Sunsets

As my family knows, several years ago I applied for the snow removal contract for the Town of Fort Myers Beach, Florida. I didn't get it (must have been some dirty politics involved),  but I did accept the honorary title of Director of Sunsets, a job which I have performed to the best of my limited ability ever since.

So I rarely miss a sunset, and when I do, I usually delegate a friend to take care of the matter. I have been fired from this job many times, due to poor performance, but have always been rehired due largely to my faithful and consistent effort. Part of my routine is to ask the sun to be sure to come back tomorrow, since we would all be in terrible shape if it would fail to rise. It has never let me down.

At my stage of life, sunsets do come to have a special meaning, but I haven't yet figured out what that meaning really is. I do enjoy watching cormorants, pelicans, and occasional frigate birds flying in from the Gulf of Mexico to their roosts in Estero Bay. Soetimes the pelicans will detour for a nightcap.

Dolphins occasionally pick sunset time to feed or cavort at sunset, adding immeasurably to the scene.

I do muse on death now and then when watching the sun go down. When it comes, will it be like flying home with my friends the birds at sunset? And when I get there, will many old departed friends be there to greet me?

A.M.

Comments

[Tamar]

Thank you so much for sharing with us your musings about death. It felt good to read your words. It is important for all of us to think about this. It accompanies us as we live our lives.

Sunsets connects you to those reflections. I am reminded of death during the winter.

The beauty of both, for me, is in the dawn and spring. I bet you are the "Director of Dawn" too from time to time, no?

[amba]

hello there, Annie's dad -- this is A's college roomie commenting! I am visiting A today in NY, having just been in Beantown and stopping in to catch up. We have been talking all afternoon and solving the problemsof the world. When we came back to her abode, "South Pacific" was on TV and it made me think of my husband, Royce, who is the same age as you (he will be 87 on March 27 this year), and who flew 35 bombing missions in the South Pacific as the navigator for his squadron. Your remarks about the sunset resonate with me, because he does not speak of his thoughts about dying -- I think he hopes I will understand without having to actually discuss it. I just want to say that I believe that when we do pass over, that those we have loved and who have loved us -- including dogs and cats! -- are there to greet us in forms we will recognize. Your vision of flying home with the birds is very touching and lovely. And there is a sense of humor in heaven. We are just practicing here!

I am just about to get my very own MAC and cable access to internet, so I can now do stuff more quickly. My old computer was on dial-upso I was less than enthusiastic about downloading and things like that. I think you and my husband would enjoy each other very much -- he's all compis mentis, etc. In addition to his war time activity, he was also in the financial field. My email address right now is JFDiener@AOL.COM, but I will soon be on Adelphia.Net, when I get back to LA. My husband's email address is Roycieboy@AOL.COM (thanks to his granddaughter who phoned when he was trying to choose an address).

I hope you and Jean are well. I was a bit worried about you during the hurricanes, but Annie assures methat you had rather limited damage at the family manse. Please say hello to Jean and accept my good wishes for a great new year!

Jennifer Diener, aka Jenny Flinton

PS I also want to say before I forget it, that the hospitality and generosity you and your family extended to me during the summer between my junior and senior year of college, was a true godsend. I had never lived in a fun family where people actually enjoyed each other. it was like moving in with the "cheaper by dozen" family. You also got me a job at Walter Reed Hospital, and let my drive one of your cars (learning stick shift -- very generous). I never laughed so much in my life. I remember with great fondness the warmth, your library, the fresh squeezed OJ, the dinner parties you had with your friends, and the general latitude you extended to your progeny to enjoy their lives. I'm sure you are now rewarded with a rich and extensive family! Thank you so much for letting me be part of it then.

[Richard Lawrence Cohen]

I wanted to put in some kind of intelligent and perceptive comment about this post, but words fail me, except the continual "Thank you" which I find myself repeating so often in my travels through Blogdom. Thank you for a brand of humor and poignancy and down-to-earth sense that is wonderfully familiar to me from my own family, and for the chance to make the acquaintance of yours.

[Cowtown Pattie]

I have reached your site via Ronni and Time Goes By. (Thanks, again, Ronni!).

What a wonderful writer you are! I have only spent a few minutes( I AM at work), but will return this evening when I have a little more guilt-free time.

This post is just delightful! I think I shall apply for a Director's post here in Cowtown. However, it might be a tad more dangerous in Texas - our sunset can be pretty brutal in the summer months. In fact, there are those hot July mornings when a few Texans cuss at the damned fiery orange globe steaming the grass at 7 AM and might not appreciate a Director reminding ole Sol to return come sunset...nah, not really! *Grin*

[Jeanne]

Thanks for a very beautiful post. Since my mom died in 2003, I have been thinking a lot about my own mortality and have come to believe that there is somewhere for us to go after our lives on this earth. So now when I think about dying, I look on it as the day when I will be sad to leave this life, but excited at the prospect of rejoining my mom and catching up on all the talking we can't do now. I think the birds flying into the sunset is a perfect mataphor.

[Kelly.]

That is f*cking gay tell me why they go up.. b*tches