Today’s post is a two-stage affair.  First, you must watch this clip from the movie The Trip, to get the flavor how men prepare for action.

Then, and only then, will you more deeply and consideredly appreciate this account of my pre-dawn activities.

This was the scene.  They arose before daybreak – wife Susan, Susan’s sister Chris, Susan’s mother Barbara, and, reluctantly, me.  The women prepared to battle I-89, I-93, I-90 by car, all for to take Sister Chris to Logan Airport since, in her previous skirmish with the airline industry, yesterday in Burlington, her flight had been cancelled and rescheduled for – what??!! – ye gods!! – Friday??!! – and so they conspired and made ready to have her fly out of Boston, this morning, before midday, at 11:30-ish.

I arose, too, and provisioned them with coffee, but had not the stomach for the trip, and so remained to keep the home fires burning whilst they battled sleep with (knowing them as I do) verse after tuneful verse, harmonized in thirds, of cheerful Songs of Their Youth, songs better sung amongst themselves than with menfolk, meaning me, whose enthusiasm for the songs is sometimes wanting.

My duties done before daybreak, I banked the fire, covered myself with dog, and went back to sleep.

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