Hearing Better

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Recently, the church got an assisted listening system for the hearing impaired.

This was a great development for eighty-six year-old Donald East, whose hearing had deteriorated to the point that Pastor Henry O’Donnell’s deep, soothing voice sounded more like an idling tractor engine than human speech. Because of this, Donald frequently fell asleep during the pastor’s sermons. When Donald slept, he snored. And since most of those who sat near him found Donald’s snoring to be less pleasant than Pastor O’Donnell’s homilies, they were also heartened by the new system.

On the Sunday that the assisted listening system was introduced, head usher Ralph Billings clipped one of the radio units to Donald’s belt and helped him insert the little earphone into his ear. The radio unit picked up a broadcast of everything that went through the speaker system and allowed Donald to control the volume of his individual unit to meet his needs.

Donald was delighted. He heard the choir fine and clear. They were more talented than he remembered. He could hear the announcements – which was a good thing because he learned of an upcoming pancake breakfast hosted by the men’s group. Donald loved pancakes. And of course he could finally hear the content of Pastor O’Donnell’s sermon. Though he still fell asleep half way through it.

As Donald was leaving the sanctuary to go over to coffee hour, he was distracted by the sight of seventy-five year-old Betsy Davis wearing a sleek cardigan. Donald thought Betsy was hot. And he’d become so used to the earphone that he forgot he had the assisted listening unit on and walked right out without returning it.

Meanwhile, Pastor O’Donnell forgot that he was supposed to power off the transmitter after service. Not only was it an unfamiliar task, but he was preoccupied by a parental concern. His daughter, Katie, had been invited to the senior prom. This would have been fantastic if Katie had been a senior, but she was only a sophomore and Henry was not sure he liked the idea of her dating a boy two years older than her. And he was definitely concerned about what might go on at prom. He would prefer to put off thinking about that topic for another couple years. In any case, the new assisted listening system was not foremost in his mind.

After enjoying a cookie and cup of coffee, Donald found he needed to visit the restroom. Donald’s restroom visits took a while these days and by the time he came out, most everyone had left. As he grabbed one last cookie, he waved to Missy Moore and choir director Shane Reed, who were heading into the sanctuary to rehearse a special music selection for the following week.

Missy was going to sing while Shane accompanied her on guitar. Missy wanted to do a full dress rehearsal so she set up a microphone while Shane tuned his instrument. “Are you ready?” Missy asked.

Out in the social hall, Donald heard Missy’s voice broadcast through the assisted listening system. But he didn’t realize that’s where it was coming from. He looked around the empty room. “Ready for what?” he asked nervously.

Shane wasn’t speaking into a mic, so Donald didn’t hear his reply. Instead, he heard Missy say, “Do you think I should introduce it or just launch right in?”

“Introduce what?” Donald asked, beginning to feel desperate. “Who’s there?”

And then Missy started her song: Lord of the Dance.

Donald stumbled back in shock. The angelic voice that was coming from nowhere seemed to be claiming it was the Lord.

About that time Betsy returned to the social hall to retrieve her cardigan, which she’d left behind. Donald rushed over. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

Betsy eyed him uneasily. The old guy looked kind of crazed. “Hear what?”

In the sanctuary, Missy and Shane paused in their rehearsal. The music in Donald’s headphone went suddenly silent. The next thing he heard was Missy responding to some question Shane had asked: “I don’t like that,” she said.

Donald thought maybe God was unhappy he was talking to Betsy. “Oh, it’s gone now,” Donald lied.

“Okay,” Betsy said with a smile and patted him on the arm. Then she hurried out to her car.

The voice started singing Lord of the Dance again. Donald was familiar with the song, but now he listened carefully to the lyrics. He wondered if maybe God wanted him to dance. Donald hadn’t danced since his wife had passed away, and truthfully probably hadn’t even danced for a decade before that. Donald didn’t particularly like to dance, but who was he to deny God?

He started to do a little box step with an imaginary partner.

About a minute later the music stopped. The voice in his ear said, “Let’s pick up the pace.” Then it started singing again at a faster tempo. Donald wondered if God appreciated what this exertion was doing to his eighty-six year-old heart. But he danced.

Katie O’Donnell happened to pass by the door of the social hall just then on the way to her dad’s office. She observed Old Man East hopping crazily about in the quiet room by himself. When she reached the office she said, “Dad, I think Mr. East is having a stroke.”

Henry rushed out. He was relieved to discover the stroke was really just Donald’s herky-jerky attempt at dancing. He was less relieved when Donald started babbling something about God speaking to him.

“You mean you hear Him right now?” Henry asked.

“Yes, except it turns out God is a woman. She told me to dance by singing that hymn, Lord of the Dance. And now she just told me She wants everyone to be tapping their toes along with Her.”

“Dad,” Katie said, “I think it’s a sign!”

Henry thought it was more likely that Katie had been right with her first guess of a stroke. But he asked, “A sign of what?”

“That you should let me go to the prom.”

Henry really had his doubts about that interpretation. But he looked at Katie’s eager face and found his will to deny her was crumbling. “Okay,” he said, “you can go to the prom.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Katie squealed and hugged him. Then she looked back at Donald. “Mr. East, you forgot to return that new radio thingy.”

Donald pulled the earphone out of his ear. It suddenly became clear to him what had happened. He flushed crimson.

As Katie ran off to call her date and tell him she could accept his invitation, Donald and the pastor looked at each other sheepishly. “I guess it wasn’t a message from God after all,” Donald said.

