He went out to his little compact beater of a car and headed home trying to beat the sun up, knowing that his mother got up to see the sunrise and she would scold him for being out late after work. He looked at the sky and knew he was in for an earful... there was no way he would be in bed before she got up.

Betty Fitzgerald clumped downstairs to the kitchen, poured herself a coffee from the preset pot, forked out a Danish from the aluminum foil store container and settled into her usual chair in preparation for her morning ritual, the sunrise. It was the one...