Today is almost Father’s Day. My mom is recapping the sheer volume of hours my dad spent sleeping during their drive, while I’m thinking about how many times I’ve heard this same story in various forms. And how many times friends and lovers have told similar stories about me.
It’s a simple fact: some people love sleeping. They nap on planes and in cars, on benches and at church services. You’ll find them sprawled on someone else’s living room floor after dinner, snoring softly, or curled up in the corner of a bus seat. Age and gender are irrelevant; certain individuals are simply very talented when it comes to napping.
I, using a term stolen from a friend, call this talent “controlled narcolepsy.” And I’m pretty sure it’s hereditary.
My gramma napped during her soap operas. One minute she’d be watching TV, the next her jowls would billow in time with her snores. My sister and I would start bickering – errr chatting – softly in the same room, and suddenly she’d pipe up and correct whichever one of us was in the wrong. We’d hush, chastened. The TV would continue, uninterrupted. And then…as the scene faded into silence…we’d hear the snoring start up again.
My dad takes after his mother. He sleeps everywhere: in recliners, cars, and outside. Under the shade of trees and on the ferry. He attends family functions, then promptly naps in a corner. Conversations swirl around him as his mouth hangs open just the slightest bit. And every so often, they try to slip a piece of trivia past him while he sleeps. Invariably, he pipes up with the answer – or correction. Everyone pauses, not sure where his answer came from. Then he’s back to sleep and they’re back to chatting, remarking on how his mother had the same talent.
And then there’s me. I’m a third generation controlled narcoleptic. I sleep in during meetings. On road trips (only when a passenger, of course). In airports. I fall asleep on planes before they even back away from the gate. Friends teased me for napping through college; they were repeatedly surprised when the professor called on me and I’d answer as if I’d been listening diligently the whole time. Lately they’ve been remarking on how excited I am to attend a large music festival every year – only to sleep through 73.4% of it.
I really should try to stay awake through concerts and classes. Especially since I pay sometimes exorbitant prices for such things. But every time I get nudged awake, or wipe drool off a note page, I think about my dad. And how much I’m like him. And how much I treasure our shared quirks.
Happy Almost Father’s Day!
Every day another story -
Sofie
