Some people got to discussing grace — as in “the prayer before eating,” not “the love of God” or “elegance of movement” — in the comments yesterday. It reminded me of one of the pitfalls of not raising our child in any religion, i.e. she can’t say grace when called upon. On the summer to-do list: Teach her one or two.
At camp with the girl scouts a couple weeks ago, we were asked to “take an attitude of respect” for a short blessing before every meal. A different troop was called forward to lead us each time, and some smartass Brownies called for the Addams family grace:
Na na na nah (snap fingers twice)
Na na na nah (snap fingers twice)
Na na na nah (sing three times then snap fingers twice)
We thank the Lord for giving
The food we need for living
Because we really need it
And we like it too!
Note to self: Not that one.
We said a grace in our house, on holidays and special occasions only, that I have come to think of as “Catholic grace:” BlessusohLordandthesethygiftswhichweareabouttoreceive
throughChristourLordamen, and a lunge for the mashed potatoes. Grace is frequently said at breakneck speed in Catholic families, because families tend to be large and if you don’t move fast, you go hungry. In Alan’s Methodist family, they say Protestant grace: Come Lord Jesus, be our guest and let these gifts to us be blessed. Amen. I know it’s Protestant because I later found it cross-stitched onto a set of placemats made for our family by my mother’s Lutheran aunt. Anyway, no one makes the sign of the cross first. It always bugged me because it rhymes. Prayers shouldn’t rhyme. (Google attributes it to Martin Luther, the famous rhyming heretic, but that sounds like a crock. What’s the German version?)
Even though I was raised Catholic in a WASP-y neighborhood, I really didn’t experience the untracked territories of grace until I started eating with my best friend Becky’s family. Her father was a United Church of Christ minister and her mother was southern, which meant a certain hybrid style — a prayer in which hands weren’t folded in front of us but joined around the table. I’m not a hand-holder under any circumstances. Remember Larry David in the prayer circle on “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” trying to get away with no more than a fingertip of human contact? That’s me. But her mother was a great cook, and it seemed a small sacrifice to make in the name of being a good guest.
And then the Jesus Revolution came to our little suburb, and all of a sudden we were into the free-form prayer, to which there’s only one reaction: God help us all.
One night, in the very earliest days of the televangelist era, I was asked to stay for dinner at my friend Jeff’s house. Jeff was heavily into the then-unknown Jim and Tammy Bakker, particularly Tammy. (Of course Jeff was gay; do you even need to ask?) We would talk to one another in Appalachian accents for long stretches, asking one another to cast out the demons of multiple sclerosis from a lady in Iowa who was holding her hands on the TV in hopes of a cure. So we sat down at the table, and Jeff’s mother said, “Did I forget anything?” and I said, in my best southeast Ohio hillbilly twang, “Nope. All we gotta do now is thank the Lord.” As soon as my tongue touched my palate to form the L sound, I remember that Jeff’s father had recently become a born-again Christian, and was inclined to be a real pain in the ass about it. Too late!
“Yes, let’s,” he said, smiling beatifically, reaching for the hands on either side of him. And he commenced to make a long, long, long extemporaneous prayer, asking that not only the food and the company be blessed, but that God protect Scott (another son) on the long cross-country journey he was preparing to make, and thanks for the lovely weather, and have we mentioned how happy we are to all be together around the table and —
This was too much for me. Jeff’s hand, holding mine, was crushing it with the effort of not laughing, but I was defeated and started snorting, high up in my sinuses. Would he never get to the goddamn amen? My eyes filled with tears; I’m sure my face was purple. By the time it was over, I had to throw down my napkin and rush to the bathroom to shriek into the towels, which sort of spoiled the mood. It remains the single most mortifying social faux pas of my life, and queered me on non-denominational Christianity once and for all.
My parents’ ashes are interred in the same cemetery where Jeff is buried. He’s just two doors down from Woody Hayes, so his family plot was easy to find. The last time I was there, I saw his father’s name had been added to the stone. I’m not much of a knee-bender, but I stood for a moment and threw out some silent vibes of apology.
