c. 2017 Rod Ice
All
rights reserved
(5-17)
One
of the changes in my life routine that came after entering ‘early
retirement’ was the abandonment of a regular schedule. Suddenly, I
had no need to wake or sleep at any predetermined time. This meant
that making coffee at midnight, to fortify myself for an off-hours
writing marathon, had become perfectly acceptable. Dog walks could
now occur with random frequency. My only precaution was to carry the
phone whenever leaving my house, even for a moment. Should the cover
of darkness cause me to fall in the street, I wanted to be prepared.
Crawling home with my pooch clearing the way did not seem appealing.
Such
late activities reminded me of my New York days, when creative
sessions often extended into the wee hours. In that era, regular
television broadcasts were often not available around-the-clock. But
a program called “NBC News Overnight” debuted in 1982. It was a
frequent companion as I discussed projects with friends from the
area. Somehow, the twilight seemed to focus our creative energy.
Decades later, that ability to concentrate on ideas returned as my
work habits were exploded.
What
follows here is an example of a recent trip from night into the
morrow, while at my desk:
8:30
p.m.
Not
enough sleep from the previous night has me weak. Pasta carbs and
cold beer from the fridge makes it worse. I am struggling to stay
awake while editing new material submitted for the Geauga
Independent. My eyes grow narrow. I want to write a personal sketch
of Joshua Fried, my erstwhile friend from days studying through
Cornell University. His latest ‘Radio Wonderland’ release echoes
from my phone. But finally, the battle is lost. I stumble toward the
bedroom, still in my clothes. Welcome, oblivion.
1:00
a.m.
I
enter into the early morning. Awake, but not completely functional. A
check of sports scores on my iPhone yields relief. A ginger ale helps
calm my stomach. It is a blessing to know that the neighborhood has
finally calmed down. My joints still ache from mowing the lawn, on
Tuesday. But now, the calm of dark offers soothing relief. Resumes
wait for the mail, on top of the printer. Even at this hour, there is
work to be done. But I pause to savor the quiet. Then, decide to find
my bed once again.
2:30
a.m.
Another
try at being awake. The morning cool is welcome. I decide to put a
small fan in the kitchen window, while making coffee. YouTube offers
an episode of ‘Boston Blackie’ with Kent Taylor, from 1952. I
linger on memories of late-night television during my brief video
career. Beer and pizza were staple items during such sessions, with
friends from Channel 13 in Ithaca. We would often talk until dawn.
Now, I am glad for silence. And the sound of my dog snoring on the
couch.
3:30
a.m.
First
dog walk of the morning. My Black Lab is done with his nap and ready
to prowl the neighborhood. I try to stay quiet. Only one car passes
by as we roam. The temperature is 52 degrees. Nearly perfect for our
stroll before sunrise. But a cat in the shadows causes my canine
friend to bolt down the street. I can’t run in pursuit. My gait is
more of the hobble one would expect from an accident victim than a
useful stride. Somehow, the dog reappears after a couple of minutes.
When I scold him, he reacts with indifference. But then, follows my
direction back to the house. He is ready for treats.
4:11
a.m.
A
text message arrives from my friend Janis. She is just getting up for
work, which begins at five o’clock, in Ashtabula. Her greetings
always brighten my day, whether received in real time during an
all-night writing session, or at a later moment when I have just
gotten out of bed. This morning, she confesses the rowdy desire to
‘call off’ work. But I know she won’t. Her six-day schedule
leaves little free time, yet brings the benefit of a full pay
envelope. I am proud of her.
4:42
a.m.
I
decide to make breakfast. As usual, a skillet selection not in
keeping with dietary correctness. Fried eggs, Canadian bacon and
toast, with a fried red chili burrito. And more coffee. My Black Lab
wants to share. But I banish him to a bowl of Kibbles & Bits. He
is not satisfied.
5:00
a.m.
The
local news begins, from WKBN-27, in Youngstown. Because of my
location on the east side of Geauga County, I am unable to receive
any digital broadcasts from Cleveland. An odd situation, being only a
short distance from Lake Erie. But after a few reports of political
intrigue and inner-city mayhem, I decide to revisit YouTube for
another episode of ‘Boston Blackie.’
5:30
a.m.
Janis
sends a photo of her workplace desk to my phone. She is using my old
transistor radio for background music, while working. Around the
device is a collection of tiny, plush animals and a few odd
souvenirs. She has a small collection of painted stones which keep
showing up in Ashtabula. I text a photo of my desk in reply.
6:01
a.m.
With
the Geauga Independent suitably updated, I decide to browse job
listings on the Internet. Several opportunities for social media
management appear when I use ‘writer’ as a search term. One is
with a floor care company, which seems amusing. I imagine creating
content for their website. “Mop We Must! It’s Us You Can Trust!”
I send a resume to their human resource department.
6:24
a.m.
Daylight
returns in full effect. Predictably, my creative mood is broken. I
decide to close the laptop and make another attempt at getting useful
rest before the new day takes hold. There is a snort of befuddlement
from my canine friend. He follows grudgingly, to a place by the
laundry hamper. The bustle of waking souls is audible, outside our
window. Defiantly, I pull the covers over my head, with a prayer for
the continuance of night on my lips.
The
late session has expired. Yet creative thoughts await to be
liberated, in slumber.
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