I don’t sleep very well. I haven’t for decades. There are nights when I find it almost impossible to sleep and these become more prevalent the older I get. I long ago realized that I do not need at least eight hours of sleep each night in order to function properly; five hours of good, uninterrupted sleep is just fine. I am happy with that. More is a luxury and on the rare occasion I am able to catch a few extra winks. But I don’t sweat it, if I don’t.
I long attributed my fewer hours of sleep to stress and a mind in perpetual overdrive when I was a student, and later throughout my professional career. I always figured that once I retired and removed most of these stress factors, I would be able to sleep better . . . at least a little better. This has not proven to be the case, however. Over the past decade since my retirement I still find it difficult to get more than four or five hours of sleep nightly, and what sleep there is not all that satisfying. My circadian rhythms march to their own drummer.
Growing up I never really gave my sleep patterns much thought. I went to bed when I got tired, although some times this would not be until the wee hours of the morning. Never one to stay in bed, I would get up when I woke up which was frequently before 6am. Nervous energy propelled me into each new day; I had things to do and places to go. Throughout my school days I more often than not did my homework in the early morning hours when I felt somewhat refreshed. I was never concerned with the few hours I actually slept each night. I got enough sleep and I just figured these were the rhythms governing my earthy existence. This was pretty much my routine until I graduated from college.
Then something disquieting happened. Shortly after graduation I relocated from Florida to Arizona to begin graduate school and suddenly I could not sleep at all. I’m not talking restless or bad sleep. I’m talking no sleep . . . eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling no sleep. I had never before suffered through real insomnia. Sure, a night here or there, but never night after night. I suddenly felt terribly alone – far from family, fiancee and friends – when it seemed all the world around me was fast asleep. Everybody but me. There was no rest; my mind spinning into overdrive. It began to play tricks on me as it grew cluttered with thoughts and distractions that had no rhyme or reason in reality. You know it’s not real. You want to stop it, but you can’t. You can no longer focus on what is tangible and real and the loneliness grows. I found myself with a bad case of the look arounds.
There could have many been many reasons for this insomnia after my arrival in Tucson. I had come to the city and the campus of the University of Arizona sight unseen. I did not know a single soul and I had no idea what this new graduate program would involve. That was enough to cause anyone some sleepless nights. I would go to bed each night exhausted and I assured myself that sleep would finally come. But such was seldom the case. I laid there for hours on end with my eyes wide open as the night dragged on, each one slower and more anxious than the one before. Prior experience with occasional sleeplessness did not help me cope with this dilemma.
I always tried to avoid caffeine and alcohol late in the day and I often found that a simple change of venue could prompt better sleep. I would move downstairs to a couch or a chair in the den for a few hours . . . maybe even watch a little television or try to read . . . before returning to bed for the rest of the night. Such a change of venue was not practical during those early days in Tucson as I spent that first semester in a residence hall until I had time to search for more pleasant and private accommodations. There were stereos playing at all hours and noise in the hallways. I sought out the libraries when I needed to study and that dormitory room was simply a place to store my possessions and to sleep (or not). So I had to seek out another solution, a more drastic measure to either induce sleep, or if that failed, to at least avoid staring into the darkness until dawn.
I quickly became a midnight wanderer, leaving the dormitory and wandering the nearby streets in search of an all-night café where I might huddle over cups of strong coffee and slowly work through my graduate reading list and make notes for the coming day’s seminars (I was working toward a Master’s degree in German literature). Frequently I would wander the campus at the dawning hour to watch the sun rise over the Rincon Mountains. All of this was well an good in their own right, but it did not change the fact that I was unable to sleep. And the sleepless nights were beginning to take their toll. I have never been a big fan of, or an advocate for, sleeping aids be they folk or homeopathic cures, or worse yet, over the counter or prescription medications. "Artificial sleep" has never been true sleep in my book. And there was always the fear of addiction.
Several weeks of sleeplessness in Tucson, and the fear that perhaps some sort of medical problem might be the culprit, brought me to the campus infirmary, and later to the university hospital’s emergency room. They could find no explanation for my inability to sleep. Then one morning I awoke after a mostly sleepless night and discovered that my eyes would no longer focus properly and I was unable to study. A visit to an optometrist and I was soon fitted with corrective glasses which I continue to wear 46 years later. Thankfully I made it through that first semester and my sleep patterns gradually improved. Not to my satisfaction, but I learned to function with less that the prescribed hours of nightly sleep. I stopped worrying and tried to make the best of it.
