After escaping harm the first time, I was not about to enter the lion’s den again. I was determined never to write about my mother-in-law’s Promise Sunday School class ever again. Honest.
But then I found out a little secret.
It turns out anything cooked on an outdoor grill is like a strong truth serum to my wife and mother-in-law; maybe to all women. Maybe it’s the delirium of not having to cook for a change, or maybe it’s the soothing sound of the soft sizzle of meat on a metal tray – like raindrops on a tin roof – I don’t know, but the fact is: You grill and you get answers (whether you want them or not).
“Tell me! Was there or was there not a second shooter on the grassy knoll when John F. Kennedy was shot?”
“We’ll never tell!”
“I’ve got baby back ribs ...”
“... His name was Chester. He was born in a little town in Alabama. His favorite color was red. His momma’s name was ...”
So it was as my wife, mother-in-law, father-in-law (my witness) and I sat there at the dinner table two Saturday’s ago after I had grilled some hamburgers, hotdogs and sausages (I can’t imagine what would have happened had I really cooked baby backs) that the ladies began to talk.
“You’d really have something to write about if we told you what really goes on in our class,” my wife said ... smiling from ear to ear as the Hillshire Farms began to kick in.
“Now. Now. I’m through with that,” I said. “Especially after being threatened. Nope. No more of that for me ... Have another hot dog?”
“They’re sure a lively bunch,” my mother-in-law chimed in. “They certainly keep you on your toes.”
“I’m sure they are. I’m sure they do. But I’m really not interested. Really. But here, have a few Ball Parks fresh off the grill. And, are you going to stop at just two hamburgers!”
And so it began. A dozen or so meat (by)products later, I got the whole truth and nothing but the truth. (Not really. I actually only got one bit of substance – and getting it was like cutting a cheap steak ... but I’m pretty twisted, I could work with it.)
Come to find out the Bible might have been written entirely different had members of the Promise Sunday School class been around.
For example, I was told there’s a story in the Old Testament about Noah that was once a source of spirited debate (the aforementioned “bit of substance”). It’s found in Genesis Chapter 10. The flood has come and gone and now Noah, who has three sons, Shem, Ham and Japheth, has settled down to live every man’s dream. He’s become a husbandman (which, not being a Bible scholar, I would suppose means his wife has pretty much got him “trained” ... and that’s not the “every man’s dream” part ... that’s every “woman’s dream”) and planted a vineyard (that’s the “every man’s dream” part ... although not mine if you read my wine column).
Well, come to find out, in verse 21: “And he drank the wine, and was drunken; and he was uncovered in his tent.”
Then in verse 22 it reads: “And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw the nakedness of his father, and told his two brethren without.”
In verse 23 the other two sons back into the tent with a blanket – where they won’t have to look – and cover him up.
Verse 24 is apparently where the debate ensued for the Promise members: “And Noah awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done unto him.” What he did my wife said scholars disagree on. Some, she said, say he just made fun of him. (Note: That’s what my two sons would do. One: “Gross!” The other: “Yeah. He’s like a cross between a gorilla and a prune.”) Others, she said, say he did something much worse. I’ll leave that to your imagination(s), but that’s apparently what some members of the Promise Sunday School class believe.
In fact, their version of verse 25 would start off the same way as the King James version – with Noah cursing Canaan because of Ham – but would end something like this based on an actual cut-to-the-chase quote from one of the class’s members: “And then they tied Ham outside naked and let the birds peck him to death.”
If I were to draw conclusions, which I will – it’d be no fun if I didn’t – where First Samuel, Chapter 17, verse 49 reads: “And David put his hand in his bag, and took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine in his forehead, that the stone sunk into his forehead; and he fell upon his face to the earth.”
Verse 50 of the Promise Sunday School version would read: “And then David’s mother showed up, grabbed him by the ear and drug him home saying: ‘I thought I told you I never wanted to see you playing with that slingshot anymore.’”
In the book of Jonah, they would add a verse somewhere right after Jonah, who is miserable – covered in fish guts from head to toe – after spending the past three days and three nights in the belly of a whale meets up with his wife for the first time. It would go something like this: “And ‘Pam’ (I don’t know if he was married so I just substituted a name near and dear to me) patted her foot on the ground and with hands on her hip said: ‘So, you’ve been out fishing again.’”
In the book of John, Chapter 11, verse 43, Jesus says: “Lazarus come forth (from the dead).” Verse 44 would have a quote from Mrs. Lazarus: “Oh no. You’re not going anywhere until you take out the trash.” I could go on but I think you see what I mean. (P.S. I hope nobody thinks I’m making fun of the scriptures. That’s truly not my intent. I’m just trying to have a little fun.)
They are loving and lovely as I said in my first column, but a few of them have got a little bit of that Walker, Texas Ranger justice about them.
In fact, even though I begged for forgiveness in my first column, there were some who still wanted my head on a platter (like John the Baptist’s).
One of them, I won’t mention any names (Carol Daniels) went so far this past Sunday as to threaten: “I told your wife I was going to sit behind you and pull out three hairs on your head. ‘And then I said: ‘Then he won’t have but seven.’”
Others have apparently indeed invited me to be their guest speaker – actually just a “guest” – at their next function.
At first the thought of that – being in the room with them minus a police escort – had about as much appeal as I imagine Jesus’ facing Pontius Pilate did, but now for some reason I’m no longer afraid.
“So ladies. As far as being your guest, count me in. You bring the Bibles and the potato salad. I’ll bring the grill.”
