In the former parsonage of the First Baptist Church of Patterson was the church nursery. This residence-turned-nursery school, preschool, Sunday School, was probably where I first met Lonnie Ray Easley. He was a year younger than me and church started for us while we were still in our mothers’ wombs. Back then, kids under a certain age went to the nursery during church. If you went to the nursery at FBC Patterson you were taken care of by Mrs. Jones, one of the original church members and someone who seemed to always have the appearance of a 70 year-old grandmother. I’m sure having Lonnie Ray and me together throwing blocks, making loud car sounds, begging for Kool-Aid helped age this dear woman. But as was the case most times, it was Lonnie Ray’s fault.
Probably when I was five or six, another friend came into my life, Ray Cowart. Soon after, Ray, Lonnie and I were the three musketeers, always together. I introduce Ray and Lonnie because they were a part of many of my childhood memories and stories. These two delinquents were also the cause of my getting into so much trouble when I was a kid. Sure, preacher’s kids (PK) are known troublemakers and I may have instigated a few ‘incidents’ but if MY memory serves me well, it was these two boys who started most things and caused me to get most of my spankings. Smile.
Speaking of getting a spanking, I believe most of mine happened on Sunday, generally about 12:30 or 1:00 pm. I know because this was the general time my Dad would get home from church. Mom’s Sunday roast would have to wait until I received my reward for cutting up in church. One particular Sunday, the trouble started soon after my Dad started his sermon. The seats in the church auditorium were these old second-hand theater seats that had a 4 or 5 inch cushioned bottom and backs of plain, stained hardwood. The seat would automatically bounce up when you got out of your seat, and of course covered by a plastic/vinyl/fake leather wrap of some sort meant even the slightest noise echoed.
I don’t recall if it was Ray, Lonnie or me who expelled gas that morning, but one of us did and the sound echoed off the seat and could be heard by others around us. That would have been the end of it but one of us started snickering. Snickering is different from giggling because a snicker is contagious. Generally it is passed between pre-pubescent boys in church settings, not during the song service but during times when the church is the most quiet. Snickering sometimes shows up at school assemblies, elementary school classes, cub scout den meetings, but it is primarily a church service related issue.
As the snickering increased, so did the effort to prevent it. But one look at your friend or the sound of his snickering only makes things worse. Pat Easley, better known to the three of us as “Eagle Eye Pat” tried to get us to behave from her perch in the choir loft. Ms. Pat, who was also Lonnie Ray’s aunt, would scan the faces of those in the congregation, especially us kids, making sure everyone behaved and was paying attention to the sermon. When she saw us, she knew we were being rambunctious and with her eyes, sent out “calm your butts down boys” darts. Unfortunately, the darts missed their intended targets, sailing over our young heads to hit two teenagers behind us who suddenly sat up, reached for their Bibles and pretended to be studying the Holy Land maps at the back of the book. Meanwhile, our three heads could be seen sliding down in the seats, faces red from snickering that had gotten out of hand, and attention spans oblivious to the surroundings. Until God spoke. Out loud. In church. In the service of First Baptist Church of Patterson.
“Steve, Ray, Lonnie Ray.” Oh no, God knows our names. God was watching us misbehave in church. Eternal damnation and the devil’s pitchfork would be next. We just knew it. “Steve, Ray, Lonnie Ray, I’m going to finish this sermon and the three of you need to behave or find a seat where you can behave.” That voice, there it is again telling us to behave. Wait, it isn’t God. Uh oh, worse, it’s my Dad’s voice, or Brother Art as he was known to Ray and Lonnie.
It’s funny how fast out-of-control snickering stops when your Dad calls your name from the pulpit during his Sunday morning sermon. It’s not funny when the implication of your behavior is realized in your young mind and the consequences will take place faster than you can say, “dinner on the ground after church.”
And that brings us back to the after church spanking and the promise to always behave in church and never do anything again that would cause my Dad to call my name during one of his sermons. Well, for a few months anyway.
