February 26, 2013
Time, the presentation does not alter. Every minute is 60 seconds, every hour sixty minutes and ó unless weíre talking about those leap years ó every day, 24 hours.
But despite the fact time presents itself the same way from second to second, hour to hour and day to day ó like the individual chocolates that comprise a Whitman Sampler (thanks for the analogy, Forrest Gump!) ó we all have our favorite increments of time.
Headed in the opposite direction of such a progression, I even have my favorite hour of the day, one certainly far different now than during my younger days.
During those younger days, say, my undergrad time at Miami University, when I didnít have an early class, I could be bitten as hard by the "rack monster" as any of my pals who may have joined me in the previous eveningís debauchery, And, my, was it nice to roll out of my dorm, Sig Ep house or Vine Street apartment bed during those years at 11 a.m. or even, gasp, noon!
But, thatís been more than just a few years ago. Over time, as my responsibilities have grown, either ones I have had thrust upon me or ones I have accepted voluntarily, sleeping in hasnít really been an option.
Even now, there are days when I swear 24 hours just isnít enough time to get it all done. Add what men of another generation called the lumbago (lower back pain), and thatís a recipe for getting up early. The internal alarm clock I have is that whisper that emanates from the lumbar region when itís still quite dark and gradually becomes a fairly pronounced shout that I need to get up in order to loosen up.
So, after examining all the hours of the day, Iíve decided my favorite time of day is 5 a.m. Thatís usually about 15 minutes after I arise. By that point, Iím looking for something constructive to do. Oh, sure, it may start with putting some dishes away or running a load of laundry or balancing my checkbook, but it always moves in the direction of advancing the writing process.
Both books I have been fortunate enough to get to print were written primarily between 5 and 7 in the morning as well as my columns for you in the paper or my two monthly features for ďOur Generationís Magazine.Ē
In the darkness of what some may see as the latter part of the previous night, thatís when I can think more clearly, with a steaming cup of Joe beside me at my writing headquarters, my kitchen table. Whatís that Madison Avenue has told us? The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup.
By 7 a.m., itís usually time to start prepping for my daily schedule as I travel Ohio and Indiana for Mid-American Cleaning Contractors, which I also enjoy and am grateful for the opportunity to do.
But, my, that 5-7 morning slot is so nice, that combination of darkness and quiet. Thatís when I feel my creative juices flow, and I can talk to you through my pen most effectively.
Thanks to the many of you who take the time to say nice things about what Iíve written, either to me personally when I see you or through the paperís Facebook, and if I havenít seemed gracious enough, itís only because you probably caught me off guard a bit by saying something kind and, perhaps, better suited for a writer far more skilled, more famous and more widely published than this small-town scribe.
And, Iíll continue to write for you as long as I feel Iíve got something to say. For some of us, as important as being fairly for our work, perhaps even more important, especially for loquacious fellows such as me, is to have a platform. Without your reading what Iíve got to say, that platform doesnít exist. So Iíve just two final words for you: thank you.