Stage Parents

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.  The choir director, Shane Reed, is dating Audra Park, a young, single mother and member of the choir.  One recent Friday Shane went to pick her up for a date.  When she answered the door, she was laughing so hard tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes.

“Is it the shirt?” Shane asked.  He had bought his shirt a week before after being encouraged by a perky salesgirl, but he had suspected her compliments might not have been entirely genuine.

“What?  No,” Audra said.  “Look.”  She gestured into the apartment.  Her six-year-old son Tyler was singing a classic rock song into a microphone as his babysitter, Katie O’Donnell, accompanied him on a plastic guitar.  Tyler mimicked the rock star gyrations of animated musicians on the TV.  “It’s a video game,” Audra said, observing Shane’s confused expression.

“Tyler’s got a good voice,” Shane mused.  It wasn’t surprising – Audra was one of the best vocalists in the choir.  Clearly the apple had landed near the tree.

“Yeah,” Audra agreed.  “And some pretty impressive dance moves.  Shall we go?”

Shane thought about Tyler’s voice on the drive to the restaurant.  He’d been looking for a way to bond with the boy since he and Audra started dating.  Over dessert he asked, “Do you think Tyler would be interested in joining a children’s choir?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Audra said.  She’d also been looking for a way for her son and boyfriend to get closer.

Shane announced the children’s choir during the next church service, noting that he had posted a sign-up sheet for kids between the ages of four and twelve in the hall by the Sunday school rooms.  Audra added Tyler’s name as soon as service was over.  Tyler couldn’t understand why he would want to go to choir practice when there were perfectly good video games to be played at home, but being six he was forced to accede to his mom’s wishes.

Jill Boyer had not planned to sign her four-year-old daughter Mary up for the choir even though she was just inside the lower end of the age range.  Mary didn’t usually respond well to the “organized” part of organized activities.  But when Jill retrieved Mary from Sunday school, they passed Mary’s classmate Sierra and her father, Arthur, by the sign-up sheet.

“Would you like to be in a children’s choir?” Arthur was asking Sierra.

“Oh, yes, Daddy!” Sierra shouted, jumping up and down and clapping her hands with glee.  Arthur wrote her name below Tyler’s.

Mary saw this and asked, “Can I be in the choir, too?”

“It’ll be a great experience,” Arthur said as Jill considered her response.  “Sierra has a beautiful voice.  I know most children this age can’t really carry a tune, but I suspect Sierra might have perfect pitch.  I’ve been thinking I should get her a voice coach.  She could probably be a professional singer.”

Mary was tugging on Jill’s pant leg.  “Please, Mommy, can I be in the choir? Please, please, please, please…”

“Sure,” Jill said and snatched the pen from Arthur.  “I’ve always suspected you had perfect pitch, too.”

Of course Jill suspected no such thing.  But according to Arthur, Sierra was the most glorious little human being with whom God had blessed the world since the times of Jesus.  It got on Jill’s nerves.

Shane decided Easter would be a good opportunity for the children’s choir to make their debut.  He planned to have them sing that classic children’s Easter hymn, Morning Has Broken.

Shane had never conducted a children’s choir but he figured he could handle it.  After all, many of the adult choir members often behaved like children.  Sure, Arthur lobbied him to give Sierra a solo, but hardly an adult choir rehearsal went by without someone complaining about Shane’s choice of soloist.  And Arthur was easier to handle since Shane simply declared that there would be no solos in the children’s choir.

Of course none of the adult choir members had ever spilled juice on the sheet music, or broken into tears after skinning their knee, or started an eraser fight.  Mary did all of that in the first fifteen minutes of rehearsal. 

Shane had arranged the kids by height, the older and tallest kids in the middle of the back row, and the younger, shorter kids in the front row and to the sides.  Mary, being one of the shortest, was on the far left.  However, after the eraser fight, Shane decided to move her to the center.  He enlisted the girl directly behind her, twelve-year-old Becky Goodhart, to help keep Mary in line.  Shane’s plan worked for rehearsal, but was to have unintended consequences for the performance.

