When I was in first grade, my mother’s safety rule for playing across the street with the neighbor’s kids was “be home by dark.” Several times I skittered in after sunset in diminishing light. One spring, anxious to play outside longer, I overheard my father talking about Daylight Saving Time. It sounded thrifty, like my piggybank—save now, spend later. He had experienced the original Daylight Saving in World War I and again in World War II. I asked him what it was like to save time.
He harrumphed, then replied with a shake of his head, “It’s like cutting off one end of your blanket and sewing it on the other end to make it longer.”
Hats off to Arizona and Hawaii who agree with my father. These states don’t save time. They spend it.