Father's Day
Lunch In Belmont
A
few weeks ago, Barbara relayed, "Rayanne can’t work out her schedule
to come home for Fathers Day. She and Anson, both, have to work Sunday night.
She wants to know if we can drive up there for lunch."
There are things we parents do for our children that defy reason and logic.
How else can one explain why a parent being honored would travel to the home
of a loved one, rather than the loved one traveling to the home of the parent?
Call me old-fashioned, but is that Biblical? Is this the norm in the Orient
or other region with long-standing cultural traditions? As I see it, this
is but another example of my being born at the wrong time, or in this case,
the wrong culture.
"We can leave right after Sunday School," Barbara continued, "or wait until
the church service is over. But, if we don’t stay for church, we’ll
get there around noon."
As a creature of habit, I prefer to eat Sunday lunch "around noon." So, the
suggestion to leave after Sunday School had the greater appeal to me. I should
probably digress and explain that I never ate lunch in my formative years,
though I rarely missed the noontime meal. However, what many folks call lunch
today was known as dinner not that many years ago. A three-meal day consisted
of breakfast, dinner, and supper, not breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When,
one day, we of the South stop eating supper, we will have lost an important
aspect of "being Southern."
Barbara found me greeting folks entering the north door of the church sanctuary
a few minutes before 11:00 a.m. Though greeters are expected to remain on
duty until at least five minutes into the church service, my co-greeter,
Terry Butler, encouraged me to leave the greeting chore in his hands. I accepted
his offer, and Barbara and I were soon underway.
Rayanne had also invited her in-laws for Fathers Day lunch. Rotel chicken
was the main course, which everyone appeared to enjoy, though I thought my
serving needed more salt.
Shortly after lunch, Rayanne presented me an envelope labeled simply
‘Daddy,’ and stated, "This is from Jason and me. Happy Fathers
Day."
The envelope contained a humorous card about money growing on trees. Rayanne
had penned a note, "Daddy, and to think you always told me it didn’t.
Hope you and Mom enjoy your present!"
My first reaction was spoken, "This is a recycled card."
While it really wasn’t, I remember getting a similar card or note from
Rayanne a few years ago when she stated a similar sentiment. She doesn’t
remember, but I do. Of course, I don’t remember a specific instance
in which I told her, "Money doesn’t grow on trees," I have no doubt
I mentioned it a lot when she was a teenager.
But, the part about "you and mom" left me wondering until I read further
and discovered we had been given tickets to see Paula Deen of the Food Network
when she comes to Jackson, MS, in July. Paula Deen hosts her own show,
Paula’s Home Cooking, on the Food Network. I’ve tried a
few of her recipes, but it’s Paula, the person, that I enjoy. She’s
a jolly person, southern to the bone, and she cooks with real butter. I’ve
not run across anyone who’s seen her show that wasn’t taken with
her personality. So, the opportunity to see her in person is a Fathers Day
gift that is greatly appreciated and won’t soon be forgotten.
Signature
Sound At Alabama Theatre
We who are Christians and dislike contemporary Christian music often have
to go to great lengths to find Christian music that suits our tastes. Church
leaders, who hitch their wagons to the star of Church Growth, often neglect
the needs of those partners who brought them to the dance. I know, "dance"
was once is a four-letter word among Baptists and a few other denominations,
but it’s not any longer. In congregations where folks sway to the rhythm
of the music, lift ‘holy hands’ to their creator, and stare dreamingly
toward the heavens, I’d go so far as to say these folks aren’t
far from dancing, right now.
Earlier this year, Barbara had a disabled truck driver helping her at the
office of Pontotoc County Habitat For Humanity. The driver had been injured
in a wreck, and her company (women drive trucks, too) wanted her off the
rolls of workman’s compensation. Since the doctor had not released Linda
Maddox to return to work as a driver, the company chose to pay her to work
for a volunteer organization.
In this setting, Linda met me and was soon introduced to other members of
my family. Sarah and Linda seemed to have a lot in common and quickly became
friends. Both women love gospel music, especially that produced by Bill and
Gloria Gaither, and each can name members of various gospel quarters with
relative ease, which is certainly better than I can do.
Sarah told Barbara that Linda had heard the gospel group, Signature
Sound, was scheduled to perform in Birmingham in June. To help me understand
who was performing Sarah told me the leader was Ernie Haas. I wasn’t
familiar with his name, but she said I would know his father-in-law, George
Yonce, the recently deceased bass singer of the Cathedrals.
A few nights later, the group was on the Gospel Network. Sarah and Barbara
called me to the living room to hear the singers. Sarah said she’d order
the tickets online, but she didn’t have a credit card, so Barbara
volunteered to get the tickets for everyone.
"Don’t you want to go with us?" they asked. "We need you to drive."
