One of my favorite commercial jingles is the bluegrass-style tune done for YellaWood: “The sun comes up, the sun goes down. Work awaaaay, work awaaaay.”
I’ve always been a big fan of bluegrass, but I began thinking about this specific ditty this week, when I was prodded into wondering what if the sun doesn’t come up as scheduled? Will I still have to work awaaaay or will I get some time offff?
I say this after watching an area television station treat viewers to a unique shot of the sunrise as seen on its beach cam 26 miles up the coast in Delaware. Sure, you say, sunrises are hardly unique, since the sun has been coming up in the morning on a fairly regular basis for a while now. Or so we have been led to believe.
Not to get all metaphysical, but I have no proof of what the sun did before I came along. It’s all hearsay evidence, as in having to take my parents’ word for it when they said, yes, the sun rose in the morning for them as well.
But before that, who knows? Things have changed quite a bit over the years, so it could be that sunrises were more of a cosmic luck-of-the-draw thing in the past. For all we know, the line in a description of the Civil War Battle of Antietam might have been changed by history revisionists and “The crack of rifled muskets … as dawn broke over the farm fields outside of Sharpsburg, Maryland,” might have been, in actuality, “rifled muskets dawned at the crack of noon.”
Understandably, many readers may have abandoned this column by now, having concluded that I have finally taken up full-time residence in Kablooeyville, instead of making the occasional commute.
But consider this: It’s 6 a.m., I’m watching the news and wondering what I can write about that might be marginally entertaining. I discard the idea of going on about the cancellation of the two-woman spacewalk after NASA realized it has only one size 4 space suit in stock and the other’s on back-order.
I then reject the notion of holding forth on whether starting schools before Labor Day will produce generations of students who are a week smarter, and if this intellectual difference might cause civil unrest between the know-it-alls and the know-it-somes.
That’s when the newscaster says, “Let’s look at the sunrise from our beach cam in Rehoboth.”
Now, someone must have forgotten to mention this was not an actual live shot or — either Rehoboth or my neighborhood has been sent to a different time dimension, or my block has been physically relocated to Indiana, or this beach cam has special properties of which most of us were unaware.
It has to be one of the above because it’s still dark outside my window and yet there it is on screen, a big yellow ball rising above the horizon in Rehoboth a full 52 minutes before Ocean City’s 6:52 a.m. March 24 sunrise.
Of course, Delaware does many things before we do: slots, then table games, online betting and now it either has its very own sunrise or a future-gazing beach cam.
It is possible someone at the station made a mistake and I’m making too much of it, but the odds of that happening would be, well, the same as the sun not coming up tomorrow morning. Or so we would assume.