Pet Peeves


Fall Back

By Mark D. Crantz

From when my kids were little until now when their kids are little, I’ve told them all that my favorite holiday is changing the clocks twice a year. “Listen up everybody. This holiday is better than Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays and National Hot Dog Day combined.” Initially, I get the same reaction. “You’re crazy. We’re not getting up at 2 a.m. to change clocks. Change your own cuckoo clock, you cuckoo.”

Granted it’s been rough going to get the brood on board, but things are getting better. I now get calls and texts twice a year wishing me a good time celebrating on my own. This year I got, “Wishing you a good time looking for your cuckoo clocks.” And a text that said, “Pop-Pop you don’t have to get up any more. Your phones and cable guide will switch by themselves. Get some rest. You need it.”

I like having a holiday nobody else celebrates. It’s the only time that I feel in control. I make the rules. There is no shopping for presents. There’s no getting together with relatives you don’t want to see. It’s just you and Old Man Time. And the best part is you control time for a short period. It’s refreshing to not be on somebody else’s schedule. “Crantz, the executive meeting is at 9 a.m. sharp. Try to remember your pants this time.” Or, “Sorry sir, the train just left the station at 8:10 sharp. And may I suggest you go back home and put on a pair of pants.”

I don’t hear any of those disparaging remarks at my own celebration. I’m master of an hour gained or an hour lost. I’ve thought how wonderful it would be to regain an hour with those dearly departed ones you sorely miss. I’d like to have another hour with my departed parents. I’d ask them, “Why was my inheritance so small? What did you do with all the money? Is there another family I don’t know about? Are we really Mormons and not Jewish, after all?”

For the hour lost when we fall back in fall, I’d make the clock change to coincide with the announcements of Mega Millions and Power Ball lotteries. I’d get the winning numbers first while switching everybody else’s clocks back, so I was the only one to know the winning tickets. I’d then pick my favorite charity—myself—to give to.

My family and friends will probably think it’s selfish of me not to share my winnings with them. But I disagree. I’ll let them in on the moolah when they agree to change my cuckoo clocks at 2 a.m. Otherwise they can just fall back on their own time and dime.

Crantz tells the Indy he continues to hope that his family can learn that money can buy love.


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