It took me a long time to recover from my various childhood traumas, first and foremost being the son of an alcoholic dad. Another was always being ordered to bed too early in my pre-tweener years. Even during the summer months with the sun not fully down for the count until 9 or 9:30 pm I would be sent to bed at 8 or 8:30 pm. Looking out at the dusk-lit neighborhood street from my bedroom window and listening to kids still playing outside was infuriating. The only time I was allowed to stay up later was when I stayed with my paternal grandparents, who were much more liberal. I swore up and down I would stay up as late as possible when I got older, and that’s still the case today. I can’t bring myself to hit the sack until midnight or thereabouts, even if I’m exhausted. The idea of going to bed early is generally intolerable. I’d say this is 60% or 70% due to my Harrison Avenue repression plus standard FOMO. It also spawned a determination to err on the side of liberalness when it came to my own kids. Even when they were really young I’d let them stay up until midnight on weekends. All because of Jim and Nancy and their belief in a Gulag Archipelago environment.