Web Hosting by Netfirms | Free Domain Names by Netfirms

Showcase Page
Sunday in the Summertime
by C. De Long

Back to Main Showcase Page

The smell of the honeysuckle was thick and cloying on this Sunday afternoon in July of 1957. The air hardly seemed to move at all as Eddie lay beneath the bushes looking up through the branches at the bluest sky he had ever seen. No cloud marred the flawless azure dome, or gave any relief from the heat. There wasn't a sound to be heard except the buzz of a honeybee, loaded with pollen, that was making its way among the blossoms. If he had been moving, or if the sun had been shining directly on him it would have been unbearable. Eddie dozed and thought about the church service going on in the old log church. He had whispered to his mother that he had to go to the bathroom, then had fled the building. He knew he was in for a rough time when his parents realized he hadn't come back, but he figured that not having to sit quietly while the service went on and on was payment in advance for whatever punishment he got. The heat in the old building had been stifling, and the odor from the sweating bodies around him had been overpowering.

When he slipped away, Eddie had gone so far that he couldn't even hear the congregation singing. This was quite an accomplishment as the service was an all day songfest. That meant that groups came from all over the surrounding area to sing special songs. Some of the groups went from church to church singing once or twice a week. Now Eddie wasn't a connoisseur of fine music, but even he knew that some of those who sang should only have been allowed to do so inside a refrigerator, with the door closed. These people were really bad. One old lady in particular lost the tune she was singing over thirty years before, if she had it then. Her voice was a thin reedy whine, and it cracked whenever she tried to reach any note more than half an octave above her normal monotone.

The preacher always called on this woman to sing. Eddie thought it might be the way the preacher was trying to show the congregation what Hell was like. But then the preacher would say that this lady was sure to be one of God's favorites, and Eddie would wonder if the singing was all going to be like this in Heaven. If it was, then how could that be considered so great? When he listened to the congregation singing, Eddie could pick out the ones all around him who were singing out of tune. Maybe Heaven made everyone a good singer. Eddie certainly hoped so, or he didn't think he could stand listening to them through all eternity.

He also wondered about the streets that were paved with gold. He knew that gold was a soft metal, but it sure seemed hard when you compared it with grass. Now, that would be Heaven, if you could walk with cool grass under your feet, and coming up between your toes all of the time. Eddie's parents were always singing about those golden slippers. It seemed to Eddie that these would be even worse than those silly wooden things the Dutch wore. If everyone had everything they wanted in Heaven, why did they need gold anyway. This led Eddie to start wondering about where our concept of Heaven came from, anyway. It seemed like the way things were supposed to be in Heaven were all those things wished for by people a long time ago. Eddie knew that he would much rather be watching television than sitting around playing a harp and singing all day. Did God design Heaven, or did it come from the imagination of ordinary people who lived a long time ago? Maybe he would never know, but Eddie decided he would do his best to find out.

The End

Back to Main Showcase Page