On the cold snowy Feb 27, 1990, I swore in for my American citizenship in downtown Chicago. It was the happiest day of my life. There was a big celebration at my place that evening. Everyone I knew was invited. The apartment was packed.
I kept that tradition for almost 5 years. Then I realized that the Chicago snow in February was getting to be too much.
One of my goal at that time was to get up early enough to watch the sunrise. Back then, the only way I could be sure to watch the sunrise was by staying up all night. I could never get up early enough. So I moved the celebration to the beach, at the sunrise on the 4th of July.
Is accountability the mother of change? Yes, I now able to get up early, whenever it is necessary.
In the early days, I would have champagne, lox and bagels, the whole nine yard. Folks told me they lived by the lake for years, 20 or even 40 years, and that was the only time they came over to the beach to watch the sunrise with the group.
Many had biked over, some drove for hours to get there. The best part was to stand in front of the water and watch the first ray beam up. Of course, I just might retell the story of what the sunrise meant to me, for the nth time.
In order to get a few extra hours of sleep one year due to jet lag, I switched to a Dimsum brunch in stead of preparing breakfast at the beach. That works better for a lot of late raisers.
Do you have a sunrise story to share?
Posts