So, bloggage? Yes, bloggage:
It’s customary to refer to the local constabulary as “(name of city)’s Finest,” but I bet they don’t say that in Dearborn, not anymore. A cop lifts some pot off a suspect, takes it home to make brownies, eats the whole batch and then bitches out on the maryjane rollercoaster. The 911 call, embedded in the page, will make you feel 17 again. Make sure to stick around until he asks the score of the Red Wings game.
From the Why Didn’t I Go to B-School file: Pasadena website outsources city council coverage — to India.
The weekend, it’s here! Have a good one.
Marcia said on May 11, 2007 at 8:23 am
Okay, why am I such a spambot today?
brian stouder said on May 11, 2007 at 8:52 am
At the next family gathering, thank Mom, too!
Happy mother’s day, y’all
4dbirds said on May 11, 2007 at 8:53 am
They did a spot on Tammy Faye on the Today Show this morning. I don’t think she has much longer on this earth. They mentioned she has a huge gay following. Seems in the early days of AIDS, she was quick to be vocal with her sympathy, non-judgmental sympathy, for those who were suffering from the disease. I never knew that about her.
John said on May 11, 2007 at 9:09 am
She did the show with Jim J. Bullock for a while. She always seemed like the well meaning dupe to her husband’s greedy persona.
“Appalachian accents”…I’m sure you mean that in the kindest way possible.
I grew up in a Methodist church and had grace before every meal. Of course, being young, I certainly had no concept of humility nor gratitude so the whole experience was wasted on me. We raised our kids without the aid of religion (wife and I had had enough to last a lifetime by the time we were married). Now, I certainly don’t begrudge a person to practice his choice of religion, even if it includes the occaisional public spectacle. I do believe that people of faith (i.e. those who believe in something) are more pleasant then those who live without faith.
Marcia said on May 11, 2007 at 9:12 am
I do believe that people of faith (i.e. those who believe in something) are more pleasant then those who live without faith.
Painting with a rather broad brush, aren’t you? If I ever saw a statement that needed all sorts of disclaimers, that would be it.
Dorothy said on May 11, 2007 at 9:23 am
You know what you’re talking about with the Catholic dinners at homes of large families. We usually raced thru that prayer so fast the words were almost indistinguishable.
alex said on May 11, 2007 at 9:24 am
I have a friend who’s actually quite grateful the cops took his pot. He’d received a mason jar full of it for his birthday last year. He was on his way home from his birthday party and drunker than a skunk besides. He only got charged for the DUI, and then only lightly.
Dave said on May 11, 2007 at 9:39 am
I had a similar prayer time breakdown. I work at a company in the Jello salad capital of the world, West Michigan. The company is owned and staffed by people of a very evangelical bent, except me. Last year we had a company cook-out and of course it had to begin with a prayer.
Well during the time when the employees, their immediate and extended families, their ancestors, the customers, the vendors, the food, the weather were blessed, I was able to suppress. Well when they blessed our “wise national leaders”, I couldn’t suppress a snort. After it went on form there, I thought I was going to die.
If I had it to do over, I think I would have jumped up and started speaking in tongues and rolling on the ground. At least it would have given me something to do. I tell you there is no more difficult task on earth than to block laughter when whatever spirit moves you.
4dbirds said on May 11, 2007 at 10:00 am
Hubby and I are without faith, raised our kids the same way. We are pleasant. Damn it!!!
MichaelG said on May 11, 2007 at 10:05 am
My goodness, John. Marcia was being kind. Perhaps you may wish to reread your statement and give it a little reflection.
I used to know people who said: “Good food, good friends, good God, let’s eat!” I don’t know how sincere they were but it seemed to cover the ground nicely and concisely.
brian stouder said on May 11, 2007 at 10:19 am
In fairness to John, his statement began with the sweeping disclaimer “I do believe…”, as opposed to a flat statement of the way things are
Marcia said on May 11, 2007 at 10:24 am
I wasn’t offended by John at all. He’s certainly entitled to his beliefs.
