Listen Free: | Apple Podcasts | Pandora | Spotify |
Aaron Calafato thought he’d finally cracked the code on curing his late-night insomnia—with the help of a few nostalgic commercials from the 1980s and ’90s. But what worked like melatonin for him caused chaos in his wife’s sleeping habits. In this episode, Aaron unpacks how the jingles, voices, and toy ads of his youth became a soothing balm for anxiety… and how imagination—not consumption—might be the real trick to falling asleep.
*Join Aaron Monday’s at 8:30PM EST for 7MS: Storystream — Live and Unscripted: A live, audio-first show inspired by classic late-night radio — it features raw reflections, spontaneous storytelling, and unexpected conversations with guests and listeners. It also serves as the creative Storylab for the award-winning 7 Minute Stories, and offers a behind-the-scenes look at how stories are tested, shaped, and brought to life in real time. Subscribe to Aaron’s YouTube channel and tune in every Monday!
*Dive deeper into the 7MS Universe and connect with Aaron on...
*The team who've made 7 Minute Stories a top storytelling podcast:
Story created & performed by: Aaron Calafato
Senior Audio Engineer: Ken Wendt
Additional vocals: Cori Calafato
Art: Pete Whitehead
Original Theme Music: thomas j. duke
Additional Soundscape Design: Isaac Gehring
TRANSCRIPT
Aaron Calafato:
I got myself in a situation. A friend of mine called me up and said, “Hey, do you have any tips or tricks about how to fall asleep?” I asked what was going on, and he told me he was dealing with insomnia. I said, “I’ve always had a hard time sleeping, but I did find a trick that’s been working for me.” And I told him. Freaking worked like a charm.
Here’s the problem, though. The very thing I was doing—that worked, and that I shared with my friend so he could sleep—was also preventing my wife from falling asleep. And I’m gonna tell you about it… right after the music.
It may have been the bright lights emitting from the television that kept her up. For some reason, they didn’t affect me. Because this, to me, was like taking a melatonin pill. Like ten of ’em.
The solution I found was something I discovered by accident, actually. It happened during COVID. I was having a really hard time sleeping. I think a lot of us were. My mind was spinning—anxiety, fears of the future, fear of getting sick. I’m already a worrier, so this was a disaster. And I’m a night owl.
Cori—not so much. She likes being a night owl, but we have kids. I’m up late telling stories and doing the podcast thing, and she’s up early with the kids. We make it work, but really, she’s the one making the sacrifice. I usually slip into bed around 1:00 AM. That’s early for me.
And when I’m in bed, I’d watch TV—documentaries, movies, you know. The issue is, as a creative, certain shows keep me up. Bingeable shows. History. Science. Stuff about the Roman Empire? I lose my mind. Philosophy, religion, faith. Even action movies—nope. Too stimulating.
I just wasn’t sleeping. And then one night, I go on YouTube—our TV’s connected—and I find this montage of ’80s and ’90s commercials. Playlists with hundreds of hours. Saturday morning cartoon breaks, fast food ads, late-night infomercials.
At first, it was this burst of nostalgia. Then… a sense of comfort. Four or five commercials in, I’m drifting. Radio Shack? Boom. I’m out.
Next night, same thing. Now I’m falling asleep to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, He-Man, GI Joe, Lexus holiday commercials, old McDonald’s jingles, Fruit by the Foot. It was comforting. But I was conflicted. These were ads. They’re selling me stuff. I’m just sitting in the warm, glowing sludge of capitalism.
And then I get a nudge. It’s Cori. She says, “Listen, I’m glad you’re sleeping, but I can’t sleep. These commercials are keeping me up.” She was right. She wanted to watch them, too. They were too interesting.
She asked, “What do you think it is about these commercials?” And I started thinking… My Buddy and me… After these messages, we’ll be right back… Doublemint gum… Fruit by the Foot…
There was something about the voices in those commercials. They weren’t like today’s. They were unique. And those action figure ads—showcasing bases, worlds, kids creating stories—it was like a gateway to imagination. I wasn’t waking up craving Taco Bell or racing to Radio Shack. These commercials weren’t making me want to buy anything. They were unlocking something.
But I had to pivot. If Cori couldn’t sleep, then we both lose. And then I remembered something simple. I was listening to a story on the New York Times audio app. They cited a study with new sleep techniques—visualizing a house, counting items. And I laughed. Isn’t that just counting sheep? Isn’t that… imagination?
Worry isn’t imagination. Worry is a spiral. Imagination is peace. It’s possibility.
These commercials weren’t just nostalgic—they were sparking imagination. And that imagination substituted the worry.
So… I adjusted. I plugged in my earbuds. Turned on some ambient music. And I imagined myself sitting criss-cross applesauce in the TV room of my childhood home. The only sounds? My mom humming in the kitchen. The distant buzz of Saturday morning commercials between cartoons.
I wish I could tell you what happened next.
But moments later...
I was asleep.
