I woke up this morning feeling fine....Oops...sorry...I must be picking up David Cassidy in my head. As I was saying before I started quoting lyrics from the 70's,feeling much better today. Perhaps a parade was just what I needed to snap me out of the blue mood that has held me in it's clutches for a couple of weeks.
On the way home Saturday after the parade, I thought of something Mother always used to say, "Sometimes you have to blow your own horn and lead your own parade." Granted, I wasn't leading it, just an unwitting participant, but why nit pick over minor details.
Life can be like a parade. You can choose to watch it pass by or you can insert yourself into the line up and participate. I've watched from the side lines for much too long.
Yesterday unfolded slowly and I found myself in the past. When I was growing up most everything was closed on Sunday. You could go to town if you wanted to, but nothing was open except restaurants. On Wednesday's all the business down town closed at 12:00pm.
Sunday was time for home,family and church. Mother would wake us around 7:30 or so. She puttered around in the kitchen cooking breakfast while from the television came the sweet sounds of Southern Gospel Music via the Gospel Jubilee featuring The Florida Boys and other popular groups of the day, The Happy Goodman's, Kingsmen Quartet(my favorite), Stamps, Inspirations and others.
After breakfast everyone flew around getting ready for church. Sunday School started at 10:00 am. We lived about 5 minutes from the church, but Daddy insisted that everyone be ready to go at 9;30. He preferred to arrive at least 15 minutes early.
It was a small country church but full of good people who loved one another and The Lord. Everyone always wore their Sunday best. For some this meant, Sunday go to meetin' overalls, a crisp,clean white shirt and black tie. Daddy was a suit and tie man. Still is.
One of the things I remember best is the singing. The way all those voices would rise up in sweet 4 part harmony. Certain songs would really get the crowd going, like, Just A Little Talk With Jesus, I'll Fly Away, Looking For A City, I'll Meet You In The Morning and of course, Amazing Grace.
After 30 minutes or more of singing the preacher would take center stage behind the pulpit. Mother and Daddy's pew was the third one on the right side (if you were looking down into the congregation). Daddy sat on the end, then me, Mother and my baby brother.
Once the singing was over I was ready to go home. Patient I was not. A restless wiggle worm to be sure. Once I passed a certain age, I was expected to sit there without books, paper or crayons, like a young lady. Wasn't allowed to sit by my brother because it would end up in trouble. You've heard of being between a rock and a hard place...? Well, my place was between, The Pincher (Mother) and The Thumper (Daddy).
I would get 1 or 2 warnings, 3 at the most, before the pinching began. It always started with the pinching. Stubborn, willful, hard headed, full of mischief...that was me! Once while reading the scripture our pastor said "ass". My little brother let out a gasp, and leaned over to whisper in Mother's ear, (he never understood and doesn't to this very day the concept of whispering), "Mommy, he said a bad word." I began to giggle as she shook her head "no", his signal to not say anything else. Everyone seated nearby us had heard him and chuckles started to spread.
Preacher then said, "ass" once more. Baby Brother shook his head back and forth and said out loud, "Mommy, you gonna wash his mouth out with soap". Baby Brother then discovered that this must be amusing, looked over at me and smiled as I giggled. Warning number 1- The Look. He glanced over at me again. I laughed again. Warning number 2-A Tap on the knee. I shrugged away from her, saying, "Stop it". Let the pinching and thumping begin!
She reached over and pinched me lightly on the arm. I scoot over toward Daddy. Wrong move. He stretches his arm around the back of the pew, placing it around my shoulder (all the better to thump my ear). I wouldn't trade those memories for any amount of money.
I wanted to include a song by Vestal Goodman, but Song2play didn't have one! I did manage to find one that reminds me of those Sunday's in that little country church and have included it in the comments section.
It is a beautiful day here and I enjoy the parade of life.
Later Ya'll...^Belle^
