Sunday mornings 45 years ago
What i remember most is the quiet in the earliest part of the morning. No alarms, no hurrying, no schedule. Comics first, then the rest of the newspaper in whatever order you were interested or was available. Because even small-town newspapers had multi-part editions on Sundays but also there was the nearest city paper sometimes, too. If someone wandered out to grab one at the nearest box stand.
Sometimes pancakes, or Dad would walk to the donut store (we seemed to always live fairly close to one, up until high school). Occasionally he'd make bagels and we'd have them hot from the post-boil bake with cream cheese that tried to melt right off.
Mom always watched CBS Sunday Morning. Unless it was tennis season, then the French Open or Wimbledon finals would be on. Some years she'd get strawberries for us to have with breakfast on the Wimbledon weekends.
My memories of the later morning are less clear; it's as if the early morning never really ended. After lunch might be anything. Weekly chores or homework or reading or being shooed outside. But the mornings felt suspended and timeless.