The Early Fish Gets The Worm (this one’s not about my career search)

My sons got up before 6 AM today to go fishing. They were so excited, and I was happy for them to create this memory. It reminded me of many times in my life I woke up extra early to go experience something out of the ordinary. When I was younger, I had to wake up early for a job or for a sports or music practice or, God-forbid, detassling corn. When I lived in Ohio and worked at the cereal plant, we would sometimes start systems at 2 AM. More recently, babies and global travel meant being on the wrong time zone and seeing all parts of day and night.

But there’s something special about being up at the crack of dawn. The air feels different; it’s crisp, dewy, and it’s so quiet outside. I love having coffee on a hotel deck, while everyone is sleeping, looking out at mountains or the ocean. I’m happy carrying a coffee mug out by a lake or around the backyard barefoot, watching the sun trying to wake up.

Some of my best photos are of animals or plants in the wee hours of the morning. The animals can tell time and know when to scurry in privacy and peace. One morning I saw a giant snapping turtle cross over my walking path. Who knew snapping turtles lived in the suburbs? Then again, who knew raccoons lived in our roof? (And people think Iowa is boring.)

When I’m at my parents’ house, my dad and I are always awake before the rest of the house. We sit in the kitchen and drink coffee and talk, the rare time both of us can hear well. Sometimes we walk a block over to my grandma’s house, because she’s up drinking coffee, too. Just three peas in a pod, enjoying each other’s company. It reminds me of so many fun mornings at my grandparents’ house growing up, when Grandpa was still there, Willie Nelson was playing on the record player and Grandma served us the best pancakes ever. They had just the right amount of crunch on the edges, and we would drizzle them with honey from Grandpa’s bees. This might sound like exaggerated bucolic lore, but it’s the truth. Life was good. Life is good.

I do some of my best work early in the morning. I used to love being the first one in the office, my motion activating the lights as I walked through building. No one to interrupt, just me and my music. I recall many times on the road when I was the first one in the hotel gym, turning on the lights, picking the TV channel and the fan speed. There was the time in Rome when the gym was the size of my closet, and the view was a beautiful plaza. It was surreal to listen to my American playlist and see the statues at dawn while doing squats. Similarly, I think of running on a treadmill high above Shanghai, seeing miles of high rises, while doing the knowing nod to fellow business travelers with jet lag. The gym at the Guadalajara hotel looked out on a mountain side of beautiful Mexican homes and culture — one big, glass wall looking into a world I don’t know, but want to.

I can feel the clean air in Zurich at dawn, in a very modern hotel lobby with classic European breakfast spread — fresh bread, cheese, meats, fruit so fresh, cold and sweet, and espresso. Ah, espresso. There was running early in the morning in the little village of Tegernsee outside of Munich at the base of the Alps — mountain views, church spires, old graveyards, a big lake and a few waves and comments from the delivery truck drivers. So many early-morning car rides to airports in foreign places with a chance to see these places waking up, unless it’s India, where someone is always awake.

I’m glad to pass along to my sons the desire to see the sun rise and watch the world wake up. I know it will serve them well in life and open new doors and experiences. I look forward to some day sitting in the kitchen with them, drinking coffee and telling old fishing stories. In the meantime, I’ll be working on my next piece about why I can’t stay awake past nine. :)