From our weekly issue dated April 23, 2008

Sleep. Slumber. Nap.

Snooze, doze, 40 winks, catnap, dead to the world. Sawing wood. Nod off.

Sometimes my mind meanders mostly to the topic of rest in the form of sleep. In fact, as I become older I find that sometimes sleeping is the highlight of my day. I’ve got to get a different hobby.

My mother’s side of the family was legendary for its ability to sleep through most anything. My father’s side of the family, especially my dad, was famous for being extremely light sleepers. They were nervous types. My mom’s sisters were easy-going.

Here’s an example of my dad’s skill. When I was a high school freshman he gave me a portable radio. He warned me about having the volume too high, so I closed the door to my bedroom, got under the bed covers, and turned on the radio with the volume as low as possible without turning it off. It was so quiet that I had to hold the speaker against my left ear to be able to hear. No sooner did I turn it on though, than he stormed into my room to tell me to turn off that dang thing -- or words to that effect.

Unfortunately, he startled me so much that in my haste to turn off the radio, I turned the knob the wrong way so that the volume came on full. Then I made the mistake of laughing about it. Dead dad was quick to forgive though, although from then on I only listened to my radio where he couldn’t hear. Like in the garage inside the car when he wasn’t home.

On the other hand, besides five fingers, we have my maternal aunts, who were known for their dedication to the arms of Morpheus. The “worst” was Aunt Mary, who had so much trouble arising in the mornings to go to work that she often got up only 30 minutes before she had to clock in.

That might sound like a long time, but she had to take a taxi because those aunties never had a car, and it was too far to walk. So in the half-hour available she “had” to have her coffee and toast, apply makeup (to her face), comb her hair and do other morning stuff. Unfortunately, she always included phoning for a cab before it was feasible to be ready to go. Often, the cabbie was left hanging at the curb until he’d give up and drive away without her. This happened so often that after awhile no cabs would respond to her calls.

My observation is that I have a mix of the Rodriguez/Cordova sleep idiosyncracies. I can sleep well, but I also can have trouble sleeping. Just the other night I went to bed and slept for six hours without awakening. But there have been times when I fight with the pillow, tossing and turning, and wondering whether I should read a book, take a pill, hang out with the cats, get up and check the Internet, have a cup of Sleepytime Tea, or phone for a cab. Kidding about that last.

Hopefully this column has not put anyone to sleep. But if it has, then I’ll know what to do the next time I need a siesta.