Unlike Mary, Tyler was quite well behaved all through rehearsal.  Which meant that by the time Audra arrived to pick him up, Shane realized he’d barely spoken to the boy.  His plan for bonding was not working out as he’d hoped.

On Easter morning, Mary talked excitedly about the impending performance all through breakfast.  Jill may have signed Mary up out of annoyance with Arthur, but now she was delighted by her daughter’s enthusiasm and commitment. After a thirty minute search, she located the family’s camcorder in Mary’s room where she had been using it to film a movie with her dolls.  Jill scraped a wad of gum off the camera and slipped it into her purse.  Maybe she would finally get some video of Mary that she could show the grandparents without having to edit out the embarrassing parts.

Arthur also planned to videotape Sierra.  This was no surprise to anyone.  Sierra’s short life to date was one of the most documented in the history of mankind.  Carefully labeled DVDs of Sierra occupied a whole shelf of the living room bookcase.  As the kids marched out to take their place for their performance, Arthur set up a tripod in the center aisle.

Jill had taken a spot on the opposite side of the aisle.  She hadn’t brought along a tripod, but she steadied her camera on the back of the pew in front of her.  A bit of gum she’d missed helped hold it in place.  And to her delight, Mary’s central position gave her a nice, unobstructed shot.

Sierra’s position at the far edge of the choir did not offer such a clear shot to Arthur.  He wondered what Shane was thinking putting the most talented vocalist off to the side like that.  “Sierra,” he hissed as the kids were lining up.  She looked over and he gestured for her to move toward the center.

Shane had not seen Arthur’s gesture and did not know why Sierra was leaving her assigned spot.  “Sierra,” he whispered, “get back to your place.”  Sierra returned to the edge of the choir.  Shane signaled organist Walter Tibble to begin.

Arthur glared at Shane’s back.  The man was clearly an idiot unqualified to lead a choir of dogs.  He motioned urgently for Sierra to move back toward the center.  Sierra was a little confused by the contradictory messages, but she obeyed her father’s latest instruction.  Shane tried to motion her back again, but the little girl’s gaze was fixed on her father.

Meanwhile, Jill had zoomed in for a close-up of Mary.  Her daughter looked like an angel.  This was uncommon – usually Mary seemed to represent the other team in the divine rivalry.  Suddenly, a carefully coifed head of hair topped by a pink bow filled the viewfinder.

Jill zoomed out.  Sierra had come to a stop directly in front of Mary.  Jill waved to get Mary’s attention.  Mary waved back.  Jill motioned for her to step out from behind Sierra.  Mary tried to obey, but Becky, ever alert to her mission, pulled Mary back into place.

Jill looked over at Arthur and hissed, “Would you please get your daughter to go back to her spot?”

“But I can’t see her way over there,” Arthur whispered back.

“Well, I can’t see Mary over your daughter’s head,” Jill replied.

“Then maybe your daughter should move,” Arthur snapped.

“Maybe your daughter should learn to cooperate with others,” Jill shot back.

“Mommy, shh!” Mary shouted from the front.  “We’re singing.”

The congregation laughed.  Jill flushed with embarrassment.  Arthur gloated until Shane took Sierra’s arm and guided her back to her proper place.

The children finished their song without further incident.  As they walked off, Sierra and Mary held hands.  Jill was proud to show the video of the performance to the grandparents, but only after editing out the part where Mary had shushed her.

After service was over, Shane noticed Tyler going up to the youth group room.  He followed and found Tyler playing a football game on the youth group’s video game system.  “Can I play, too?” Shane asked.

“Sure,” Tyler said.  They spent the next hour bonding.  When the game was over, Shane was quite happy, even though he lost seventy-three to fourteen.

The Easter Outing

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. As a special treat for Easter this year Sunday School teacher Karen Winslow planned to take her class, the “Guppies,” on a field trip to a petting zoo.

She recruited Kevin Boyer, whose four-year-old daughter Mary was in the Guppies class, to drive the church van and assist in chaperoning. Karen assumed – wrongly – that Mary would behave better if her father was along on the trip. Kevin wasn’t anxious to spend the morning with seven preschoolers, but on the other hand it didn’t seem any worse than sitting through another of Pastor O’Donnell’s extra-long Easter sermons.

