Me and Jesus and Bobby

Once I had settled into life with Bobby as my steady boyfriend, no more enamel rings, no more Kevin in the movie theatre, no more AJ's Pizza, I needed to get a good routine going.

Bobby was a regular in the church. He sang in the choir. I mentioned Bobby before. I mentioned the Church. It seems so unreal, so un-me, that I can't stop obsessing. Whatever happened to Bobby, the Church, Vicki, the girl down the hall in my dormitory who later married Bobby, but then I get ahead of myself and trip over my thoughts.

Bobby and I and Mary Ellen Pooters and Marine Hoogasian all hung around together and played folk music. We liked Bob Dylan, but called him Die-lan. We were so dumb.

We went to Sunday School and we all sang in the choir, where I was made to stand next to Mary Ellen Pooters and follow her lead, and not too loud, thanks.

And Christmas Eve we sang Christmas carols to the old folks at the old folks home, which is what it was in those days, the very old building where the very old folks went to languish. We were their only joy.

We also sang to my mother and little sister, because they didn't have a lot of joy either.

One day we found out in Sunday School that we each had to take a turn "preaching" a youth sermon to the whole congregation. We had to stand up before "God and everyone" and say we accepted Jesus as our personal savior.

What else? I don't remember. I practiced over and over, Jesus is my personal savior. What does mean? It means if you don't believe it when you say it, Jesus won't save you when the time comes, and after you languish in the old folks home, you languish some more while all your friends go up to Heaven and sit on the right hand of God, which must be a pretty big right hand or else they are not telling us how hard it really is to qualify for the right hand seat.

So I said to myself, not unlike Dorothy, "I do believe, I do I do, I do believe" that Jesus is my personal savior and etc. without crossing my fingers. It was a rite of passage, if I wanted to stay in the Church and eventually marry Bobby and so forth. Which I thought I did, but would have taken an out if one offered itself.

No out was in sight when it was my turn to stand up before he congregation and proclaim that I accepted Jesus as my personal savior.

Lightning didn't strike me, so I figured that was a good sign. I was always very superstitious.