Easy Like Sunday Morning

When we took our last major vacation in 2008, I drove Gene crazy singing songs that went along with whatever situation or location we found ourselves.  I have never had a good voice nor a good ear for pitch.  So Gene just endured the noise, laughing at how my mind worked but my voice did not. 


I really do not remember many of the songs.  "Tumbling, tumble weeds" fit in more than once as we crossed endless open miles in both Canada and the upper Western US.  "Running Bear" worked in both seeing bears.  It could be used for couples in an embrace, too.
  
The last song was sung outside Dodge City, KS.  We were at a veterans retirement community.  Gene suggested we could live there till we died and probably at a reasonable rate.  "What do you think?" he quarried.  I responded with the first thing that popped into my deranged mind, "Oh, bury me not one the lone prairie."  Gene actually laughed out loud at that one.


In the tradition of my dad, I would just make up rhymes if there were no songs that came to mind.  These are never something that need to be recorded for posterity.  Usually the rhymes are best just left vibrating into the nothingness of the universe.


Today on this easy Sunday morning and afternoon I have enjoyed working in the garden, preparing Gene's favorite breakfast and feeding the little fishes in the pond.  I gathered lavender and bundled to dry for later use.  As I settled down to check on family and friends via facebook, Gene called his mom.

Edna worked outside the home in the 1940's and 1950's.  During WWII, she worked at an Air Force base in Kansas.  After the war when the family moved to Aurora, Edna worked at The Color Press, a catalog and book publishing company.  In later years the company became MWM.  Edna was a typist for the firm.  


While working at The Color Press, Edna had brought Gene a book for which she had typed many of the pages. The book was about a cow that came to the US from the Isle of Guernsey.  For the last 15 or 20 minutes, Gene read a book over the phone to his mom.  The book is not the one she helped type but it was a book about a Guernsey cow.


With listening to a son read via a phone to his mom just so she does not feel alone and watching the birds enjoying my back yard garden I am inspired to think of a song.  I do not much care for all the lyrics of the song, but I do like the repeated phrase, "Easy, easy like Sunday morning".

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Guernsey_cattle.jpg