Wastin’ time

This blog post was going to be about phone-free February, which I have failed at almost as miserably as Dry January. We’re nearly two weeks into the new month, and I’m afraid my digital detox and reconnection with real life will have to wait. (Sorry, Rebecca.) Instead, it’s a Wednesday morning in Southwest Florida, and I’m doing absolutely … nothing. To lift a common crossword clue, what’s a four-letter word for wasting time? “I-D-L-E.” That’s me on this Hump Day. But as British philosopher Bertrand Russell said, “The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.” This from the same genius who quipped, “Time is never wasted when you’re wasted all the time.” You go, Bertrand. I’ll bet he skipped Dry January, too.

So, here I am, sittin’ in the mornin’ sun (it’s cloudy), watchin’ the ships (OK, boats) roll in, and then I watch ‘em roll away again … yeah. I’m sittin’ on the dock of the bay, watchin’ two dolphins swim and play, wastin’ time.

You may not know this, as I didn’t, but the man who wrote that iconic song, “(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay,” was a former well-driller from Macon, Georgia, whose name was Otis Redding.

When he wrote it nearly 60 years ago, he was talking about loneliness and aimlessness, about not quite knowing what to do. Kind of like many of us in 2026.

Here’s what Otis sang about then:

“Looks like nothing’s gonna change.

Everything still remains the same.

I can’t do what 10 people tell me to do.

So, I guess I’ll remain the same … yes.”

You know the whistling at the end of the song? It was performed in August 1967 by Redding himself as a placeholder for lyrics he had planned to write later. A Rolling Stone piece from 1968 had called Redding “The Crown Prince of Soul,” who was going to become “the King of them all, ya’ll.”

Bigger than Elvis, they said.

But he never had the chance.

On a foggy Sunday afternoon, Redding and four teen-age members of his backup band, the Bar-Kays, died December 10, 1967, when their private plane crashed into the icy waters of Lake Monona near Madison, Wisconsin, en route from Cleveland to a performance. They were 4 miles from the airport.

Redding was just 26. One band member survived the crash. Another had missed the flight to return a rental car, which saved his life.

Hearing that familiar whistle in the final 20 seconds of the song now seems as if it were written that way and meant to be. “So, I guess I’ll remain the same … yes.”

Lazy mornings help my mind slow down. Enjoying wasted time is never wasted.

Plus, it’s good for the soul. Like sittin’ on the dock of the bay.

(YouTube audio only: This classic song was co-written by soul singer Otis Redding and guitarist Steve Cropper. Redding started writing the lyrics in August 1967 while he was staying on a rented houseboat in Sausalito, California. In 1967, Redding recorded it twice, including just 3 days before his death in a plane crash that same year. It was released in 1968, with the familiar whistling and sounds of waves crashing on shore added in by Cropper after Redding’s death. The song became the first posthumous No. 1 single in the United States and won two Grammy Awards in 1969.)