Читать книгу The Poignant Years - Horace N. Robinson - Страница 10

Even in the buckle of the Bible Belt where there was an active church on every corner, some of our neighbors struggled with religion. The war compounded the issue.

Many were drawn to faith by the urgency of the hour while some were repelled by the fact that the demon of war was even allowed to exist.

Neighbors of faith—and neighbors without faith—lived on the small, intersecting lots. The faithful and the faithless shared the vigil of waiting, trying to make sense of the worldwide slaughter.

Mr. Marsh lived catty-cornered from Granddaddy Lamb. He always spoke but never waved at kids on bikes. His hair was a salt and pepper and his skin always turned bright red in the sun. His garden grew well, but not as large and green as the Lamb’s. He used his shiny push plow almost every day and raised big cantaloupes that he would sometimes share with the neighbors.

There was a steep embankment next to his garden where a kid could put his leg and balance his bike as the two conversed.

Through the Eyes of a Child

The Infidel

“Hi, Mr. Marsh.”

“Mornin.”

“Mr. Marsh, what’s a Infidel?”

“Is that what they call me?—cause I don’t go to church?”

“Maybe I got the wrong word.”

“Or maybe you got the right one.”

“I get stuff mixed up all the time—especially serious words.”

“Lemme tell you somethin’ about me and church—always get choked up at church—feel like I’m gonna suffocate. But ain’t tellin’ you not to go. I just got some questions. Had ’em since even before the war come along, and the war ain’t done nothin’ to answer ’em.”

“Well if you want to go, you can go with me. We sing ‘Everybody ought to go to Sunday School at our church.’”

“I know my way down there—and some of these days I may get around to it. When Thelma was down they brought food and sat up with her seven nights in a row—fact of matter—I couldn’t have made it without ’em. There is just some things I don’t understand about.”

“Well, maybe I got the wrong word.”

“I just got some questions and nobody ever asks me what I think or what I don’t understand—even when they had the big meetin’ in the tent on Johnson’s vacant lot. But one of these days I may get around to it.”

“Mr. Marsh, is a Infidel somebody that asks questions?”

“Don’t know, Son. If that’s what they call me then that’s what one is.”

“Well, see you Mr. Marsh.”

“Yeah Son, come back any time.”