Blog archive
January 2026
BEACONS OF HOPE - The Dump Trucks of the Eaton Fire
01/29/2026
Exploring the Hidden Trails Together: The Pasadena Village Hiking Group
01/28/2026
Five Years of Transformative Leadership at Pasadena Village
01/28/2026
For Your Hearing Considerations: A Presentation by Dr. Philip Salomon, Audiologist
01/28/2026
Hearts & Limbs in Zambia
01/28/2026
Lost Trees of Altadena Return Home
01/28/2026
President's Message: WHY the Village Works
01/28/2026
TV: Behind the Scenes
01/28/2026
Trauma to Triumph
01/28/2026
1619 Group Reflects on Politics, Climate, and Democratic Strain
01/23/2026
How Pasadena Village Helped Me Rebuild After the Eaton Fire
01/10/2026
Status - January 6, 2026
01/06/2026
Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kris Kristofferson
By Jim HendrickPosted: 04/30/2025
Sunday Morning Coming Down
by Kris Kristofferson
Well I woke up Sunday mornin', with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad, so I had one more, for dessert
Then I fumbled through my closet, for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt
And I shaved my face and combed my hair and, stumbled down the stairs to meet the day
I'd smoked my brain the night before on, cigarettes and songs that I'd been pickin'
But I lit my first and watched a small kid cussin' at a can, that he was kickin'
Then I crossed the empty street and caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken
And it took me back to somethin', that I'd lost somehow somewhere along the way
On the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin' Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
And there's nothin' short of dyin', half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city side walks, Sunday mornin' comin' down
In the park I saw a daddy, with a laughing little girl who he was swingin'
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to the song that they were singin'
Then I headed back for home and somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'
And it echoed through the canyons like the disappearing dreams of yesterday
On the Sunday morning sidewalks, wishin' Lord, that I was stoned
'Cause there's something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone
And there's nothin' short of dyin', half as lonesome as the sound
On the sleepin' city side walks, Sunday mornin' comin' down
😃😁😁🤗🤗🤗🧐🧐😉😉 This song lyric was read by Dan Golden at A Poetry Gathering