What I meant was that surely he doesn’t mean that people of faith such as the Westboro Baptist folks who title their website God Hates Fags and pickets the funerals of dead soldiers with their hate speak are more pleasant, than, say, well, just about anyone.
nancy said on May 11, 2007 at 10:25 am
Everybody believes in something. I believe I’ll have another drink.
John said on May 11, 2007 at 10:26 am
Perhaps you are viewing the word faith in too narrow of a context. I have little use for chest beating and prayer brayers and bible thumpers, but they don’t own a monopoly on faith. I would suspect that all of you have faith, believe in it, and rely upon it whether you call it that or not.
Marcia said on May 11, 2007 at 10:27 am
So we’re all pleasant, then.
Marcia said on May 11, 2007 at 10:29 am
Also, MichaelG, I posted a variant on that prayer first! As I said, though, I’m nothin’ but spam today.
John said on May 11, 2007 at 10:30 am
Marcia, of course I don’t mean those yahoos from Kansas. Being in the business you are in, you must see faith in action daily. Not the celestial ATM miracles are gonna happen kind, but the kind that when the shit hits the fan so hard you want to jump out the window, but instead you pick up your ass and drag it on to another day kind.
Marcia said on May 11, 2007 at 10:32 am
Which brings me back to my point, John. That statement was far too broad.
(Come on, isn’t anyone going to go into the John! Marcia! gag?)
LA mary said on May 11, 2007 at 10:36 am
Our variation was “good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat.”
That Addams family thing is horrible. Imagine the person who thought that up as a cute way to get kids to pray. Eewww.
MaryO said on May 11, 2007 at 10:39 am
I’m Catholic, my husband was raised Missouri Synod Lutheran, but he’s happily agnostic. I didn’t start taking our oldest to church until he threatened to start taking her to one of the local Protestant churches. Realizing I’d promised to raise any of our children Catholic (as you do when you marry in the Catholic Church), we’re now well into our Sunday morning routine of Mass/Catechism (even for our kindergarteners).
And all three of the girls have fully memorized the BlessusohLordandthesethygiftswhichweareabouttoreceivefromthybountythroughChristOurLordAmen!
They are awesome.
And my in-laws do that rhyming prayer thing. Coming from the Catholic background, the rhyming thing kind of creeps me out. No offense.
derwood said on May 11, 2007 at 11:08 am
My wifes brother uses the word lord over and over. I usually count and if I have to start using my toes I usually have to leave the room to keep from laughing. They also sing happy birthday on Dec 25th. This also makes me chuckle.
Happily married and agnostic in Indy,
MichaelG said on May 11, 2007 at 11:11 am
Sorry, Marcia. I didn’t mean to step on your toes. If your post hadn’t been booted I wouldn’t have stuck mine in.
Connie said on May 11, 2007 at 12:21 pm
My in-laws join hands and sing a prayer that starts “Bless us at our table lord, be here and everywhere adored…” I have never learned the rest. Nor did they ever bother to teach it to me.
In my memories of my Dutch Reformed childhood, the prayers before and after Sunday dinner at my grandparents took more time than the meal itself. The after dinner prayer was preceded by a bible reading.
My kid’s only real exposure to church was all those youth groups she happily attended with her friends. I felt terribly guilty when I had to explain to her who Noah was. I did buy her a very contemporary book with prayers for kids to use. Her job was to lead the table in prayer when we hosted a Thanksgiving or other big family dinner event. After the first few she took to spending a couple of weeks writing and editing her own prayer.
These days though she is reading Richard Dawkins and Sam Harris, and Hitchens new book “God is not Great” is next on her list.
LA mary said on May 11, 2007 at 12:26 pm
My Dutch Reformed grandmother used to be in church all day on Sunday. Her observance of the sabbath was very similar to orthodox Judiasm. No work of any sort, even cooking. She was a scary woman. Six feet tall and thin lipped. She beat up a kid who tried to mug her when she was in her late seventies.
