Sunday Morning Coming Down

Sometime around 1973, a friend of my Dad's who worked at the local radio station made him a huge reel to reel tape of all the easy listening hits of the time. Most of it was country music.

My parents played that tape every Sunday morning for several hundred years. When I was a little girl, I loved it; the catchy tunes and pretty lyrics really moved me. My Dad was in the military and we were relocated every four years or so, but without fail, the "Sunday Morning Music", as it came to be known, moved with us.

As we got a bit older, my brother and I became less enamoured with the music but we didn't complain too loudly; I think on some level we were comforted by the familiarity of the songs. I imagine it's similar to how some people feel about attending mass on a Sunday.

I remember sharing with my boyfriend who was a hard rock fan, the history and importance of Sunday Morning Music to our family. I told him that it didn't matter how drunk we'd been the night before or how hungover we were at the time, Sunday Morning Music was cranked and we were expected to get up and join the family for brunch. While he liked the concept, he couldn't get his head around the fact that my brother and I never tried to change the selection of music.

Recently, that old boyfriend of mine caved and in a moment of weakness ordered Sky TV. One of the consequences of having commercial television is... well, commercials. Because they are like their mother and highly suggestible, when Time/Life started advertising its new 100 country classics, our kids listened.

You can imagine my surprise and delight to hear my lil Pussycat Doll and Mister McFly belting out bits of Merle Haggard, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynne (and many more). I was so moved that I asked for that Time/Life collection for Mother's Day. Hubby promptly sat down at the computer and fired up Limewire. He downloaded a hundred songs and made me a playlist that would rival any commercial collection.

This morning, I got up and walked down to the shops for the Sunday papers and some fresh croissants to have with our Sunday Brunch. As I type this, Crystal Gayle is asking to be called Angel of the Morning. Johnny Cash is going to Walk the Line next and then Kris Kristofferson is gonna tell me about Bobby McGee.

Thirty odd years later, Sunday Morning Music has come full circle for me.