“I don’t know,” Henry replied. “Did you see how happy Katie looked?”

The following week Betsy invited Donald to a dance at the senior center. She’d seen him dancing through the windows as she got in her car the week before. Turns out the old dude had moves.

Movie Night

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Senior Pastor Henry O’Donnell is always looking for program activities that will appeal to the younger members of the congregation. One of his recent ideas was to have a “Day at the Movies” on a Sunday afternoon at the local multiplex.

The film the pastor chose was “Stock Car Cat,” a family comedy about a cat that learned to drive racecars. Several people quickly signed up, however most were older than the teen and young adult crowd O’Donnell was aiming for. As the deadline approached for him to order the group tickets, he asked his fifteen-year-old daughter Katie if she was going.

“Do I have to?” Katie asked.

“Of course not,” Pastor O’Donnell said. “You could always stay home and clean your room instead. I know your mother’s been bugging you to do that for weeks now.”

“Get me a ticket,” Katie grumbled.

The group met for lunch in the mall food court before the movie. In addition to Pastor O’Donnell and Katie, the “Little Old Ladies” were in attendance. This was the nickname for three of the senior members of the congregation: Henrietta Miggins, Celia Simmons and Betsy Davis. Church Secretary Tammy Billings and her husband, head usher Ralph Billings, were also present; and Carlos Lopez and his eight-months-pregnant wife Carrie completed the little group.

Despite just having eaten, the first thing the moviegoers did upon arriving at the theater was head for the concession stand. The place was crowded and the lines long. Katie ended up at the back of their group. Three teenage boys fell in behind her. Katie snuck a peek back at them. They weren’t from her school…but they were cute!

At the front of the line Carlos and Carrie had just completed their order. Tammy and Ralph Billings were next up.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Ralph asked.

“Oh, let me see…” Tammy said. She began studying the concession menu as the cashier feigned patience. “Oh my, everything’s so expensive!” Tammy exclaimed. “What’s the difference between a small and a medium soda?”

As Tammy questioned the cashier at length about the various menu items, another line opened up. The three teenage boys quickly rushed over to it. Katie decided to follow.

“Hey, let her go first,” the cutest of the boys said. “She was ahead of us in the other line.”

“Thanks,” Katie replied.

“Isn’t it annoying when people don’t decide what they want until they get up to the counter,” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she laughed.

“So what’ll it be,” the new cashier said.

“Uh…” Katie realized she didn’t know what she wanted. But she dared not spend time perusing the menu. “Medium popcorn and medium soda,” she blurted out.

As the cashier went to retrieve her concessions, Katie turned back to the boys. “So what are you seeing?”

“Stock Car Cat,” Cute Boy said. “What about you?”

“Same thing,” Katie replied. Normally she would have considered the fact that the cute boy was going to the same movie as her to be a romantic sign straight from cupid. But as she glanced over at the other line and saw her father arguing with the cashier about not putting enough fake butter on his popcorn she kind of wished the boys had picked an action movie. Why were teenage boys going to a family comedy, anyway?

The cashier brought her refreshments and Katie paid. “Well,” she said to the boys, “guess I’ll see you in there.”

“My name’s Todd,” Cute Boy said.

“Katie,” she replied, feeling herself blush a little.

“Katie, come on!” she heard her father shout. She felt her blush deepen. She turned and saw the church group waiting by the theater door. Her father waved wildly at her. She walked over forcing herself not to look back at the boys. She imagined they were laughing uproariously and she didn’t particularly want to see that.

“Cute boys,” Carrie Lopez said. “Do you know them?”

“No,” Katie mumbled.

“You’re better off,” Henrietta Miggins snorted. “They look like hoodlums. Someone ought to tell them it’s rude to wear baseball caps inside.”

“Please don’t, Mrs. Miggins,” Katie said.

“You should invite them to join us,” Carrie said with a wink.

“Wait a minute,” Pastor O’Donnell interjected. “Who are these boys?”

“Forget it, Dad,” Katie hissed. “Let’s just get our seats.”

Finding seats turned out to be a complex problem. Not because the theater was full, but because nobody could agree on what area of the theater was preferable.

The Little Old Ladies wanted to sit toward the back. Carlos, who fancied himself a movie connoisseur, wanted to sit in the middle where the picture and sound were best. Carrie protested that she needed to sit on the aisle since she had to use the restroom roughly every forty-five minutes in her condition. Ralph Billings favored sitting close to the screen since he’d forgotten his glasses. As they were arguing other moviegoers kept taking people’s preferred seats. Finally they compromised on a location about two thirds of the way back and a bit left of center.

Katie quickly slumped down in her chair as the three boys from the concession line entered and took spots in the second row. Despite her best attempts to hide Todd saw her and gave her a little smile.

Carrie leaned across Carlos and said, “Did you see that? I think he likes you.”

“I highly doubt that,” Katie sighed.

“Why don’t you go see if they want to join us,” Carrie persisted.

“And invite them to come to youth group,” Tammy added helpfully.

“Maybe I ought to meet these boys,” Pastor O’Donnell muttered.

To Katie’s relief, Henrietta leaned over from the row behind them and poked the pastor on the arm, derailing the conversation.

“Pastor, why did you choose such an expensive theater,” Henrietta groused.

“What are you talking about?” O’Donnell replied. “This is a normal theater. This is what movie tickets cost.”