By the time they were ready to leave, Kevin was already suffering from a headache. Mary and his other daughter, Suzie, had gotten up an hour early to find out what exotic concoctions of sugar, food coloring and high fructose corn syrup the Easter bunny had left in their Easter baskets. For some reason this process was accompanied by wild screeching and running about the house. Kevin yelled repeatedly for the girls to “keep it down,” but apparently whatever the Easter bunny mixed into the candy also impaired his children’s hearing.

As the van made its way from the church to the edge of town, many of the occupants’ thoughts turned to God on this holy day.

“Dear Lord,” Kevin prayed, “please clear the streets of traffic and grant me green lights so we can get to the stupid petting zoo quickly and I can take a nap in the van while the kids play.”

“Heavenly Father,” Karen prayed, “please make Kevin slow down so we don’t get in an accident.”

“Dear God,” Mary prayed, “please don’t let Mrs. Winslow see me eating my chocolate eggs.”

Mary had smuggled a dozen chocolate eggs into her coat pockets that morning in direct defiance of her parents’ instructions to only eat one piece of candy and leave the rest on the kitchen counter until after lunch. She knew it was risky to enjoy her contraband in the packed confines of the van, but temptation was overruling her good sense – as it usually did.

She retrieved a single candy egg and quietly peeled the foil from the chocolate that was now a gooey blob from the warmth of her pocket. She slipped it into her mouth, smiling in satisfaction at her stealth. Disobedience made the candy extra delicious.

“Mrs. Winslow, Mary has chocolate!” Sierra Smith shouted from the seat behind her.

“Do not!” Mary protested. But the soft chocolate had left incriminating splotches on her fingers and lips.

“Empty your pockets, Mary,” Karen instructed.

Mary reluctantly produced the stash of chocolate eggs.

“If she brings candy she’s supposed to share,” Sierra pointed out.

“Normally that’s true…” Karen started to say. She didn’t get to finish the thought. The Guppies descended on Mary like a school of piranhas. In no time the chocolate eggs were gone, two thirds into the children’s stomachs and one third smeared across their hands which were now distributing it to various surfaces of the van.

Karen tried in vain to calm the feeding frenzy. Then a loud BANG silenced the children.

The right rear tire of the van had blown out. The momentary quiet was quickly filled by high pitched screams. A second later the children joined Kevin in his screaming.

Kevin managed to steer the vehicle over to the side of the road. Kevin and Karen both exited the van to examine the flat. Karen called for a tow truck to change the tire. “They’ll be here in forty-five minutes,” she informed Kevin. “It’s a holiday.”

Kevin eyed the van which was shaking from the chaos of the wild, screaming beasts inside. “Guppies” seemed like a less and less appropriate name with each passing minute. “We have a spare,” he said. “I’ll change it myself. You watch the kids.”

Karen also eyed the van. “Why do you get to change it? I know how to change a tire. You watch the kids.”

“I think watching kids sounds more like your job.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman? That’s sexist!”

“Okay, okay,” Kevin said. “Let’s flip for it.” He produced a coin and Karen called heads. It came up tails. Karen sighed and returned to the van while Kevin got the spare tire out of the back.

Kevin whistled while he loosened the lug nuts on the flat. It helped him drown out the screams and bangs from inside the van.

The last lug nut proved extremely difficult to loosen. Kevin had to stomp on the lug wrench with his foot to get it started. It finally budged a fraction of an inch. Then another. He grabbed the wrench with both hands and eased his weight onto it.

The lug nut popped loose. The wrench banged down onto the pavement, smashing Kevin’s fingers under it. Kevin did a little jig, clutching his hands between his thighs and expressing his pain verbally with a colorful and detailed string of profanity he usually reserved for watching sports.

He froze when he realized the noise from the van had stopped. He looked back over his shoulder and saw seven preschoolers and one fuming teacher staring out the window at him.

Kevin grinned sheepishly and told Karen that for safety reasons the kids should probably get out of the van before he jacked it up. He suggested she take them on a nature walk. Karen thought that was a good idea.

