Sunday Morning

Sunday morning has a special feeling to it. Quiet, reserved, take it easy special. Saturday is not. Saturday says get up and get going. The lawn awaits. The car wash is ready. But Sunday is a day to start with ease. It has a television show. It has a place where people are supposed to be. It has instructions from God.

I love watching Sunday Morning (CBS). I first remember getting addicted to it back on Gylah Lane. That is a way back then thought. Wow. Charles Kuralt was the best. Stories from every sector of society. A slow, methodical, pay attention tale of life. Kind of an electronic campfire story through the eyes of a modern day sage. Don't get me wrong. Charles Osgood does a great job, but he is not Charles Kuralt. A flight long ago from LA to New York allowed me the opportunity to sit next to Betsy (gosh I never thought I would forget her name) who did the culture stuff back then. She had a cold, but she was gracious throughout the flight. We spoke of women, age and broadcasting jobs. She told me that but for Charles Kuralt she would have been off the air years earlier for the face of a younger commentator. A heartfelt moment of sharing from a famous person to a young, impressionable, just getting started consultant. I can see her as she shared those thoughts. I cannot remember her name.

What did I come out to the garage to get?