A recent week brought to mind the days gone by — what a phrase, “days gone by.”
There I was sitting in my living room having just finished my breakfast on Sunday morning, relaxing in my chair, when my peaceful thoughts were shattered by the sounds — not of birds or church bells — but that of a lawn mower.
Whatever happened to doing work on weekdays? I miss my Sunday when people went to church and came home to dinner, dressed for ballgames, visited their brothers and sisters, and had family picnics in the back yard of the relative with the largest yard.
Now we have that peaceful day belonging to the leaf blowers, hedge clippers, chain saws and that damn lawn mower. Gone are those days of knowing that maybe you could catch a quick nap while dinner was cooking or the ballgame was on.
Why have you destroyed my Sunday? You know who are, Mr. My Lawn Must be Cut During the Daytime Man. For what reason?
Let me start by cutting down my tree at 9 a.m. — hey, you’re up and ready, so why not?
And that deck — let’s start hammering some nails. Let’s not forget those hedges — they need a haircut.
Have I missed anything? Oh, yes, the dog you tie outside so he can bark for hours before you come and start yelling “Be quiet” over and over.
Give me back my Sunday, I’m begging you.
Let me remember that far-off time when this day meant something to so many. Give me back that day of warm feeling, that day when you knew no matter what went on during the week that all was right today.
Please stay in bed a little longer, or take a morning walk. I’m not asking much — just give me back my Sunday.