why does the rooster crow in the morning?


Why does the rooster crow in the morning?

That sounds like the setup for a hilarious rooster joke…but I can’t think of anything really all that funny to say about the situation.

So, I’ll ask the question again….Why does the rooster crow in the morning?

It seems like the safe thing to do would be to just lay low.

Just lay low and not feel any need to let the world know that you’re alive.

It seems safer to not feel compelled to holler out your existence morning after morning.

If something bigger can find you, it can eat you.

Keep your mouth shut.


I was in a poor, poor mood yesterday.

I was in a poor mood that was actively poor.  I worked at it.

In my mail jeep, while I’m delivering, I can be my own island of bile.  If I want to mutter or yell or question viciously or shake my fist at the infuriating situation unfolding around me, I can do it without anyone seeing me.

I can get myself worked up into a tizzy pretty efficiently.

Yesterday was the first day we delivered out of the Saluda office.

It’s a new experience.  It’s crowded and awkward the way new things can be.

I don’t have the Saluda office dialed in yet. I don’t have it figured out.

I’m not my usually hyper-efficient self in Saluda yet.

So I was moaning and groaning about some of the changes we were involved with…bitching and griping about how weird and uncomfortable what I was doing was.

Of course, it was kind of one of those, “In space, no one can hear you scream” situations in my Jeep.

Luckily, I was my own worst audience.

After a couple of hours of this, I couldn’t take myself anymore.

So I put on my collection of Joel Osteen sermons that I have on CD…a bunch of MP3 sermons that I must have downloaded somewhere.

And I started having a positivity party.

That was good medicine for me.

That was a necessary cure in that moment.

I was still a crotchety complainer, but I had a new fulcrum to push off of.

Instead of swimming in a cesspool that I dug for myself, I had something a little more solid to push against when I tried to get out of my hole that I’d created.

Before I’d actually heard Joel Osteen, I didn’t know what to think of him.  I knew what some people said about him…good and bad…but I’d never really heard anything he had to say.

I really like Joel Osteen.

It was good medicine to hear something hopeful and positive.

Maybe the rooster crows because he understands something that we don’t.

Maybe he’s some kind of secret avian savant.

Maybe he’s a real world beater.

It could be that he crows because he knows that all he has to celebrate is that moment he’s in…that moment when things start to show the promise of “lightening up” and he draws in a lungful of air and expels it with a loud CROW to start another day.

I may have a detail that’s got me flummoxed in the moment…but the rest of the stuff going on around me is pretty nice.

That’s probably something I should be crowing about.



About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.


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