He was a stalwart stand-by on every annual trip to Vail, and a frequent guest on Sunday and Christmas mornings. We were encouraged, if not strong armed, to sing along with "Rocky Mountain High" on nearly every family trip - something my brothers and I did with great gusto, if not talent.
And yes, John Denver has been playing on constant repeat in my head since Andy and I decided to move to the Centennial State. AudioSlave, take me away. ...
But since setting up shop in Colorado, I have to admit the guy makes sense. He's ceased to be a hippie to me, and has become a folk singer with a mission. A humanitarian and a naturalist with a poetic streak and a guitar.
Take, for example, that song "Sunshine on my Shoulders." It made no sense to me until my first morning here, when dawn broke at 5 a.m. with a chorus of every bird in El Paso County singing on our front porch. I've come to realize that this is not every bird, and they weren't doing it to show off. They're actually a handful of REALLY LOUD birds that, as Shakespeare would say, herald the morn - at 9.5 decibels damn nearly every morning.
And given that the area we're living in gets an average of 300 days of sunshine a year, yes, sunshine on my shoulders really does make me happy.
And sunburned.
No comments:
Post a Comment