The Fine Art of Creative Napping

By G. E. Shuman

I actually woke up, last Sunday afternoon, with the title of this column in my head. It had been one of those lazy Sunday afternoon hours, when Lorna and I had both found ourselves in reclining positions in the living room. We happen to have two couches in that room that have reclining sections on each end. I remember that Lorna once asked me if those couches had made us lazy. I don’t remember my answer to her that day, but I don’t think they had done so. I think we were already a bit lazy, or why else would we have bought two of those couches? But maybe lazy isn’t quite the right word. Tired seems more appropriate, and less degrading. So, tired it is. In any case, the kids had gone off after Sunday dinner to do their own thing or things, and my wife and I both found ourselves waking up, with an hour or so of life evidently missed, having spent it in total unconsciousness. I’m not sure what was on her mind as she awoke, but this column was on mine.

You see, I believe in the fine art of creative napping. In recent years it seems to be a thing that is easier and easier to accomplish, but I have always been able to do it. To me, creative napping is more than just ordinary napping. Ordinary napping is something that you make your young children do. It is simply laying them down, tucking them in, and creeping as silently as possible from the room, in the hope that they will sleep and give you an hour or so of peace. Creative napping is so much more than this. Let me explain.

Creative napping, first of all, never ever takes place in a bed. Sleeping in a bed is not napping. It is going to bed and going to sleep. I do my best creative napping on one of those reclining couches, or in my recliner beside the fireplace. I guess this means we truly are lazy. We have five recliners, and only four people live in our home. Humm. Or, should I say… ho hum. The truth is, I could never take a proper nap in a bed. I sleep in a bed. I nap other places. One such really good place for a creative nap is in either my wife’s van, or in my car. Such naps often take place in the Mall parking lot. Oh yes, the mall parking lot is a wonderful place to nap. I just park somewhere near Wal-Mart, and listen for the pleasant sounds of my wife and children shutting the car doors behind them, on their way to spend their money and mine. No matter that I am left behind to wait for them. The point is, I have chosen to be left behind, as nearly all cars these days are also equipped with seat backs that go back, effectively becoming their own little recliners. Have you ever thought of why cars have those things? Why, it is for practicing the fine art of creative napping, of course. Most people don’t recline in the passenger’s seat while going down the road. They really don’t. Just let a car pass yours and watch to see if the passenger is sleeping. If he or she is, they inevitably have their forehead and/or face smashed up against the side window, just for your amusement. And the driver certainly couldn’t drive while reclining. So… reclining car seats are for creative napping, at least for people my age. (Use your imagination to discover the several things that last sentence implies.)

There are several places other than your car and living room where the fine art of creative napping is often practiced. One of my favorites is at a nice, hot and sunny beach. There is little in life to compare with the feeling of sun and sand in places they both rarely reach, the sound of the surf, and the salty breeze-wafted scent of Coppertone. Such a combination is a perfect inducement to enjoying my fine art. As unlikely as it seems, I have also spent many summer hours reclined and creative napping on the unforgiving granite surface of a coastal breakwater. To me, once the consciousness lights are out, things like surface softness don’t seem to matter.
Lest you think me an amateur napper, (Lest you think me? Me thinks I’ve listened to Pirates of the Caribbean dialog too much.) let it be known to all that I have been practicing the art of creative napping for nearly my entire life. When I was only two or so, and outside playing with my family on sunny winter days, it was not uncommon for my parents to find me fast asleep, in my snow suit, flat on my back in a bank of fluffy snow. Then there was the time in my young childhood, when the entire neighborhood spent an afternoon searching the woods for me. I’m still not sure why they looked. Also, it was hardly my fault that our dining room table had a long tablecloth which hung a foot or so down on all sides. It was also hardly my fault that the table was large, with a chair at each end, and three on each side. Those three side chairs, lined up so close together and neatly pushed in under the cloth and the long table made a fine place to stretch out, for a very creative, tablecloth tented, afternoon nap. And then there was the ultimate creative, childhood nap. This one, believe it or not, lasted several days and involved an actual house call from our family doctor. It seems that I had gotten into the medicine cupboard and drunk an entire bottle of nose drops, whatever nose drops are, or were. Mom said they had to keep me from swallowing my tongue. I’m not sure how they did that, and really don’t want to know. I am also not sure why they would try to save a child stupid enough to drink something called nose drops. I have often wondered if that experience is what made me the person I am today.

The art of creative napping is not only enjoyable, but is a newly recognized and highly recommended way to benefit your health. It can also actually be profitable to your mental well being, and even aid your food budget. Yes, your food budget. Years ago I knew a man with a nearly Mark Twain-ian sense of the humorous and the profound. He knew much about the simple pleasures most people neglect, and was an obvious expert at the art of creative napping. In his own words: “I never caught a decent fish while I was awake.”

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