Speaker 1: Welcome to Bedtime Stories for everyone, in which nothing much happens,
Speaker 1: you feel good, and then you fall asleep. I'm Catherine Nikolay.
Speaker 1: I create everything you hear on nothing much happens. Audio
Speaker 1: Engineering is by Bob Witttersheim. We give to a different
Speaker 1: charity each week, and as a proud Flintstone, I'm glad
Speaker 1: that this week we are giving to Shelter of Flint
Speaker 1: Working for safe housing, independence and stability. Learn more about
Speaker 1: them in our show notes. If you need more nothing
Speaker 1: much in your life, more episodes, zero ads, extra long episodes,
Speaker 1: you can subscribe to our premium. It works out too
Speaker 1: about a dime a day, and it helps us continue
Speaker 1: to bring you bedtime stories. We've got a link in
Speaker 1: our show notes, or you can search NMH Premium on
Speaker 1: Apple podcasts. Now Here's how this works. We need a
Speaker 1: little bridge to guide us from our busy brains into sleep.
Speaker 1: It's too far to jump, you see. So my story
Speaker 1: will be that bridge, winding you down, giving you something
Speaker 1: soft and simple to focus on, and before you know it,
Speaker 1: probably before I finish the story, you will be asleep.
Speaker 1: I'll tell the story twice and I'll go a little slower.
Speaker 1: The second time through. If you wake later in the night,
Speaker 1: turn the story back on, or think your way through
Speaker 1: any part of it that you can remember. Often, just
Speaker 1: getting one foot back on that bridge will send you
Speaker 1: right back to sleep. Our story tonight is called on
Speaker 1: the Rooftop, and it's a story about the giddy first
Speaker 1: flush of real spring weather. It's also about baseball cards
Speaker 1: tucked into bike spokes, the benefits of small talk, barbecue
Speaker 1: grills lighting up for the first time in months, and
Speaker 1: the joy of seeing the world from a new perspective.
Speaker 1: Now lights out, devices down, babies, Snuggle deep into your sheets,
Speaker 1: get comfortable, get the right pillow in the right spot,
Speaker 1: and let your whole body relax. There is nothing left
Speaker 1: to do today. I promise you did enough. I'll be
Speaker 1: here a voice in the darkness, even after you've fallen asleep.
Speaker 1: Take a deep breath in through your nose and sigh
Speaker 1: from your mouth. Nice, Do that one more time, inhale
Speaker 1: and let it out good. On the rooftop. The sign
Speaker 1: over the shop door was creaking in the wind. I'd
Speaker 1: made it myself when this place was mostly still a
Speaker 1: dream in my basement workshop. I designed and assembled it
Speaker 1: from old bike parts, A pair of handlebars and a
Speaker 1: wire basket, part of a frame so that the bike
Speaker 1: seemed to be coming straight out of the brick facade,
Speaker 1: and a carved plaque with a name outlined in roller chain.
Speaker 1: I still remember the day I had gotten to install it,
Speaker 1: when the ink was dry on the leaf and an
Speaker 1: opening date was set. I'd been up on a ladder
Speaker 1: on the front sidewalk, a friend handing me tools as
Speaker 1: passers by smiled and pointed out the new shop to
Speaker 1: each other. When it had finally been secured, the wooden
Speaker 1: plaque hanging from the bike basket, I'd heard applause and
Speaker 1: turned to see the staff of the flower shop opposite
Speaker 1: clapping from their front step. It was a memory that
Speaker 1: always made me smile, as it did now, looking up
Speaker 1: from inside at the plaque shifting in the wind. There
Speaker 1: were only a few clouds in the sky today, and
Speaker 1: the sunshine was plentiful and warm. I pushed the shop
Speaker 1: door open and stepped out into the wind. I was
Speaker 1: pleasantly surprised. I'd expected cold, sunny, but cold weather, the
Speaker 1: kind that we'd had for the last few weeks that
Speaker 1: hinted at but never really felt my spring. Instead, it
Speaker 1: was warm, like actually warm, and it smelled different for weeks.
Speaker 1: When I had left the house in the morning or
Speaker 1: closed the shop in the evening, it smelled the scent
Speaker 1: of winter runoff, damp and inorganic kind of blank space smell.
