Sunday Morning...

In my mid twenties, when I first started living on my own, I found it hard to deal with quiet. I came from a family of four, and even when my older sister moved out and it was just me and my parents, it was still never really a very quiet house. Something would be on making noise - the T.V., the radio, or a conversation. I was so used to the usual hum of some kind of noise that sometimes, when I would wake up in my quiet apartment, I would freak out a little bit.

Now, I crave those moments, when you wake up and all you hear is the incidental sounds from the street, the hum of electricity in the apartment. My mornings (and most of my day, really) are filled with sounds - from start to finish. I have my own family now and that continual din of sounds now continues in my own home.

For the first little while living on my own, I had to find ways to deal with the quiet, make things more comfortable for me and I did that with music.

Sunday mornings used to be the worst for me. I naturally always get up in the morning, it was and is rare that I can slept past eleven in the morning, even after a night of drinking. Anytime before noon, the city just seems to be on snooze and the quiet is more pronounced. So, in my hung over state, I would get up and put some music on to fill the air with something.

Sunday morning radio was pretty stealer when I was in University and then first started to live on my own. There was a great show called Psychedelic Sunday that I would always listen to. I first really got into this while in University. I lived at home while I studied but my two closest friends at the time were sharing a large, slanted old apartment just outside of the Wolsey area and I would spend many a night on the sofa there after a Saturday night of drinking and partying with them. They didn't have a T.V., so Sunday mornings were spent listening to the radio, specifically Psychedelic Sunday.

I guess you could say the tradition continued when I moved out on my own. If I would find myself alone on a Sunday morning, shaking off the cobwebs of the night before, I would put on the radio and listen. Psychedelic Sunday then became The Sunday Morning Resurrection and I could be guaranteed to find good, retro music to sooth me.

This song, by The Velvet Underground, was one I hope they would play every weekend. It's an amazing song, and the soft soothing tune always made me feel somewhat better, no matter how hung over or depressed I was.



I can clearly remember listening to this song, kneeling on my sofa, coffee in hand to look outside my window to the view below on Assiniboine Ave. There was a little park across the street and always seemed to be some measure of traffic. Sunday Morning brings the dawn in, indeed..

Thank you, Lou Reed...