My Redacted Life: Chapter 30 (Cont._3)

So, we go to see the preacher at the Methodist Church in Lonoke to plan our wedding scheduled for August 17, 1972. He was underwhelmed. I can’t say as how I blame him. He had been pastor there a couple of years, and had never met Brenda. She had been in college, she explained.

The last time I had been in church was while in college and that’s because I was trying to impress one of the sorority girls at the house where I served as janitor. I explained that I had been in the Navy and left the sorority girl part out.

Didn’t they have churches in Conway, Arkansas? She admitted only that she supposed so.

Didn’t they have services on Navy ships and installations? I didn’t know for sure. It was the new, modern Navy and all. They didn’t even call the female sailors “Waves” anymore and the most famous enlisted man serving then was a highly impressive African-American named Carl Brashear, a man truly worth worshiping in his own right.

The preacher showed no interest in either my Navy career or our excuses. After some obligatory wrangling, he agreed to perform the service, albeit somewhat enthusiastically. He was particularly fixated upon my former residency in San Francisco. I clammed up and we continued.

The only hiccup occurred when he got to the service itself.

“Were we interested in writing our own?”

“No, and the shorter the better.”

He had started to go over the service when Brenda interrupted. “In the woman’s part, does it have that ‘love, honor, and obey’ stuff?”

He blinked and said, “In the traditional service it does.”

“We want that ‘obey’ part left out.”

He actually looked at me for confirmation, not a smart move on his part. I just shrugged. He made a note.

The ordeal finally ended. He promised to marry us, and we promised to come to church with Brenda’s parents when we happened to be in Lonoke of a Sunday morning. There would be no stricture concerning the need to obey anyone, no matter what The Apostle had to say about the matter.

We were soon in the Green Angel with the top off, her red hair billowing, and breathing, once more, the “air of the heathen.”

Actually, I was to find the Methodists a warm, progressive lot. I’ve never heard a bona-fide Methodist minister preach a hint of hatred. They concentrate a lot on the concept of “grace” and struggle with, rather than worship, riches. I’ve never heard one tell a terrified five-year old about a place where their precious little body might burn forever. It’s the new, modern church, I suppose.

Oh, and speaking of Master Chief Boatswain's Mate (and Master Diver) Carl Brashear. I served with him on the old USS Hunley, a singular honor in my life. They later made a film, starring Cuba Gooding, of his life. I don’t think he suffered from bone spurs. Had he, it would have affected only one heel, the other having been lost, along with part of his leg, years before I served with him, in a diving mission for our Navy.

Me, obey a man?
Yeah right.