Speaker 1: Now that blank space was full of sweetness, first flowers
Speaker 1: and plants, the way the skin of your inner elbow
Speaker 1: smells when you've been driving with the window down and
Speaker 1: your arm slung out. I pushed the door open all
Speaker 1: the way and propped it in place with an old
Speaker 1: brick I'd found in the back room. I rolled a
Speaker 1: couple of bikes out onto the sidewalk, opening their kickstands
Speaker 1: and turning the handlebars so that the baskets to to
Speaker 1: toward the street. I even tucked a note in one
Speaker 1: of the baskets with big letters that said ring me,
Speaker 1: knowing that most people wouldn't be able to pass by
Speaker 1: the bike bells without taking them for a spin. I
Speaker 1: liked reminding my customers that riding a bike is meant
Speaker 1: to be fun. I kept stacks of baseball cards and
Speaker 1: decks of playing cards beside the register and regularly helped
Speaker 1: to weave them into the spokes of little and big bikes. Alike.
Speaker 1: When I heard the thrilling, high speed slap of those
Speaker 1: cards as riders bed through town, I was truly proud
Speaker 1: to have helped them do something just for the fun
Speaker 1: of it. As the day went by, each customer who
Speaker 1: came in remarked on the weather, and I didn't get
Speaker 1: tired of agreeing that, yes, it was glorious that it
Speaker 1: did indeed seem that spring was at our door. Some
Speaker 1: people are bothered by that sort of small talk, but
Speaker 1: I kind of liked it. I'd read once that small
Speaker 1: talk serves a purpose a few Actually, it's a way
Speaker 1: to make a connection with someone. It can open a
Speaker 1: door to a deeper connection. It helps to communicate mood
Speaker 1: and affinity, and it makes us better listeners. I smiled
Speaker 1: thinking of ancient ancestors helping to build language as we
Speaker 1: know it now, to build community and culture, and how
Speaker 1: much of it came from just talking to each other
Speaker 1: about the weather. Several folks brought in their bikes for
Speaker 1: tune ups, and I had a row of them in
Speaker 1: the workshop to work on during the week. I also
Speaker 1: did a couple easy fixes of loose chains and leaky tires,
Speaker 1: sold a helmet, put a special order in for a
Speaker 1: road bike and printed out posters for our first group
Speaker 1: ride of the year at closing time. When I stepped
Speaker 1: outside to wheel the bikes on the sidewalk back in,
Speaker 1: the day was still lovely. Sunset had been creeping later
Speaker 1: and later, and it felt so nice knowing that I
Speaker 1: still had several hours of light left. I was wondering
Speaker 1: what to do with them when I heard someone call
Speaker 1: my name from across the street. They were closing up
Speaker 1: at the flower Shop as well, taking in the sidewalks
Speaker 1: up and sweeping loose leaves and petals from the front step.
Speaker 1: I waved, and one of them hurried over the broom
Speaker 1: in her hand. We're going up on the roof to
Speaker 1: enjoy the weather for a bit. The record store guys
Speaker 1: are coming too. Why don't you come up. I shaded
Speaker 1: my eyes with my hand and looked up at the
Speaker 1: top of the flower Shop. It was just two stories.
Speaker 1: An old fire escape climbed its side, leading to the roof,
Speaker 1: where I already saw a couple of downtown workers I recognized.
Speaker 1: Looking out over the village, the spring breezes were bringing
Speaker 1: out the kid in all of us, and remembering my
Speaker 1: own ethos for fun, I agreed immediately, saying I just
Speaker 1: needed to lock up and i'd be there. She smiled
Speaker 1: and ran back across the street to finish her sweeping.
Speaker 1: I rolled the bikes inside and parked them in the
Speaker 1: front window. Not liking to show up anywhere empty handed,
Speaker 1: I went into the back to see if I had
Speaker 1: anything shareable in my fridge. Luckily, I was well stocked.
