For as long as I can remember I have been a “morning person”. Among my chums I was the only one who tried to engineer his class schedule to get 8:30s. And it was during the spring of my sophomore year that I discovered the beauty of the dawn.
It happened this way… I was taking an introductory graphics course with Arnie Bittleman, who in a previous life, had a part time job as a butcher while finishing his Art Degree at Yale. He should have remained a butcher. With little or no encouragement from him I began my love & exploration of photography. And on an early spring morning back in New Haven, I lured my next door neighbor, David Kimberly, to the beach in Woodmont to capture the rising sun in black & white… back then I thought that black & white was “serious” photography, and colour was frivolous.
David agreed to tag along, looking at it as an opportunity for poetic inspiration. Good thought Dave… even I tried to compose a verse or two to go along with my photography.
Sadly, nothing remains of that mornings creative output save my memory of the morning; and more importantly my continuing love of the dawn.
Whether it was the early sky that I saw as the train moved thru Harlem all those years in commuting to New York… or today, the road traveled to Norwalk and my morning workout, or perhaps the detour to the Calf Pasture beach… there isn’t a day that I don’t enjoy seeing & feeling the quietness of the dawn & of life slowly coming awake. First a few stragglers… the odd deer looking for some breakfast, a car speeding to the City, an early “walker”, a dog sniffing about… a few more souls stirring to the early calls.
I have a particular fondness for breakfast places. The 24 hour Diners are natural starting places for the early risers. At my spot you can see “layers” of folks… first it is the truck guys — delivery people, utility guys, Dept of Public works. Next come the Cops. Then the contract tradesmen — painters, plumbers & electricians. And so it goes. Each layer starting their day at a slightly different hour; but all still rather early.
“Convenience Stores” are also a natural starting point. Places to pick up the morning paper, a pack of cigarettes, a lottery ticket and the like.
But it is the gas stations and their convenience stores that are the most fascinating to me… it is here that the “seasonal” workers gather to begin their day. Trucks are lined up, their backs filled with what is appropriate to the time of the year. For most of the year it is lawn stuff… mowers, trimmers and the ever present gas cans. In the fall we have leaf blowers and vacuums… and some of the trucks are fitted out with those contraptions that look like elephants’ trunks. Winter and it’s snow removal time.
The cast of characters does not change. You see the same faces. Men from “south of the border”. Talk to people who are Hispanic and they can tell you just by appearance where other Hispanics are from. I am not that good; but I am guessing that most of the folks I see are either from Central America, or maybe Peru or Ecuador. They have carmel coloured complexions peeking out below a 2 or 3 day growth of beard.
Now that we have moved to cooler weather, they wear layers of clothing… two or three shirts, a sweat shirt, a vest… dirty pants, two pair of socks and heavy work shoes.
One worker stays with the truck… filling the tank, and of course filling the gas cans, too. The others pile into the “store” to stock up. I love looking at what they consider essential for their day… coffee is a must, then a cold drink (carbonated or non-carbonated) for later, bottled water, too (I can never understand why people buy water in plastic bottles), some type of chips — corn chips, potato chips, pretzels… also gum, candy, & a cupcake of some type — twinkies, snowballs, devil dogs… rarely some will purchase a lottery ticket, or a pack of smokes.
Each worker has no less than 6 things that he is purchasing… plus someone is responsible for bringing a “goodie bag” for the guy who remained with the truck.
I think it was Zack who told me about “three across”. It seems to be emblematic of the way these workers drive around town. And sometimes it’s “four across”.
The filling of the tanks is done. The ritual purchases have been taken care of. Now it’s time to jam into the cabs of the trucks.
Three in the front, the trucks cough to life, blowers and mowers secured in the back… perhaps a fourth or fifth worker is in the back, and if so, be assured that it is a pecking order issue. And their day to begin…
The sun not quite above the tree line. A tinge to the air and I am surprised to see a lone sea gull circling over head… just as it was 34 years ago.
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I never tire of the early morning. I think that there is a kernel of hope in the start of each day. And I have come to treasure the line from Shawshank Redemption…“Hope is a good thing”.