MaryC said on May 11, 2007 at 12:40 pm
Wait a minute — BlessusohLordandthesethygiftswhichweareabouttoreceive
throughChristourLordamen is Catholic? Because that’s my Presbyterian grandma’s grace.
One nice thing about the Presbyterians — short prayers. You could be in and out of grandma’s church on Sunday morning in half an hour. They didn’t dilly-dally, they got straight to the point.
Emma said on May 11, 2007 at 1:18 pm
At a dinner with my ex-husband’s family. We sat around a table holding hands and were asked to say one thing we were thankful for and one thing we were proud of. Thinking it would get a big laugh, I said: “I’m thankful I’m not pregnant.”
nancy said on May 11, 2007 at 1:20 pm
But if you had followed that with, “and proud of it, too” — that would have killed.
You can tell you’re Irish Catholic, Emma, because you think you should get a laugh at grace.
Marie said on May 11, 2007 at 1:31 pm
(Lurker coming out of hiding)
My grandpa, who grew up in a poor farming family of five kids in Tennessee, at 83 still ends the “BlessusohLord…” grace with, “He that eats the fastest, gets the mostest” before diving for the mashed potatoes.
(His “BlessusohLord…” is also the fastest I’ve ever heard. When we were kids, he’d be done praying and we’d still be on “and these, thy gifts.” You should hear him say the Rosary.)
Andrea said on May 11, 2007 at 2:23 pm
Amen to the hand holding thing. Being a small c catholic, I’m assuming you haven’t been to Mass in awhile. Most Catholic churches have revised the “Our Father” portion of Mass so that everyone joins hands during the prayer. I refuse, even with my own family members sitting next to me.
This is the prayer my four-year old says at her (non-Catholic) pre-school:
God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food.
By his hands ,we are blessed, thank you for our daily bread.
And for some reason, she ends it with a big finish – a Southern-accented A-men! (We live in PA.) It’s cute for a four-year old, but may be too cute for Kate.
Jeff said on May 11, 2007 at 2:36 pm
It’s JM J. Bullock (no i, i don’t know why), and say a prayer for Tammy Faye. She, not the malign and thuggish Fred Phelps, in all her unsophistication and manic sincerity, best represents the baseline Christianity in this country . . . Protestant, Catholic, Pentecostal, or Bowel-obstructed Fundamentalist. You can find Tammy Faye’s all over the 50 states (yes, 50, there’s an amazing number of them in Alaska), but the Phelps’ are ubiquitous only in their unerring appetite for time on camera. I laughed at her myself as a college student, and have plenty of opportunity to realize that she may have unbelievably bad judgement on husbands, but it probably comes from too much desire to just care for every sad, lonely, hurting person that comes in her field of view.
Would that i had the nerve to make a few more of her kind of mistakes, and all out of faithfulness to a Jesus she seems to “get” better than me. But i bet i’d go nuts holding hands through a ten minute grace before a meal in her house, even so.
ps — y’all should try the Doxology to Hernando’s Hideaway if you don’t like the Addams’ Family grace. hasn’t anyone here gone to camp for a week? By Friday, who knows what you’ll hear, even if it’s the chaplain praying (or ‘specially if).
nancy said on May 11, 2007 at 2:41 pm
“Hernando’s Hideaway” is a comfortable tune for many verses. Try it with “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” Same with “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” which easily accommodates “Because I could not stop for death he kindly stopped for me,” as well as Yeats’ “Come Gather Round me Parnellites.” The last was made to be a drinking song, though.
Connie said on May 11, 2007 at 3:11 pm
“Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” sung to “Hernando’s Hideaway” has long been our favorite singing in the car song. (We actually learned it from Garrison Keiller). We have also had a longstanding tradition of singing “Back Home Again in Indiana” whenever we cross the state line coming home. Neither Tom nor I can sing very well, but that never stops us.