Kevin finished changing the tire while Karen pointed out a variety of ants, grasshoppers and weeds to the kids on their nature walk through the vacant lot across the street. Ten minutes later they were on their way again.

They reached the petting zoo and turned the kids loose on the animals. Kevin and Karen flopped down on a bench to watch. “Thank you, Lord, for getting me through that ordeal,” Kevin prayed silently.

Then Sierra got bit by a duck. She shouted out the same string of profanity that Kevin had used earlier, recalling it with remarkable precision.

Kevin looked at the sky. “Very funny,” he said.


(In loving memory of uncle Gene.)

The Apostles Ate Stew

by Douglas J. Eboch

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. And on Easter morning Jill Boyer was desperately trying to stave off thoughts of homicide as she tried to get her family ready for church. On a normal Sunday this was a task that could reduce a Navy SEAL to tears. On this Easter Sunday three additional factors turned it into something rivaling the trials of Hercules.

The first was the need to dress the family in especially fancy clothes or risk raised eyebrows from the older ladies in the church. Jill had two daughters: Mary, who was four, and Susie, who was two. Both had spent the entirety of their young lives perfecting the art of whining. The donning of frilly Easter dresses was an occasion for them to attempt their greatest heights of whinery. However when it came to fancy attire, the winner of the whining trophy was Jill’s husband Kevin. Kevin was no more fond of getting dressed up than the little girls and couldn’t care less about the eyebrow positions of the older church ladies.

The second factor impacting Jill’s Easter morning preparations was Barry the Bunny. Barry was Mary’s Sunday school class pet and Mary had been selected to care of it while the teacher was on a much needed vacation. Mary was delighted by the bunny and took it out of the cage at every opportunity. She discovered just such an opportunity when Jill was preoccupied with trying to convince Kevin that even his best tennis shoes were not appropriate for Easter. Unfortunately this occurred after Jill had shanghaied Mary into her dress. It took almost twenty minutes to clean the paw prints off the white cotton and lace.

But the factor driving Jill to nearly intolerable levels of stress was the fact that her in-laws were coming over for Easter brunch after church. Jill’s relationship with Ron and Carol Boyer was not any worse than the average woman’s relationship with her husband’s parents. But it wasn’t any better, either. What really made things hard on Jill was that Kevin’s mother was a wonderful hostess. She could whip up delicious appetizers or full meals, mix exotic cocktails and maintain charming conversation all without any sign of exertion.

Jill truly wanted to be such a hostess. She watched cable TV shows and subscribed to magazines that promised to impart those skills. But she could never seem to pull it off with her mother-in-law’s grace. Yet she continued to try, hoping one day to live up to the standard Carol Boyer had set.

So in addition to dressing her family and cleaning up bunny paw prints, Jill was managing the early stages of preparation on half a dozen Easter dishes in the kitchen, including the star of the meal: a baked maple glazed ham. The last task of the morning was to put the ham in the oven so it could bake while they were at church and be ready by the time Kevin’s parents arrived.

Jill closed the oven door on the ham and herded the family into the car at 8:52. They arrived only seven minutes late to the 9:00 service - beating their average tardiness by several minutes.

When they returned home two hours later, Kevin, Mary and Susie dashed to their rooms to shed their church outfits. Jill went into the kitchen to take the ham out of the oven. It had turned out beautifully, the maple glaze glistening just like the one in the cook book. Jill set it on a rack to cool.

At that moment the doorbell rang. Ron and Carol had arrived. Jill barely got to greet them before they were dragged off by Mary to see Barry the Bunny. After that, Carol presented the girls with Easter baskets. Much nicer and heavier laden baskets than Jill had made for them, of course. A minor youth rebellion broke out when Jill informed her daughters that they would have to wait until after brunch to dig into the candy. Once the rebellion was quashed, Jill took coffee and tea orders from her guests.

When she entered the kitchen, she forgot all about the beverages, however.

There on the counter was Barry the Bunny. Apparently in the excitement over the Easter baskets, Mary had failed to lock him safely away in his cage. And the rabbit had found the ham, presumably drawn by the maple scent of the glaze at which he was now happily licking. Jill lunged forward to shoo him off before he could do any more damage and startled the poor creature. Barry jumped and in the process knocked the ham off onto the floor.

