Early Morning Man Essay

Early Morning Man Chris Thomas COMM/105 January 29, 2010 Gary Frazier University of Phoenix Early Morning Man I remember while growing up how much I enjoyed sleeping late into the morning, and how when waking up it would be around eight in the morning. In the summer time there was no school so I would sleep in much later usually 10 or 11 o’clock. I loved to sleep in late and wake up with the soft white bed sheets wrap around me tightly and just lay in bed wondering what I would be doing all day, thinking to myself one more hour of sleep and I will wake up.

Morning rays from the sun through the glass window pane would always try to make me wake up, but I would just roll over and cover my head with my blue wool blanket and fall softly back to sleep. After about an hour, I would finally wake up rub the sleep from my eyes and head on down the squeaky basement stairs that led to the bathroom to take a shower. In the shower the warm gentle drops of water would always helped to wake me up even more. I enjoyed sleeping late it was a time when there wasn’t any rush in my life and the tick tock of the clock didn’t matter.

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At age 19 my whole sleeping life took a total left turn I found a job at the local bakery. With all the excitement about making a full pay check and working, all I could think about was what a beautiful and magnificent day this was. Then the bad news came down on me like a ton of rocks falling all over my head, the bakery manager told me “Start time is at three in the morning be there on time, and you are now an early morning man. ” For the next 35 years day after day year after year I worked as a baker and sleeping late became a long lost dream.

It is a different feeling that comes with waking up and going to work at two in the morning, it is so quite that even the birds are asleep and the roads have no cars, the radio, and I became good friends. I was usually the first one at the bakery and part of my job was to have everything set up and running. The first thing to do was to start up the bakery ovens, the old oven selves always had a high pitched squealing sound as they warmed up and went round and round.

Then the proof boxes needed turning on, and the water would rush through the boilers and the steam work hiss like a fire hose as it built up. After deciding what to bake, it would be time for the mixers to start rolling; they have a whining humming sound to them. Even with all this noise, I would still hear the quite silent feeling of the early morning. Within and hour the rest of the crew would start to come to work and for the rest of the day it would be non-stop baking with very little breaks.

After 35 years my hands have let me know that they don’t want me to be an early morning man anymore, the numbing and sharp shooting pain in my tired old arms and hands has led me to stop baking. I can sleep late in the morning again, it is not that same extraordinary feeling I had when I was growing up. Instead of wrapping up in my soft white sheets I always wake up and I am restless and wonder why I woke up so late.