“Really?” Henrietta gasped. “That’s appalling. In my day a person could go to the movies and get refreshments for less than a dollar. A small soda here costs more than twice that!”

“They had real movie stars back then, too,” Betsy chimed in. “Cary Grant and Bob Hope. Men who had style and grace and charisma, not like the scruffy boys they put on screen these days, bless their hearts. Who’s in this movie, anyway?”

“I think the cat’s the star,” O’Donnell volunteered. The Little Old Ladies huffed their disgust in unison.

“It’ll probably be full of swearing and sex,” Celia moaned.

“Hollywood has gone to the dogs, alright,” Henrietta concluded as the lights came down.

If Katie hoped that was the end of her embarrassment, she was immediately disappointed.

As the first preview started, Henrietta shouted, “Why is it so loud? Turn it down!”

A moment later Pastor O’Donnell’s cell phone rang. “Oh Jeez,” he said. “Sorry, I forgot to turn it off.” He fumbled around trying to find the phone in the pocket of his coat. He finally got it out after only six rings, but spilled his popcorn in the process.

“Dang it,” he said, as he opened the phone. “I can’t really talk now,” he told the caller. “I’ll call you back.”

“Why didn’t you just hit the volume button on the side to silence it?” Katie hissed.

“It does that?” he replied studying the phone like some alien artifact. Katie rolled her eyes at her father’s lack of technical sophistication. O’Donnell didn’t notice. He was now looking down at his spilled popcorn. “Do you think they’ll refill this for me?” he wondered.

“I don’t know,” Katie moaned as the surrounding patrons cast annoyed glances their way.

“I’m going to find out,” O’Donnell said and shuffled to the aisle, eliciting a yelp from Carrie when he stepped on her foot.

“Tell them to turn it down while you’re out there!” Henrietta shouted after him.

The previews were over and the movie started. Maybe now everyone would finally be quiet, Katie thought. But her optimism was soon dashed yet again.

In the middle of the first scene, Henrietta leaned over to Celia and asked, “What did he say?” in a voice that was louder than the movie’s dialogue.

“He told his son he can’t have a cat because he’s allergic,” Celia responded.

“Oh,” Henrietta said. “And what did the kid say?”

“I don’t know,” Celia replied, “I was talking to you.”

Just then Pastor O’Donnell came back with a new tub of popcorn. “Excuse me, excuse me,” he said as he made his way back to his seat, somehow managing to step on Carrie’s foot again.

“Sit down, Pastor,” Henrietta said. “I can’t see.”

“SHHHH!” The reprimand came from the second row. Todd and his two friends were looking back at the group angrily. Katie sunk so low in her seat she could no longer see the screen.

“Well I never,” Henrietta grumbled. “Teenage boys these days are so rude.”

“What did the racecar driver just say?” Celia asked.

As Betsy repeated the line, Katie decided that next time the church did a ‘Day at the Movies’ she was going to stay home and clean her room.

The Great Bingo Controversy

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm.   One afternoon Pastor Henry O’Donnell was in his office taking a break from writing his sermon with a game of computer solitaire when church secretary Tammy Billings poked her head in.  “The Little Old Ladies are here to see you,” Tammy said.

O’Donnell sighed.  The “Little Old Ladies” was a nickname for three of the older congregants:  Henrietta Miggins, Betsy Davis and Celia Simmons.  Like many dangerous, predatory creatures, they looked deceptively cute and cuddly and often travelled in a pack.  When one of them dropped by his office during the week it usually meant he would soon be developing a stubborn headache.  When all three dropped by… well, maybe he could go home early today.

The three women marched in and arranged themselves in chairs across from the pastor.  “What can I do for you ladies?” O’Donnell asked, fingering the aspirin bottle he kept in his top desk drawer.

“We’d like the church to start a weekly bingo game on Tuesday nights,” Henrietta said.

That didn’t sound so bad, O’Donnell thought.  But he had enough experience with the Little Old Ladies to know that there could be hidden dangers to their request.  “Don’t you usually play bingo at the senior center on Tuesday nights?”

“Not anymore,” Henrietta sniffed.  “The director there is an incompetent.  We need somewhere else to play.”

“We couldn’t offer cash prizes,” O’Donnell pointed out.

“That’s okay,” Betsy said.  “It’s more of a social activity.  The senior center just gives away little gift baskets.”

“Usually filled with donated items nobody wanted,” Henrietta sniffed.

“It could be a fundraiser,” Celia chimed in.  “We could ask for donations to finally get the new robes the choir should have had last year.”

“Let me look into it,” the pastor said. 

After the Little Old Ladies left, O’Donnell went out to Tammy’s desk.  He knew she volunteered at the senior center so he asked her to make a friendly call to the director – the one Henrietta had called an incompetent.

“They were banned from the game,” Tammy reported when she got off the phone.  “There was an incident over cookies.  Apparently the center decided to buy a different brand to cut costs and Henrietta wasn’t satisfied with the quality.”

“And for that they banned her?”

“Apparently it was the way she expressed her dissatisfaction.”

“I can imagine,” O’Donnell said.  “What do you think?”

“I know the Little Old Ladies are a handful, but bingo might be fun,” Tammy said.  “If you want, I’ll organize it.”

“Thank you,” Henry said with a smile.  It looked like he wouldn’t need his aspirin today after all.

A few days later Tammy interrupted Henry in the midst of another game of computer solitaire.  “Missy Moore wants to talk to you,” she said.

