The first day of Spring and the week of Chicagohenge.
Chicagohenge is when the sunrise and sunset shoots through the skyscrapers and down the East/west streets of the Loop.
Not even the Chicago politicians can muck that up.
Speaking of politicians…
Our beleaguered federal government wants to make daylight savings time permanent.
The majority of the country was giddy when they heard this news.
The majority!?!?
Richard Nixon tried changing time and it was his downfall. Watergate was just a cover up.
There is a minority of people, me included that feel if a permanent time is kept it must be Standard Time.... not Daylight Savings.
I’ll save that debate for the corner of a bar on a rainy afternoon in June.
I like the other time and seasonal issue currently at the hands of Congress.
Representative Katherine Titzlinger (R) from Montana and Representative Miquel Dumbfounded (D) from New York have a bill that changes the New Year.
Titzlinger and Dumbfounded realized winter is the only season split between two years…. They feel winter is cold and dreary and Summer should be the new winter. Summer should be when we ring in the New Year!
I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable singing “Auld Lang Syne” in flip flops…
Together these two Congressional dipshits want to move New Years Eve from January 1st to July 1st. They want June of 2025 to fall into July of 2026.
The Trumpian Republicans and the Progressive Democrats have finally found something they can agree on.
This bill is still in its infancy and has a long way to go. Let’s hope we have voted these factions of our political system back home by the time it comes to a vote.
Enjoy the beautiful day today… walk down the street and think about Louis singing about the blue sky and white clouds.
Todays quote comes from Emily Dickinson’s poem “A Light Exists in Spring.”
A Light exists in SpringA Light exists in Spring Not present on the Year At any other period — When March is scarcely here A Color stands abroad On Solitary Fields That Science cannot overtake But Human Nature feels. It waits upon the Lawn, It shows the furthest Tree Upon the furthest Slope you know It almost speaks to you. Then as Horizons step Or Noons report away Without the Formula of sound It passes and we stay — A quality of loss Affecting our Content As Trade had suddenly encroached Upon a Sacrament. Emily Dickinson |