Sunday, December 4, 2011

NAPS

NAPS
11-28-11

Many years ago, when I was a neophyte, green, untested and not at all wise I wondered why people took naps. My father was a perpetual motion man keeping us in cornflakes with two jobs and running out at night to lodge meetings and whatever. Naps were not part of his life. My mother, contrary-wise was a pretty lazy person. She was insufficiently interested in preparing anything to eat more than the most rudimentary meals with pan fried meats and mushy string beans; and, with casual house cleaning, that was it. Her time was spent chatting with friends, of which she had many and lying in bed, smoking and reading. In those days you could buy a single cigarette for 2 cents and I was the courier. What did I know, I thought all mommas were like that.

Across the street, my aunt Rose was much more busy cooking, but candy and honey cake were specialties which friendly persuasion might elicit from her. But, she was a teacher and had a lot to say about how terrible the Department of Ed. Always made the wrong decisions. No naps for her. She impressed me, but not so much that I thought her a model for momma-hood.

As I grew older, I wondered how people could spend their time doing nothing. I thought napping is doing nothing; you lie there, eyes closed and sleep. After a while you wake up sometimes a bit refreshed but pretty much unchanged. And the universe was out there (universes if you accept the multiverse formulation) for you to engage in whatever way suited your fancy. Aside from school, always a detestable place, I built model airplanes, smoked a pipe, went to movies, sometimes twice a day and generally preferred not to waste my time. Because the theaters showed double headers, going twice a day was sort of a Herculean task. I mean, gee, four movies left the mind a blur. My mother, busy chatting with friends or lying about smoking and reading never noticed how I spent my time. Remember, I had been a sickly child so if I were well she didn't have to pay much attention. At least, that's my adult assessment.

As a young man, I refused to nap even though I might be tired. Perhaps, though, I wasn't tired enough. I rapidly learned in the army that given a 5 minute break, that time spent dozing would make a difference in later-in-the-day military pursuits. Aside from that, napping or dozing was simply not part of my life scheme.

It's not that I never received contrary advice from newspaper articles about living the good life and surely friends and relatives, except friend wife, would tell me how miserable I looked and urged naps upon me. I resisted all such; somehow my toughness was at stake and I would be tough. Little did I know that it was all pert of the rejection of momma and the identification with poppa and aunt Rose.

Even now, when I have admitted that naps are a good idea, I resist. Friend wife napped all the time I(Is there something to this bit about marrying your mother?). There are times when watching TV or reading, when my eyes start to close that I will consider the desirability of a nap. But, I always tell myself to wait until the next commercial or to finish the chapter. It's a clever plan because there is always more story when the ad is finished and always another chapter. So, I stay away from naps as much as I can knowing with certainty that I would feel more alert if I sleep. Yet, absurd as it is, I grudgingly admit that napping is nice. Off with the shoes, kick the cat out of the bedroom, snuggle under the bed clothes and disappear. Wonderful and I plan to nap this afternoon, but like a new year's resolution my plan will go poof because the universe is always there, beckoning, enticing, luring me to engage with it. When I get too draggy, I drink caffeinated coffee. Take that, mom. I'm tough!

Whenever I start to feel dozy
And my eyes begin to get closey.
Thoughts of naps then emerge
But, I fight off the urge
Though alas, I hardly feel rosy

NAPS
11-28-11

Many years ago, when I was a neophyte, green, untested and not at all wise I wondered why people took naps. My father was a perpetual motion man keeping us in cornflakes with two jobs and running out at night to lodge meetings and whatever. Naps were not part of his life. My mother, contrary-wise was a pretty lazy person. She was insufficiently interested in preparing anything to eat more than the most rudimentary meals with pan fried meats and mushy string beans; and, with casual house cleaning, that was it. Her time was spent chatting with friends, of which she had many and lying in bed, smoking and reading. In those days you could buy a single cigarette for 2 cents and I was the courier. What did I know, I thought all mommas were like that.

Across the street, my aunt Rose was much more busy cooking, but candy and honey cake were specialties which friendly persuasion might elicit from her. But, she was a teacher and had a lot to say about how terrible the Department of Ed. Always made the wrong decisions. No naps for her. She impressed me, but not so much that I thought her a model for momma-hood.