Speaker 1: I had a fresh six pack of orange soda and
Speaker 1: a box of cookies from the bakery. I peeked in
Speaker 1: the box. They were pistachio shortbread. I thought that would
Speaker 1: go perfect with sunshine and a view. I locked up
Speaker 1: the shop, balancing the cookies and the sodas, and walked
Speaker 1: across the street to head up onto the roof. The
Speaker 1: flower shop. Crew were climbing up the fire escape as
Speaker 1: I arrived, and the woman who had invited me her broom,
Speaker 1: now stashed in its cupboard, came down a few steps
Speaker 1: to carry the sodas. I was relieved to feel the
Speaker 1: steps of the fire escape or secure and steady underneath me,
Speaker 1: and as I reached the top, even though we were
Speaker 1: only on a two story building, I couldn't believe how
Speaker 1: lovely the view was. I could see all of down
Speaker 1: town and into the park. At the end of Main Street,
Speaker 1: there were a few chairs and an old picnic table,
Speaker 1: where I set out my contributions to our impromptu gathering.
Speaker 1: But I wanted to keep looking out, feeling the breeze
Speaker 1: and sun, so I slowly circled around the rooftop. People
Speaker 1: were lighting their grills in the neighborhoods, and I could
Speaker 1: smell charcoal. There must have been a movie just getting
Speaker 1: over at the theater, and I could see people coming
Speaker 1: out of the doors, spilling onto the sidewalk. The cafes
Speaker 1: outdoor tables were full, and the diner looked busy too.
Speaker 1: Someone turned down a radio summertime music played, and underneath
Speaker 1: it I could hear the clickety clack of cards in
Speaker 1: spokes from somewhere down on the street. What fun on
Speaker 1: the rooftop. The sign over the shop door was creaking
Speaker 1: in the wind. I'd made it myself, when this place
Speaker 1: was mostly still a dream in my basement workshop. I
Speaker 1: designed and assembled it from old bike parts, a pair
Speaker 1: of handlebars and a wire basket, part of a frame
Speaker 1: so that the bike seemed to be coming straight out
Speaker 1: of the brick facade, and a carved black with a
Speaker 1: name outlined and roller chain. I still remember the day
Speaker 1: i'd gotten to install it, when the ink was dry
Speaker 1: on the lease and an opening date was set. I'd
Speaker 1: been up on a ladder on the front sidewalk, a
Speaker 1: friend handing me tools as passers by smiled and pointed
Speaker 1: out the new shop to each other. When it had
Speaker 1: finally been secured, the wooden plaque hanging from the bike basket,
Speaker 1: I'd heard applause and turned to see the staff of
Speaker 1: the flower shop opposite clapping from their front step. It
Speaker 1: was a memory that always made me smile, as I
Speaker 1: did now looking up from inside at the plaque shifting
Speaker 1: in the wind. There were only a few clouds in
Speaker 1: the sky to day, and the sunshine was plentiful and warm.
Speaker 1: I pushed the shop door open and stepped out into
Speaker 1: the wind. I was pleasantly surprised. I'd expected cold, sunny,
Speaker 1: but cold weather, the kind we'd had for the last
Speaker 1: few weeks that hinted at but never really felt like spring. Instead,
Speaker 1: it was warm, like actually warm, and it smelled different.
Speaker 1: For weeks, when i'd left the house in the morning
Speaker 1: or closed the shop in the evening, i'd smelled the
Speaker 1: scent of winter runoff, damp and inorganic, a kind of
Speaker 1: blank space smell. Now that blank space was full of sweetness,
Speaker 1: first flowers and plants, the way the skin of your
Speaker 1: inner elbow smells when you've been driving with the window
Speaker 1: down and your arm slung out. I pushed the door
Speaker 1: open all the way and propped it in place with
Speaker 1: an old brick I'd found in the back room. I
Speaker 1: rolled a couple of bikes out onto the sidewalk, opening
Speaker 1: their kickstands and turning their hands bars so that the
Speaker 1: baskets tilted toward the street. I even tucked a note
Speaker 1: in one of the baskets with big letters that said
Speaker 1: ring me. Knowing that most people wouldn't be able to
Speaker 1: pass by the bike bells without taking them for a spin.
Speaker 1: I liked reminding my customers that riding a bike it's
Speaker 1: meant to be fun. I kept stacks of baseball cards
Speaker 1: on decks of playing cards beside the register and regularly
Speaker 1: helped to weave them into the spokes of little and
Speaker 1: big bikes alike. When I heard the thrilling, high speed
Speaker 1: slap of those cards as riders sped through town, I
Speaker 1: was truly proud to have helped them do something just
Speaker 1: for the fun of it. As the day went by,
Speaker 1: each customer who came in remarked on the weather, and
Speaker 1: I didn't get tired of agreeing that, yes, it was
Speaker 1: glorious that it did seem that spring was at our door.
