For many years, Danville’s First Presbyterian Church has operated and continues to operate a first-class day school, benefitting many children in the community, without church membership being a pre-requisite for either student or teacher.
Recently, a just-past-noon Sunday luncheon was held by the day school, with the members of the congregation being invited.
The luncheon site was what might be termed a “side-courtyard” tucked away between the main sanctuary and the extension containing the fellowship hall, Sunday school rooms, and of course, the day school.
This rectangle of open space is bordered by hedging, almost as if for setting it apart, as well as for outside decoration. One end of “the little rectangle” faces Danville’s Main Street, with a medium-sized, nicely branching tree providing some seclusive cover, sort of like a Japanese Shoji screen.
A bounce house for the children was set up, seeming to “just fit.” And with the church walls as boundaries for three sides, with a tree on the fourth, there was not much likelihood of the bounce house going far in the event of a great wind (except if it “flew” straight up like a helicopter or a Harrier jump jet).
As we watched the kids descending the bounce house’s slide, one parishioner said, “Mack, that slide has your name on it!” But I declined, knowing that if a mishap were to occur, an emergency room form would also “have my name on it!”
There was a line of tables with hot dogs, their “fixin’s”, potato salad, baked beans, potato chips, and water bottles. Youth Minister Jackson Weller, of German heritage, was the grill master for the wieners.
Metal chairs were set up in the bright sun, along with some being unfolded in the shade of the aforementioned tree. I sat sunwards with my prepared plate, as a nice, “funneled” breeze made its way through the tree’s boughs.
A fellow choir member remarked, “You’re sitting in the hot sun.” But I didn’t mind, as the day was “April hot,” not “Dog Day’s hot.”
The scene resembled a match-box miniature or a crystallization of everything important in a more spread-out “Dinner on the grounds” fellowship, food, and fun.
Although no music was being performed, there was a feeling of the same intimacy as that of a chamber music space.
Looking at my food (and looking to make sure neither chili nor mustard wound up on my pants), I couldn’t help looking even further downwards to notice the turf’s vibrant greenness. Sections of its neatly mowed top had also been “combed” in different directions by the passing feet of men, women, and children, giving it a certain “chopped” appearance, reminiscent of those brush strokes of Vincent van Gogh.
Just out of curiosity, I looked deep into the grass, searching for the slightest imperfection or presence of any invasive weed. After which, I said to Ashley Stanley-Robey, our Director of Music Ministries, “There is not a single weed to be found here.” She said it would be especially nice if the Church Council passed that compliment along to the lawn service with whom they had contracted.
The evenness of the grasses’ 2–3-inch cut reminded me of my brother Joe’s flat-top haircut in the 1950s!
I also thought, it’s as if AstroTurf had been installed, then miraculously had come to life and grown several inches, perfectly!
Pastor Beth Broschart’s sermon that day had included a section where she stated unexpected fill-in-the-blank words to common phrases. So, in keeping with her sermon, I stared into the turf and said to myself, “A full head of grass.”
Psychologists say we compartmentalize bad memories, shutting them off from our conscious self. But I think we compartmentalize good memories too, preserving them safely in that “compartment” so they are always readily available to be “conscioused-up.”
That day of The First Presbyterian Day School luncheon has joined many other pleasant days, which are always with me.
And another thing! (gosh, I’m turning into Colombo). These History Channel documentaries, as well as the writers of history books are always pointing out the horrible events that took place in ancient pagan temple sites: human sacrifice, etc. (And on a similar note, the movies imply that everybody in classical times spoke like Sir Lawrence Olivier, Sir John Gielgud, Richard Burton, Christopher Plummer, and Terence Stamp).
Well, just for once, consider the possibility of something more casual, “non-bloody” sometimes taking place at those ancient pagan temples, something more “people friendly” (remember, it was Pete of “Pete’s Diner” in The Muppets Take Manhattan (1984) who memorably stated, “Peoples is peoples.”).
