Down the Tubes Productions

It usually started with one of my parents coming in to wake me up by shaking my feet, eventually moving closer to jostle my shoulder, and then resort to repeatedly flashing the overhead lights off and on. This served no purpose beyond aggravating me and causing me to roll over and fall back asleep. Undeterred, my Dad would on occasion arrive armed with his trumpet and would perform a rousing round of “Reveille”. My hearing aids were out, but I could hear snatches of the bleating sounds.  This concert raised my blood pressure but did nothing to move me physically out of bed. The next phase included a parent returning to my bedroom, flinging on all the lights and engagement in loud ranting close to my ears about how I was going to miss the bus and as a result would be trudging several miles to get to the high school because I was most certainly not going to get a ride to school based on my blatant refusal to rise from bed and greet the day. 

But – there was a Secret Agent that lurked in the home that had yet been called forth to serve. His name was Vince, waking me up was a mission he always chose to accept. That little shih tzu/poodle mix would come tearing into my bedroom at full speed, and all 18 pounds of his little fluffy body would land squarely on my chest. This not-so-soft landing was inevitably accompanied by a full on assault of wet doggy kisses. He slobbered all over my face and pillow, with a special penchant for sticking his tongue straight up my nostrils. thus rendering breathing impossible. No amount of pushing him away, screaming, squealing or pleading with him would make it stop – the only solution was getting out of bed. 

This multi-tiered morning alertness system worked well enough when I was living at home, but college was looming. Sadly, Vince was not going to be able to join me as I left one nest for another to fly with the Eagles. 

My darling neighbor across the street was an elderly man with a fascinating life story, a generous heart, and a penchant for problem solving. He knew that waking up in the morning while I was living away from home was going to be a challenge without a creative solution that circumvented the traditional alarm clock which I was unable to hear.  

Mr. Weiss had a problem, and through his network of connections, he found the solution. 

The solution arrived by way of a creative, enterprising, mechanically minded nun whose acquaintance I never made, but without her engineering and design skills I would never have been able to wake up through my four years of college. 

It was The Beast. 

The likes of which I’ve never seen before or since – but its effectiveness cannot be discounted. 

This…thing…consisted of a slab of wood that slid between the mattress and box spring. At the end of the board, a…machine of some sort…was attached. This motor, for lack of a better term, rested against the metal bed frame and was wired to an alarm clock. Somehow – through the miracles of electricity and mechanical manipulation that I will never understand – the alarm would go off, and the motor would whir to life as it banged and clanged itself against the metal bed frame, causing my bed to shake and people for miles around to leap from their beds and run for cover fearing an air raid or an alien invasion.

It was the equivalent of sleeping on an earthquake fault. 

I was unceremoniously jolted awake each morning by this vibrating monster of an alarm clock. My heart leapt out of my chest and my soul left my body as I greeted each day with a fast assessment of whether I was seeing myself from above on my way to the heavens or if I was, in fact, still a physical and living being after experiencing the sheer terror of that…thing. 

(I now pause to acknowledge the patience and care extended to me by my college roommate, Cathy, for putting up with this machine daily – especially in the early mornings of student teaching when I would hit snooze, forget about it, and leave the room – causing her to leap out of bed at an hour where she decidedly did not need to be alert to deal with it.  I am so sorry. I really have friends that I do not deserve! Drinks on me at our 30th reunion next year!)

That beastly board and motor combination followed me through my four years at Boston College, back home after college, and then to my first apartment. As the world became smaller with the advent of the internet and Amazon – I discovered the existence of a range of previously unknown accessibility tools for the hearing impaired. To my surprise, I found a streamlined, updated, and modernized version of “The Beast” – as I’d come to refer to it with fondness over the years. The new versions of the old concept were alarm clocks with a vibrating disc that fit between the mattress and box spring. I have had every color combination and shape of these alarm clocks over the years, and all of them have needed to be plugged into outlets, making them a tad cumbersome for travel. But – considering my prior option was lugging a motor attached to a 4×4, a little room being taken up in the suitcase by the alarm clock was a fair compromise. 

A few months back, as I was preparing to travel to a conference with Brad, I found a travel version of my trusty alarm clock – a small, disc version that fit under the mattress and ran on batteries. I purchased it excitedly and made the fatal flaw of not checking it at home first to see if it was powerful enough to wake me up, as I am a very deep sleeper. Luckily, I woke up on my own the first morning of the conference and realized that the alarm had gone off but did nothing to wake me up as the “shaking sensation” was nowhere near strong enough. I will be sure to pack my “regular” plug-in alarm clock from now on the next time I travel alone to ensure that I am awake and ready for the day. 

I envy those that can wake to cascading chimes or rousing rock and roll music – for the only option I have, all these years later, is to ease into a promising sleep with the ever present realization that on the other end of dreamland I will be rudely awakened by my own personal tectonic plates crashing beneath my sleeping form. A small price to pay for being able to wake up independently – but there are days when I sorely miss my little fluffy Vince bounding in to help me greet the sun.