Friday, February 03, 2006
Our Governor, My Marriage, and That Whole Time Zone Thing
And so it has come to this: we good citizens of Indiana, must now adopt the time zone of those whackos on the East Coast. What’s next, Governor Mitch: convincing us Hoosiers that our local paper is The New York Times and not The Elkhart Truth or The Goshen News? Perhaps we should no longer cheer on the Cubs and the Bears, but live and die over the fate of the Mets and the Yankees, the Giants and the Jets? Good man Mitch, have you lost your senses? Don’t you realize we are Midwesterners? That the equinox or meridian or something like that demands that we be on Midwestern time? That we have no intention of making a good bagel? That staying up till 11pm to watch the nightly news is pretty darn late for those of us who have to get up at the crack of dawn? Are you being blackmailed by the Wall Street boys and those Eastern bankers? And what about the children, I ask, you cruel, heartless Governor? What about the horrible little trudge they have to make to the bus stop in the dead of winter while it is pitch black in the morning? Why do you hate them so?
Ok, my level of anger here does not quite reach the pitch of some of the good folks who write letters to the South Bend Tribune. But I do believe that the governor seems to be working overtime to be someone else’s guy. I’ll grant you this: everyone will now know what time it is Indiana. Big deal. I liked the fact that whenever I discussed the time zone mess with folks from outside the state they always looked flummoxed by the passion it could bring out in us gentle Hoosiers. But I am not going to take this quietly. Oh no. And I’m not going to do something cutesy and stay on Midwest time while all of my friends and family adopt Mitch’s edict. I’m going one better: I hereby announce that I am going to run for Governor and that my platform will be quite simple: stop the time zone madness. Let’s go back to the way it currently is, where everyone was happy for at least half the year. My slogan is simple too: “Tick Tock Jon. This time it’s personal.”
Oh, the good governor has also done something else by his willful decision: he is wrecking my marriage. My wonderful honey told me out of the blue last week that she’s in favor of us now being on Eastern time. In other words, she has gone over to the enemy. She’s under some delusion that if we’re on the same time as New York, wonderful restaurants and shops will magically appear on Grape Road. That we can have full lives without having to drive a car. That there will be more things to do within one city block than the heart could even desire. What did you do to her, Mitch? Did you pod her like those poor souls in that great 1950s sci-film, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers?” I mean she looks the same, but her brain...what did you do to my wife? Have you no shame sir, no sense of decency? In fairness, I feel that my wife’s voice should not be silenced on this all-important matter. Yes, she is wrong, but here’s her take on the whole time zone thing.
Hi, my name is Rebecca, and I am married to Jonathan. I hate to disillusion all you longtime fans of his commentaries, but I must tell you that on this issue, he is a delusional crackpot. Not to mention, he is about as Midwestern in sentiments and taste as I am a Martian–which I am not. Enough has been said about the merits of East Coast time, but let me add a few words anyway. It’s just the right thing to do. What an opportunity to re-establish bonds with our Pilgrim forefathers, who first landed on those Eastern shores. And what a tremendous way to get in touch with our own cosmopolitan New Yorker selves, to dip vicariously into that simmering, gurgling pool of indecent id that is the isle of Manhattos. Right, we’ll no longer be watching “Sex in the City” from afar–we’ll be living it! Finally, how much more likely that a Whole Foods Market or a Trader Joes will recognize the untapped consumer resources represented by this uncharted strip of flyover territory–are you listening, yuppie corporate moguls? So, from across the time zone line that now bisects our household, I salute you, Governor Mitch. From this day forth, dinner will be served on my time.
For Michiana Chronicles, this is the last word from Rebecca Brittenham.
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