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I love sunrise. It’s my favorite moment of the day. Peace, tranquility, silence, and freshness—a sense of new birth—hangs over the portion of the planet that I inhabit. Thinking of the time I lived in Riyadh, I give thanks… “Alhamdalela,” I repeat over and over again; Arabic for, “Thank God for everything.” The second thing I do is math. I figure, notwithstanding some catastrophic accident or incurable disease, and based on my healthy lifestyle and regimen, I’ve been allotted approximately 33,000 sunrises. I have a kind of mental fuel gage, which indicates (gasp) I have less than a quarter of a tank left—maybe 7,300 dawns give or take. The thought is both sobering and bothersome. How can there be anymore sunrises when I’m not here to observe them? This puts me in a bit of a funk, but having the attention span of a two-year-old I always shake it off and give thanks again. Yesterday I found several old CDs that belonged to my late parents and put them on a nearby player for background music. As the sun streamed in the window over my reading chair, I settled back to learn about how imprudent Iceland and Greece have been with respect to the global economy and the impact it would have upon America. A lyric suddenly caught my attention… “Young and foolish. Why is it wrong to be…” Ever notice how music can transport you to a different place and time? My mind instantly went back decades to the first time I heard that very same Ray Coniff rendition. Mom and Dad had just pulled up in front of our new townhouse in Torrance, California having driven from Northwest Ohio. I was in my mid-twenties and indestructible with a young wife and a fifteen-month-old daughter. The day was glorious; a delightful midday July. It was their first motor trip west and they came out mainly to spend several weeks with their first grandchild, and to meet Kay’s parents. As first time visitors to the Los Angeles area, they wanted to see it all. With that in mind we laid out an ambitious “touristy” itinerary. Among the attractions: Graumann’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, Fisherman’s Wharf in Redondo Beach, Disneyland, Sea World in San Diego, overnight at the Hotel Del Coronado, and the Frank Lloyd Wright designed glass church, viz., Wayfarer’s Chapel in Portuguese Bend the site where Kay became my bride. Anyway, after unloading and making plans we piled in their new Pontiac sedan to grab lunch. As the ignition turned over, the song came from the tape player. The catchy musical arrangement punctuated by a base trombone immediately caught my attention, but the words captivated me as if I could see my future; as if I could visualize sitting in that very same reading chair with most of life behind me. “…young and foolish; we haven’t long to be…” Even as a young man I was aware of my mortality, and thought I had a grip on how fast life passes by. I mean, how often have we heard an elder say that life seems to hasten as we age? I had no clue. Not really. But at that time, and even today, I tell myself if I’m aware of each second, time will slow down. It doesn’t. I swear some days I see the grinning guy with the scythe winking back at me from the mirror. Suddenly neither the economic woes of the world nor the gloomy prognostication seemed very important. “…soon enough the carefree days; the sunlit days go by…” Yesterday I had one of those moments as well as I came in from a nippy, November afternoon. I recalled as a youngster coming in from a cold, dark day slightly shivering. As the back door opened, I was greeted by warmth, light, and the smell of something cooking on the stove. My brothers were playing a board game just beyond the kitchen and Mom was setting the table. Talk about an instant, comforting feeling! “…soon enough the bluebird has to fly…” And so as I sit here with my book listening to the music I also think and long for those days that will never come again. Our parents and everyone in their generation have passed beyond the veil into eternity, and our siblings and children are either with them or 2,000 miles away. .”…and when he does you’ll see that we were foolish…” Kay always wonders why I rise so early. I’m sure she’s not alone. Here’s what I figure: sunrise is a finite phenomenon and I’m always eager for the next one. Besides, being required to rest eight hours a day is a reality I resent. Why do we have to spend one-third of our lives in an unconscious state when time is so precious? “…smiling in the sunlight, laughing in the rain…” I wish that we were young and foolish again. I really do. (sigh) Copyright 2011 by Gene Myers. AFTER HOURS: ADVENTURES OF AN INTERNATIONAL BUSINESSMAN and SONGS FROM LATTYS GROVE are available from Amazon Kindle. www.myersamazon.com
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sunrise, peace, music, California, , mortality,
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