Can We Talk 2

Childhood Sundays

         I was young before every kid was enrolled on a sports team. Sundays were for friends and family. Church on Sunday morning, of course, and all my school chums went to some kind of church, of many denominations. My town had a church district. The Baptists, the Methodists, the Christian church, Episcopalians and Catholics were all in the same area. The Jewish synagogue, quiet on Sunday, was one block more away, Greek Orthodox was downhill and over a block or so.

         Sundays at my house were big meal days. Fried chicken or chicken and dumplings one week, and roast beef and veggies the next week. We'd have a meal about 2, since Mom had to have time for cooking. We didn't have supper with such a big midday meal. There might be a snack. I was shocked to find out that other families weren't like that; my friend had canned soup for Sunday lunch. On summer days when the whole family went fishing or went to the mountains for sightseeing, the chicken was made in advance. Even iced tea was packed in leak proof jars. I never took to fishing, couldn't stand to hold a worm. But that's what we did and I tolerated it and liked being outside, especially, if my mother's parents went with us. My brothers did little League and school sports, but never had Sunday games or practices.

         The exception to our Sunday routine was for visiting relatives. My dad was close to his aunts and uncles. They mostly lived in the country, so we got some country or farm visits on those days. We saw turkeys and pigs and sometimes ate homegrown foods. When the weather permitted, we'd all sit on the porch and the men would tell tall tales and keep everyone laughing.

         I always enjoyed the ride home from church. It was brief, but my father would sing whatever hymn we sang that Sunday or that was stuck in his head. It was comforting to hear his deep voice singing familiar words. Sunday nights had last minute homework, packing lunches, and Ed Sullivan. Life was comfortable and safe.