- When I was a kid, I sometimes had nights when I couldn't
fall asleep. Most of the time it was because the day had been too exciting
and my body was too revved up to relax. Sometimes tomorrow just plain seemed
too frightening.
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- Over the years, I discovered that a good way to make
myself relax was for me to think about something wonderful. Sometimes I'd
make up stories and tell them to myself as I lay in bed. Other times, I'd
fantasize about things I wanted to have someday.
-
- I still do this on difficult nights, but as I've gotten
older, the stories and fantasies have changed.
-
- Take my Dream Team of Acquisitions, for example.
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- As a 4-year-old, I wanted a puppet version of Howdy Doody,
the marionette hero of my favorite TV show. With that at my side, I'd be
a hero as well.
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- As a 14-year-old, I wanted a new bicycle. A Raleigh racer,
top of the line, so I could ride like the wind and go places I'd never
been before, in style.
-
- By the time I was a 24-year-old, I wanted a Porsche and
the showbiz career that would make owning it possible. I worked hard and
achieved both those desires, just as I'd managed to acquire Howdy and the
racing bike years before.
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- At 34, when I lay in bed unable to sleep, my mind turned
toward even fancier fare: A red Ferrari, a stable of thoroughbreds, that
kind of thing. I struck out, but in the bedtime fantasy game real world
failure and success don't count, and my appetites continued to increase.
-
- By the time I was 44, I was fantasizing about having
a private jet and a crew of lovely flight attendants to go with it. A villa
in the south of France and a household of lovely French maids. A TV production
empire that would've rivaled present-day Viacom and a studio full of lovely
assistants. (Who cared if they were French? Not me.)
-
- I didn't get any of those things, either. But in spite
of (or maybe because of) the futility of my ambitions I did get a lot of
sleep.
-
- These days my desires are less exotic. I realized this
the other day when I was over at Doug the Dog Breeder's, helping him install
a new wooden floor. (Assuming, of course, that the definition of "helping"
is saying, "Man, this place is really looking great," while sitting
and sipping sweet tea.)
-
- "Know what I want?" Doug said.
-
- "This little mallet over here?" I said.
-
- "I want a tractor," Doug said. "A John
Deere. I saw a brand new green and yellow backhoe on Highway 14 yesterday
and spent all last night imagining what it'd be like if that was mine."
-
- "Really? All night?"
-
- "Well, until I fell asleep filling out the paperwork
for the bank loan in my mind."
-
- "I know what you mean," I said more or less
automatically.
-
- And then I stopped, realizing that, in fact, I knew exactly
what he meant. Not because I used to think about what it would be like
to have my own million-dollar this or billion-dollar that, but because
the most recent thing I'd thought about having for myself was a John Deere
tractor of my own.
-
- Not a backhoe. That was too rich for my blood. A little
990, the kind you can get for $135 a month through the John Deere Web site.
A Web site I go to at least once a week so I can replenish the fuel for
my latest dream.
-
- I told Doug that he and I were counting the same sheep
except he was thinking bigger than I was, and he burst into laughter. "Some
folks might say you're lowering your sights," he said. "But I
know better than that."
-
- "What do you mean?"
-
- "You can't help but be ambitious. You're not wanting
smaller, just different. This 990 is only the beginning. By next month,
you'll be working out how to take over Tyson Farms."
-
- Once upon a time Doug would've been right. But here,
now, I don't ache in the slightest for my own big-time agribusiness or
world dominance of any kind. I really just want my own John Deere.
-
- Not the little 990 though. Or the backhoe.
-
- I want the 9620T. The bad boy that goes loaded for $300,000
plus.
-
- If stewing on that doesn't get me through the night,
nothing will.
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- Copyright C 2007 by Larry Brody. All rights reserved.
-
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- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE! FROM PARADISE!
appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written thousands of
hours of network television, and is the author of "Television Writing
from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at <mailto:LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org>LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org.
Brody, his wife and their dogs, cats, horses and chickens live in Marion
County, Arkansas. The other residents of the mythical town of Paradise
reside in his imagination.
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