Early to Rise

I don’t get up terrifically early.  That shouldn’t be a surprise for those that are familiar with my 2-11 work schedule.  I don’t sleep ’til noon anymore (usually) but I’m looking at a 9:30 or 10 awakening.  It’s rare that I actually exhibit what my brother and I referred to as narcawakey:  waking up early and being instantly totally awake.  Today is one of those days.

Dad would wake up and BE up.  If we happened to be trying to wake up or something, he’d usually be sitting in his chair, hair all a’tussle, scheming some kind of harassment event to exhibit just how awake he was.  Perhaps throwing a pillow.  Maybe dancing in our direction and imploring us not to hit ourselves.  We would complain and implore the man to show mercy.  He rarely did.

Early mornings such as this bring two memories to mind.  One being our vacation times at Disney.  In order to get to the parks at opening, we had to rise and shine pretty dadgum early.  I love the feeling of being awake before the rest of the world starts spinning; I feel like I have the jump on everyone.  The other memory is the Saturday mornings I would accompany Dad to the office.  The coffee would have already brewed, and as Dad started getting ready for his day I would make his coffee.  Milk, sweetener added.  Most mornings he’d also have a large glass of Diet Coke along with it.  I’d take it upstairs and usually put it on the bathroom counter for him.

Morning time is also breakfast time.  As everyone knows, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  It’s also the best meal to have any time of day.  Breakfast on Sundays was a family affair.  The four of us would work in conjunction to put the meal together.  Waking up to the smell of bacon already cooking is just about the best start to the day that can be.

I had a brief moment yesterday.  I was on my way to St. Francis Hospital to visit my friend Billy, who had just come out of brain surgery.  I sat at the stoplight in front of the hospital and was flooded with a wave of memories.  Not just of St. Francis, but of other hospitals too.  I remembered those who had passed in the sterile confines.  The last handshake I had with my Grandpa Hardy.  The downshifting cough of my Grandpa Dick.  And I wished I’d had the chance to say goodbye to my father.  The light turned green, so I composed myself and moved forward.

About rhysfunk

Rhys Martin was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma in 1981. In 2009, he sold everything he owned and left the country, living out of a backpack for ten months. He discovered a passion for photography while traveling throughout Southeast Asia and Europe. After returning home, he looked at his home town and Oklahoma heritage with fresh eyes. When he began to explore his home state, Rhys turned his attention to historic Route 66. As he became familiar with the iconic highway, he began to truly appreciate Oklahoma’s place along the Mother Road. He has traveled all 2,400 miles of Route 66, from Chicago to Los Angeles. He has also driven many miles on rural Oklahoma highways to explore the fading Main Streets of our small towns. Rhys has a desire to find and share the unique qualities of the Sooner State with the rest of the world. Cloudless Lens Photography has been featured in several publications including This Land, Route 66 Magazine, Nimrod Journal, Inbound Asia Magazine, The Oklahoman, and the Tulsa World. Rhys loves to connect with people and share his experiences; ask him about enjoyable day trips from Tulsa, locations along Route 66, and good diners or burger joints along the way.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s