Halifax And We Are In The Atlantic Time Zone

When we are on the ship, there comes a point when a discreet little card appears on our beds reminding us that we will be crossing over from the Eastern to the Atlantic Time zone. That means the ship will also be making the change and we are to turn our clocks ahead one hour. Immediate result: Lose an hour of sleep. Ultimate result: See a new part of the world, the Maritimes in Canada. Reaction: Well worth it.

Today, we turned our clocks ahead an hour, three weeks earlier than usual. I’m not sure of the reason, but I’m sure the excuse is Homeland Security, Border Protection or God Bless America. Something like that. Immediate result: Lose an hour of sleep. Ultimate result: Wake up in the same old Wilkes-Barre. Reaction: Whose idea was this??

To look on the bright side of things, we can imagine that we have not turned out clocks ahead, but simply joined the Atlantic Time Zone. Here we are, at one with our brothers and sisters in Halifax, Nova Scotia. We are again in Sidney, NS. We are about to visit Cape Breton. Doesn’t that sound nicer? Northeastern Pennsylvania (NEPA, as it’s called locally) is now enjoying the benefits, an earlier sunrise for one, of those we met on our trips to the Maritimes. It’s all so glorious, all so fresh and Canadian, so windblown and seagoing. And here comes Anne of Green Gables, fresh from the coal mines.

Everybody has a story.
George Gutch passed on a couple days ago. His obituary mentions that “when he was 18, he participated as an umpire in a record-setting sandlot softball game that lasted 242 innings.”