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About Sunday Morning

Growing up, Sunday mornings were waffles, bacon, eggs scrambled in bacon grease, the Sunday Chronicle strewn all over the living room, Checkers (woof) and Patches (meow) in the middle of all of it, and the 49ers or Giants games blaring in the background. Sometimes this gave way to full-on pajama days.

In grad school, I’d curl up in front of a 9” black and white TV for a full hour of sanctuary with Charles Kuralt on CBS Sunday Morning. For that hour, homework, grades, thesis anxiety, and the stark deficit of money all disappeared in the simple, calming, quiet wonder and brilliance of nature, real people, and humor — not the laugh out loud kind, the subtle, midwestern wink-of-an-eye kind.

When Campbell and Maddie were little, we’d snuggle in bed together with our menagerie of pets, and ponder making waffles, getting donuts or bagels, or venturing out for breakfast at Emil Villa’s. In our PJs.

Now it’s coffee, meditation (often interrupted by my furry friend, JouJou), journaling, devouring the Sunday Chronicle & NY Times, NPR, and a run, all in the company of squawking geese and seabirds and the hopeful diversity that is Lake Merritt. And, of course, PJs.

So is the spirit of Sunday Morning. In a noisy, crowded, and cluttered world of too much to do and way too much to keep up with, this weekly email will provide simple, curated ideas and research to enjoy and put to use.

Let’s together honor the peace and sanctuary that is Sunday Morning, and grow some brain cells.


Sunday Morning Reflection

What do Sunday mornings mean to you? What’s one thing you could do to make that meaning come alive just a little bit more? Something you could do a little less of? Something you can do a little more of?