Of Time and Zones

When I was very small, I had several books by a poet and illustrator named Joan Walsh Anglund. It was very sweet stuff, fitting for a little girl. I think I had a doll, too.

I'm not sure why one of the poems has stayed with me all these years. Perhaps it started my fascination with England, even at such a young age (which was subsequently fed upon a steady diet of Masterpiece Theatre and Monty Python).

I think of it to this day, as I consistently think in two time zones.

When I am in bed,

The English wake.

While I have lunch,

Their tea they take.

When I say prayers,

They're fast asleep.

What various clocks

Our Lord must keep.

Sweet, no? "Six hours earlier" is my mantra, and I could tell you in my sleep what time it is in Chicago.

Until, that is, you go and change your clocks two weeks before we do.

What time is it?