American Sundays

Sunday morning is no time for such nonsense as politics and wars, so I just want to write about being human. At one time in this Country, Sundays were a special day, a day just to relax and be the wonderful human being that you are. We have lost something great in the last 40 years or so.

Few will believe this, except those of us who are old enough (I refuse to use the phrase 'baby boomers.' I loathe that phrase.), but there was a time when darn near everything was closed on Sunday. Grocery stores, gas stations and every sort of department store simply closed on Sunday. Most restaurants closed and the few that opened were open for only a few hours. Movies and golf courses were open , but not only were there no bars open, you could not find a place open to buy any alcohol. Even the local drug store was closed. The pharmacist did post an emergency number in the window, but anyone who called that number knew they had best be near death's door when they called.

Now, of course, this was a throw back to the old Blue Laws that attempted to legislate morality down to the least deed. They were absurd; it was surprising the Churches even let us go to the bathroom on Sunday, but by the time I am speaking of, while some of those laws were still on the books, no one paid attention to that. People just took Sundays off because it was a valued tradition.

We did, and still do, need a day off, a time to do just whatever we want to, even if that is sitting there staring off into space. In fact, that is sometimes a great idea. My Dad worked himself silly; 12 hour days, six days a week were not unheard of, 5 and a half days were usual, yet, nothing could keep him from his Sunday off and that was the attitude of most everyone I knew. It was a tradition, a wonderful one.

What did we do? Lots and nothing. Big breakfasts and hours of sipping coffee and reading the big, thick Sunday paper were frequent pastimes. Golf was a favorite recreation, or sometimes a movie. A huge Sunday dinner was a constant, as was visits to relatives, where hours were spent talking about nothing, just hanging out and enjoying being together. Ball games of various sorts were watched by most and kids gathered outside to play their own, scaled down versions of the Big Time games, (ever try playing baseball with 4 man teams; it will definitely keep you on your toes).

Rainy days were sometimes the best. There were still the big meals and visits to friends and family, but, rain gave everyone a good excuse to, at least for awhile, sit back, put their feet up and do as close to nothing as possible. Books were read, movies watched on TV, board games and card decks came out, and, more often that not, naps were taken. It was wonderful.

What of Church? Well, what of it? Some went, some didn't. Among those who went, I knew few who went out of any religious fervor. To most, it was a social event, sort of like a club meeting, and that's fine. Many who never attended Church had beliefs, they just didn't like the Churches. Again, that was and is fine. Everyone relates to what they consider the sacred in their own way.

I believe that the very act of taking a day and devoting it to remembering humanity, yours and that of others, is. in itself, a sacred act.

Today, it is a rarity to find a store closed on Sunday. Many, many people are out working as I write this and I sympathize with them, especially if they are old enough to remember the days when Sunday was something special.