A Memoir of Sundays
No Danger in Memories
Remember the days during the pandemic and the growing unrest? We were all cautioned to stay home and stay away from public places and transportation. I think my best experience with a method of transportation in those days was my imagination and my memories —no danger there, it was cheap, and it was fun … for the most part anyway.
A Whole Memoir of Sundays
It was Sunday again and another week was looming large. The pandemic was still going strong, we were that much closer to Christmas, and our gifts for family up north weren’t wrapped or mailed yet. Lots to think about —- I was in the midst of thinking about all the stuff Robert and I had to do when a little homemade Christmas ornament hanging halfway down the tree caught my eye and made me smile like it does every year.
I remembered the year Mama and I sat at her kitchen table making scads of them for a church fundraiser. It was and is an adorable little church mouse. We had such fun putting them together, starting with half a walnut shell, then gluing on big gray felt ears and googly eyes and …
… then another memory intruded suddenly as I thought of other Sundays when I was growing up in our large family. Going to church in those days was a big production. People got all dressed up in their Sunday best and it was no different at our house.
Our dresses were starched and ironed; my brothers wore their dress shirts and pants; Daddy put on a suit and tie, and mama always wore a pretty dress and high heels.
Saturday evenings, Daddy whistled while he polished all of our shoes at the kitchen tabIe, even Mama’s. I can still hear her heels tapping on the sidewalk when she walked and when she climbed the stairs into church. I remember wanting to be a lady just like her and make that same sound with my shoes when I grew up.
In church, with six children, our family was so large, we took up the whole center front row of the balcony and we always sat in the same pew. Mama usually scooted in first, followed by the six of us. Daddy parked himself on the other end and that completed the family ‘sandwich’.
Reverend Kaser was a kindly man and a wonderful pastor. He had the unique gift of grabbing and holding the attention of both old and young with his sermons. He easily weaved the weekly Bible passage in with a real life experience that everyone could relate to.
I suppose it was inevitable, due to his shift work as foreman at the steel mill, but in spite of the uniquely talented Reverend Kaser, Daddy would eventually nod off mid-sermon nearly every Sunday.
I wish I had a dollar for every time Mama would nudge the child next to her and whisper, "Daddy's asleep." Then it was that child's job to pass the nudge and Mama’s whisper to the next in line and so forth, until the child closest to Daddy poked him gently to wake him.
It was a regular occurrence and we were used to it ---I think everyone in church was. It really wasn't so bad, except Daddy had a tendency to snore and upstage the kindly Reverend Kaser.
Reverend Kaser was a gentleman about it, though. As I remember, he only mentioned it once. Outside on the front steps, shaking hands and saying goodbye to the congregation …
“We had a nice duet going this morning, Joe …”