Missy was a rotund, cheerful woman in her mid-forties.  Normally you couldn’t remove the smile from her face with a pickaxe, but today she was scowling as she slammed a flyer announcing the bingo game down on Pastor O’Donnell’s desk. 

“What’s the meaning of this,” she demanded.

“Um, well, bingo is a game with cards with numbers on them…” O’Donnell began.

“I know what bingo is.  It’s gambling!” Missy shouted.  She pulled a stack of papers from her purse and began quoting statistics on the damage gambling addiction does to people and society.

O’Donnell felt the familiar tightening in his skull that meant he’d be needing his bottle of aspirin.  He spent the next forty-two minutes trying to convince Missy that a church bingo fundraiser with token prizes was not really gambling while she tried to convince him he was throwing open the church doors to the Devil himself.   It seemed Missy had an aunt who spent a large portion of her social security checks in bingo halls.  It was kind of a hot button issue for her.

In the end they reached a compromise.  Missy could pass out anti-gambling literature at the door to the bingo game as long as she was polite about it.

On the night of the first game Pastor O’Donnell arrived early and planted himself in an out-of-the-way location with a good view of the front door.  Missy Moore also arrived early armed with a stack of pamphlets she’d secured from an anti-gambling association.  O’Donnell was pleased to observe that she kept her promise to be polite.

Tammy had prepared the social hall nicely using a semi-professional bingo kit she’d ordered from a party supply store that included packets of disposable playing sheets and a large tumbling cage filled with lettered and numbered ping pong balls.  She’d also set up a nice refreshment table and made sure to include the brand of cookies Henrietta liked.

The game turned out to be a bigger draw than Pastor O’Donnell had expected.  In addition to the Little Old Ladies and their ilk, it drew many of the younger families, including Kevin and Jill Boyer and their two little girls, four-year-old Mary and two-year-old Susie.

The Boyers signed in and Tammy handed them their playing sheets and ink daubers – plastic containers of ink with little sponges on the end for marking the sheets.   Mary grabbed her dauber eagerly and tested it by stamping a mark on the back of her sister’s dress.  Jill quickly disarmed Mary and handed the dauber back to Tammy.  “The girls can use colored pencils to mark their sheets,” Jill said, ignoring Mary’s protests.

When everyone was settled, Tammy began the game.  She had drawn only four numbers when a cascade of piano music rang out through the building.  Moments later a piercing soprano voice joined in.

“What in the world is that?” O’Donnell said.

“Missy Moore booked the choir room to practice her special music selection for church on Sunday,” Tammy told him.

“And you didn’t anticipate a problem with that?”

“I didn’t realize her selection would be so…boisterous.  Besides, do you want to tell her she can’t practice a song for worship because it’ll interfere with our bingo game?”

“Good point.  Carry on.”

Tammy drew the next ball and announced the number, “B-17.”   And at that very moment Missy hit a particularly piercing high note.

“What?” Celia yelled from the back, “I can’t hear you.”

O’Donnell headed to the choir room where he found Missy and choir director Shane Reed hard at work.  “Do you mind if I close the door?” O’Donnell asked.

“As long as you don’t mind if I open it again once you leave,” Missy replied.

O’Donnell looked at Shane who just shrugged as if to say there was no way he was getting in the middle of this.

Then O’Donnell noticed a portable amplification system gathering dust in the corner.  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll just borrow this then.”  He grabbed it and dashed away before Missy realized what he was doing.

In his absence, the bingo players had converged on the refreshment table.  O’Donnell put the amplification system on the adjacent card table Tammy was using and crawled in between the two tables to plug it in.  Unfortunately, O’Donnell was a larger man without the best coordination, and his shoulder inadvertently banged into the refreshment table.  The blow caused the coffee urn to tip over and send a tide of hot coffee toward the gathered crowd.

Fortunately the congregation proved more coordinated than their pastor and everyone managed to scramble out of the way of the spill.  However, Mary Boyer took advantage of the resulting chaos to acquire one of the ink daubers she had been so unfairly denied.  This exponentially multiplied the chaos as Jill and Kevin chased Mary around the room, pursued by little Susie who loved a good game of chase.

Thirty-seven minutes later Mary was disarmed, everyone was settled back in place and the bingo game resumed.  The good news was the amplifier made it easy for all the players to hear Tammy over Missy’s rehearsal.  Which proved a moot victory a few minutes later when Missy wrapped up the rehearsal and went home.

The bingo game ended a little before 10 p.m.  By 11 p.m. the Little Old Ladies had finished enumerating their complaints about the evening to Pastor O’Donnell.  After they left, O’Donnell surveyed the scene in the social hall.  The floor was littered with coffee stained bingo cards and anti-gambling pamphlets.  The refreshment table would need a thorough scrubbing.  And Mary had artfully decorated two thirds of the north wall with colored ink blotches. 

He turned to Tammy who was tallying up the contents of the donation basket.  “How’d we do?”

“We raised sixty-seven dollars toward the choir robes,” she told him.  “Of course the refreshments and prizes cost forty-five dollars.  Factor in $272 for the bingo kit and we’ll need quite a few more games before we break even.”

O’Donnell rubbed his aching head.  The next day he arranged to finance the refreshments for the senior center’s bingo games – including the cookies Henrietta liked – in return for them lifting the ban on the Little Old Ladies.  It just seemed financially prudent.

