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What a lovely spring day. The sun is warm, the birds are singing, and the wispy clouds are adding a touch of pastel pleasantness to the day…

(Actually this is one of the hottest Arizona days ever.)

A few dawns from now the mornings will cool and habits will change. This springtime affirmation is from a story I wrote once and is the first thing I tell myself at 6:45 a.m.

My alarm  wakens me with a recording of Pachebel’s Canon in D. There are many variations of this rondo after centuries of exposure to those creative minds who unsatisfied with the gift, may tweak the tempo or add a flute solo. The version which lazes its way into my consciousness each morning has been used to back a lyric I wrote in the seventies, a mellow, dreamy poem, beginning with spoken, trance-inducing words which can lower the effects of mid-day stress or help the early morning listener to waken gradually, suggesting a stress free, creative day, “a lovely spring day”.

“Maybe you were in a park one lazy afternoon and as you lay there on the grass a butterfly came along and landed on a wrinkle in your jeans and at that precise moment you realized that this butterfly had a secret that you knew once, long, long ago.”

I began my search for peaceful living in the eighties after living unsuccessfully with dyslexia for a couple of decades. And I earn my keep by writing about Love.

I no longer drive. I live in a neighborhood with a Beverly Hills appearance in a tiny, well designed studio in what was once an extremely pricey condo with an attitude, located on a street trafficked with BMW’s and new pickemup trucks, pulling trailers containing shovels and hoes.

On each side of the street there are two bike lanes; two because landscapers and lawyers often block the lane near the curb. The bicycles which often cost more than a five -year-old Audi are highly respected and the riders rarely hit the brakes for they have the right of way; a common sight is to see a biker slow for an intersection already populated with four, waiting vehicles. The rider continues with the aloofness one might expect from the only human for blocks.

The other commuters continue on their way.

I do not ride a thirty-thousand-dollar bicycle or even three-thousand-dollar version ; I am a practical fellow whose reputation keeps people guessing; my two-wheeler is a beautiful creation of French-Chinese manufacture which cost little and looks as though it belongs on my street. It gets me to the local shopping center owned by a former vice-president. I shop at the Grocer or park my Motobecane and catch a bus.

We are getting to my adventure of the day (public transportation has many surprises for the adventurous). I transfer to an inter-city rail, placing my hands around the cameras dangling from my neck as I board while reciting my “lovely-spring-day” mantra. I proceed cautiously while watching two men fist-fighting. A braver man might have recorded the event on a smart device. I moved to the next car.

Hours later, an outdoor art exhibit in my wake and a bagful of library books in my cotton TRADER JOE’S bag, I ride the rails once again, stopping at Wendy’s for a salad, moving afterwards to a shaded bus bench. Hot, hot, hot (…a lovely spring day…) Pulling out a crossword I began looking for a synonym for irony.

Two clues later I realized that I had company. A twenty year old lady said “Hello, do you mind if I smoke?” and sat down.

“No” I replied “as long as it isn’t around me.”  (…a lovely spring day…).

I returned to my crossword page for another clue.

Suddenly I heard music. It was loud enough for me to dance to despite the fact that the sound was being teleported directly into this poor girl’s brain. (…a lovely spring day…).

She must have thought I wanted to dance with her because her plump self suddenly began burning calories, every section of her body wiggling in its own direction.

I waved my hand to get her attention; she began to sing. I tapped her bare shoulder and she removed the earbuds and said  “WHAT?”

“Please don’t do that”.

“F****ck you”.

Unsatisfied with her answer, I rearranged my statement into a request. “Would you please, don’t do that?

“F****ck you”.


“F****ck you”.


 What a lovely spring day. The sun is warm, the birds are singing, and the wispy clouds are adding a touch of pastel pleasantness to the day…



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