Roxbury Central High School - Record Yearbook (Roxbury, NY)

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I Sounds in the Night anyone who has ever had a date with insomnia, or lain awake cursing that last cup of cof- fee, sounds in the night present no mystery. Of course, these noises and their interpretations depend on the people who hear them. The first class of listeners, those who are about to sleep, hear the conventional, spit, spit, spit, or water dropping on the roof, the moo and beller of some neighbor's cows being loaded ln preparation for a middle-of-the-night start to the Scranton slaughterhouse, or the distant hum and ensuing roar of a heavy plane as it thunders its way through the lnky black. These sounds are commonplace and trivial, because anyone can explain them, or recognize them for what they are. The second group of listeners, being slightly more discerning than the first, are those who belong in the inveterate bridgeplayers group. These are the people who like nothing better than to replay that last hand, and wonder why in heaven's name Cornelia didn't take the third trick with the ten of diamonds, when she could have, just as well as not. People who belong in this classification usually drink two cups of coffee before retiring and then can't understand why they are unable to go to sleep. , It is while in this wide-awake Stage of restlessness that they begin to hear things. Not having gone to bed until one o clock, our listener is in time to hear-harkl What was that? Oh yes, the 1:40 train. And thinking of trains, he wonders if Aunt Carabelle ever got to Florida on the San Francisco Limited? Say, I wonder if they ever caught the saboteur who---well this fiendlsh conglomeration is known as association of ideas, and it is guaranteed to keep you fully awake or your money back. Finally he forces his mind from train wrecks and so forth, and begins to think about sleep in an abstract manner. While this is going on, he is dimly aware of a faint but persistent hum- ming somewhere. He is up and halfway down the stairs, bent on investigation, before he realizes it is the water pump that has just shut off and the electric furnace is purring blissfully. Drat it! What next? Our victim is restlessly ensconced when the next interruption occurs. This eerie sound is one which would, and does, send chills down the back of the staunchest person, especially when heard at night. It is the wall of the siren on the fire engine. There are few noises that can mean so much to people. To the bridge fiend sitting in the win- dow, waiting to see where the fire is, it means that there are men who are ever ready to answer the call to protect someone's home and perhaps even his life. To the person whose home is in flames, this sound brings hope, hope that his house, furnishings, and all his worldly possessions may be saved. lf they are not saved, where can he go, what will he and his family do? After this somewhat sobering experience, perhaps our sleeper finds it a little easier to drop off. At any rate, to judge by the amount and volume of the snores, he must be at least half asleep. The third class includes those individuals who are psychology conscious, that is, always won- dering whether they are going nuts or not. They are nervous and high strung, or believe them- selves to be. People of this genus have usually had a hard day at the office and have probably fired at least one secretary, iwho will undoubtedly show up in the morning, howeverl. Frustrated persons nearly always fall or are delivered, into this category. Since these people are nervous and worn out when they go to bed, they don't usually sleep very well, so consequently they have a hard day at the office. They come home after firing at least one secretary. This is known as a vicious circle. This person decides to go to bed early and get a good night's sleep, but as he undresses, old King Morpheus is shaking with suppressed mirth. As the sleeper crawls into bed, he is fairly vi- brating with the desire to go to sleep. He stretches out and tenses himself. Every muscle straining he concentrates on the word sleep. Instead of dropping off, he succeeds only in rumpling the bedcovers and sliding down until his feet are jammed tight against the footboard. He relaxes for a moment, then tries again. Bang! Out comes a slat. He finally decides to let sleep come to him. Continued on page 32 17

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CLASSES