Twilight, Shmilight

My friend, Jon, an editor and a guitar artist now based in Davao, is my keeper when it comes to the English language. It is he who spars with me about words: how healthful—not healthy—should be used in describing options or food, why a rebel who returns to the fold is called a returnee, not a returner, and what is the impact of impact.

A few weeks ago I emailed him something about twilight, and, true to form, he asked if I was maybe referring to dusk, which question sent us both running to Wikipedia. And found us these:

Sunset, also called sundown in some American English dialects, is the time at which the Sun disappears below the horizon in the west. It should not be confused with dusk, which is the point at which darkness falls, some time after the beginning of twilight when the Sun itself sets.

Dusk should not be confused with sunset, which is the moment when the trailing edge of the Sun itself sinks below the horizon.

Twilight is the time before sunrise or after sunset when sunlight scattered in the upper atmosphere illuminates the lower atmosphere and the surface of the Earth.

So: it is sunset when the edge of the sun hits the horizon, dusk when the sun has gone below the horizon but before the sky becomes dark, and twilight is just after sunset or before dawn when the sun is below the horizon.

Coolness. Now that we got that straight, I can now say with all intellectual honesty and accuracy that I come alive at dusk: this kind of dusk that falls outside our window. Fiery. The reds go into my bloodstream and wake me up.

I’m like a vampire, a term Jon uses loosely around me. I agree, even when some of my diver friends tag me a “child of the sun.” What the heck: I am sleepy in the mornings and half-awake in the afternoons.

Good morning, folks. It’s midnight.


Happy spiritual birthday, Jon. The memory of that walk we three shared 23 years ago--you, me, the Lord--remains fresh, whole, beautiful. I love you,my dearest brother.