Back in our dating years we were heading back to East Lansing from a quick spring break trip to Mammoth Cave. He had taught me this great camp song, that starts “Once a yodeller was yodelling, on a mountaintop high….” Somewhere near Fort Wayne on I69 he pulled over on the freeway and said: dear I love you, but you have 2 choices. Stop singing or get out of the car. I stopped. And a few years later I married him. We have been singing out of tune together ever since.
LA mary said on May 11, 2007 at 3:44 pm
Try the theme song from the TV show, Green Acres to the tune of the Beatles “A Day in the Life.”
brian stouder said on May 11, 2007 at 3:53 pm
We have also had a longstanding tradition of singing “Back Home Again in Indiana”
We do that, too…or at least I do – while my wife rolls her eyes.
A few summers ago we loaded up the young folks and drove the family truckster down to see Mickey Mouse, and I specifically purchased a Ray Charles cd, and had “Georgia” racked and ready for when we hit the Georgia line…
but on the trip southward, that event occurred after midnight, and all around me were snoozing. Still, it was a pleasant moment (and anyway, when we were in a particularly pretty pine forrest, as we meandered back north again [we stopped at Plains and at Andersonville and at Columbus], that cd played to great effect!)
john c said on May 11, 2007 at 4:48 pm
I’ve noticed in the blurted out “BlessusohLord…”versions everyone seems to be leaving out “…from thy bounty.” The funny thing about our graces is that my wife’s family says “from your goodness” and my family says “from thy bounty”. Actually, I guess it’s not that funny. But I’m a little loopy on Vicodin, recovering from a hernia operation. I’m a religious moderate (Catholic) but have a soft spot for grace. For me it doesn’t have to be over the top – just a momentary pause that helps remind us and our kids that we should be thanksful for what we have.
Garrison Keillor has a great monologue that ends hilariously with an overly long Thanksgiving grace.
michaelj said on May 11, 2007 at 6:36 pm
My family ate dinner together. My dad, who’s second-generation Norwegian and Irish, and who looked so Jewish he walked into ceremonies unchallenged said Grace. When I was a kid, I thought his rabbinical approach and his sort of priestly palms up , index fingers in was sort of silly. He was years ahead of the Catholic Church’s ecumenical movement.
When I was a little kid, we came upon the Slaters Branch Bridge. My dad was working at a hospital that gave free care to displaced miners. The Tug River was raging, we were driving the black and white ford wagon with the padded dashboard, that was eventually inhabited by a gnawing rat. The crossing was by way of the Slaters Branch Bridge over the Tug River. One lane,whinging bridge made with single cables and planks.
My dad moved on to working at Metropolitan Hospital. 12th and Tuxedo. And the motor city was burning. Two missions: Universal health care for union workers. Protection of the disenfranchised. Well that’s my mom and dad. FBI at the door. In Little Rock, with Fedoras and Overcoats. Latwe, more in the shadows.
There was a movement called (Christian Family Movement), and it was the essence of the thinking of the last great Pope ( that would be John XXIV). I think it was based upon the idea that personal belief was sacrosanct but none of is an island.
As Catholics, we’re used to being considered non-Christians, satanic cult even, like the Mormons. Seems to me, if you’re a Christian, you could make the argument that the Catholic Church goes back to Jesus, or at least Peter, the Protestant Church to the intestinally impacted Martin Luther, or to Joseph Smith, whose rapsheet ran on and on.
I know, I’m extending my welcome. Newt Romney is totally disposable. Do any of you know about his dad? Who was an exceptionally honorable man and Governor of MI. You’d need high-tech equipment to discern Mitt from Newt. These guys are supposed to be thinkers but they’re the worst forms of idealogue.
Shouldn’t they be paying more attention to actual threats, like Moe, Curley and Larry trying to pretend to be pizza guys at the gate at Ft. Dix? If there’s somebdy that reads Nancy Nall that beleves thse bozos represented a threat, I’d like to hear it. How do the most recent threats differ from the whackjob that was going to cut down the Brooklyn Bridge with an acetylene torch in broad daylight?
