The Hacking

The morning frost was just beginning to settle on the housetops and lawns on Michael Park Drive as the hooded figure slowly walked down the middle of the street. All the houses were dark as their occupants snatched the last few moments of Saturday morning slumber. So no one noticed this figure also carried a set of crude tools of violence to be unleashed on unsuspecting innocent victims. His choice this time was a rusted saw and long handled pruning shears; "weapons of crass destruction."

Turning the corner he lashed into his first victim with pent up anger and frustration. The pruning shears cut off needled fingers and the saw sliced through limbs with precise extraction. The sun was barely rising to be the only witness to this horrid act of annihilation. Body parts were piled along the sidewalk as a warning to others to stay back and not interfere.

OK, this really happened. The figure with the hoodie was me. I had become frustrated with the pine trees along the sidewalk that obstructed my view as I tried to cross traffic in my car. In our neighborhood maintaining the trees and shrubbery behind homes are the individual homeowner’s responsibility. The back of these homes faced the highly trafficked street and the owners had planted these trees in an effort to block the noise. I guess I could have knocked on each door and asked politely if the owners would kindly trim these trees back. But, as usual, I took matters in my own hands.

After my morning walk I went into my garage and fetched the small hand saw and pruning shears. Then I went to work on these trees. Once you start pruning it triggers some sort of hacking cells in the brain and it’s very hard to stop. Every branch is under scrutiny for the cut. I worked quietly so the home owners wouldn’t react to this carnage. The branches began to pile up as I slashed and cut. Finally I came to my senses and looked at the heap of small and large branches on the sidewalk. I began to feel a little nervous about someone seeing these so I began to hide the debris under the juniper bushes, kicking the sawed off limbs under the pokey shrubs like one hides dirt swept from the floor under the rug. ( uhh, no Jan, I don’t really do that.)

As I was bending over, concentrating on the clean up, a voice from a passing runner startled me.
“I’m just cleaning up this mess that someone left!” I blurted as the runner distanced herself.
The larger branches wouldn’t fit under the already crowded bushes so I carried them to the irrigation ditch and tried my best to hide them along the surrounding fences. I didn’t want to think I was dumping clippings along the canal's path so I reasoned I would come back later and pick them up. My cutting finished, I hurriedly hid the pruning shears in my sweat shirt and the saw inside my sweat pants. As I walked back home the saw began to slip down the leg of my pants, causing me to walk with a limp to prevent the teeth of the saw from performing an amputation. I thought this was the way the trees were trying to pay me back for my clipping barrage.

Later that day Jan and I began our trip to get groceries. As we pulled to the stop sign at the entrance to the street I pointed out to Jan how clear the view now was. However, now a speed sign with a steel post still blocked the view to oncoming traffic hurtling down the hill.

After our errands we returned home. Immediately, I entered the garage and began to search for the metal slicing hacksaw while planning my next deed of dastardly early morning ventures.

Sleep Deprivation

A few days ago I heard a brief report on Paul Harvey ( it’s no longer really Paul Harvey, it’s his son trying to sound like his dad) that having too much light in a room when you are sleeping inhibits the production of melanoma. I thought, great, if that all it takes to prevent more skin cancer I’m going to Home Depot and get all the flood lights I can muster. I’d keep them on all night, thus reducing the chance for melanoma.

Then my wife informed me that Paul Harvey (not really him, I think he’s dead) didn’t say that light while sleeping reduces melanoma. What he said was that too much light in a room while sleeping inhibits the production of melatonin. Melanoma, melatonin, marshmallow, whatever…

According to the dictionary “melatonin is a hormone secreted by the pineal gland in the brain that helps regulate biological rhythms. It is best known for helping to regulate the body’s circadian sleep-wake cycle.” When I’ve been in Las Vegas I’ve heard those circadians and they can be pretty noisy. They make a noise that sounds like high voltage power lines. So if light affects melatonin levels in me and somehow it will help these insects quiet down, I can do my part to help tone down the bug induced noise pollution.

My wife just reminded me that those insects I’m talking about aren’t circadians, they are called cicadas. Good thing she’s around.

Back to the melatonin; the “not Paul Harvey” voice said that when we sleep our rooms need to be as dark as possible in order for this hormone to work its wonders in our systems. There should be no night-lights or light coming into our rooms from outside street lights, car lights, moonlight or delights. So, according to this we should all sleep in dungeons 12 feet underground with no windows or cracks in the mortar. Using a sleep mask was recommended.

When I was younger my room was illuminated by the street light outside. My innovative mother created a mask that I put over my eyes that blocked out the light and did help me sleep. The mask was a sock with the toe end connected to the opened end with a clothes pin. I’d then slip this over my head so it covered my eyes. The heel of the sock would sling down over the bridge of my nose for added light blocking protection. The only draw back was that I used the socks I had worn that day to create the mask. There were some unpleasant side effects such as catching athletes’ eye, stink eye, and sock fuzz ball eye. These ailments were all part of the danger. But, when I was a youngster I loved to live dangerously.

Actually, my thought for wearing the sleep mask was to ward off intruders. If a mask wearing burglar broke into my room I would sit up in bed with my mask on. The burglar would become confused because he thought he was the only one wearing a mask. In this dazed state he would stumble down the hall and out of the house. I never did see any burglars enter my room so this must have worked. Then again, I always kept the sock mask on.

Now, after the melatonin news flash, I looked around my room for offending light. I turned the overhead light off, figuring that to catch light it had to be dark. Yes, that does make sense.

