Mornings

It's 5:45 a.m. and the sky is navy blue. The roads are quiet and empty. The stillness will not last more than 20 minutes. This is my favorite time of the day.

The Mr. Coffee espresso machine ($19.95, K-Mart) is spewing out an excellent cup of Pico Decaffeinated ($3.95 a can, Giant) that I sweeten with four (yes, four) Splendas (free, courtesy Starbucks). The tail-end of a sourdough baguette ($2.25, Trader Joe's) is in the oven. It will be slathered with a wedge of Camembert ($3.98, Safeway). This is the good life.

I get the paper from the driveway. The delivery man (there is no such thing as a paperboy anymore) has been kind this morning. Usually he tosses my Post under the bushes and I need a rake to bring it in but today his aim is off. The paper is in the middle of the drive, not even under the car. A sky unbruised by clouds is lightening. Temperatures will be in the 40s, enough to melt the snow that remains from the Great Blizzard of Aught-Ten.

I read the headlines. Washington, DC's, former mayor, Marion Barry, is in trouble again. He's a city delegate now, accused of accepting a low-dollar kickback from a former mistress to whom he'd awarded a work contract. Some two decades ago, Barry was caught by the FBI smoking crack in an expensive hotel room with a prostitute. He served some time but this did not end his career as a public servant. The black population of the District has kept him in office for more than 40 years now. I met Barry once when I lived downtown. He had a great, warm smile, and he took my hand in both of his when we shook, as if we had been lifelong friends parted by a tragedy.

There's a story about a retiring senator decrying the present state of politics. He's quitting because the system doesn't work. Greece is going down the financial tubes; Spain might follow. France is saying "I told you so" and the Brits are responding with "nyah nyah nyah." Is Obama the next Jimmy Carter? A local priest is accused of child molestation (this is buried in the Metro section) and Madonna (front page, Style) will testify before a House Committee on the state of Rwanda. She is apparently a Rwanda expert. Rob Lowe seen at the Four Seasons dining with his mother-in-law and the DOW is down 47 points. Unidentified male found dead in his burning car near the Suitland Parkway; Prince George woman waving a samurai sword in the middle of rush-hour traffic arrested. Ten teen-agers from a local high school charged with possessing and selling heroin to their classmates. Tiger Woods says he's sorry, again, and his apologies are analyzed on the front page, the sports section, and Style. All are in agreement that Tiger is a lying sack of sh*t unworthy of the public adulation heaped upon him. No one has really spoken to Tiger but that's immaterial.

I read the comics. I do this every morning with more care than I devote to the news. I am, after all, powerless over people, places and things, but I can and do have an opinion on the worthiness of certain strips. I am not a fan of Judge Parker and wonder why Apartment 3-G is no longer published. I still read Peanuts. Charlie Brown, Linus, Lucy, Schroeder and Snoopy are more than 60 years old... Cul de Sac always elicits a smile; Agnes never does. The other strips are judged on a daily basis and often found wanting.

A second cup of coffee, not as satisfying as the first but still pretty tasty. This is my favorite time of the day.