Tears welled in Jill’s eyes as she picked the ham up. She briefly considered if there was a way to save it but the surface was far too mangled. She could still make ham sandwiches for the girls out of it - they wouldn’t care about rabbit saliva - but she would need to come up with something else as the centerpiece of her brunch. She brushed away her tears. There was too much work to be done to waste time crying.

She did a quick inventory of her refrigerator and pantry. Unfortunately the only thing she had in enough quantity that was suitable for a main course was canned stew.

Jill figured if she was going to serve stew for Easter brunch, she was going to have to be clever about it. Fortunately she had paid attention in church.

After serving soup and a frittata for the first courses of the meal, Jill brought out her big pot, the lid hiding the contents. She noticed Kevin’s look of confusion and before he could say anything about ham, she cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention.

“My family has an Easter tradition,” she said. “According to a story my Grandmother told, on the first Easter morning Mary Magdalene and the other women put the makings of a meal on the fire before going to Jesus’ tomb to anoint his body with spices. This was the meal which the women served to the Apostles upon their return from finding the empty tomb, and this was the meal the Apostles were eating when Jesus appeared to them. That meal was stew.”

And with that Jill removed the lid from the pot.

“It is our family tradition to eat stew on Easter,” Jill continued, “to symbolize the coming together of disparate peoples to form the early Christian church.”

The other adults gathered around the table looked at each other, unsure what to say. Then Mary piped up, “is there onions in it, Mommy?”

“Yes dear,” Jill replied. “You can pick them out.”

Then Jill ladled out bowls of stew to everyone and they ate.

After the meal, Carol graciously offered to help Jill clear the table. Jill was far too exhausted to turn her down. While they were in the kitchen, Carol put a hand on Jill’s arm and said, “You know, I think that whole story about the Apostles eating stew is a bunch of baloney. But the meal was quite good and I’m glad you didn’t serve ham. Everyone serves ham at Easter and I don’t really care for it.”

Carol went out into the living room and for the first time that day Jill relaxed. And from that day forward stew really was a Boyer family Easter tradition.

Sunrise Service

by Douglas J. Eboch

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. Every year on Easter morning they hold a sunrise service in the courtyard. This year, Easter fell on an unusually early date and happened to coincide with a late winter freeze. When Pastor Henry O’Donnell awoke at 5:00 AM the thermometer outside read a chilly twenty-five degrees.

Henry took a quick, hot shower to wake himself up, then put on a pair of colorful boxers with pictures of Easter eggs and bunnies he’d bought in honor of the holiday. He tried to rouse his wife Jennifer.

“Leave me alone,” Jennifer grumbled at him, her face buried in the pillow.

“But honey, it’s almost time to go to the sunrise service.”

“You go ahead without me.”

“Did you see what I’m wearing?”

Jennifer lifter her head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. He modeled the boxers. “Cute,” she said and pulled the covers over her head. She had not been as amused as he thought she would.

“Come on, get up,” Henry pleaded. “I’ve got a present for you. For Easter.”

“Can it wait ’til later?” she asked.

“I suppose…” Henry said.

“Good. Katie and I will meet you for the 9:00 service.”

Jennifer was still annoyed at Henry for repeatedly violating the diet they had both agreed to go on over Lent. She was even more annoyed that despite his transgressions he’d lost three more pounds than she had. So she was not in the mood to get up early and head out into the cold darkness just to play the part of dutiful pastor’s wife.

Henry arrived at the church at about six, half an hour before the service was scheduled to begin. He found church secretary Tammy Billings already in the office. Tammy had given up coffee for Lent and now that it was Easter she had gotten to church early so she could make a big pot to break her fast. But after nearly six weeks without coffee, the caffeine was having a much greater impact than she was used to. She bounced around the office, vibrating with nervous energy.

“Good morning!” She yelled, then without pausing for a response, continued, “The pathways in the courtyard are really icy so Ralph is putting salt on them and then he’ll need your help to roll the piano out of the lounge for Walter so do you want a cup of coffee before then because I made a whole pot and I‘ve already had two cups.”