LOL: Little Old Ladies

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Every Sunday afternoon three of the women of the church go to tea at a little café called “Roger’s.” The trio consists of dour, 70 year-old lifetime congregant Henrietta Miggins; 75 year-old African-American choir member Celia Simmons; and 73 year-old Betsy Davis, a proper Southern lady who only recently moved to town.

This weekly tea party has been going on for thirteen years. Originally the group consisted of Henrietta, Celia and Marjorie East. After Marjorie passed away, Henrietta and Celia kept the tradition alive for about a year until Betsy arrived to restore their threesome, much to Celia’s relief. Celia and Henrietta were dear, long time friends but Celia found Henrietta a bit difficult to take one on one.

As they approached Roger’s one recent Sunday, Celia, who was a retired English teacher, said, “I hate when restaurants use apostrophes improperly. You would think before they spent all that money on a sign they’d consult someone who knew something about grammar.”

“It’s not incorrect,” Henrietta replied. “It stand’s for Roger’s café. It’s possessive.”

“That would be true if the word café was in the sign, but it’s not.”

“It’s implied,” Henrietta sighed. “Have you ever met anyone named ‘Rogers’?”

“Rogers is a common last name,” Celia said.

“But it’s not a last name. The café was started by Roger Anderson. It says so on the back of the menu.”

Betsy ignored the argument. Celia and Henrietta had been having it every Sunday for thirteen years. Neither was ever going to win.

When the three women entered they discovered an unknown woman standing behind the hostess station. She was a slim brunette with a large mole on her neck. She welcomed them to Roger’s with an Eastern European accent none of the ladies could place.

“Where’s Doreen?” Henrietta asked.

“She does not work here anymore,” the woman said. “I’m Sasha. There are three of you today?”

“Yes, there are three of us,” Henrietta said. “We come here for tea every Sunday and we always sit at that table.” She gestured toward a table by the window, only just then realizing it was occupied by a young couple. Henrietta noticed the man was wearing a baseball cap. Inside. While dining. She fixed him with a disapproving gaze though he didn’t seem to notice.

“I am sorry, that table is already occupied,” Sasha said. “Perhaps you will like this one?”

She indicated a table in the corner.

“Perhaps we will not,” Henrietta said.

“It will do for today,” Betsy quickly interrupted. Henrietta harrumphed but acquiesced and the ladies were seated.

“I didn’t think it was possible to find a worse hostess than Doreen,” Henrietta mused, “but they seem to have done it.

“She’s new, bless her heart,” Betsy said.

“She’s foreign,” Celia noted. They all nodded sagely in unison as if that explained everything.

It took a few minutes more than usual for their regular waiter, a young man named Keith, to come take their order. There had been an argument in the kitchen because the ladies were not in Keith’s section today. Keith thought that meant he was off the hook. But the waiter whose section it was insisted he take that table. After losing a game of rock-paper-scissors, Keith agreed.

“Your usual tea and basket of scones, ladies?” he asked after they had finished complaining to him about Sasha and her failure to sit them in their accustomed location.

“What are your specials?” Betsy asked. Keith rattled them off.

“What’s the soup today?” Celia asked. Keith told her it was French Onion.

“Is the salmon fresh?” Henrietta inquired. Keith assured her it was.

Several minutes later the ladies ordered tea and a basket of scones. Just like they had every Sunday for thirteen years.

Over the next hour as the three ladies drank their tea and ate their scones they critiqued that morning’s church service. Celia complained that Missy Moore had mangled the hymn she sang for the “special music” and shouldn’t be allowed to solo ever again. Henrietta bemoaned Thad Wheeling’s inarticulate delivery of the scripture. Betsy, who had been brought up not to say unkind things about anyone, expressed sympathy for the parents of the child who cried through communion. “It must be so hard to be a good parent these days, bless their hearts,” she said.

They all agreed the sermon was far too long, of course.

When they ran out of tea, scones, and things to criticize, the ladies split the check, leaving Keith their usual twelve percent tip.

“You know, the nice thing about this table is it’s not under the vent so the air doesn’t blow on you,” Celia observed.

“That’s true,” Betsy agreed. “And it has a nice view of the park.”

Henrietta stopped Keith on their way out. “That tip’s all for you,” she instructed. “Don’t give any to that horrid new foreign hostess.”

“You have a nice afternoon, now,” Keith replied.

“Oh, and make sure she seats us at the same table next week,” Henrietta said. “It’s better than our old one.”

The Investment - Part One

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In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Recently, a con man came to the church. The con man’s name was Gerald Huntsman III. It wasn’t his real name, of course, but it was how he introduced himself at coffee hour that first Sunday. “I find the ‘third’ at the end of my name a bit pretentious,” he told everyone. “So you can just call me Gerald.”

The so-called Gerald Huntsman III was a short man in his mid-forties with salt and pepper hair and just enough of a paunch to appear truly ordinary. He wore brown leather loafers and a brown belt that didn’t quite match. He also wore a gold watch that looked quite expensive as long as you weren’t in the watch appraisal business.

Gerald often found his marks at churches. People trusted folks they met at church…as long as they didn’t know them very well. And the congregation of this little church was quite warm and friendly. When Gerald, in an upbeat voice, described the dreary, lonely hotel room he was staying in, he immediately received an invitation for dinner at Del and Karen Winslow’s house for that Thursday evening.

Thanks to a fortuitously overheard conversation shortly thereafter, Gerald learned that a group of the older women at the church consisting of Henrietta Miggins, Betsy Davis and Celia Simmons had tea every Sunday afternoon at a little café. That afternoon Gerald just happened to drop in at the same café. He went over to the women’s table and greeted them, expressing his amazement at the odd coincidence of the encounter.

