I often invite seniors to join my senior’s fitness class, but when they find out it’s at 9:00 am, many pass. Even my mom sleeps late every day.
As for me, I never got the hang of sleeping late. There are probably several reasons why. Going back to my childhood, I would have to say Saturday morning cartoons were a big factor. Before there were a thousand channels to choose from, including an entire network devoted to cartoons, Saturday mornings were the only time to get wall-to-wall cartoons on all three channels.
Another reason I never developed a habit of sleeping late on the weekends was my dad. He was an awesome cook and his breakfasts were legendary. He got up early and made a spread worthy of royalty with omelets, homemade biscuits, incredible hash browns, sausage, gravy, grits, and always fresh sliced tomatoes.
Try staying in bed with that aroma drifting into your bedroom. And even if you could, Dad wouldn’t let you. When it was ready, he would shout “BREAKFAST” at the top of his lungs. What that meant was, “I sweated over a hot stove so you better get out of bed and come eat before I come in there and get you.”
As I entered my teens, I still did not have the luxury of sleeping late. Dad always had something for me to do in the mornings. Through the spring and summer, it was crops. From planting to picking, I spent most days gathering okra, watermelons, or tomatoes, and taking them to the market in Chattanooga. Fall and winter did not get better as we cut pulp wood and firewood to sell.
In college, I always had a job working on the weekends. While I was attending Auburn University, I worked at a gas station several evenings a week plus every weekend, including a 13 hour shift every Saturday, which began at 6 a.m.
Later in life, along with regular jobs, I often worked delivering newspapers for a little extra cash. This job began very early in the mornings, seven days a week. I did this for seven years and owned a fitness center.
I guess I just never had the chance to try sleeping in. As long as I can remember, I wake up as soon as daylight creeps into my room, and not only can I not go back to sleep, I feel very uncomfortable staying in bed. I feel like I’m burning daylight as Granny used to say.
Maybe I’ll get the hang of it when I no longer have to work. Or as my mom used to say, “When my rich uncle gets out of the poor house.”
Neal Wooten is a columnist in the Mountain Valley News and North Jackson Press newspapers. He can be reached at [email protected].
