notice

Got a call the other day from my folks, they're great, but I guess one of the older guys from church is mostly bedridden these days. Grady liked to look out for us young dudes. Once, at Easter, he asked us to not stand around the front door as people were coming in since it “didn't look good”. I never really understood what that meant since we were all wearing suits, like he was. And then there were the days, or weeks at least, as some of us were shooting hoops in the gym before the evening service he would time quarters with that old conductor's watch he carried, the same one used to determine when it was time for us to settle down in the sanctuary. Once I was sitting near the back pew and came out to get a drink, and sure enough, as I wet my whistle there was Grady standing there with a grave look asking whether this was necessary so early in the service. I suppose I had no business disrupting the order of things with my frivolous biological impulses.

At any rate I hear his wife Freda is holding up well. She's the one who taught children for 150 years and used to look around as we prayed to make sure we were being revern't. You've got to be revern't. she'd grunt, shaking that seemingly ten-jointed finger as she justifies all she'd been taught and reared, all with the ardor of a seventh-grade cheerleader. After all, if it was good enough for the Apostle Paul then it's good enough for Freda and more than enough for these supple-souled young'uns. Other teachers didn't share Freda's attention to detail and she often challenged them, which is probably why she was often chosen for leadership. Who knows, maybe some people express their love in the form of tireless devotion to duty.

Lately, seeing them withered, becoming less and less relevant to the thrust of life in that little church, I can't help but yearn for perspective. I mean, who's gonna show us the righteous path once the faithfuls are gone?