Upon learning Gerald was alone, Betsy, a gracious Southerner, invited him to join them. Henrietta frowned, certain this strange man would ruin their afternoon, but refrained from commenting on that belief in his presence.

Over the next hour Gerald charmed Betsy with his gentlemanly manners and flirted shamelessly with Celia, a proud, seventy-three year-old African-American woman. The only one he couldn’t seem to win over was Henrietta. He thought he might have found his in when the conversation turned to the troublesome plumbing in Henrietta’s upstairs bathroom.

“I used to work for a plumber,” Gerald said. “Perhaps I could be of service.”

Gerald had indeed worked for a plumber for several months, embezzling the poor fellow out of several tens of thousands of dollars. But he had picked up a few tricks of the trade as well, one of which proved useful when he went by Henrietta’s house the following evening. He quickly solved the problem of her running toilet. He also managed to ascertain that Henrietta was quite well off.

He volunteered to help with many other chores for her over the following weeks.

But before that came dinner with the Winslows. Del had also invited Pastor O’Donnell and his wife Jennifer. Karen Winslow made a lovely pot roast which was the best meal Gerald had eaten in several years – at least if his compliments were to be believed. In truth, Gerald was so accustomed to giving false compliments he wasn’t even sure himself whether he actually liked the dinner or not.

Afterwards, the group retreated to Del’s basement game room to play some pool. Karen would have preferred to have tea with Jennifer in the living room, but Jennifer’s father had owned a pool table and she was delighted at the prospect of a game. As Karen watched and Jennifer methodically slaughtered the men, Del’s curiosity got the better of him and he worked the conversation around to Gerald’s business in Normal.

“Well, I suppose I can trust you folks to keep a secret,” Gerald said. “After all if I can’t trust people from church, who can I trust, right? I’m handling an investment pool for a group of venture capitalists. We’re funding a company that’s acquired rights to a patent on a new wireless social networking interface application. It’s already been released in Norway and reached 85% penetration in only eighteen months.”

Del and O’Donnell nodded in unison. Neither quite understood what Gerald was saying but it sure sounded impressive.

“You know,” Del mused, “I have a little bit of a nest egg just sitting in a money market account. I’ve been thinking about moving it into something more aggressive. Is there any chance I could get in on this?”

Gerald pondered. “Well, the fund’s fully subscribed. I might be able to work some things around, increase the shares. But there’s a half million dollar minimum.”

“Oh,” Del said, his face falling. “I don’t have that much.”

They each took a few more shots. Del seemed distracted and scratched when it was his turn. Finally he broached the subject again. “If I came up with $100,000 do you think there’s any way you could make an exception?”

Gerald frowned and furrowed his brow. “Well…” he finally said, “I’ll probably take some heat, but hey, you seem like such a great guy and you’ve made me feel so welcome I guess I owe you one.”

Del beamed. “Excellent!” he said.

Gerald looked over at Henry. “How about you, pastor?”

Pastor O’Donnell’s face reddened. “That’s a little out of my league.”

“What league are we talking about?” Gerald asked. “I could always merge your investment with Del’s in a side fund.”

“I might be able to scrounge together something like $10,000.”

“I could work with that,” Gerald said.

Jennifer took a shot, hitting the cue ball extra hard so it cracked loudly off its target.

“What do you think, honey?” Henry said, having gotten his wife’s hint.

“We should discuss it when we get home” Jennifer replied. Everybody in the room except the pastor knew at that moment that the O’Donnells would not, in fact, be investing in Gerald’s fund.

“Okay,” Gerald said. “But let’s keep this absolutely secret. I don’t want to be bombarded with a bunch of people begging to get a piece of the action.”

Which of course is exactly what happened the following Sunday…just like Gerald had planned.

(To be continued in two weeks)

70

Hear the story read by the author

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Henrietta Miggins had been attending the church her entire life. This year Henrietta turned seventy, and by coincidence, her birthday fell on a Sunday. As Henrietta got ready for church, she wondered if anybody would remember.

Henrietta’s family had planned a big party that evening. Of course many people celebrate milestone birthdays with wild parties when they’re young then have more sedate celebrations as they get older. This was not true for Henrietta. She had never celebrated with wild parties. But apparently she was about to start.

Henrietta was pleased that her daughter had come from Pittsburgh – even though she brought her latest ne’er-do-well boyfriend with her. Henrietta was even more excited that her son had come all the way from California with his wife and three kids, though Henrietta was not so thrilled to discover her fourteen-year-old grandson, Dylan, was now adorned with an earring and black nail polish. Clearly her daughter-in-law was letting those kids run wild as could be out there on the left coast.

Her joy at seeing her offspring was tempered by the fact the entire clan had elected to stay with Henrietta. Henrietta still lived in the family house so there was plenty of room, however she had grown accustomed to quiet and order. Her family was neither quiet nor orderly.

Her son and her daughter’s boyfriend had commandeered the television to watch college football all day Saturday. They expressed amazement that she was still watching a 32” tube T.V. She feared they might get her some monstrous “flat screen” contraption for her birthday. Like there was anything on television that she needed to see that large!

Meanwhile, her daughter-in-law left the two youngest kids in Henrietta’s care and went to the mall. Henrietta couldn’t understand why she’d pass up the opportunity to visit with her mother-in-law. Didn’t they have malls in California?

