Sunday morning

A little while ago, we talked about Saturday mornings and the quiet leading to the storm of the rest of the day. The one day of the week that traditionally holds it's peace is Sunday mornings. I just got back from walking the dogs. The early morning is still cool here in Phoenix. You don't have to tank up with a quart of water before you go out and get the paper out of your driveway like you do in the dead of summer. I actually put on a sweat shirt. The sun was up but low so the lights through the trees caused the green to be greener. You know what I mean? Even the morning music changes on Sunday morning.

If you're reading this in the Metro Phoenix area, you know about KYOT, 95.5 The Coyote as its called by its smooth talking announcers. Nick Francis, rules until ten with smooth, silky jazz but if you don't like jazz this is still the station because its not jazz. I'm not quite sure what it is. Now, if you're listening in Vladivostok, you don't have KYOT unless you're with the Russian Air Defense and then maybe through a satellite hook up, nope, the best ya got there is Good Morning Vladivostok with Igor Vlacdonovich and his sidekick Sal, talking about tides, fishing, and oh yeah-how freaking cold it is.

On Sundays we do different things, if we are not working second shift, but all of it is directed towards one goal-taking a breath and relaxing. A dear friend of mine goes golfing; another couple across the street go for a bike ride or walk their golden retrievers; my wife-Joni, sleeps in then we go to church followed by lunch somewhere with the kids. Even when our son, Travis, was in the vacation town of Tikrit, if he wasn't working Sundays patrolling for evil, there was something different about that day. If he could close his eyes, put on a pair of headphones and smell some artificial pine, like those hanging from your rear view, he felt he was almost home-until he opened his eyes. You get my point.

Nope, Sunday in 'Merica is special, they always have been and, hopefully, always will be. The coffee always tastes better; the paper is thicker, the news doesn't seem as bad when you have comics in color instead of black and white; God is seemingly closer. There's a light breeze outside. The grass just got watered, the dogs are resting with their heads on the windowsill or on the sidewalk in the neighbors front yard. Aaron Neville just got done singing It feels like Rain on the KYOT. Nope, Sunday morning is a good place to be.

I have to go, my coffee is getting cold.