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I didn’t tell the story exactly right in recent columns.
Sabra joined the bell choir at our church, like I said, and she’s been a rising star, being promoted to two bells in a matter of weeks. She wasn’t demoted, however, because of trouble walking and ringing at the same time. No, the demotion came about because she missed a practice. As a result, she got dropped from third to fourth chair in the four-person ensemble. In turn, that meant she had only one note and one bell to play in the closing number.
Her first performance was this past Sunday, and she and the choir played beautifully. There are a lot of things I like about First Christian Church and the tradition of the congregation providing the music is one of them. Besides the bell choir, we have several piano players, a harpist, an accordion player, a drummer, a guitarist, numerous talented vocalists and others. If you’re looking for something to do on Sunday morning, please stop by. If I’m there, you’ll see my go-to-church orange hat on top of the coat rack.
The fishing trip with brother Bob and Dad also needs some clarification. It wasn’t as great of a time as I may have implied. Sure, it was wonderful getting my 90-year-old pops out for some worm drowning. And yes, the fish were biting. But it’s all fun and games until someone (me) forgets their snacks next to the Mr. Coffee.
It was brutal.
The morning started with my alarm going off at 4 a.m. and Skeeter hovering over me ready to draw blood. Being an “up and at ‘em kind of guy” is one of Dad’s hallmarks and it was passed on to his progeny. It’s something that has served me well over the years.
“Are you getting up or not?” he demanded before the second beep blared from the alarm on my cell phone. I bleared at him and realized he was fully dressed and tapping his shoe while leaning against his walker. Rubbing my eyes, I asked how long he’d been up since he was fully dressed plus I could smell coffee coming from the kitchen. “Since the first beep of your alarm,” he shot back. “Are you going to talk or get dressed?”
Up I got.
From many other fishing trips, I know better than to forget something I might need, especially if the fish are biting. So you’d better have your raincoat, sunglasses, bug spray, extra coat, snacks, etc. with you because you “ain’t going back.” I had a sack of snacks all packed. No big deal, just some chips, pretzel, nuts, jerky and a pound of trail mix.
I’m not sure why I’m considered the “big eater” in the family. I think I’m normal and the rest of the clan is chow challenged. Like Bob, he has the metabolism of a hummingbird on speed, and rarely eats before noon. I had good reason to bring those snacks, and kicked myself hard when I realized they were still ashore as we putt-putted out onto Bangs Lake at 5 a.m.
To be fair to Dad, I should mention he offered to stop at the all-night McDonald’s on the way to the lake but I declined, feeling some security in knowledge I had 100,000 calories or more in my ditty bag. To be fair to me, I also should state, when I found out my treats were MIA, I took it stoically and decided not to let it ruin my morning.
But after a couple of hours in the boat, I remembered there was a restaurant on the lake and I began dropping subtle hints. “I wonder if that restaurant opens for breakfast?” And, “Do you suppose they make blueberry pancakes?”
But, the rest of the boat’s crew would have nothing to do with it.
“Even if it is open, I bet it costs at least $15 to eat breakfast there,” Bob said, making it clear we weren’t stopping for any #$%$ing breakfast.
“Fifteen dollars!” I replied with a dreamy look and wistful tone of voice. “Do you suppose it’s a buffet?” Bob scoffed and swore at me again but Dad caught that I was joking and I saw him smile.
No, the trip wasn’t as great of time as I implied. It was much better.
Got to go and remind Sabra to go to bell practice.