Let’s take a trip back in time, somewhere between the years of 1970 and 1974, Far Rockaway, NY, beach bungalows, sometimes known as “the workingman’s Riviera”

My folks would rent the bungalow for the summer, and the season began with Memorial Day and end after Labor Day, the bungalow owners were pretty flexible about the “closing” date since my folks had already arranged to rent the same place for the following year, generally the water was not shut off until Columbus Day and we were free to come and stay until then. 1970 was an important year as I had my first car and was able to come and go as I pleased, often spending weekends in the bungalow along with friends who spent time in their folks rented places as well. We were kings and queens of our own spaces. After Labor Day it was pretty quiet, almost scarily surreal, but it was very “cool”, the drinking age was 18, we all were at least that, so we had beer and tequila and occasionally some herbs that were mostly courtesy of a friend who lived a few miles north year round by the beach.

We spent the days on the beach, as we did every day during the summer, (yes we worked as well at summer jobs but when not working, it was as described), played furious games of paddleball, had dinner, drank a bit, took a trip for burgers and ultimately to Friendly’s for a Fribble and Fries. Upon returning, we would head up to the boardwalk and continue sipping, (or sometimes with the tequila, shots), perhaps light up a homemade herbal roll, and just enjoy the ocean, sing off key, and talk and solve the problems of the universe. When the weather was warm enough we’d take post midnight swims in the ocean. The time after Labor Day usually brought with it the biggest surf as the result of the tropical storm season just heating up. I vividly remember, more than one 2 AM swim, in a slightly altered state, bodysurfing backwards so we could see the moon and the stars, totally oblivious to the fact that there were likely all kinds of sharks around, Far Rockaway, after all is the open ocean, not the sound, or some inlet. However…We were immortal.

Mostly we didn’t sleep much we were awake as we loved the night and all it promised We would catch up on our sleep the next day in the sun on the beach, we all believed that an hour sleeping in the sun was as rejuvenating as 6 hours in a bed.

Let’s move the timeline up almost two decades…1991, Huntsville, Texas….I was part of a program with an incredible group of folks dedicated to moving mathematics education ahead and incorporating the brand new “graphing calculator” into Calculus instruction. We started each day at 8 AM in a large group in a lecture hall (there were about 30 of us), by noon at lunch, we sat around by the pool and brought out the coolers with the beer we had iced up that morning, after the afternoon session (always more raucous due to our mostly liquid lunch, much to Dr. Foley’s dismay), the coolers again opened up and we mostly walked across I-10 to get to a local restaurant or headed out in vans to various places. Upon returning, we’d again gather at the pool, and again the coolers were omnipresent…if anyone tried to go in for the night the line was “you can’t go in, it’s not tomorrow yet”, then, of course, when midnight hit, it was STILL not tomorrow it was just another “today” so we stayed mostly until the beer ran out (requiring a trip to reload the next morning before the first session…thank god for drive through places in Texas back then)…again sleep was not very much in vogue the night was our friend and we were immortal still…

Late 90’s I was teaching during the day, tutoring at night, and then upon finally arriving home, would have dinner, make sure the kids were in bed and then work till 2 or 3 in the morning as part of the HP group I was working with.

Now it’s 2020, I hate the night, I struggle with it, during the day, life goes on, if the weather is good, I’m outside, I play golf when I can, Abbey the dog keeps us busy then the sun starts to set, it gets dark (seemingly very early now, and getting darker, earlier, by the day) and the gloom starts to set in. There are nights where I almost feel like crying (I don’t though), I’m sad by the current state of affairs, I’ve not even dipped my toe into the ocean for perhaps the first time since I was 13, I’ve been to the beach twice, and due to the current restrictions (which, unlike many, we are taking very seriously) was not even that much fun…first it’s only Long Island Sound, not the ocean, second it’s pretty much find a space, sit down, wander into the water, sit down, repeat…no running, no long walks…

At night my head now spins about my melancholy, some things haven’t changed since 1970, I’m sipping a great blanco tequila as I write, but that’s about the only thing that hasn’t changed…Immortality has given way to an overwhelming sense of mortality. This “mess” seemed to begin for me with the sudden loss of my friend Silvio, and nothing has been the same for me since. It was the explosion of the reality of mortality to me, and the nigh now represents that inevitable darkness. When I do finally go to bed, sleep is ok, but I rarely feel rested and renewed (the hour on the beach was so much more than 6 or 7 hours in the house now). If I do wake up during the night I can hardly shut off a myriad of thoughts and falling back to sleep is very difficult, I wish the house was large enough to just get up and listen to music but our “castle” is anything but so I toss and turn until it gets light and then I get up for the day and start all over again…

I used to love the night, now I dread it….