Sunday Memories

I have found that since retiring, it is easy to lose track of which day of the week it is.  There are no alarm clocks to set, no time cards to be punched.  The days just flow, one after another.  Early on I decided to designate Sundays as a day of rest, leaving the normal chores for the weekdays.

I think I get this idea from Mother, who was rigidly religious.  She would have been happy if our family attended Sunday School, morning and evening church services.  She would have been even happier if we had spent the rest of the day reading our Bibles.  While these were good pursuits all, things just didn't work out for Mother.

Dad was a good, Christian man.  His beliefs aligned themselves with Mothers, but with a healthy dose of fun thrown in for good measure.  We were spared the forced Bible study.  Often he planned a family activity for Sunday afternoons.  In the winter he would take us ice skating or sledding.  If the weather was too cold and blustery for outdoor activities, we might spend an afternoon reading one of  the many books he kept for us, or we might play board games like Monopoly.  Playing cards were forbidden - Mother thought them to be of the devil - so we played Old Maid or Authors or Uno. 

Summertime Sunday afternoons were for picnics, swimming at the lake or maybe a lazy afternoon of fishing.  We had a badminton set and a croquet set and sometimes he would set up one or the other of those games and we would have tournaments on the front lawn.  Sometimes we just piled into the family car and went for a drive.  We admired the crops in the fields, went for walks along the river or stopped to explore an abandoned rural schoolhouse.  Often these excursions ended with a treat of an ice cream cone.

Mother's beliefs did not allow us to go to the movies.  I never did get her to explain why she felt this way.  I don't know how Dad managed it, but he took me to see 'Bambi' and 'Snow White' when I was very young.  Even though it was well over 65 years ago, I still remember watching Snow White running through the forest and finding the cottage of the Seven Dwarfs.  And I still can't watch 'Bambi' without crying when his mother is killed. 

I suppose Mother's beliefs may have come from her father, whom my Dad once described as "stern but fair in his dealings."  I wish she had been able to enjoy life a bit more as did those on Dad's side of the family.  I'm sure that the fact that she spent many years in pain from rheumatoid arthritis did not help any.  I think Dad's sense of humor matched with Mother's rigid religious beliefs probably tempered both and made for a successful marriage.  I once asked my Dad how he could take care of Mother, day in and day out, in those later days when she could do nearly nothing for herself.  His answer was simple.  "I love your Mother."

And that's what it really is all about, isn't it.