealthy and wise in spite of themselves."

I came home from the beach last Sunday to discover that both the VCRs in my house had reset their clocks automatically. How they knew that DST was arriving early mystifies me. Even now, when I walk past one of the machines I give it a wide berth.

I am reminded of the youngster who, when it was explained to him that the Thermos could keep cold liquids cold and hot liquids hot, asked in awe and wonder, "How do it know?"

That's what I want to know.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote, "Some critics are like chimneysweepers; they put out the fire below, and frighten the swallows from the nests above; they scrape a long time in the chimney, cover themselves with soot, and bring nothing away but a bag of cinders, and then sing out from the top of the house, as if they had built it."

That's not the case with my critics, who are to be thanked for trying to keep me honest and responsible. For example, Robert Guthrie of Raleigh points out that Carolina's great 1957 win over Kansas was not played in Kansas City, Kan., but in Kansas City, Mo. Robert ought to know. He was there, a KU student pulling his heart out.

"In January of 1957 my roommate and I realized that the NCAA finals would be in Kansas City and that KU would have a good chance of being there," he wrote. "We decided to get tickets and take dates. I went to the box office in Kansas City (MO) and purchased four tickets for each night. They were good seats and a college student could afford them. Needless to say that the victory dance in Lawrence with Louis Armstrong was a downer."

Incidentally, Robert paid $5 for his ticket, compared to $58 Carolina students paid a week ago in Tampa. Robert said he's forgiven Roy Williams for going home to North Carolina but that his wife and the rest of Kansas haven't.

A couple of friends have asked if there is any legal recourse against neighbors who have lured their bluebirds away through such underhanded tactics as bribing them with mealworms, special-flavored suets, heated birdbaths and by singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" every time they step out of the house.

Sorry to say, I can think of none, since there is no alienation of bluebirds' affection law on the books. Perhaps there should be, since it would make as much sense as the statute we do have allowing a jilted spouse to collect huge damages from the "other" woman or man.

North Carolina is one of seven states that allow alienation of affection suits, according to N.C. Lawyers Weekly. The state's courts hear dozens of cases annually. One Guilford County jury awarded a plaintiff $2 million in 2001.

In my opinion, this law should be trashed. In the first place, how can a monetary value be placed on someone's affection? Love is not a tangible thing that can be stolen like a chicken off the roost or a farmer's cow led out of the barn in the dark of night.

The freedom to love whomever one chooses is as precious as a person's right to freedom of speech, religion, assembly, etc. No marriage ceremony or license can, despite the "until death do us part" promise, guarantee eternal and exclusive devotion between two people. The best insurance against losing someone or something you love is be good to 'em. That goes for spouses as well as bluebirds. Amen.