Sunday with Charles

Sunday morning again, I'm at the island, drinking coffee, reading the paper (you've heard this part before) and watching CBS Sunday morning. Every other morning it is The Today Show (admitted crush on Matt Lauer) but Sunday's are for Charles (currently Osgood, but he's no Kuralt - crush on neither). The correspondents share a soothing quality to their voices, a certain rhythm or timbre, perfect for Sunday (excluding Ben Stein).  The range of topics usually includes at least one segment of marginal interest to me (wolves in the wild or storm chasers - both of which will have Jeffrey mesmerized), a perfect time to check my email or focus on the newspaper.  Lazy morning in bed, we miss the first few segments, not complaining (was that TMI?), and I take my first sip of coffee at 9:34 and turn on CBS. Update on the Martin Luther King Memorial provides the email/newspaper time - not being disrespectful - I can listen without watching and still absorb the message.  Next up, eyes on the TV, there's Barbra, Streisand that is. Those songs, that voice, are a surefire trigger for a good cry. Today’s example, lovely Sunday, slept late, blah, blah, blah ....." Memories, Light the corners of my mind, Misty watercolor memories, of the way we were" (eyes are watering).  "Papa, papa can you hear me" (faucet opens); women everywhere (maybe a few emotionally secure men) are reaching for a tissue.

Music has that power, an emotional time machine; both happy and sad notes taking us somewhere.  In my world it works like this; cue the music, “Hello world, hear the song that we're singin', C'mon get happy!" (No idea why the theme song from The Partridge Family popped into my head, but I promised honesty), I’m in 6th grade, lying on the brown corduroy couch in the den. I’m captivated by Keith Partridge and think its way cool that I have the same birthday as Danny Bonaduce (not nearly as cool these days).  Let’s try again, "I would give anything I own, Give up my life, my heart, my home. I would give ev'rything I own, Just to have you back again." Now I’m in 8th grade locked in my room, Bread’s 1972 tearjerker accompanied a pretty rough patch when my Papa Saul died in 1976. The Peaches and Herb classic "Reunited" will always take me back to Hall High 1978, me and RW in my Oldsmobile.  I’m “chauffeuring” some classmates (“Jill, drive us home”), they’re in the backseat belting out the chorus. Almost anything from Flashdance, The Police or Cyndi Lauper, and I'm cutting my sweatshirt, putting on legwarmers, and heading to Landsdowne Street or Father’s Too (Geographic references for my BU girls). “Always and Forever,” (which up until about 30 seconds ago, I had no clue was a Heatwave song) brings sweet memories of my Wedding Day, even though to this day Jeffrey confuses it with “What a Wonderful World”.  This particular mix-up proved unfortunate when he serenaded me with the wrong choice in an otherwise perfectly orchestrated 25th Anniversary moment in Venice.  Right about now, if I haven’t bored you enough to stop reading, you are thinking “boy, she has terrible taste in music” or “wow, she really is old.” In either case, you’re probably right. Thank you CBS Sunday morning for providing us with this musical interlude.

I can’t sign off without a quick discussion about the piece after Barbra, which Jeffrey unfortunately missed when he did the bagel run. Bill Geist did a fascinating piece on suburban moms and pole dancing, guess I missed it when it first aired in May. So many thoughts racing through my head; who are these women, their teenage sons and daughters probably just entered the witness protection program, who do you call to get a pole installed in your bedroom, that would make me dizzy and last but not least I feel sorry for the girl who happily explains that she is the “pole cleaner” at the state competition. I apologize if I have offended any secret pole-dancers in my life.

10:30 AM, the familiar trumpets play, time for Face the Nation and my laundry.