As I grew older, I wondered how people could spend their time doing nothing. I thought napping is doing nothing; you lie there, eyes closed and sleep. After a while you wake up sometimes a bit refreshed but pretty much unchanged. And the universe was out there (universes if you accept the multiverse formulation) for you to engage in whatever way suited your fancy. Aside from school, always a detestable place, I built model airplanes, smoked a pipe, went to movies, sometimes twice a day and generally preferred not to waste my time. Because the theaters showed double headers, going twice a day was sort of a Herculean task. I mean, gee, four movies left the mind a blur. My mother, busy chatting with friends or lying about smoking and reading never noticed how I spent my time. Remember, I had been a sickly child so if I were well she didn't have to pay much attention. At least, that's my adult assessment.

As a young man, I refused to nap even though I might be tired. Perhaps, though, I wasn't tired enough. I rapidly learned in the army that given a 5 minute break, that time spent dozing would make a difference in later-in-the-day military pursuits. Aside from that, napping or dozing was simply not part of my life scheme.

It's not that I never received contrary advice from newspaper articles about living the good life and surely friends and relatives, except friend wife, would tell me how miserable I looked and urged naps upon me. I resisted all such; somehow my toughness was at stake and I would be tough. Little did I know that it was all pert of the rejection of momma and the identification with poppa and aunt Rose.

Even now, when I have admitted that naps are a good idea, I resist. Friend wife napped all the time I(Is there something to this bit about marrying your mother?). There are times when watching TV or reading, when my eyes start to close that I will consider the desirability of a nap. But, I always tell myself to wait until the next commercial or to finish the chapter. It's a clever plan because there is always more story when the ad is finished and always another chapter. So, I stay away from naps as much as I can knowing with certainty that I would feel more alert if I sleep. Yet, absurd as it is, I grudgingly admit that napping is nice. Off with the shoes, kick the cat out of the bedroom, snuggle under the bed clothes and disappear. Wonderful and I plan to nap this afternoon, but like a new year's resolution my plan will go poof because the universe is always there, beckoning, enticing, luring me to engage with it. When I get too draggy, I drink caffeinated coffee. Take that, mom. I'm tough!

Whenever I start to feel dozy
And my eyes begin to get closey.
Thoughts of naps then emerge
But, I fight off the urge
Though alas, I hardly feel rosy

NAPS
11-28-11

Many years ago, when I was a neophyte, green, untested and not at all wise I wondered why people took naps. My father was a perpetual motion man keeping us in cornflakes with two jobs and running out at night to lodge meetings and whatever. Naps were not part of his life. My mother, contrary-wise was a pretty lazy person. She was insufficiently interested in preparing anything to eat more than the most rudimentary meals with pan fried meats and mushy string beans; and, with casual house cleaning, that was it. Her time was spent chatting with friends, of which she had many and lying in bed, smoking and reading. In those days you could buy a single cigarette for 2 cents and I was the courier. What did I know, I thought all mommas were like that.

Across the street, my aunt Rose was much more busy cooking, but candy and honey cake were specialties which friendly persuasion might elicit from her. But, she was a teacher and had a lot to say about how terrible the Department of Ed. Always made the wrong decisions. No naps for her. She impressed me, but not so much that I thought her a model for momma-hood.

As I grew older, I wondered how people could spend their time doing nothing. I thought napping is doing nothing; you lie there, eyes closed and sleep. After a while you wake up sometimes a bit refreshed but pretty much unchanged. And the universe was out there (universes if you accept the multiverse formulation) for you to engage in whatever way suited your fancy. Aside from school, always a detestable place, I built model airplanes, smoked a pipe, went to movies, sometimes twice a day and generally preferred not to waste my time. Because the theaters showed double headers, going twice a day was sort of a Herculean task. I mean, gee, four movies left the mind a blur. My mother, busy chatting with friends or lying about smoking and reading never noticed how I spent my time. Remember, I had been a sickly child so if I were well she didn't have to pay much attention. At least, that's my adult assessment.

As a young man, I refused to nap even though I might be tired. Perhaps, though, I wasn't tired enough. I rapidly learned in the army that given a 5 minute break, that time spent dozing would make a difference in later-in-the-day military pursuits. Aside from that, napping or dozing was simply not part of my life scheme.

It's not that I never received contrary advice from newspaper articles about living the good life and surely friends and relatives, except friend wife, would tell me how miserable I looked and urged naps upon me. I resisted all such; somehow my toughness was at stake and I would be tough. Little did I know that it was all pert of the rejection of momma and the identification with poppa and aunt Rose.