A few years ago I finally submitted to a sleep study and was diagnosed with sleep apnea. More than likely I have lived with it for years and this might explain my frequent bouts with insomnia at varying degrees. But now I finally have a name for my problem and a strategy to combat it. These days I usually sleep attached to a CPAP [Continuous Positive Airway Pressure] machine which delivers constant and steady airway pressure to keep the throat more fully open throughout the night, preventing apneic" events - breathing stoppages - which has the added benefit of usually reducing or eliminate snoring. Not only am I able to sleep better, but I am less likely to suffer not so subtle shoves and kicks from my wife when I my snoring began to rattle the windows.
Things have generally improved as I have grown older but this does not mean I don’t still suffer through restless or sleepless nights, now mainly due to lower back pain and hip problems which often make it impossible to sleep in a prone position. So there are still nights when I have a case of the look arounds although they are not as pernicious as they once were. Such is the penalty for growing older.
Aside from forest fire, there's nothing to be afraid of in the woods, except yourself. If you've got sense, you can keep out of trouble. If you haven't got sense, you'll get into trouble, here or anywhere else.
– Louise Dickinson Rich, We Took to the Woods (1942)
I have to admit that I was happy to see 2019 come to a quick and unceremonious end. The only thing I can say about the year past is that it passed by as quickly as it did (it seems years get shorter the older one gets). The Michigan outdoor writer Jerry Dennis noted in a recent blog posting that he felt the same way about 2019. A family tragedy and lesser misfortunes “turned the year into an extended brush fire. My writing work got pushed aside, but I learned some new tricks with extinguishers and garden hoses.” That pretty much captures my own situation in a nutshell.
I awoke January 1, 2019 with a bad hacking cough which quickly involved into a bad case of the flu which laid me low for over a week, and it took another week or so to greet the new day with some degree of normalcy. When I finally felt well enough to venture outside the Nation’s Capital was blankets with over a foot of snow which forced us to delay our departure for Florida to visit family and friends. I tried to get some good writing done while we were in Gainesville, but there were just too many other things to do that very little of substance was accomplished during the month we were there. We took a long way home, spending time in Georgia before continuing to Ohio to visit my family.
After several weeks away from home we were glad to be heading back in late February. Unfortunately our car engine blew outside of Washington, Pennsylvania and we had to leave it behind for major repairs and continued home in a rental car. We slowly settled back into our home routine until I had to return to Pennsylvania in mid-March to retrieve our car with its rebuilt engine. At the same time there were family passings in New Jersey and Michigan.
My wife returned to Florida in mid-April for a short visit, but more car troubles and family health issues there and it was another month before she returned home to Maryland. I kept the home fires burning and managed to get some good work done during my days of solitude. We finally settled into our spring routine at home and at the end of May we escaped to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania for a long ,relaxing holiday weekend at the end of May and I delivered a paper at the annual gathering of the Thomas Wolfe Society. A wonderful opportunity to visit with old friends and colleagues.
We returned to the lake cottage for our annual summer hiatus in mid-June and through the beginning of October. Several friends paid visits with us and we always enjoy sharing our little piece of heaven. We stuck pretty close to “home” although we spent out annual week on Monhegan Island where we were also lucky to share with friends from back home. There were also brief sojourns in New Hampshire, Vermont and the Eastern Townships of Québec. All was an ideal setting to work on my novel-in-progress, as well as some other enjoyable writing projects. Finally the year felt like it was returning to a normal pace.
Unfortunately, the time is always to short and it was time to return home to Maryland and the routine demands on our time and attention. Still I felt like I was return refreshed with my sights on autumn and the approaching holiday season which would be upon us soon enough. We took a leisure route home through southern New Hampshire, and Vermont, enjoying the gorgeous autumn colors and a pleasant evening in Bennington, Vermont.
On our final day on the road after fourteen weeks away from home we received a call while driving through upstate New York that my wife’s mother had suffered a mild stroke in Florida. So, instead of returning home as planned, we set our sights on Gainesville instead. We spent one brief overnight at home, unload the car an repacking in for Florida not knowing exactly how long we would be there. Hopefully for no more than a couple weeks. The next morning we set off early on the 800 mile trip down Interstate 95 to Florida, arriving in Gainesville much later that evening.
It quickly became apparent that SallyAnn would be required to stay longer than first expected, and so I decided to return to Maryland two days later in the hopes that she would be able to join me there in mid-November, and certainly by Thanksgiving. Our goal was rebuilding home fires for the holidays. Instead the brushfire that was 2019 continued to burn with no end in sight.