When the light went off my room suddenly began to glow in green and red and it wasn’t Christmas. In fact the room began looking more like an airport runway at night. I was fearful that the midnight flight from San Francisco might be landing any minute. I counted 14 sources of light. There were several small green lights emitting from the computer modem, power strip and the cable box. Red lights blinked on and off on the charging telephone, answering machine and the caller ID system. Then there are the bright glowing lights from the digital clocks, one clock with red numbers, the other in blue numbers, all casting their eerie luminescence throughout the room.

There is no wonder I have trouble sleeping. If I want to keep the pineal gland producing melatonin so my rhythmic circadians can function I need to have a darker room. I think it’s time for a new sock mask.

The Wave

The inside of my car was so hot I felt perspiration being sucked from every pore of my body as I drove back to work after a brief afternoon lunch stop at home. The only relief came from the rush of hot wind from the open windows that was created while the car was moving. There were no other vehicles around as I approached a traffic light that suddenly turned red. Reluctantly, I stopped and the sweltering became unbearable. I wondered how the light had been triggered, there were no other cars, or pedestrians that would have pushed the cross walk button.

Suddenly, from the bushes on the corner popped out two little girls like Jill-in-the-Boxes. They began to wave with a fervor reserved for stranded travelers seeking roadside assistance. I glanced back at the light, waiting for it to turn green. I realized it was the girls who must have pressed the cross walk button and stopped my “easy bake oven” on wheels. While concentrating on the light the sweat began dripping down my forehead, stinging my eyes, but I could still see the girl’s frantic waves to my left. Feeling they wouldn’t stop unless I acknowledged their inconvenient prank I raised my hand off the steering wheel and wiggled it in a slight salutation. The girls broke out in huge smiles as the light turned green and I proceeded through the intersection. Looking in my rear view mirror I saw these little pixies press the crosswalk button again then jump back into the bushes, waiting for their next victim.

This was not my first experience with “wavers” but perhaps these were the most sincere. Until then those who waved as I passed by were generally standing in front of a business, holding signs with various slogans that said unkind things about their boss or about the business. I’m not sure why they waved at the passing cars. Perhaps they kept a tally of those who waved back, thinking this would validate their cause. I waved back because I’m friendly. To this day I don’t know how many strikes or protests I personally lengthened because I waved back.

Lately though this waving business has become, well, business. It seems that nearly every corner has a “waver”, someone holding a sign for a business, trying to encourage drivers to swing in and buy or partake of the service rendered. Spending a good part of my life in the advertising and marketing business I have a difficult time understanding why a business would resort to using a “waver.” Most cities have sign ordinances regarding putting stationary, permanent signs on a public right of way, such as a sidewalk. Using a “waver” is one way to skirt around those regulations.

I guess the “waver” works cheap. I’m sure they are paid minimum wage. I can understand using this form of advertising if your business was using a different location for a sale somewhere else. Or, many times “wavers” are used for liquidation sales. However, I’ve always felt that advertising is a window to their business and some of these “wavers”, well, unless a business likes people to think their business is full of crusty looking people, those used to hold these signs are usually not great representatives. Why not at least have them dress nice, such as formal gowns and tuxedos. That would add class and create favorable impressions.

There are all kinds of wavers. Some are human posts, holding the sign with sour, bored faces. Some wave the signs back and forth, giving some animation to the advertising. But, because the sign is wobbling back and forth it can’t be read unless you are a bobble head and can synchronize your head with the back and forth motion of the sign. Some try to hold the sign steady and wave at the cars passing by. I never see anyone waving back.

My personal favorite was a guy who stood outside Midas Muffler for several weeks. As cars waited for the light to change he would start dancing by swaying back and forth like a pendulum. He at least had people honking and pointing when they drove by. However, I never saw anyone drive into the place because of his show.

Some businesses apparently want the focus to be on the sign, not the waver. The sign holder is supposed to blend into the environment. Using plain, ordinary people dressed in camouflage works the best. There is a danger in using people who are too attractive. Driving down Main Street the other day I noticed a very cute young lady holding a sign with an arrow pointing across the street. However, I bet most drivers couldn’t tell you anything about the business because they weren’t looking at the sign.

Now, in an effort to gain more attention, businesses are making their wavers dress up in ridiculous costumes. I’ve seen Spider-man with a sign for cheap haircuts and pizza people advertising a cheap dinner. I even saw a guy wearing a card board mattress. Then there are the annual patriotic wavers for a tax service dressed as Uncle Sam and the Statue of Liberty. I personally would be a little fearful of my taxes being done by someone dressed in red, white and blue pants and a stove pipe hat.

For the most part, I think drivers are uncomfortable having someone they don’t know wave at them. Most people don’t even seem to notice wavers, driving by with invisible blinders like race horses so they won’t get distracted. When there are wavers on every corner they become an annoyance and lose any effectiveness. However, I always feel a little guilty and unfriendly as I drive by a waver. Perhaps it’s from my earlier experience with those little girls.

A few weeks ago I was coming in earlier for work. It was seven A.M and 26 degrees. As I approached the location of this tax service I could see the spikes of the Stature of Liberty poking out of the freezing mist. She stood motionless, holding her sign with one hand and her other hand tucked into her costume for warmth. I saw her try to muster a smile as I drove closer. Looking in my mirror to verify there were no other vehicles behind me, I applied the brakes, and while passing her at the speed of a slow parade, brought my right hand to my forehead and smartly saluted Lady Liberty with the frozen blue lips. Suddenly, her hand popped out from the ruffles of her dress and she waved feverishly. I could still see her waving at me in the rear view mirror as I continued on my way to work. After all, “wavers” are people, too.