Pinball & Preachers 
A story. Perfection it is not. But it’s a memory that makes me laugh. At least now. Sharing my story with you. I hope it makes you smile.
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What a wonderful story. Takes you right back to your childhood and the days of innocence. Funny, insightful and entertaining read all the way through.
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Glad you are writing. Can’t wait to read each one and learn how you became the wonderful friend I have now.
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Brother Art got most of us at one time or another! It wasn’t much better when I got home either. Great story Steve ! Thanks for bringing back some fond memories and making me smile!
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Gary, thank you for reading my stories and for taking the time to write. I am a little behind with some of the technical stuff and only realized a few days ago I had comments on here. So sad but I am trying to move into the 1990’s as soon as I can. I hope you will keep reading as I have lots more to write. Your mom and dad were the greatest. Ms. Doris got me to eating carrots and your Dad’s Jalapeno cornbread was incredible. Also fond memories of your mom teaching me in Training Union.
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Oh man I think I was in church that day! You had me laughing while reading this and it brought me allll the way back to my childhood growing up in that church. My grandmother, Mrs. Jones, would have loved this too. Great job Steve!
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Loved it. Hope there’s lots more to come……
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Patterson, and good times. I look forward to the stories.
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Steve, what a wonderful story. This put a big smile on my face this morning. I enjoyed reading it and cannot wait for the next one. It brought back lots of memories very similar to the ones that took place in St. Joseph Catholic Church. I remember someone sitting in front of us in church passed gas and I immediately started with the giggles. I could not for the life of me quit giggling…UNTIL my mom pinched me. Anyhow, keep up the good work!
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I’m so happy you are reading my stories. Good to hear it just wasn’t us Baptists getting in trouble..hahaha
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Thank you for sharing your great story Steve. Enjoyed reading it.
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I am still around so watch what you write about me…ha ha
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ML, I will try to be on my best behavior since you are reading my stories. Sissy said I missed my girlfriend last week at Ms. Plattsmier’s funeral. Thanks for going and being there for Chuck, Susan and Sissy.
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Glad you are back to writing. Thanks for the morning giggle! Looking forward to more of your stories.
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I enjoyed reading this so much, brought back so many memories. Keep up your writing Steve and can’t wait to see what is next!
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Steve! I absolutely love this and can picture Uncle Brother at the pulpit, calling your name. Our family was very good at throwing daggers with their eyes! Mom threw enough of her own at yhe 4 of us and tore us up for misbehaving in church.
You are very talented with your writing. The words you spoke when Uncle Brother “went home” are tucked in my memory. I loved every word you said. Love you, cuz!
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entertaining….. wetting the whistle for both author and reader alike!
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Thank you so much Ms. ACK…I appreciate you reading my stuff and encouraging me. I remember once upon a time when we worked on a story together. Glad to see you in a good place…
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Glad to see you writing again!
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Loved it. I had a great laugh.
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What a great story especially because I remember Bro Accord. I was a teen when he came to our church in the 60’s. I left in 65 and missed some of your antics. Keep the stories going it’s so much fun to read them.
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Shirley, more stories to follow. Thank you so much for reading.
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Sounds just like you guys….
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Hey sister Dana, don’t be acting all innocent…:)
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Loved it! Made me smile early in the day. Just discovered your stories, and I hope to read more. The best part for me is I could hear Bro Art’s voice clearly….all the way from Heaven.
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Boy this story brings me right back there as well. Miss Pat from the choir… Wow. Me, Paula, and Gay Lynn can all relate to that story. Love it. And how she d slowly shake her head no. So glad I discovered your writings! One of my favorite memories is of a Christmas party at your home after church. And all us kids running around the front yard under the stars.
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Thank you Lana for discovering my stories. I hope in small ways I can bring back wonderful memories and help us smile a little. We did have some fun hayrides and I loved the Christmas parties we had at our house. Momma made homemade rolls for weeks getting ready for it.
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Oh so remember those rolls. All us kids that grew up together are so bonded by all the memories made at church. ♥ happy New year.:)
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So true Lana. I’ll keep the stories and memories coming.
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