Kerry said this was a police operation. Mindless W ridiculed this idea. So far, so true. Google BCCI. Boy did that embarrass people that had airplanes standing in for them at the GOP gaggle. Maybe that plane was the one the August PDB was talking about. It flew right into the GOPlutocrat bunch.
I grew up in Birmingham, more or less, and went to school in the city with Louis the Hatter and the Michigan Weekly, and deep center bleachers at Tiger Stadium. A classmate of mine, Bill Thigpen, was the best hoops player in the state, made Rudi T look pretty bad,, and when he brecame a victim of a gang-style murder, it was automatically ascribed to the Panthers, not the cops. Yeah, right.
The Grosses just never got it. You had to row up in downtown Detroit to
Jeff said on May 11, 2007 at 7:22 pm
“The Yellow Rose of Texas” thing with Emily Dickinson used to seem interesting, but it turns out that when Higginson, her “promoter,” selected poems to publish that sounded “right” to him, which meant a standard rhythm like “Yellow Rose.”
It turns out she wrote reams more, and more interesting poetry, that wasn’t published early on, none of which can be sung to much of anything, but just stick in the brain.
I.E. — # 1078
The Bustle in a House
The Morning after Death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon Earth –
The Sweeping up the Heart
And putting Love away
We shall not want to use again
ashley said on May 11, 2007 at 7:48 pm
I can’t believe nobody listed my favorite televangelist: Dr. euGene Scott. It was like watching a very low speed car crash over and over and over. Of course, then he’d get pissed that nobody was calling in, and he’d say “Get on the phone”, and they’d play “New York state of mind” and show pretty pictures and give the phone number.
michaelj said on May 11, 2007 at 7:49 pm
john c: No proscription on humor at grace. Nor theology, nor atheism, nor abject Wonderful Life idiocy. It’s what anybody chooses to believe at the moment. I’d say, it usually is thanksgiving for the people that are joining you around the table, and those you choose to remember.
Some things are so important, there’s pretty much nothing you can do but acknowledge the implicit humor, or they’re too sad to bear, or both. People die and we all deal. Or not. How about grace where everybody acknowledges the short-comings of the departed, everybody forgives them, and all of us wonder what’s next. Never happen? Or not.
Well. anyway, I believe in the Teillhard version, though not as it took my mom away. I believe in imparted wisdom. I believe in somebody that has a clue. I belirve in somebody that knows Grosse Pointe is the anti- something.
Let me put it this way, Nancy, if you grew up around here, Iggy was a grand jete, we thought he was an idiot. In retrospect, compare any of that iggy drivell with anything on ‘Back in the USA’. No joke: that one-chord shit with the wah-wah doesn/. get the Ramones.
And as as far as guitar playing was concerned, there’s Sonic and Gary Quackenbush. I grew up with these
guys. Iggy vs. SRC or MC5 was kind of a joke.
michaelj said on May 11, 2007 at 7:57 pm
ashley: Dr. Scott? What about his Jezebel daghter? I went to Jesuit school, I think I know what they’re talking about, I’m pretty sure its bullshit, but where’s the scam? What’s their hustle?
basset said on May 11, 2007 at 8:08 pm
>>when they blessed our “wise national leaders”, I couldn’t suppress a snort.
maybe they meant the wise national leaders of the baby-food industry, or furniture, or something else equally West Michigan.
I will weigh in again on Iggy… never quite got the point of whatever it is he does. Seger and the Nuge, that’s all the Michigan music I need. early Nuge, before he got political… I remember moving into the dorm sophomore year, drinking twelve or fourteen tall Pabst Malt Liquors on an empty stomach, and passing out to “Stranglehold.”
and speaking of that particular track, has anyone else here noticed it on a Nissan commercial recently?
nancy said on May 11, 2007 at 8:08 pm
Is Gene Scott the one whose daughter is Rebecca DeMornay?
MarkH said on May 11, 2007 at 11:42 pm
No, DeMornay’s father was Wally George, California TV talk show host. Right wing, a direct descendent of Joe Pyne. LA Mary might remember one or both of these guys.
