Having just woken up from nodding off while watching a Saturday Night Live (SNL) recording, it strikes me how I’m becoming our dad (Herm) more and more. It’s not a syndrome that only applied to him, as I see people falling asleep in many venues. Still, because he kind of perfected and honed the ability to knock off some quick zzzzz’s, there’s a term I apply to it.
Based on his golf game, which was quite bad, when he hit a bad shot, our family joke became that you “Hermed” the shot when you hit a bad one. Made sense. Now that I find myself falling asleep at times I wish I could stay awake, I find myself “Herming” live theater and “Herming” movies.
Over the years, Herming in front of the television set when sports were on over the weekend became a mandatory battery recharge time. I look forward to those moments. Settle into the chair. Pull some blankets up to my nose. Nestle in. Turn the sound down low. Listen to the monotonous voice of the announcer. Begin to snooze.
Because it is planned, this Herm nap lasts longer than the one that hits you unexpectedly. Sometimes it gets up to 45 minutes or an hour. Sometimes longer if it’s been a rough week and your body needs to build up energy for the week to come. The best are when you get intense dreams going and you swim out of that, trying to wake yourself up, only to succumb two or three more times to the dream, before finally waking like you’d been drunk for the afternoon.
Short cat naps are okay. They keep you mentally sharp. It’s when they start sneaking up on you that you’re Herming it.
A few months back, my wife and I went to a live theater show. I wanted to stay engaged. The show was pretty good. But weights must have been attached to my eyelids because I began Herming it about halfway through and couldn’t fight my way out of it. Sometimes you just give up.
The worst is if you start to snore. I’ve seen this happen in work situations, and pray it will never happen to me. I remember a good friend of mine describing taking the bus from Milwaukee to Madison many years ago and he slowly passed out, only to wake up when he found he’d snorted, as he was leading his way into snoring. He’d didn’t get any sleep after that.
Snoring occurs when you’re really out for the nap. That’s the full Herm. You wake up with the dry mouth and have to smack your lips repeatedly to get enough moisture in your mouth to be able to speak.
Most of us find ourselves picking up traits of our parents as we age. I find myself thinking of my dad frequently, as I fight to stay awake during the symphony or the previews at the movie theater. I used to wonder why he fell asleep at those times. Now I get it.
We have pictures of our dad asleep in odd poses where you wouldn’t expect someone to nod off. They’re pretty funny. I guess I’ll have to prepare myself for photos of myself like that years from so the next generation can look back with appreciation at the ability to Herm a nap.
Having just woken up from nodding off while watching a Saturday Night Live (SNL) recording, it strikes me how I’m becoming our dad (Herm) more and more. It’s not a syndrome that only applied to him, as I see people falling asleep in many venues. Still, because he kind of perfected and honed the ability to knock off some quick zzzzz’s, there’s a term I apply to it.
Based on his golf game, which was quite bad, when he hit a bad shot, our family joke became that you “Hermed” the shot when you hit a bad one. Made sense. Now that I find myself falling asleep at times I wish I could stay awake, I find myself “Herming” live theater and “Herming” movies.
Over the years, Herming in front of the television set when sports were on over the weekend became a mandatory battery recharge time. I look forward to those moments. Settle into the chair. Pull some blankets up to my nose. Nestle in. Turn the sound down low. Listen to the monotonous voice of the announcer. Begin to snooze.
Because it is planned, this Herm nap lasts longer than the one that hits you unexpectedly. Sometimes it gets up to 45 minutes or an hour. Sometimes longer if it’s been a rough week and your body needs to build up energy for the week to come. The best are when you get intense dreams going and you swim out of that, trying to wake yourself up, only to succumb two or three more times to the dream, before finally waking like you’d been drunk for the afternoon.
Short cat naps are okay. They keep you mentally sharp. It’s when they start sneaking up on you that you’re Herming it.
A few months back, my wife and I went to a live theater show. I wanted to stay engaged. The show was pretty good. But weights must have been attached to my eyelids because I began Herming it about halfway through and couldn’t fight my way out of it. Sometimes you just give up.
The worst is if you start to snore. I’ve seen this happen in work situations, and pray it will never happen to me. I remember a good friend of mine describing taking the bus from Milwaukee to Madison many years ago and he slowly passed out, only to wake up when he found he’d snorted, as he was leading his way into snoring. He’d didn’t get any sleep after that.
Snoring occurs when you’re really out for the nap. That’s the full Herm. You wake up with the dry mouth and have to smack your lips repeatedly to get enough moisture in your mouth to be able to speak.
Most of us find ourselves picking up traits of our parents as we age. I find myself thinking of my dad frequently, as I fight to stay awake during the symphony or the previews at the movie theater. I used to wonder why he fell asleep at those times. Now I get it.
We have pictures of our dad asleep in odd poses where you wouldn’t expect someone to nod off. They’re pretty funny. I guess I’ll have to prepare myself for photos of myself like that years from so the next generation can look back with appreciation at the ability to Herm a nap.