Henrietta enjoyed her grandkids’ company but would have preferred it in smaller doses. If she thought Dylan would help with his siblings, she was mistaken. He spent the day with tiny earphones stuffed in his ears listening to a digital music player while he played some video game on his laptop. Both the music and the game seemed to Henrietta to be Satanic in nature. More evidence of her daughter-in-law’s weak parenting. She would have gladly offered the woman a few helpful tips if only she’d get back from the mall!

By Sunday morning Henrietta decided it was time to lay down the law. The entire family was going to church with her. Dylan whined mightily about that. And one would think he was a candidate for martyrdom by the way he carried on when Henrietta informed him he had to leave his digital music player at home.

Seventy-eight year-old Florence Barker was serving as greeter at the church this particular Sunday. She made a big to-do over Henrietta’s family, even commenting on how handsome Dylan was. That was to be expected, Henrietta thought. She considered Florence to be a woman of sketchy morals owing to her history as a professional jazz singer and her penchant for flashy shoes completely inappropriate for a woman her age. Florence probably sensed a kindred spirit in Henrietta’s wayward grandson.

“And is your family here for any special occasion?” Florence asked Henrietta.

“It’s her seventieth birthday,” Henrietta’s son beamed.

“Really!” Florence exclaimed, nudging Henrietta with her elbow. “Well, welcome to the septuagenarian club. It’s great. When you’re old, people let you get away with murder.”

Henrietta supposed Florence had needed age to gain a measure of respectability. Henrietta had earned her respectability by not trying to get away with murder in the first place. But she kept this supposition to herself and simply said, “Is that so.”

With the younger children sent off to Sunday school, the Miggins clan found their way to Henrietta’s normal pew. Henrietta’s friend Betsy Davis was there. “Happy birthday,” Betsy said. At least someone had the good manners to remember without prodding.

Henrietta barely managed to get her whole family introduced before service started. Betsy was gracious despite the horrible manners of the younger Migginses. At one point during the service when Dylan had to be asked to stop kicking the pew in front of them, Betsy leaned over and whispered, “Isn’t family a blessing? They really keep life lively, bless their hearts.”

Henrietta was mortified.

Henrietta was surprised when Pastor O’Donnell mentioned her birthday during the announcements. She suspected Florence had clued him in after their encounter at the front door. Henrietta considered Pastor O’Donnell a scatterbrain, unlike the clergy in her day. At least they didn’t resort to any foolishness and make her stand up or anything. At seventy, Henrietta had had just about enough foolishness for one lifetime.

After church the Miggins clan went to the social hall for coffee hour. If Henrietta hoped to get a break from her relatives, it was ruined by the parade of people coming up to wish her happy birthday. Then four year-old Mary Boyer came skipping over with Henrietta’s granddaughter Hayley.

“Hi Grandma,” Hayley said. “This is Mary. I met her in Sunday School.”

“Yes, I know Mary,” Henrietta said. In fact, Mary was well known by everyone who attended the church. Of all the little girls for Hayley to befriend, Mary would have been last on Henrietta’s list.

“Hayley says it’s your birthday,” Mary said.

“Yes,” Henrietta agreed.

“How old are you?” Mary asked.

“Seventy,” Henrietta said.

“Wow, that’s old!”

Henrietta looked around for Mary’s mother but was unable to locate her.

Just then, church secretary Tammy Billings shouted for everyone’s attention. “You may have heard Pastor O’Donnell mention that today is Henrietta Miggins’ seventieth birthday,” Tammy announced. “I bet she thinks we forgot, but we didn’t. Henrietta, come on up here.”

Henrietta joined Tammy at the front of the social hall. Tammy presented her with a large gift. “Just a little something to show our appreciation for your years of service to the church,” Tammy said.

Still a bit in shock, Henrietta carefully opened the wrapping and looked inside. “What is it?” Mary shouted.

It was a beautiful china tea set. Henrietta had tea every afternoon and despite great care, her current tea set was chipped and worn. She was speechless. She had not been prepared for a gift so…what was the word? Ah, yes: thoughtful.

“That’s not all,” Tammy said and gestured toward the kitchen where Florence and Betsy appeared with a large sheet cake. There were two candles on the cake, one in the shape of a seven, and the other in the shape of a zero. Florence and Betsy brought the cake over to Henrietta and Florence led the congregation in a jazzy rendition of Happy Birthday.

When they finished, Henrietta leaned in to blow out the candles. “Don’t forget to make a wish,” Mary said.

Henrietta thought for a moment as she looked around at her wonderful new tea set, her children, her grandchildren, her friend Betsy and her enemy Florence, Tammy and all the people from her church waiting to toast her with their cups of coffee or punch. Then she leaned over and blew the candles out with a wheezy breath.

“What did you wish for?” Mary asked.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” Henrietta snapped.

But the fact was she couldn’t think of a single additional thing she wanted just then.


In memory of Rex Smith

The Intruder

Hear the story read by the author

In the town of Normal, Pennsylvania, there’s a little church at the corner of Wilson and Elm. Sixty-nine year-old Henrietta Miggins had been a member of the congregation for sixty-nine years. And ever since the current sanctuary was built in 1947, she’s sat in the same place: tenth pew back on the left side near the center aisle. Which is the same place she’d sat in the previous sanctuary. Last, Sunday, however, she did not sit in that spot.