MarkH said on May 12, 2007 at 12:10 am
And what about Ohio’s favorite evangelists, in no particular order: Ernest Angely, LeRoy (“don’t cal me LEEroy; it’s La-ROY!”) Jenkins, and…Bill Swad. Jenkins and Swad, both famously busted for fraud at some point. Didn’t Jenkins actually do jail time?
Garry said on May 12, 2007 at 12:33 am
Ernest Angely was a hoot!
Robin Williams did a hysterically funny, dead on impression of him.
Angely bought out Rex Humbard’s ministry, but I don’t know if he also bought the bra factory that Humbard owned [absolutely true fact]!
Gene Scott was totally insane, but sure fun to watch. His last hour on the TV station he owned before it’s license was taken away by the FCC was beyond belief as Scott went ballistic against the government. He had apparently violated all sorts of FCC regs & they took away the license. Seeing that whack job demand money from his viewers or smoking a real Cuban cigar down to the very end by sticking a toothpick into was a trip. Even better was when he showed an abstract painting of his & described what it meant. It was just a bad rip off of Jack The Dripper, but Scott always claimed it to be a religious masterpiece.
Scott’s much younger wife, a stone fox BTW, has taken over. He ordained her, but I guess she doesn’t have it, because I’ve never seen her listed on any channel.
danindy said on May 12, 2007 at 7:45 am
I can’t believe more people didn’t comment on the Dearborn police story. That was way too funny actually calling someone to make sure they weren’t dead??!! How high can you get?! It reminded me of a ‘Roseanne’ episode where Roseanne, Dan and Jackie got high and Jackie is sitting in the bathtub and says “Is this the sink, am I shrinking?!”
Oh, I long for the good old days…sigh.
Kim said on May 12, 2007 at 8:46 am
Another grace story to add to these eclectic comments (as usual!):
Our houseful of girls shared a backyard in college with a houseful of guys, all Roman Catholic from Chicago/suburbs. Every night they’d eat together (us, too) but we’d hear wafting across the yard their prayer that began as a lovely song and then intensified. We soon invited these guys over for dinner. We sat around the table, all 12 of us, and they asked if they could say grace. All the girls cast quick glances at each other in anticipation of finally knowing what their nightly prayer was all about.
We held hands. They began, sweetly: “Sons of God, hear his holy word, gather ’round the table of the Lord”
Then, yelling while their fists pounded the table: “EAT HIS BODY, DRINK HIS BLOOD!”
Then, sweetly with hands joined: “And we’ll sing a song of love, hallelu-, hallelu-, hallelu-u-u-u-jah!”
It was the beginning of some beautiful friendships.
Also: Loved Tammy Faye so much in the early days when they were building that water park for Jesus that I went as her for Halloween. Only time in my life I’ve ever worn a.) false eyelashes and b.) a cross necklace that was nearly big enough for self-crucifixion. Sadly, it was not the only time in my life I have worn blue eyeshadow.
Happy mother’s day, ya’ll, esp. the proprietress.
MichaelG said on May 12, 2007 at 6:57 pm
I remember Gene Scott. Had on a different hat every time you saw him. Told people not to bother with ones or fives — send nothing smaller than a twenty. This goes back a fur piece.
brian stouder said on May 12, 2007 at 10:10 pm
My dad would occasionally tune in Jimmy Swagart (spelling?) – he had a fairly old fashioned fire/brimstone/good news/redemption message – and he could flat-out deliver a soliloquy; he’d work himself into a profuse amount of perspiration, and dramatically shift moods and tones of voice….quite the performer. He’d often mention his cousin Jerry Lee Lewis (The Killer his own self)
He always reminded me of Captain Kirk
LA mary said on May 14, 2007 at 9:49 am
Gene Scott was amazing. He used to show footage of horse shows for hours as well. No explanation, just horses. His station, giant satellite dish and all, is still on Glendale Avenue. Not sure what they do there now, but I think you can still get Gene Scott on TV on tape.
I used to like Kathryn Kuhlman. Now there was a gay friend program.