Speaker 1: Some people are bothered by that sort of small talk,
Speaker 1: but I kind of liked it. I'd read once that
Speaker 1: small talk serves a purpose a few Actually, it's a
Speaker 1: way to make a connection with someone, and it can
Speaker 1: open a door to a deeper connection. It helps to
Speaker 1: communicate mood and affinity. It makes us better listeners. I
Speaker 1: smiled thinking of ancient ancestors helping to build language as
Speaker 1: we know it now, to build community and culture, and
Speaker 1: how much of it came from just talking to each
Speaker 1: other about the weather. Several folks brought in their bikes
Speaker 1: for tune ups when I had a row of them
Speaker 1: in the workshop to work on during the week. I
Speaker 1: also did a couple easy fixes of loose chains and
Speaker 1: leaky tires, sold a helmet, put a special order in
Speaker 1: for a road bike, and printed out posters for our
Speaker 1: first group ride of the year. At closing time, when
Speaker 1: I stepped outside to wheel the bikes on the sidewalk
Speaker 1: back in the day was still lovely. Sunset had been
Speaker 1: creeping later and later, and it felt so nice knowing
Speaker 1: I still had several hours of light left. I was
Speaker 1: wondering what to do with them when I heard someone
Speaker 1: call my name from across the street. They were closing
Speaker 1: up at the flower shop as well, taking in the
Speaker 1: sidewalk sign and sweeping loose leaves and petals from their
Speaker 1: front step. I waved, and one of them hurried over
Speaker 1: the broom in her hand. We're going up onto the
Speaker 1: roof to enjoy the weather for a bit. The record
Speaker 1: store guys are coming to Why don't you come up.
Speaker 1: I shaded my eyes with my hand and looked up
Speaker 1: at the top of the flower shop. It was just
Speaker 1: two stories. An old fire escape climbed its side, leading
Speaker 1: to the roof, where I already saw a couple of
Speaker 1: downtown workers I recognized looking out over the village. The
Speaker 1: spring breezes were bringing out the kid in all of us,
Speaker 1: and remembering my own ethos for fun, I agreed immediately,
Speaker 1: saying I just needed to lock up and I'd be there.
Speaker 1: She smiled and ran back across the street to finish
Speaker 1: her sweeping. I rolled the bikes inside and parked them
Speaker 1: in the front window. Not liking to show up anywhere
Speaker 1: empty handed, I went into the back to see if
Speaker 1: I had anything shareable in my fridge. Luckily, I was
Speaker 1: well stocked. I had a fresh six pack of orange
Speaker 1: soda and a box of cookies from the bakery. I
Speaker 1: peeked in the box. They were pistachio shortbread. I thought
Speaker 1: they would go perfect with sunshine and a view. I
Speaker 1: locked up the shop, balancing the cookies and the sodas,
Speaker 1: and walked across the street to head up onto the roof.
Speaker 1: The flower shop. Crew were climbing up the fire escape
Speaker 1: as I arrived. An woman who had invited me her broom,
Speaker 1: now stashed in its cupboard, came down a few steps
Speaker 1: to carry the sodas. I was relieved to feel the
Speaker 1: steps of the fire escape were secure and study underneath me,
Speaker 1: and as I reached the top, even though we were
Speaker 1: only on a two story building, I couldn't believe how
Speaker 1: lovely the view was. I could see all of downtown
Speaker 1: and into the park. At the end of Main Street.
Speaker 1: There were a few chairs and an old picnic table,
Speaker 1: where I set out my contributions to our impromptu gathering,
Speaker 1: but I wanted to keep looking out, feeling the breeze
Speaker 1: and sun, so I slowly circled around the rooftop. People
Speaker 1: were lighting their grills in the neighborhoods, and I could
Speaker 1: smell charcoal. There must have been a movie just getting
Speaker 1: over at the theater, and I could see people coming
Speaker 1: out of their doors, spilling onto the sidewalks, the cafes,
Speaker 1: outdoor tables, or fall and the diner looked busy too.
Speaker 1: Some one turned down a radio summer time music played,
Speaker 1: and underneath it I could hear the clickety clack of
Speaker 1: cards in spokes from somewhere down on the street. What fun,
Speaker 1: sweet dreams.