Getting sleep, one way or another

It never fails.

I've spent the last eight years getting up at 5:30 every morning. I don't even need an alarm clock anymore. At least I didn't used to -- I'd be up and running, getting ready for work, before the clock made its first annoying ring.

Now, the only time I wake up at 5:30 is on my days off.

The same clock that used to bring me bounding out of bed, is now more of an annoyance that incorporates itself into my dreams.

This morning was just one of the many days I've dreamed of heavy equipment backing up in my basement.

Sleep didn't used to be this important. When I was a kid, it was an interference -- keeping me away from the important things like dodge ball with friends, a rousing game of Red Rover, Red Rover, or a long evening of catching fireflies and making sparkling jewelry of them.

As I grew older it interfered with my studies and my more adult recreational activities -- like going out and partying with friends all night.

But now it has become my reason for getting up in the morning. I get out of bed counting the hours before I can get back to it again.

I've checked with the doctors. They say I'm fine, which means it can only be one thing.

I'm getting older. My body can't take the kind of abuse it used to. It obviously needs its eight hours of sleep and will see to it that it gets it one way or the other.

I only wish that I could get at least one peaceful night without the sound of a backhoe waking me up -- usually about a half-an-hour late.

I guess what they say is true: growing old isn't for the weak or the faint of heart.

It saddens me to hear of the passing of Bob Hammond. I got reacquainted with Bob while I was working at Sarge's. He was a vibrant young man who always had a smile and a hug for me when he came in.

He and my eldest son were friends in their younger years and -- while they grew apart and went their separate ways later in life -- Bob always remembered the time he spent at our home and knew he was just another part of the family.

My heart goes out to his family and friends. I know this is a painful time for them.

I hope they know they can lean on each other for the support they need to make it through this horrible ordeal.

And Bobby, just so you know, you have left an empty spot in the hearts of so many. We will all truly miss you.