Being the oldest of six kids has both benefits and pitfalls. I was fortunate enough to be able to do things that the younger kids couldn't do, but I also got into more trouble than they did. Some of which, I repeat SOME of which was actually my fault.
We had a rule at my house for early morning cartoons. The first one up got to watch the cartoons that he or she wanted. Not a problem if my brother, Gary, or I was the first one up. We generally liked the same cartoons. The real problem came when my sister, Jeanne, beat us to the TV.
I have often speculated that my internal clock was developed during these years. I'm pretty accurate, plus or minus 15 minutes, of what time it is at any given hour. I could look at the sun while I was out playing in the woods behind our house and determine that "Hogan's Heroes" was about to start. Or, I could pop out of bed at 5:30 AM on the nose beating my sister and brother to the television early Saturday morning. With eerie accuracy, I can still wake up 5 minutes before my alarm clock goes off.
Gary learned fairly quickly that I had a gift for waking up right on time to watch the morning cartoons. Keep in mind, this was long before cable TV. Stations would sign off for the night, then sign on bright and early in the morning. Cartoons were a "Saturday only" affair back then, so getting up in time to watch an entire morning of children's programming was a serious business.
Gary devised a whole series of gadgets to wake him up whenever I got up.
The most memorable was the "Two by four" alarm. We slept on bunk beds as kids. I was always on the top bunk, and as you can imagine, there was a large bulge in the mattress when I laid down. Gary's design was simple and ingenious -- with a couple of exceptions.
Taking a discarded length of 2 x 4 board, Gary propped one end of the board on his stomach and the other end on the bugle I created in the mattress. The idea being that when I got up to watch cartoons, the bulge would disappear and the board would fall and wake Gary up.
Now, I have a habit of not just rolling over when I turn at night. This habit developed as a safety mechanism from falling off the top bunk more than once. In order to stay in the middle of the bed, I will bounce and turn in one spot so as not to roll too close to the edges of the bed. You can see where this is going.
During the night, I shifted to a more comfortable position using my "special" turning technique, and heard a loud, "Ooooooof" followed by a loud "SMACK". Peeking down at my brother, I could see him panting like a fish out of water, obviously out of breathe. He was also sporting a bloody nose.
"What's wrong" I ask. I couldn't help but wonder what Gary was doing with a 2 x 4 in his bed.
Gary took a long time before he could answer.
"Nothing" he croaked, still out of breathe.
"What's with the board?" I ask.
"Monsters" was his reply. Of course! Why else would a person sleep with a 2 x 4? He had obviously been attacked and had successfully defended himself with the board.
So -- what does this have to do with Yoga?
Somehow, my sister Jeanne also developed this internal clock. Jeanne wouldn't wake up just in time for the station to come back on the air like I did -- she would wake up an hour before and stare at the station identification signal until programming resumed for the day.
And when Jeanne got to choose what shows she wanted, she NEVER EVER WATCHED CARTOONS. Instead she watched a show on PBS entitled "Lily Yoga". Gary and I would sit in agony as Lily Yoga went from pose to pose accompanied by a tinkling bell.
*Ping*...."Now gracefully transition to 'downward facing dog' like a swan gliding on a pond filled with lily pads and warm sunlight."
This horror would go on for two hours...TWO HOURS (one hour a new episode, one hour a rerun)...of prime cartoon watching. When Lily Yoga's tinkling bell tinkled for the last time, Jeanne would jump up and go grab a bowl of cereal, relinquishing the TV controls back to us.
With the speed of light we would change the channel to catch the credits to "The Bugs Bunny, Roadrunner Hour."
Years later, I would find myself in a required Yoga class for my Theater degree.
*Ping* "Welcome gentle people. We will now gracefully transition to 'downward facing dog' like a swan gliding....."
