Life Between “CBS Sunday Mornings”
By John R. Greenwood
It’s Sunday morning once again, it’s cold out and the staff of the Weather Channel sound like Red Bull infused pre-game analysts at the Super Bowl.
There’s another winter storm sweeping the east coast and I’m sitting on the couch with a laptop nestled appropriately.
This winter has been the real deal. It’s like the winters I remember as a kid; the ones where you prayed for a snow day, cleared the dining room table and got the Monopoly Game out.
Life is different now than it was when I was a young man and the kids were small. They’re grown men now with families and responsibilities of their own. It’s Mrs. G and me now, no pets, less have-to’s, more me-dom. Life from Sunday to Sunday tastes different than it did in the 80’s and 90’s. Sometimes you pine for the hectic old days, sometimes you savor the quiet of being a ‘mature’ adult. This winter has emphasized the joy of the latter.
In 40 years of making a living your priorities change from day to day. I don’t want to live a responsibility-lite life. Having been instilled with a rock-solid work ethic as a young man it has become a part of who I am. Work ethic is important to me, my wife, my sons, and to those I’m fortunate to work beside. As an aging man I crave relevancy in a youth-orientated world. I admire those who work long after the need to has passed.
This piece was initiated by listening to the hype and circumstance of an impending winter storm and double-digit below zero temperatures. I found myself crawling in to hibernation mode and enjoying the fact that it was semi-possible to pull off. My home was warm and safe. Our refrigerator was well stocked and my wife was in her cook for twenty, eat for one frame of mind. I dialed in my selfish self and planned my Sunday couch agenda. I hadn’t been writing, posting, or caring in many weeks. I found myself feeling guilty about not feeling guilty. I was enjoying life as a slug and a slump. I was happy and looking for a reason not to be. I was confused about life and expectations. I wanted to write but I didn’t want to think about what to write about. I wanted to relax without my mind mocking my sluggishness. Suddenly I realized that we’re never happy. We don’t know how to be because we’re never sure of the definition. Feeling or showing pleasure or contentment; is what the dictionary calls it. There is no mention of money or success.
It’s 8:55am on Sunday. The last 168 hours have been filled with snow storms, ice dams, a leaky roof, and subzero temperatures. I look forward to spring yet I relish the feeling that living within the grip of winter places on us. The difference between winters past and present are really a matter of the mind. I must admit that I’ve enjoyed other winters much more than the one we’re battling now but I must also admit I’ve come to appreciate watching it from the window more this winter than any other I can remember.
It’s 9am, CBS Sunday Morning is about to begin, and I have a fresh cup of hot coffee; maybe Webster needs to rethink that definition?