Even now, when I have admitted that naps are a good idea, I resist. Friend wife napped all the time I(Is there something to this bit about marrying your mother?). There are times when watching TV or reading, when my eyes start to close that I will consider the desirability of a nap. But, I always tell myself to wait until the next commercial or to finish the chapter. It's a clever plan because there is always more story when the ad is finished and always another chapter. So, I stay away from naps as much as I can knowing with certainty that I would feel more alert if I sleep. Yet, absurd as it is, I grudgingly admit that napping is nice. Off with the shoes, kick the cat out of the bedroom, snuggle under the bed clothes and disappear. Wonderful and I plan to nap this afternoon, but like a new year's resolution my plan will go poof because the universe is always there, beckoning, enticing, luring me to engage with it. When I get too draggy, I drink caffeinated coffee. Take that, mom. I'm tough!

Whenever I start to feel dozy
And my eyes begin to get closey.
Thoughts of naps then emerge
But, I fight off the urge
Though alas, I hardly feel rosy

NAPS
11-28-11

Many years ago, when I was a neophyte, green, untested and not at all wise I wondered why people took naps. My father was a perpetual motion man keeping us in cornflakes with two jobs and running out at night to lodge meetings and whatever. Naps were not part of his life. My mother, contrary-wise was a pretty lazy person. She was insufficiently interested in preparing anything to eat more than the most rudimentary meals with pan fried meats and mushy string beans; and, with casual house cleaning, that was it. Her time was spent chatting with friends, of which she had many and lying in bed, smoking and reading. In those days you could buy a single cigarette for 2 cents and I was the courier. What did I know, I thought all mommas were like that.

Across the street, my aunt Rose was much more busy cooking, but candy and honey cake were specialties which friendly persuasion might elicit from her. But, she was a teacher and had a lot to say about how terrible the Department of Ed. Always made the wrong decisions. No naps for her. She impressed me, but not so much that I thought her a model for momma-hood.

As I grew older, I wondered how people could spend their time doing nothing. I thought napping is doing nothing; you lie there, eyes closed and sleep. After a while you wake up sometimes a bit refreshed but pretty much unchanged. And the universe was out there (universes if you accept the multiverse formulation) for you to engage in whatever way suited your fancy. Aside from school, always a detestable place, I built model airplanes, smoked a pipe, went to movies, sometimes twice a day and generally preferred not to waste my time. Because the theaters showed double headers, going twice a day was sort of a Herculean task. I mean, gee, four movies left the mind a blur. My mother, busy chatting with friends or lying about smoking and reading never noticed how I spent my time. Remember, I had been a sickly child so if I were well she didn't have to pay much attention. At least, that's my adult assessment.

As a young man, I refused to nap even though I might be tired. Perhaps, though, I wasn't tired enough. I rapidly learned in the army that given a 5 minute break, that time spent dozing would make a difference in later-in-the-day military pursuits. Aside from that, napping or dozing was simply not part of my life scheme.

It's not that I never received contrary advice from newspaper articles about living the good life and surely friends and relatives, except friend wife, would tell me how miserable I looked and urged naps upon me. I resisted all such; somehow my toughness was at stake and I would be tough. Little did I know that it was all pert of the rejection of momma and the identification with poppa and aunt Rose.

Even now, when I have admitted that naps are a good idea, I resist. Friend wife napped all the time I(Is there something to this bit about marrying your mother?). There are times when watching TV or reading, when my eyes start to close that I will consider the desirability of a nap. But, I always tell myself to wait until the next commercial or to finish the chapter. It's a clever plan because there is always more story when the ad is finished and always another chapter. So, I stay away from naps as much as I can knowing with certainty that I would feel more alert if I sleep. Yet, absurd as it is, I grudgingly admit that napping is nice. Off with the shoes, kick the cat out of the bedroom, snuggle under the bed clothes and disappear. Wonderful and I plan to nap this afternoon, but like a new year's resolution my plan will go poof because the universe is always there, beckoning, enticing, luring me to engage with it. When I get too draggy, I drink caffeinated coffee. Take that, mom. I'm tough!

Whenever I start to feel dozy
And my eyes begin to get closey.
Thoughts of naps then emerge
But, I fight off the urge
Though alas, I hardly feel rosy

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