Anybody who really expects to reach one of his Resolutions for a new year would probably be wise to choose something halfway achievable. Otherwise he will laugh it off by the middle of January. I was beginning to feel that way about my #1 goal for 2012: pushing the Sandman of the BLM desert back to 9 pm. Amongst RV boondockers 9 pm is the witching hour known as "motorhome midnight."
Legends have grown up around the winter campfires of desert tribesmen on Arizona BLM land about what lies on the other side; 901 pm has always been an 'undiscovered country from which none returns.' Doctrines of the post-9 pm world have never been universally agreed upon, but they usually offer the vague threat of a shadowy netherworld.
You can probably guess why this goal was chosen, not least of which is that it made me feel like I belonged in a nursing home. Old folks have a hard enough time sleeping through the night without sabotaging it by going to bed too early.
The first couple weeks saw no progress. At 745 pm I would start checking the time, while almost groaning with weariness. Then I would watch what seemed like a third of the movie, and check the time again: 752 pm. It was hopeless. When the sun goes down in the winter, I really would just as soon cave in.
The whole thing was like the beginning of the movie, The Right Stuff. There was a mystique about breaking the sound barrier in a jet plane. Some engineers said it couldn't be done; the plane would destabilize and crash. Even the most fearless pilots were intimidated; a few died trying to break it. And then Chuck Yeager walked into the movie...
The truth is that I had given up on this noble quest and was inventing excuses for defeat. Then a lucky break came from an unlikely source. The public library at Ajo renewed my Pima County (Tucson) library card, despite being a non-resident. A little thing like that can add a lot to the camping experience. It had a movie I hadn't seen in a long time: Billy Wilder's The Apartment, starring Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine, and Fred MacMurray. Hollywood has had very few directors who produced "talky" movies -- that is, movies with interesting dialogue between intelligent adults. Virtually all directors are camera worshipers; a lot of good that does me when my eyes are closed.
With Wilder's help I achieved the impossible dream: I blasted through 9 pm and was still going strong at 930, when prudence dictated that I avoid hubris and consolidate my gains.
Legends have grown up around the winter campfires of desert tribesmen on Arizona BLM land about what lies on the other side; 901 pm has always been an 'undiscovered country from which none returns.' Doctrines of the post-9 pm world have never been universally agreed upon, but they usually offer the vague threat of a shadowy netherworld.
You can probably guess why this goal was chosen, not least of which is that it made me feel like I belonged in a nursing home. Old folks have a hard enough time sleeping through the night without sabotaging it by going to bed too early.
The first couple weeks saw no progress. At 745 pm I would start checking the time, while almost groaning with weariness. Then I would watch what seemed like a third of the movie, and check the time again: 752 pm. It was hopeless. When the sun goes down in the winter, I really would just as soon cave in.
The whole thing was like the beginning of the movie, The Right Stuff. There was a mystique about breaking the sound barrier in a jet plane. Some engineers said it couldn't be done; the plane would destabilize and crash. Even the most fearless pilots were intimidated; a few died trying to break it. And then Chuck Yeager walked into the movie...
The truth is that I had given up on this noble quest and was inventing excuses for defeat. Then a lucky break came from an unlikely source. The public library at Ajo renewed my Pima County (Tucson) library card, despite being a non-resident. A little thing like that can add a lot to the camping experience. It had a movie I hadn't seen in a long time: Billy Wilder's The Apartment, starring Jack Lemmon, Shirley MacLaine, and Fred MacMurray. Hollywood has had very few directors who produced "talky" movies -- that is, movies with interesting dialogue between intelligent adults. Virtually all directors are camera worshipers; a lot of good that does me when my eyes are closed.
With Wilder's help I achieved the impossible dream: I blasted through 9 pm and was still going strong at 930, when prudence dictated that I avoid hubris and consolidate my gains.
Ha, that sounds exactly like me..
ReplyDelete" what time is it? oh boy..8:00..hmmm.mabe I could go to bed now and read in bed " sure good idea..... 8:20......10 pages later....zzzzzzzzzz
Kelly
LOL -sounds familiar... never heard it put that way "motorhome midnight"..... We suffer from the same affliction. "panama scamp"
ReplyDelete