BEATING THE ROOSTER UP

Our daughter used to call it OPT when she came to visit during her college years. Old People's Time. At about the time she was ready to go out for the evening, we were ready for bed. It's only gotten worse.

Tomorrow morning I have to take good friends to the airport at 5:00 AM. Problem? Not for me. I won't even have to set the alarm. Somehow my brother has it, too. And I think our son. If we have to get up at a certain time, we just wake up then. All I do is look at the clock before falling asleep, which usually takes all of 60 seconds for me, tops. Then I think to myself (isn't that a crazy expression--think to myself? who else am I going to think to, or who else could think for me?) 3:45, for instance, and that's when I awaken. Almost as if I will myself that hour.

This morning was the one day of this week, most weeks in fact, that I could sleep late. No early morning bible study, no early morning bible studies for my wife who needs awakened by me or an alarm, no early morning tee time or early morning church dictated by an early morning prayer ministry we are part of. So, what time did I arise? 5:14. Yep, I beat the rooster up again.

Actually we have no roosters, but they do start fairway mowing quite early and I beat them up. I miss the trains that used to wake me up with their almost Lotus-eater or Siren calling in the distance. But I was early for them, too.

But I've never understood why young people like to stay up late and sleep late and old folks are just the opposite. Maybe I just answered my own question. So we don't get in their way. And vice versa.

Yet I know some people my age that still hold on to the timetable of youth. I envy them at night, but in the morning I think it would be terrible to have to drag myself up, to wake up groggy and to start my day in a rush. But I'm sure they'd say I'd hate to have to close my eyes at a commercial at 8:30 PM and nap for twenty minutes and then still go to bed at 9:15. And I'd agree.

For me, I'm afraid it's the lark and not the nightingale. Fortunately, my wife hears the same bird. Otherwise, I'd never get to see her.