Each morning Todd would drive to the overlook so as to watch the sunrise. Toward the end of our stay, I began to accompany him. He would say things about God's timetable being precise, and so forth.
He would pull up with a minute or two to spare, watch the sunrise launch safely through his windshield, then drive back to where he came from. It doesn't take long for me to run with something like this and pad it a little (or a lot).
For example: It is actually his job to put the sun up every day, just like the company custodian was entrusted to raise the flag every day, (when they cared about such things and didn't leave it up continually as it flapped itself to shreds) and I could take an overcast day as proof that he had slept in that day. And if he didn't raise it 'right' in the morning, it might wobble all day - be a little surly, or refuse to go down on time, or go down too early, or cause the sea to sizzle when it sank.
It is a great meme, and I think it will be a permanent one with him. But I can't really do it in front of him, though. He doesn't get mad. He doesn't refuse it. But he doesn't quite know what to make of it. He pushes it away, for it seems to suggest to him that he is being made to look like God, raising and setting the sun. Yes, he knows it is a joke. But his inherent modesty is too much for him to join in the humor. Or maybe it is only me who thinks it is funny and it constitutes more evidence that I live in my own oddball world.