Lullaby

Ah, sweet sleep. Probably the third best thing there is.

I've never had trouble sleeping --falling asleep and staying asleep. But now comes the aging process, and it's become an issue.

Most nights I fall right away, but then, 4 hours later, I'm up like the sun has risen. I surf the web, read, and sometimes go outside in the glorious silence of the wee hours and watch the stars and the occasional landing airplane making its way from the ocean, passing right over, and then turning North to MIA.

Sometimes I think about calling my friend Jeff, who I KNOW is up most of the night. I see his Facebook postings at 3, 4, 5 am, and he's NEVER been able to sleep the whole night.

My mother used to sing me a lullaby when I was a little boy. It had TERRIBLE lyrics --about a "little man" whose kiddie car was stolen. I was a sensitive boy, and the thought of this child's loss always made me cry. Somehow, my mother would still sing the song. Hmmm...I wonder where my sadistic streak comes from?

In high school, I always fell asleep to the radio, usually WLRN, or WBAB - the 2 Long Island progressive stations. In the am, I'd wake to those great glottal stop, deep voiced DJs, who sounded much cooler than they looked...

So anyway, the other night, after going to bed still feeling the effects of a couple of Ketel Ones from Trulucks, I found one of my favorite tunes on YouTube. It's Pat Metheny's "Last Train Home."

It played, and cleared my mind like a mantra, and I slept the whole night.

I tried it again last night. Wifey and I came home from "Pal Joey" at the Ring at UM, and she set about her late night puttering downstairs. I got in to bed, played "Last Train," shut the laptop cover when it ended, fell into sleep, and got up with the first rays at 630. It was magical.

So, I have my new lullaby, and it's an instrumental with some voices, but no lyrics. I don't have to feel bad about some loser kid who the bullies pick on.

I can just get on that late train, speeding alone though the gathering dark of the MidWest, and travel the night.

Thanks, Pat.