Sunday mornings. As a kid, I looked forward to Sunday mornings because it was down time especially at this time of year. I can remember being under 10 and lying on the living room floor with the comics. We would either be going to a later Mass or had just returned home. The television may have been on or not, that I cannot remember. I remember just being in the house with the family all doing quiet things. My dad on the couch reading, my brothers playing somewhere I the house, my mom in the kitchen. Now on Sundays, I get up early and find myself drifting through memories. Some days these trips are sad, some days they are funny. Almost all of the days leave me wanting to be able to travel back to those days just to have those people around. Today’s memory trip deals with one Sunday in particular and it always brings a smile because I remember how funny my dad could be.
I cannot tell you how old I was, my brain does not give me that information. Based on where I was living and who was with us, I was somewhere between 11 and 14. It was spring, there was no snow left on the ground. It was a warm day. I can remember that my mom was not feeling well so she asked our dad to take us to church while she rested. For some reason, my mind is placing at least one of our neighbors in the van with us. I don’t remember her going to church with us at any other time, so I cannot promise that she was there.
We all loaded in the van and headed off to church like good people do. However, when we entered, we discovered we had missed it. Apparently the Mass times had changed and my dad either didn’t remember or didn’t know. We walked in to hear the priest say go forth. So we did.
We couldn’t go home right away since my dad wanted to give our mom some peace and quiet. I think he didn’t want to go home to tell her that we had missed Mass. So, Dad decided that he was going to just drive around for a while. As I mentioned it was spring, and spring in Western New York can provide some beautiful days just to drive around. So we went into the village of Lewiston and started just driving. The intent was that we would go around until making our way to River Road and head down toward Youngstown. Then Dad realized that he could add some fun to this drive.
Our van had a CB radio. Yes, this was the 70’s and everybody had CB radios at the time. The difference for our radio is that it also had a PA system hooked up. I never understood why we had this except to provide some entertainment for my dad. I am sure that he had some “logical” reason to have this system, but I can only remember it being used to have fun. As soon as I saw him click the button on the radio and pick up the mic, I knew laughter was about to ensue.
The first person to experience the voice from the van was a runner. This guy was running down the road ahead of us. My dad’s hand reached for the mic, we all leaned forward – watching, waiting. Then came the voice, “Come on, you can go faster than that. One, two, one, two.” We watched as the man jumped a little, but then actually changed his stride to the faster cadence. He gave a friendly wave as we passed.
At this point, as with a WNY spring, the rain started coming down. It wasn’t pouring, but enough for windshield wipers to start going. We traveled through the streets, a little bummed that the rain caused people to move inside. Then we saw them, two kids maybe 8 playing out on a wall. The voice came again, “Hey! Didn’t your mother ever tell you to get out of the rain?” The kids looked around trying to figure where the voice came from. When they couldn’t figure it out, into the house they ran.
The last victim, I mean person, of my dad actually ended up being a nun. We had made our way to River Road and were driving back toward Youngstown. In that area is a school run by nuns named Stella Niagara. The nuns live at the school. Across the street from the school is a statue. By this the rain had subsided and the sun took over. A nun was standing by the statue praying. The mic left its cradle. It moved towards my father’s lips and next thing you know, the speaker let’s out, “This is God talking.” At first, the nun looked up. The laughter of the young people in the van erupted. She then turned to see the van and waved.
I am sure that there were others that heard the voice from the van on this trip, but for some reason these are the ones that stick in my mind. My dad took an ordinary day and added some laughter. That is one thing I remember about him. He knew how to lighten a mood. He would put himself out there to make others happy. He didn’t care what others thought of him when he was trying to bring laughter to his kids. I think this is why he was so good at leading a youth organization with more than 100 kids. He just wanted to make the world a little happier for them.
So this morning, my memories took me down the roads of my childhood. They reminded me of a day with my dad in which we didn’t do what was expected. I know that some people might think that what my father did was not funny and possibly mean. This was not his intention. He seemed to have a knack for knowing which people who could handle it. They all had a smile – welllllll, we will never know about the kids on the wall.
While I hope to bring a smile with this story, I hope that it causes some memories of your own to pop up and give you a smile this Sunday.
Thank you for meandering with me today.