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Excerpt from Shuffletown USA
Sunday Was Once a Day When Time Seeped Away
Sunday was once a day when time seeped away. It was the seventh day and the day to rest. It was a day when souls condemned by original sin came together to recite in unison The Apostle’s Creed and The Lord’s Prayer in an effort to stay our selves for the upcoming week. Sunday was the Lord’s Day and the day to visit with relatives. It was a touchstone type of day.
No unnecessary chores were done on Sunday. No one finished sewing a dress on this day or plowed a field. Lawn mowers, washing machines, clothespins and tractors waited for Monday, dreaded Monday, blue Monday.
On Sunday the rooster crowed twice, not once before Mom’s feet touched the floor to plug in the coffee pot and to put the roast in the oven.
Time moved slowly when your activities were limited to church and visiting grandparents. My mother’s sisters and brothers brought their families to Poppa Sands house in Lincolnton and they could visit for hours while cousins played with cousins.
The men would walk out to talk about things men talk about. The women compared pound cake recipes and needlepoint. We knew all our relatives including first, second and third cousins once removed. Sometimes on Sunday after church a family would pile in the car and set off on an aimless drive. This was referred to as "riding off somewhere." Mom and Dad liked to watch sunset together on Sundays.
We finished up the afternoon with a visit to Grandma’s house where Dad’s family gathered. Parents were older then, or at least, they seemed that way and Grandparents were ancient.
Grandma wore black dresses with lace collars and monstrous hats adorned with flowers and sometimes, birds. Grandfathers’ wore suspenders and loose slacks. Poppa’s Sunday-go-to-meeting shirts were starched and stiff like papier-mâché. You could hide the choir behind some of the hats women once wore.
Sunday comics were big and bright and Brenda Starr was the only woman you knew who worked outside the home. You could go all day on Sunday and nothing was expected of you, except Monday’s homework.
- Judy Rozzelle
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