“Okay,” said Henry. He could use a little bit of that kind of energy.

“Great!” shouted Tammy. “I’ll get it.”

However, when Tammy was rushing back with Henry’s coffee her caffeine heightened enthusiasm led her to stumble and spill the cup of fresh, hot java all over the back of Henry’s suit pants.

Caught off guard by the sudden scalding of the back of his legs, Henry let out a scream that woke four people and six dogs in the surrounding community.

“I’m so sorry,” Tammy gasped. “Are you alright?”

Henry was in fact not badly burned. It was more the sudden shock that had elicited the yell. After reassuring Tammy that he did not need to be rushed to the emergency room, he went to the bathroom and rinsed out his pants in the sink, shivering in his Easter boxers.

Dressed again, he went to help Tammy’s husband Ralph and Walter Tibble, the organist, roll the battered old upright piano from the lounge out into the courtyard. This particular piano didn’t have the greatest tone but it was a sturdy old instrument that could take the abuse. Moving it into the courtyard was a tricky bit of business on the freshly salted but still icy cement paths. They just managed to get it positioned in time for the first arrivals, Del and Karen Winslow.

As it turned out Del and Karen were not only the first but the last worshipers to arrive for the sunrise service. It seemed most of the congregation was not inclined to attend an outdoor service in below freezing weather. Karen Winslow’s family had always gone to Easter sunrise services when she was a little girl and she determinedly kept the tradition alive out of nostalgia no matter what the weather. Del was simply a tough old guy who didn’t let a little thing like cold stop him from making his wife happy.

So the service started, Del and Karen sitting in the middle of the neatly arranged rows of metal folding chairs Tammy had set out. Pastor O’Donnell led an opening prayer, then Tammy led them in a hymn and Ralph read an extended passage from the bible.

As Ralph was reading, Henry heard a strange rhythmic rumbling coming from over by the piano. He realized the noise was emanating from Walter. Walter was not really a morning person and it seemed he had fallen asleep. As his snores grew louder, Henry and everyone else just tried to politely ignore them.

However, as Walter fell deeper into sleep he began to lean forward. His head came to rest against the piano. The salt still had not completely melted the ice from the cement below and the piano began to slide.

It slid out from under Walter, who fell forward. His forehead struck the piano keys, eliciting a jangled, atonal chord from the instrument and a jangled, atonal yelp from Walter.

The piano kept going. It spun slowly toward the two person congregation. Del and Karen scrambled to get out of its path.

Pastor O’Donnell leapt to his feet to help - and heard a ripping sound behind him.

Unbeknownst to him, his wet slacks had frozen to the folding chair which in turn had frozen to the cement. When Pastor O’Donnell jumped up, long strips of cloth had torn away from each pant leg leaving his Easter boxers and a good amount of his burn-reddened thighs exposed.

Ralph had arrested the progress of the piano before it reached the Winslows. “Disaster averted,” he said. But then Tammy started to laugh. She was the only one who could see what had happened to the Pastor at that point. Henry was flustered and turned in a circle, trying to assess the damage and unintentionally exposing himself to everyone else. Soon they were all cackling uncontrollably.

Henry had never been so grateful to see the sun rise as he was when it finally peaked over the steeple a few minutes later. He plowed through his sermon as fast as he could, his teeth chattering from the icy breeze now blowing up his backside.

Nobody complained about the truncated service. They were all happy to get inside and enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee. Henry, meanwhile, had to run home to change his pants.

When he walked into his kitchen, he discovered Jennifer awake and much more chipper than she had been earlier. She got a good laugh out of Henry’s story of the runaway piano and his frozen pants. Then she asked, “did you say something about a present earlier?”

Henry took her out to the garage and presented her with two bicycles. “I thought maybe when the weather got better we could start riding bikes. You know, to get some exercise and spend more time together.”

Jennifer was delighted. She gave Henry a big hug. Henry beamed knowing that he was finally out of the dog house for his recent dietary slips. And he had already planned the route of their first ride. One that would coincidentally take them right by Norm’s Normal Burger stand.

It was turning out not to be such a bad Easter after all for Pastor O’Donnell.

(c) 2008 Douglas J. Eboch