Here comes the sun!

Here comes the sun!


Posted on 08/27/2010 by srplus

“Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun
And I say
It’s alright

Little darling
The smile’s returning to the faces
Little darling
It seems like years since it’s been here”

As I look at the outside brightness I remember back to that dark nite standing on the sidewalk outside of the gym at college. The concert was about to start but I could not afford admission to listen to the Savant. I was given front row seats by the pot smoking roadie and sat in the front row as my auditory reception system was assaulted into complete deafness. The oh so best rendition of this song was sung right in front of me by that toothless wonder Richie Havens.


Havens led off for GRR – Grand Funk Railroad. My submission was complete. I lived in a world of silence for almost a week. The only exception was the constant ringing that I still hear in my old age.


As that warm sunglow floods Cape Cod I am anxious to go watch the surfers that will be sitting beyond the break, hopefully catching the occasional wave. The surfers compete with the seals who never miss a wave. The storm that has finally passed left the aftermath of still visible large waves. This storm’s passing is reinforced by all the small black locus leaves that are stuck to everything making even our rental Hyundai camouflage. If the humidity continues to drop the towels may dry on the towel racks in the bathroom instead of in the whirling dryer.


Greg our resident bike rider is climbing into his Canadian Blazer and headed out to meet his wife after her workshop morning is completed. I think they will go eat lunch at the Deli where they will baffle these local folks with the funny accents with their “Eh?”after every statement or question.


Lori’s mom has climbed the stairs to their sequestered cocoon above Mary’s room. Mary is down from the Down East and is down the hall east from us. Both her and our small downstairs rooms with each of our ‘private bathroom across the hall’ surround the dominating stairwell to the Lori’s aerie.


The gravel drive announces the arrival of all vehicles and walkers as they near the combo garage ‘living and breakfast room’ of our cape guesthouse. The basement trolls should briefly make their presence known by the creaking of the door at the bottom of their stairway to race by and get some lunch. They are the only ones who have not joined the comrades of the garage clique.


I have started calling our small guesthouse the Bates Motel. I keep expecting Anthony Perkins to slip into the garage with another load of towels to throw into the hungry dryer. Instead it is always Linda.


The shock inducing free bathrobes so courteously provided by our hostess are scrambling my brain cells when the static electricity straightens my hair. Next time I put that spun plastic next to my skin I am going to keep a close eye peeled… If I hear the screech, screech, screech of that music I certainly am not getting into that shower.

© steven d philbrick sr+ DakotaDawg 08/26/2010