The wheel spins and slows. The marble drops. Spying the results and spreading the word, everyone gets into position to begin another life play.
Today’s performance is Saturday, August 20, 2022. Those who went through this day before and remember it know what to expect. Others need to improvise.
A narrator says in a Morgan Freeman voice, “It’s 6:23 in the morning as the sun unloads it light. An overcast sky is shifted into place over the ocean. Birds hang around on the beach, enjoying the scene without making one. Lazy waves roll in, release their splash, and slid back out. It’s cool but comfortable, sixty-four degrees Fahrenheit. The thermometer won’t show much warmer by the ocean’s side, maybe nudging sixty-eight, sixty-nine. Few people are out. Dog walkers dominate, strolling with leashed pooches. This show will go beyond midnight, but the daylight scenes end at 8:14 this evening. Let the play begin.”
The Neurons have pressed buttons on the morning mental music stream. (They’re still updating to clicks.) Hall and Oates are singing a 1981 hit, “You Make My Dreams”. I was in Texas at the beginning of that year, on Okinawa by June. Stayed there until December 31, 1980, calling Kadena Air Base my home. We lived in a small apartment in a small building with other young American couples, for we were young. Hall and Oates were a favorite group in the building, and their songs are deeply etched into my psyche.
Why this song today? Maybe it was the dreams. The Neurons aren’t confessing anytime soon.
Stay positive and test negative. Wear a mask if it’s needed. Use your judgement and heed the experts. Meanwhile, my coffee is here. Time to start the day. Here’s the music.