Initially, the women thought of spending the night in Birmingham, following
the concert. They had a better idea of what they wanted to do than I did,
but I understood they wanted to eat dinner, go the concert, spend the night,
and drive back the next day. I agreed to accompany them but was nowhere near
as excited about going as they were.
All I knew about the location of the theater was it was in downtown Birmingham.
I knew I could locate it with my map program on my computer and could find
a nearby motel, as well. A few days before the Saturday night concert, Barbara
asked what time we needed to leave Pontotoc. Sarah and Linda needed to know,
too.
"If y’all want to eat before the concert, we probably need to leave
between twelve and one o’clock. The concert’s at six; it takes
three hours to get there, about an hour to eat, and we should be inside the
theater an hour before the concert starts," I calculated.
I had only asked a day or so earlier the time of the concert, and when I
heard it would start at 6:00 p.m., I began to rethink staying the night in
Birmingham.
"Look, if the concert lasts a couple of hours, or even if it lasts three
hours, there’s no need for us to spend the night. We’ll be back
in Pontotoc by midnight."
Sarah agreed with me, so the decision was made to drive home after the concert.
While the women seemed to get more excited with each passing day, I grew
slightly more apprehensive. With the exception of Rap music and most Contemporary
Christian music, I can listen to most any music or musical entertainment
for a half hour or so. If the music is good, I can go a bit longer, but if
it’s bad, I tend to tire of it quickly. I’ve been to a few concerts
where I was ready to leave long before the singing stopped. For me, music
is a lot like preaching, I don’t require as much of it as some folks
do.
I was also a little nervous about finding the theater, but armed with the
address and a street map, I was ready for the challenge. As it turned out
our destination was less than a mile off the Interstate.
We stopped in Jasper, Alabama for "lupper," as in halfway between lunch and
supper. I remembered a good barbeque restaurant where my boss, Bob McGehee
and I had lunched last February. Jim ‘N Nick’s Bar-B-Q had enough
to hold Sarah, Linda, Barbara, and me until the concert was over.
We were about two blocks from the theater when we spotted the theater’s
sign and quickly found an attended off-street parking lot. We were the first
to grab a parking space there and we were the first to leave after the concert.
About one hundred people had gathered outside the doors of the Alabama Theatre
by the time we arrived, and more arrived while we waited. I began to notice
the folks in line were largely older than me. Most of them appeared to be
in their seventies and eighties.
By five o’clock we were in our seats in the theater. Happily, the seats
were well cushioned and comfortable. The program started at six. A fifteen-minute
intermission was observed at seven-forty. The concert ended a few minutes
before nine-o’clock.
Ernie Haas and Signature Sound lived up to the billing that Sarah
and Linda had given them. Even the young Ball Brothers who were traveling
with Ernie’s group gave and outstanding performance. The talent of the
individual singers of Signature Sound was unbelievable, and they seemed
to sing even better as a group.
While the music was wonderful, I wasn’t moved emotionally as much as
some. However, as I surveyed the audience, I realized that very few children,
teenagers, or young adults were there. My heart was heavy for the young people
who were not present, and I could not help being reminded of the trend among
proponents of the church growth movement to eliminate harmony and replace
it with unison singing. How sad it will be if churches turn their backs on
their heritage to embrace the music of a sinful world. How sad it will be
if the present younger generation is not exposed to the beautiful harmony
of quartet singing. Where’s the weeping prophet, Jeremiah? This generation
needs a new Jeremiah to weep for it.
Gospel singing still has a strong following, but if what I witnessed is
representative of the typical audience, then Gospel music may be doomed in
this century, as fewer young people become supporters. Music that appeals
to the masses is in a constant state of flux and what’s popular today
may not be popular tomorrow. Signature Sound has ‘eye appeal.’
The singers are handsome and are not shy about choreographing their body
movements in routines strongly reminiscent of dance. Perhaps, they’ve
hit upon something that will appeal to the younger crowd. Time will tell.
Bodock Beau
Pearly Gates
St. Peter looked up and over 1000 folks from New Orleans were converging
on the Pearly Gates. Never having had more than one or two persons a day
from New Orleans before, he ran to God and asked him what to do.
God told him, "Don't worry, St. Peter. There's been a terrible flood in New
Orleans. That's the reason for the large number of New Orleanians showing
up at once."
St. Peter ran back to the Pearly Gates and then ran right back to God yelling,
"They're gone, they're gone!"
God said calmly, "St. Peter, those 1000 people from New Orleans could not
be gone that quickly."
St. Peter said, "No, No, the Pearly Gates! They're gone!"
LATEST POLLING IN TEXAS SHOWS:
Forty-three percent of all TEXANS say that
immigration is a serious problem.
The other 57 percent said, "No hablo
Inglés"
Submitted by Ed Dandridge
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