Project Recall
Note: From the date below, it has been a while since I started these reflections. I am now putting them all in one place in this blogspot, and will hopefully add to them from time to time.
March 1, 1999
PROJECT RECALL
I have been thinking for some time now that I should write some of my recollections down, not because they are noteworthy (or at all worthy, for that matter), but it may give my grandchildren (when they are old enough to read) one person’s perspective of the world which I have known. I wish some of my siblings, cousins, etc. would set their hand to remembering, too, while we can!
Although I have been thinking about this for some time each weekend I receive an e-mail bulletin from a friend, Dr. Robert Burns, which he calls Breezy Hill Bulletin. Each week as I read his bulletin, his account of family goings-on, reflections on current events, recollections of times past, and his section on Book and Poetry, each week I renew my resolve to set my hand to write. Thanks, Bob, for being the weekly reminder.
I am not promising (or threatening) a weekly bulletin, but I hope that from time to time I will be able to send out an occasional page. I would appreciate any feedback from you. If you have anything to contribute, please send it along. If you do not wish to receive any possible future editions, don’t hesitate to let me know that, too. (I won’t feel badly. I know that we are all inundated with materials, much of it unsolicited, for which we do not have time or energy).
In case you are wondering how you got on this list, it’s just because you came to mind as I was putting it together. If you know anyone else who might like to be on (whether e-mail or snail-mail), please let me know of them, too.
LONG, LONG THOUGHTS
I was thinking today of my earliest experience of attending Sunday morning worship in a church building. Since we lived some distance from the church, which was in the next village in Penal, and since we did not have a family car, and could not afford the fare for the whole family to go by public transportation, I did not attend services on a regular basis until I was old enough to walk the two and a half miles, and later to ride a bike there and back by myself.
The old wooden church building had colored glass window panes, which, I suppose, were a not-so-pale imitation of the stained glass windows in the missionaries’ home churches. I loved watching the morning sunlight shine through the colored glass and fall on the wooden floor, or the pews, or on people’s arms, faces or clothes. I have very little recollection of much else in my earliest experiences of “going to church” apart from watching the sunlight shining through the colored glass.
Well, I do remember spending quite a few Sundays wondering about how Rev. Ramlogan got his clerical collar on and off. It was one of those slave bands which completely circled his neck. I sat through many services pondering this mystery. My best theory was that he had some way of screwing his head off and on. (After all, who knew what mysterious powers the minister might have!) Imagine my disappointment years later when I discovered that the collar was not an unbroken band and, instead, was fastened with a stud at the back! I have to tell you, though, that there are few mysteries that engaged my thoughts as completely during a Sunday morning worship service. I have heard of kids counting the crosses on the wall paper, or the tiles in the ceiling of the sanctuary, even the flies in the light fixture. I am certain that none of that was as engaging as the mystery I tackled those Sunday mornings.
March 1, 1999
PROJECT RECALL
I have been thinking for some time now that I should write some of my recollections down, not because they are noteworthy (or at all worthy, for that matter), but it may give my grandchildren (when they are old enough to read) one person’s perspective of the world which I have known. I wish some of my siblings, cousins, etc. would set their hand to remembering, too, while we can!
Although I have been thinking about this for some time each weekend I receive an e-mail bulletin from a friend, Dr. Robert Burns, which he calls Breezy Hill Bulletin. Each week as I read his bulletin, his account of family goings-on, reflections on current events, recollections of times past, and his section on Book and Poetry, each week I renew my resolve to set my hand to write. Thanks, Bob, for being the weekly reminder.
I am not promising (or threatening) a weekly bulletin, but I hope that from time to time I will be able to send out an occasional page. I would appreciate any feedback from you. If you have anything to contribute, please send it along. If you do not wish to receive any possible future editions, don’t hesitate to let me know that, too. (I won’t feel badly. I know that we are all inundated with materials, much of it unsolicited, for which we do not have time or energy).
In case you are wondering how you got on this list, it’s just because you came to mind as I was putting it together. If you know anyone else who might like to be on (whether e-mail or snail-mail), please let me know of them, too.
LONG, LONG THOUGHTS
I was thinking today of my earliest experience of attending Sunday morning worship in a church building. Since we lived some distance from the church, which was in the next village in Penal, and since we did not have a family car, and could not afford the fare for the whole family to go by public transportation, I did not attend services on a regular basis until I was old enough to walk the two and a half miles, and later to ride a bike there and back by myself.
The old wooden church building had colored glass window panes, which, I suppose, were a not-so-pale imitation of the stained glass windows in the missionaries’ home churches. I loved watching the morning sunlight shine through the colored glass and fall on the wooden floor, or the pews, or on people’s arms, faces or clothes. I have very little recollection of much else in my earliest experiences of “going to church” apart from watching the sunlight shining through the colored glass.
Well, I do remember spending quite a few Sundays wondering about how Rev. Ramlogan got his clerical collar on and off. It was one of those slave bands which completely circled his neck. I sat through many services pondering this mystery. My best theory was that he had some way of screwing his head off and on. (After all, who knew what mysterious powers the minister might have!) Imagine my disappointment years later when I discovered that the collar was not an unbroken band and, instead, was fastened with a stud at the back! I have to tell you, though, that there are few mysteries that engaged my thoughts as completely during a Sunday morning worship service. I have heard of kids counting the crosses on the wall paper, or the tiles in the ceiling of the sanctuary, even the flies in the light fixture. I am certain that none of that was as engaging as the mystery I tackled those Sunday mornings.
posted by cornelius @ 7:55 PM
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