I long for the good old days when I was a verifiable nighthawk. Mind you in those days of yore, rising in the morning was more of a struggle, but I think I would trade that in for the honour of once again being one of kings of midnight activities. I don't believe age has much to do with it well, not that much.
The topic came up during one of our many inter-office conversations the other day and it brought back many memories of post-midnight activities that stayed etched in the memory bank.
Many of us will be able to recall high school days and our ability to remain awake and alert well into the wee hours of the next a.m. either partying or studying or both.
I vividly recall earlier days of reportage when a story would be completed at 1 a.m. that would lead to a follow-up visit to a local hangout for a celebratory pizza or the local pub. In fact I kept a mysterious note that was pinned to my apartment door during that era when I was a freshly recruited reporter from Western Canada plying the trade in southern Ontario.
It read, "just passing through Norm, thought it would be good to see you, but it's now 3 a.m. and I have to be off. I always knew you were a nighthawk."
The problem with the note that I retrieved when I got home at 4 a.m. was that it was not signed and I didn't recognize the handwriting. For several years as I connected with Saskatchewan friends and those overseas and even Ontario acquaintances I never did find out who was just passing through.
For several years the bride and I would assign ourselves or accidentally find ourselves immersed in one sunset to sunrise event. We'd look at the clock and see that it would be sometime in the early morning, so we'd simply declare that it would be a great night to spend out on the patio just visiting until dawn. Greeting the sunrise after a hard night of work or yes, partying, is kind of cool on occasion. We haven't done that in the past few years and I sort of miss it. If I tried to do it now, it would probably have to include a nap from 6 to 8 p.m.
I have found though, that there is truth to the old adage that when it comes to an "all nighter" I do have a tendency to catch a second wind some time after 1 a.m. So greeting a sunrise in the middle of early summer is not such a big deal after all.
Catching early morning rays in a rural setting can be even more rewarding.
So nocturnal wanderings can be fun. I recall fondly several all-night writing sessions with authors and writers at the now long-gone summer school of the arts at Fort San(ity) near Fort Qu'Appelle. At one stage I was so invigorated by the writing environment around me I churned out more than 70,000 words in less than a week for my great Canadian novel. Some of it may even have been passable prose, but I'm not sure.
I still have that manuscript, but I'm afraid to open it now. I do recall the unique camaraderie that accompanied those all-night events that included small doses of wine, cheese, banter, silence, more cheese, more banter, waking up some other writer who would cheerily offer advice and then more writing and then an early morning walk up the hills before clunking down on top of your dormitory bed for a mid-morning snooze.
Recalling the infamous all night fetes in Trinidad brings back smiles too. Chippin', jump-ups, rock steady and calypso all in one dusk to dawn package that would include rum and bitters along with ham and hops with a little roti on the side for breakfast.
Yep, those were the good old days when nothing hurt and nobody cared what hour it was. You just did what you did when you felt you could do it.
Good for the memory, not so great for the body.
I think I'll turn in now. I'm tired.