That’s because when she strode up the center aisle precisely five minutes before the service was scheduled to begin, she discovered someone else was seated there. That someone was a trim woman of about Henrietta’s age, well dressed in a floral dress with matching hat and shoes and a string of pearls. Henrietta didn’t recognize her. And if Henrietta didn’t recognize her, that meant she must be a newcomer.

Henrietta stared at the woman. The woman looked straight ahead, apparently unaware of Henrietta’s attention. Henrietta mulled what she might say to the woman. She finally decided it would be inappropriate for her to ask the woman to move. The head usher, Ralph Billings, ought to be the one to do that. Henrietta went to talk to Ralph.

“You have to make that woman move,” Henrietta said to Ralph.

“What woman?” Ralph asked.

“The one sitting in my spot.”

“There’s no assigned seats, Henrietta.”

“But I always sit there,” Henrietta protested.

“There’s space in the pews behind and in front of her,” Ralph pointed out.

Henrietta’s eyes narrowed. “Ralph Billings, you know my grandfather was a founding member of this congregation. There’s a plaque on the wall outside that says so. My grandfather and his family always sat in the tenth pew back on the left. My father and his family always sat in the tenth pew back on the left. And that is where I always sit.”

“She got there first,” Ralph explained. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Henrietta’s eyes narrowed to the point Ralph wasn’t sure if they were even still open. “We’ll see about that,” Henrietta said.

She marched up the right aisle of the church to where Pastor Henry O’Donnell was sitting behind the pulpit going over his sermon in his head.

“Pastor,” she hissed, leaning over the rail.

Pastor O’Donnell sighed. “What do you need, Henrietta?”

“You must make that woman move. She’s sitting in my spot.”

“There are no assigned seats,” the pastor replied.

Henrietta launched into her recitation of the long history she and her family had had with that church, and particularly their long history with the tenth pew on the left side. Pastor O’Donnell was unmoved.

“You’ll just have to find somewhere else to sit today,” he told her. “Service is starting.”

Henrietta did find another place to sit. Directly in front of the intruder. Henrietta sat straight and tall. She was quite disappointed when the end of service arrived and the woman hadn’t complained once about her view being blocked.

After the service concluded, Henrietta waited until the end of the postlude so she would have ample time to give Pastor O’Donnell a piece of her mind on the way out to coffee hour.

As a result, by the time Henrietta entered the social hall most everyone had already helped themselves to refreshments and was engaged in conversation. Henrietta went to get her usual piece of cinnamon coffee cake. However, the plate that normally held it was empty save for a few crumbs.

“Where’s the coffee cake?” Henrietta asked Tammy Billings who was manning the table.

“I guess it was popular today,” Tammy said.

“But I always have a piece of coffee cake and tea after church.”

Tammy shrugged. “There’s plenty of tea.”

Henrietta made herself a cup of tea, grinding her teeth and mentally adding Tammy Billings to the growing list of people who needed a good talking to. Then Henrietta went to find her customary seat on the couch against the back wall, the one with the good vantage point to observe and pass judgment on everyone in the room.

And guess who was sitting on Henrietta’s couch. That’s right, the same woman who had sat in Henrietta’s pew. And to make matters worse, she had a big piece of cinnamon coffee cake on her plate.

Ralph Billings was talking to the woman. When he noticed Henrietta, he introduced them. “Henrietta, this is Betsy Davis. She’s new.”

“How do you do,” Betsy said in a Southern lilt.

“Well enough,” Henrietta replied evenly.

“You’re the woman who was sitting in front of me,” Betsy said. “I couldn’t stop admiring your hat the entire service. You just have the best taste, bless your heart!”

“I’m going to check on Tammy,” Ralph said and made a hasty exit. He had no desire to engage in further conversation with Henrietta.

“Do sit down,” Betsy said and made room on the couch. Henrietta reluctantly complied.

“So, are you just visiting or are you planning to stick around?” Henrietta asked.

“I do believe I’ll return. I used to attend the church over on 3rd Street, but unfortunately they’ve closed it. Membership had been dropping for years. If you ask me, it’s the lackadaisical attitude of the younger generation. They come only when they feel like it. I suggested to the pastor several times that he ought to call people when they were absent and explain the necessity for self-discipline, but he was never able to muster up the courage, bless his heart. It’s no surprise really. He was practically a child himself.”

Henrietta grunted. “You won’t find it much different here. Pastor O’Donnell’s the same way. Soft.”

“I’m not surprised,” Betsy said. “I saw how he allows his daughter to dress, bless her heart. What must the boys think of her?”

“I’m too polite to say,” Henrietta replied. This Betsy might be a pain, but she did seem to be a good judge of character.

“I’d better be off,” Betsy said. “Perhaps I’ll see you next week.”

“Perhaps,” Henrietta replied.

The following Sunday Henrietta made sure she got to church twenty minutes early. She strode in while the choir was still warming up and took her place in the tenth pew on the left side near the center aisle.

Ten minutes later, Betsy arrived. She walked up the center aisle, stopping suddenly when she arrived at the tenth pew on the left and discovered Henrietta sitting there.

Henrietta looked up at Betsy and forced her cheeks into an unaccustomed expression that vaguely resembled a smile. “Good morning,” Henrietta said.

“Good morning,” Betsy replied, and turned to look for another spot.

Then something quite unusual happened.

“Why don’t you join me,” Henrietta asked.

“Thank you,” Betsy said. “Did you notice that the head usher appears to need a new razor, bless his heart.”

“I did notice,” Henrietta said as she scooted over to make room for her new friend.