At the end of every October, I grow anxious.Irritated.The reason, I tell everybody, is that it will take a month of restless sleep before I acclimate to the time change.But an underlying cause, I suspect, is the memory of a bit of trouble that happened around the end of daylight saving time in 1962 after I made the cut for St. Bernadette's eighth grade basketball team in Evergreen Park.
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