As people get older, they generally drift into two distinct camps.

There are a lot of very sweet elderly folks, and then there are some that are sour. I have had a stated goal for years to place myself firmly in the sweeter camp when the time should arise. Sweet old men are a real treasure, and if one day I could be counted in their legion, that would be really nice.

Daylight Saving Time isn't helping.

At all.

I really cannot believe that we have been observing Daylight Saving Time since 2006. That's nine years, and I am still completely befuddled by the idea. I don't know how it works, and I have no idea what it is supposed to accomplish. Every spring and fall, I feel like it is a completely new concept that I am trying -- and failing -- to understand.

When the idea was introduced, it was heralded as an advance into modernity for the Hoosier state, reducing energy costs and allowing interstate business to run more smoothly. Well, according to the National Bureau of Economic Research, residential energy usage is 1 percent higher now. And I don't know of any businesses (that don't feature a putting green) that have seen any profits due to the sun setting at 9:45 p.m. in June.

To clarify, we aren't actually saving any daylight. There's still the same amount that there has always been. It's just that now, twice a year we are mandated to give ourselves jetlag. For all the talk of government overreach these days, literally taking away a man's dreams seems like a bit much.

More than the lost sleep, which I've stopped even keeping track of, it's the impact that this has on my kids. If I can't understand the benefit or justification for this, how can my kids? I have no idea what to tell them.

And Iris can't even tell time! All she knows is that it IS NOT bedtime yet. Daylight Saving Time actually takes daylight hours away from my children by having the sun up so late in the evening, after they should be in bed.

Not only are they losing daylight, they are losing darkness as well. Iris has never seen fireworks. Or fireflies.

Max, who is seven, knows both of them more from videos than real life experience. We took them to a drive-in a couple of years ago, and we were out so late that it wasn't really an enjoyable experience for them. As all parents know, if it isn't enjoyable for them, then it isn't enjoyable for anyone.

Based on visitors to the library, most lifelong Hoosiers feel the same way. If this was put before the voters in 2006, I don't think that we would have changed our clocks at all.

And despite tepid support nationwide, no energy savings, no observable help for business, we still do this nonsense twice a year.

I want to be one of the sweet old gentlemen, quick with a wink or a worn out joke. One of the little old men that can get away with bushy eyebrows and mismatched socks. I don't want to be a cranky old man, constantly harping on the 'good old days'.

It's just that the old days didn't start in the dark, and didn't have me riding my lawnmower until almost 10 p.m. That's enough to make anyone a little cranky.