Petition to Stop the Aural Effects of Wind
The Sleepless Nights
Why does the wind blow in Newfoundland, mainly during the night? — on consecutive nights? The air can be as calm as a meditating buddha just before bedtime, but the howling starts once in bed. There is the creaking of joists, the rattling of windows, and the tapping of grit, sand, and gravel against the siding. Goddamn it! I’ve got the alarm and coffee brewer set. I‘ll be needing the whole pot in the morning. And with how my mind is wired, only agitated and awkward thoughts intrude.
As I lay there amongst the din of wind, thoughts of Waco, Texas, and the Branch Davidian compound came to mind, where the FBI, to arrest the David Koresh clan, sought to sleep-deprive its inhabitants by blaring music and recorded sounds into the ears of the cultists. In my case, though, deprivation wasn’t caused by the FBI but by an act of god. Why, God, do you offend my ears? And I’m just an average dude who’s never been in a cult.
Do you want to know what the worst thing is, though? The wind dies down at certain moments, and the mind and body are at the threshold of sleep. In the next few seconds, I’ll be in a much-needed comma, and once I’m in that state of slumber, nothing can wake me — not even a swift kick to the head. Thank God, I’m on the verge of unconsciousness, But do you know what happens next? You guessed it — a passing cloud moves in, and a gust jolts me awake — God says ‘Boo’ in my ear. But he does it with cuffed hands, so it sounds louder.
I was on the precipice of sleep— but I am even more awake now than when I went to bed. I get up and go to the computer with a whiskey in my hand. Maybe, I can knock myself out. A couple of glasses should do it.
I go back to bed once I think I’m drunk enough; however, that wind is even nastier than before. I am still awake, and here come the awkward thoughts again.
The awkward thoughts lead to other uneasy thoughts. I think about stuffing cotton swabs in my ear canal, but that would silence the buzz of the alarm in the morning, and I won’t wake once asleep. My mind races — It’s a stream-of-consciousness thing. I’ve got it! I’ll invent a device that you can insert into the aural cavity — It will cancel all noise frequencies except for the alarm clock’s buzzing. But isn’t it absurd? Then I thought I would have to program the device to pick up the sound of a smoke detector. What about the sound of an intruder? What about a mewling of a cat at the windowsill? Many different frequencies spell danger.
I get up one more time and circumscribe my head with a towel. It will dim the din and, as an added benefit, prevent the bright morning light from awakening me before the alarm does.
In the morning, the alarm buzzes, and I awaken, not having slept at all. The wind is gone as soon as my toes touch the hardwood floor, and I curse God for the cruelest irony.
Now, another awkward thought streams in as the coffee brews. I want to get a petition going. I’ll go door to door, neighbor to neighbor. “Please sign the petition,” I’ll say. And when I get the whole of Newfoundland to sign the request, “Petition to Stop the Aural Effects of Wind,” I’ll send it to all priests, rabbis, imams, or other religious leaders so that their congregations can pray to their gods to stop the wind.
