It took years for me to recover from the automatic mood swings associated with school year Sundays. That day marked the end of the weekend (we didn’t call it “partying” back then as party was still a noun) and was the deadline for catching up on our required reading and assigned papers, an entire day devoted to anxiety.
Bad Sunday continued into my 20’s and 30’s though the reason had changed. I had to confront choices I’d made the night before, not always a cause for celebration. Being married and having a child totally transformed Sunday into a leisurely and joyous family day, a time to hang out or go out, bond and have fun. This status was retained until our son started preferring peers over parents, freeing up my husband and me to see art films, read the paper, and eat in Chinatown. For that period, Sunday was the new Friday.
But, sadly, Sunday has, once again, been reinstated as a day of gloom. I wake up despondent because of a man, not one I chose or can dump with an apologetic, "This just isn't working out for me". If I’d been able to eke out a moment of hope during the week, it’s dispelled on Sunday morning by Meet the Press, Face the Nation and Frank Rich, all of whom affirm my deepest fears about George Bush & co., elevating my despair and outrage.
While Obama is presenting himself as the candidate for change with Hillary promoting her experience, for me Hillary may be more of a change. No, it's not because we'd have a president with cleavage, but with her comes the potential of having Sundays ruined by a woman.
There was a play -Sundays in the Park With George -which would be an apt title for a show about our president, who was probably jogging in the park on Sunday when he should have been reading the assigned chapters in his history text. If he'd done his homework, maybe Sundays wouldn't be so gloomy for so many.