"Angela is trying to break this habit of waking in the middle of the night!"--posted by me in the middle of the night
"Angie, let me just say it must run in the family or it's an age thing.... lol! I can never sleep! "-- response from my younger cousin Lisa
"Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, don't you know it can't be a Greer thing unless we got it from Grandma? I don't know about Uncle Nelson, but your Uncle Stanley has been known to sleep through horrific storms...I don't think anything wakes Pop!"-- my response, after a bit of thought about the whole thing
Once upon a time, there was a family. The mother sent her children off to school in the morning, and she welcomed them home with lots of love in the afternoons. One April afternoon, as soon as her eldest daughter got off the school bus, the mother told all of her children to be ready to run to the basement if the weather turned bad. Not long afterward, the mother sent the three children to the basement. She followed them. They weren't big enough to see out the basement windows, but the mother stood at one and watched a tornado roar across one neighbor's field and then wrap another neighbor's trailer around a telephone pole. From then on, the mother and children were careful to pay heed to darkening skies and tornado warnings.
That mother is my mother, and that April afternoon was April 3, 1974. No one in the neighborhood was injured, although I think the neighbor who lived in that trailer wrecked the car that she drove down the road in her escape just ahead of the twister.
My mother goes to the basement when the sky turns green. I don't have a basement now, but it's with a sheer stubborness that I sit in my hallway and listen to stormwinds (my stubborness shored up by the knowledge that this house has been here for a long time and that the railroad ties in the walls must be pretty darn strong).
Now, don't worry, this story really is coming along to the bit about snoring.
When I graduated college, I ended up living in a studio apartment on the second floor of an old house in town. Apparently the landlords were not as 'skeered of tornadoes as I was, because the one time I thought it was time to camp out in the basement, they were nowhere to be found and the basement was locked. I remember looking out my window, only to see a huge round Coca-cola sign swinging violently from it's pole. . .you know, the kind of sign that is supposed to just hang from a pole? Well, this sign was getting ready to swing all the way up and over the pole and back. The sky should've been completely dark, but I remember a ghastly greenish cast to it. I ran downstairs to the basement, rattled the french doors, and couldn't believe no one else was worried enough to come down there for shelter.
What do you do when you're merely 22 or 23 years old and are faced with danger you don't know how to conquer? Well, if you're me at that age, you figure you might as well jump in the car and drive ten miles to your parents' home. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I know, but I made it all in one piece. I knew Mommy and Daddy would protect me from any harm on the planet. And yes, I think I might have called them Mommy and Daddy instead of Ma and Pop that night IF THEY HAD EVEN BEEN AWAKE TO HEAR ME COME IN FROM THE STORM!
I came into the house, probably still shaking from fright (and from the realization of how stupid I'd been to drive that lightweight Camaro anywhere in that storm) and expecting to see everyone in the basement. Nobody was even up! What was wrong with these people? Didn't they hear the storm or the tornado warnings?
Uh, no, they didn't. My father was snoring so loudly that no one (Mother included) was wakened by the roaring storm. Snoring. Never did wake up until morning when the alarm clock woke Mother and then she woke him.
Welcome to Snoresville :)
P.S. I'm not here to deny ever snoring myself, because heaven knows I've even stirred myself awake with a buzzing snore at times. I'm just saying, Lisa, I think any Greer sleep problems might have skipped the boys, ya know? Maybe we ought to ask Tasha and Rachele about their dads, just to make sure. . . but I'm betting there's a whole Greer suburb of Snoresville :)