October became November and November became December. SallyAnn in Florida and me in Maryland. I tried to use my time at home to get back to some sort of routine and to use the quiet time to do some serious writing. I was moderately successful, but used much of this time to work through a growing queue of books I have been want or needing to read. So all was not loss although it got lonely at time. Thanksgiving came and went without notice. Thankfully friends and neighbors watched out for me, inviting me to share meals and good fellowship. And there was Morgan, my black lab brother of a different mother whose love is always unconditional.
Finally, as Christmas was approaching, I decided to return to Florida to rejoin SallyAnn in Gainesville on December 20; this time in the hope that she would have her mother settled and she would be able to return home with me after the holidays. We had not seen each other in almost three months and the separation was weighing heavily on both of us. It would be nice to be together for the holidays although they would pass by virtually unnoticed. It was not until early January, when our son Ian and his house mates traveled to Florida for a brief vacation, that we felt like a family again. Certainly something to celebrate, if only briefly. SallyAnn and I remained in Florida together for seven more weeks before things were settled enough there that would finally make our way home in early February.
Shortly after I return home we were both set upon by nasty bouts with the flu and a deep funk that continues to this day. The basement is still filled with unpacking our summer hiatus in Maine. The is so much to catch up with and it’s hard to know where to start. I have hardly settled in and I’m already planning to set out fro Ohio next week to spend time with my own family. And shortly after my return home we will be preparing to return to Florida for a short visit. So 2020 is indeed shaping up to be another brushfire year. I pay heed to Ms. Dickinson’s caveat. “Aside from forest fire, there's nothing to be afraid of in the woods, except yourself. If you've got sense, you can keep out of trouble. If you haven't got sense, you'll get into trouble, here or anywhere else.” I’m counting on some common sense as I face the new year.
Finally, to quote Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, “Enough of this complaining and groaning and ape-like chatter.” There is work to be done.
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
– George Santayana (1863-1952)
I have just been granted a return to Facebook after being banned for 24 hours for "violating community standards" as it pertains to “hate speech” which “creates an environment of intimidation and exclusion and in some cases may promote real-world violence.” According to Facebook’s posted community standards, “hate speech” is defined as “a direct attack on people based on what we call protected characteristics — race, ethnicity, national origin, religious affiliation, sexual orientation, caste, sex, gender, gender identity, and serious disease or disability. We also provide some protections for immigration status. We define attack as violent or dehumanizing speech, statements of inferiority, or calls for exclusion or segregation.”
Personally I have no objection to this definition. Yet somehow my posting of the philosopher George Santayana famous aphorism - “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” - as it might apply to the current occupant of the Oval Office and his apparent ignorance of the dangers of Fascism is for Facebook a bridge too far. I frankly do not see how this constitutes “hate speech” as defined in its community standards.
Santayana was not the first philosopher to address the concept of history repeating itself. – Karl Marx (1818-1883) wrote “History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce” in “The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Napoleon” [German: “Der 18te Brumaire des Louis Napoleon), his essay originally published in 1852 in the German journal Die Revolution. The American novelist and humorist Mark Twain (1835-1910) is said to have stated that “history doesn't repeat itself, it rhymes” although the source of this claim has never been corroborated. It does, however, sound like something witty he might have said. Santayana’s quotation can be found in The Life of Reason: Reason in Common Sense (1905). In a 1948 speech before to the House of Commons, Winston Churchill paraphrased Santayana. “Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it.” I have never come across any reference to these statements being considered “hate speech” in their time. Surely it has not evolved as such today. Or has it? This is a simple reference to the idea of cause and effect throughout history. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it . . . those who do not remember their past are condemned to repeat their mistakes. Those who do not read history are doomed to repeat it. Those who fail to learn from the mistakes of their predecessors are destined to repeat them . . . however you want to look at it.
We as American, including our elected leaders and representatives have an obligation to know our history and the history of others in order to learn from them. History helps us understand how the world as we know it today has come to be, and by studying it we are better able to learn from our mistakes and failures in order you avoid repeating them now and in the future.
It is a rather sad commentary on the time we live in if such an innocuous statement can be perceived and/or reported as “hate speech.” Be that as it may. I guess I am lucky I have not been banned before now. Still, I call it the way I see it and will continue to speak truth to power. To quote Santayana again . . . “"Only the dead have seen the end of war." Let the good fight continue with a sound knowledge of the past.
