Time flows strangely on Sundays.”

The other night I was going home from the Dennis Playhouse when I had to jam on the brakes. Two deer, one of them looking young and still with spots, ran across the road. The young one stopped for a bit and looked at me before running off into the trees. I was delighted with the surprise.

The sun is with us again. The morning is already warm. It will get to 81°. I can hear a lawnmower off in the distance. Not even a small breeze is stirring. The backyard is quiet. The dogs are napping. It is that sort of a morning.|

Summer Sundays were always different than any other Sundays of the year. The early masses were so filled there was often an overflow to the stairs outside the door. People stood the whole time to watch the mass. We went, my brother and I, because we were heading to the beach for the day and didn’t want to waste any time. We’d sit on the steps. As long as we were close, I figured it counted as going to mass.

I marched with a drill team, St. Patrick’s Shamrocks, for years. Almost every Sunday during the summer we had a competition. We went to early mass in a group, and not long after mass, we’d board the bus. We always sang on the bus. Our uniforms were usually hung on the windows in garment bags so we didn’t see much of the trip. Every year, we’d compete against the same drill teams. I remember early on, probably my first summer with the drill team, we had a competition in Lawrence. We came in third, the first time we ever placed. There were only three drill teams. I remember the first time we won the championship. Once we got home, we marched from the fire station to the school yard. The fire station whistle blew. I swear we were so excited we soared over the ground. We had a party that night.

I still have friends from those days. We stay connected by our shared experiences even if we don’t see each other. Every now and then we have a reunion, and there are no distances between us.

Today is dump day. The bags of trash are already outside. I have nothing planned for the rest of the day. My dance card is almost empty. We have only one uke concert this week so the summer has begun winding down.

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5 Comments on “Time flows strangely on Sundays.””

  1. Bob Says:

    Hi Kat,

    I’m always surprised that on Cape Cod, you have to carry your own trash to the dump. Why hasn’t someone started a private carting company to collect and take your trash to the dump? These kind of businesses, in big metropolitan cities, used to be owned and operated by the mob. 🙂 Today’s high temperature will set a record of 109°. Obviously, there’s no rain at all.

    I never figured out why all the major western religions require attendance to their services? I always thought that it was designed to collect money more easily. If the deity is everywhere, then why can’t you pray at anytime and anywhere? In my next life I’m either going into the religion business or the funeral business. 🙂 Both businesses never go out of season. 🙂

    One of my former students is a guy named, Kenneth Copeland. He has made billions through his TV ministries which are shown everywhere. He preaches a “prosperity gospel”, ie. Send money to keep this ministry on the air. Prosperity for Copeland. 🙂 While traveling to Chile and Brazil, there would be three English language TV stations, CNN World, Bloomberg Business, and Kenneth Copeland Ministries with subtitles in Spanish or Portuguese.

    • Bob Says:

      Amazingly, the three themes of my post are related, organized crime, organized religion, and the death business. 🙂

    • katry Says:

      Hi Bob,
      There are several private trash pick-up companies, but they are far more expensive than going to the dump. You still have to haul your trash back and forth from the yard and only in barrels.

      In the first or second grade I had to learn the answers to questions. One question was, “Where is God?” The answer was everywhere. The parish where I grew up did do collections during mass, but I doubt it was enough to keep the parish going. Back then there was the convent, two schools, the rectory and the church. They sold the convent and got enough money to refurbish the church. My father used to be an usher, and he collected money in his basket.

      I haven’t ever listened or watched TV evangelists, and they are the last people to whom I’d send money.

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