My father was a morning person, often on weekends he would roust me out of bed with no warning to go off to some project he was doing for the city. We might paint fire hydrants with reflective yellow paint and glass beads so the firemen could see them at night, or maybe he was working on a sign and bulletin board stand at one of the town parks where park visitors could pick up some of the latest information about the city. We’d make bird nest boxes, or clean up the river side of the Passaic river, a nasty source of pollution and trash.
My mother was a night time person, coming alive as the evening went on, slept in till 9 or later after working late at the restaurant.
I took after my mother.
And I disliked my father for waking me up so many times on so many weekends.
For the first two months in the army, at basic training at Fort Dix, we got up at 5am. We only had five minutes to be shaved, showered and anything else you could squeeze in or squeeze out in that 300 seconds. Then you showed up in formation with your uniform on for inspection and then march off to breakfast. I don’t see how we did it. Come to think of it, we probably cheated and got up a bit earlier to get ready. I joined the army to get away from my dad and his early morning shenanigans. But they were even worse than he was.
After basic, nobody really cared what time you woke up as long as you made it to your training on time, at 8 most mornings. I trained for helicopter repair and I enjoyed the two month course so it wasn’t hard to get up for that.
After work, the uniform came off and we commenced to all forms of recreation and amusement, entertainment and play. More often than not, this meant going to the bar. That’s where I learned to drink alcohol like water, more alcohol than water. And I went back to staying up late to finish up my amusements and entertainment. It’s amazing what happens at night.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been really trying to go back to the mornings. I’m sure my circadian rhythms need restructuring, maybe my whole brain does. And it has been a challenge. My wife yesterday suggested several times that I pay attention to my body and let it find the rhythm for me.
So instead of getting up at sunrise this morning, about 6.07, I got up at 3.54 according to Siri. My body got up so the rest of me got up. I don’t know why, but my Siri is a British dude, I like Bits and I like the accent, but at that time of the morning, I need a more coaxing voice. I’ll have to look into that. Hey Siri…….
The lunar nightlight was very bright as I climbed the hill to the top of the dam behind our house and every footfall was well illuminated, every pebble noticeable. Heat at 4am in the moonlight is different but still a factor, and it was quite warm and humid this morning. I decided to be thankful for it and give nature credit for not being cold like she will be in five or six months. In fact, my walk was filled with peace and gratitude the whole time, 50 minutes or so.
The wind in the pines reminded me of camping trips in New York State or Yellowstone, a sweet hissing and whistle as it winds past the needles and cones. It took me back to several nights in a tent under the stars and trees. It felt good, peaceful.
I ran some, walked some, thought some, wondered some at the stars, the quiet, the moon and the Doves that I startled and they startled me. I kept an eye out for Coyotes but saw, nor heard them.
It all makes me like my dad more. I don’t like my mom any less, but I like him more, because he prepared me on those weekend mornings to learn to rise early. I’m trying.