Sunday Morning
There was a time in my youth when I would wake up early on Sunday mornings to watch sports on television. Back in those days, there was always a game on by 8am. A brother of mine would also wake up early to watch tv, but it wasn’t sports that he wanted to see. Instead, he wanted watch the Shirley Temple movie that was broadcast each Sunday morning.
Because of an unwritten rule between my brothers and I, the person that turned the television on had control of what channel was watched. Because of this rule, I had to get up extra early to ensure my sports viewing. Sometimes it was sports that we watched, and othertimes it was Shirley. Thanks to my brother and Shirley, I know to this day that bon-bons play on the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay.
Dad would come out a little later, always wearing his white boxers and white t-shirt. He would make coffee, scratch and hack, and make other noises that only Dads produce so openly. Oftentimes he would decide to make breakfast for us all. Outside of barbeque and the occasional chili, Dad didn’t cook too often, but he did make some killer omelettes.
After cooking for my brothers and I, Dad would make breakfast in bed for Mom. He would always try to make her breakfast special, placing the plate on a covered tv tray, with a fresh picked flower from the backyard, along with the Sunday newspaper.
Later on in the morning, Mom would get up and begin her Sunday ritual of cleaning the house. This was a sign for the rest of us to make way. Dad would go downstairs and spend most of the day washing and waxing the cars. My brothers and I would go off to do whatever project or chore we had to do. Mom would turn on the record player, and vacuum, dust, and do the wash, while Johnny Mathis, Barbara Streisand, Dionne Warwick, Petula Clark, and others performed.
Sunday is much different now. I still wake early, but now it is I that walks about in boxers, scratching and making unusual sounds. I rarely turn on the tv for sports, instead I quietly have coffee and do the blog thing, and wait for Meet the Press to come on. Later, I will turn on some music and clean up around the house. I always include a few tunes of Johnny Mathis on the playlist, just to make it feel like home.