"The facts are the facts," said the Fox News announcer, reporting the death of the Pope, yesterday at 1:30 PM.

The death of public figures in the era of round-the-clock cable news channels is still new to us. Unfortunately, after a while, the coverage begins to look a bit like the coverage of O.J.'s slow-speed chase.

We last experienced the death of a pope in 1978, with the passing of Paul VI. At the time, I was driving a three-cylinder Saab with a pump that automatically mixed oil with the gas. The pump failed without my knowing it. The engine seized as I was driving down Route 2. It wasn't worth it to replace the engine, so I found a Plymouth Valiant of recent vintage. A few weeks later, John Paul I died suddenly. So did the reportedly indestructible slant-6 engine in my Valiant. The other day, Sandra and I were riding together and she remarked, "Is your transmission slipping? Your car is running rough."

We use conference calls in work constantly. There are times when several family members or friends need to be able to work through something on the phone and where a conference call would be very handy. I've not used this service, but it seems like a very good idea.

My work doesn't rouse these kinds of passions.

Our computers automatically adjust for Daylight Savings Time. The other clocks in the house and car and on our wrists need to be adjusted manually this evening. In 1974 Richard Nixon issued an order that we set our clocks ahead an hour in January because of the shortage of fuel. When I worked the graveyard shift on the nights that we set our clocks ahead, I insisted on being paid for the full eight hours, even though we worked just the seven. Today's Boston Globe carries a a review of Spring Forward: The Annual Madness of Daylight Saving Time by Michael Downing, what looks to be an interesting history of how we arrived at this odd ritual.