Easter Sunrise

December 29, 2010

Easter Sunrise

Have you ever been where you couldn’t laugh as much as in a church?  Well sir, let me tell you that standin’ on the beach amongst God’s fav-o-rites at an Easter Sunrise Service is no different than sittin’ in a pew half way through a good stone throwin’.  I’m recallin’ that particular service in 1972 near Surfside Beach SC while visitin’ my Aunt and Uncle.

We all got up early this Sunday and down to the beach we go.  Windy, it was and overcast.  The only sun shinin’ was if you were hoverin’ ‘round 15,000’, an’ even up there, The Light was a-waitin’ the dawn.  We gathered just below the dunes toward the rear of the congregation just like any good “back row Baptist;” especially since this was a Presbyterian service.  Shucks; are they any different.  I think if you said ‘yes,’ Jesus would tell you to go cut a switch.  Anyhow, there we stand; my Aunt, with Uncle Palmer standin’ behind her, my Brother, my wife, and me standin’ right behind her with my arms affectionately around her. 

I recall a blustery wind blowin’ hair this way an’ that an’ folks forever repartin’ the wisps even a “little dab of brylcream” couldn’t tame.  The preacher cranks ‘er up, an’ we’re all eyes an’ ears.  Amazin’ how big some of those ears are uncovered of those blowin’ tresses.  Me an’ Uncle Palmer are movin’ sand back and forth, buildin’ little roads with our ‘loafer dozers.’  Out of nowhere, I feel a pain.  Lordy, but not now!   Ok, Ok.  Easy does it.  Beans are gonna be the death of me yet.  Usually the day after a fine meal of pintos and collards, that pain is the warnin’ shot across the bow, which instead hits the powder magazine midship. Just pinch off just a smidgen, I think, an’ maybe nobody will hear, much less know the biological torment you are experiencing.  Yep; gas pain.  Somethin’ you’d not fear were you in a thunderstorm, but not thunder of your own makin’ and in the midst of a church service to boot.

So I do.  Stiff legged as I can, I break off just a li’l chunck an’ turn ‘er loose.  Whew!  Thank you Jesus!  Silence!  Did I say ‘silence?’  Honey, she might not have spoken, but she had arms an’ legs, for she was a-crawlin’ her way up to my collar.  So help me God, I felt ever toe hold to the top. I felt the warmth that crisp Spring mornin’ an’ was fixin’ to share with the world.  Did I say “blustery?”  Dead calm as soon as the bubble burst.  There wasn’t breeze enough to put a mere quiver in the flame of a candle.  I could’ve used an orchestra full of those little fans with the prayin’ hands just ‘bout then.  Yessiree Bob, ‘cause just as soon as she cleared my collar, you’d ‘ave thought I was the preacher from all the attention I got.  The wife, well she broke free of my comforting arms quicker’n a short horned calf breaks clear of the chute at the rodeo.  That movement alone got me just a little tickled…. just a little.  Brother, he glances over and grimaces one of those looks that only speaks, “you rotten sumbitch!”  Aunt Jerri, bless her heart, takes it on the chin, but cast such a stare to let me know the trouble I’m in…I’m startin’ to quiver now, not only doesn’t this bother me, but I know how much misery is being visited on them.  It was so thick it would have dulled a sharp knife.  With each second longer, I start to shake ‘n heave, doin’ my best to squelch the laugh that is buildin’ in my toes.   

Uncle Palmer is the one that doesn’t care.  He’s back there busy with those dozer loafers.  His shoes have buckles, which he didn’t bother to close, so every time he moves his feet, sounds like the safety backup bell on a front end loader.  He’s oblivious to it all, but then he pauses.  All construction comes to a stop.  He looks over at me an’ grins.  He’s the devil incarnate and would do anything he could to git you to laugh when you shouldn’t, and the time was right.  He’d found his ‘mark,’ but not till my mark found him.  With a look of desperation you’d only see on Barney Fife, he zips up his windbreaker to his throat…but he doesn’t stop there.  He’s got my attention, catches my eye, then tucks his head and zips the coat up over it, leavin’ the ‘headless horseman’ in our midst.  That’s all it took. It starts as a snort through my nose till I can’t hold back any longer, and I bust out laughin’ right there amongst God and everyone awaitin’ the Risen Savior.  It rize all right, but t’warn’t the Savior.  In a last ditch effort to avoid total humiliation, I turn an’ take off a-runnin’ back toward the car, where Granny sits outta the air so as to keep her neuralgia at bay. “What’s happenin’?” she asks, an’ with tears in my eyes an’ a snicker in my breath, “nothin’ at all that a good breeze wouldn’t fix.”