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Sunday, May 26, 1918 … The Glance
Joe Kelly stared blankly out the kitchen window with a long face. Gus was already waiting to come inside the back door, slowly wagging his black half-tail. Rain was pouring down in sheets and making pinging sounds on the window panes and flat roof of the back side of the Kelly home near downtown Jacksonport. Joe hurriedly poured hot black coffee from a large metal pot into a stained porcelain cup.
"Well, Millie, I sure wouldn't be surprised if Father Jameson preaches about that ark and that Noah person again this morning," he muttered to himself. "Millie, my dear, you downstairs yet?" He took a big sip of coffee and looked up, his eyes catching the date on the wall calendar above the kitchen counter ... Sunday, May 26, 1918. Kelly shook his head in disgust with the continued miserable weather that had disrupted springtime activities all over Door County, Wisconsin.
Millicent Upvall Kelly suddenly appeared, neatly clothed in her Sunday best, at the threshold between the kitchen and the tiny dining room of the small Kelly home. "Yes I sure am, and you better get that wet dog of yours in and dried off, my sweet, then get thy cloak. We dasn't be late to church." Millie wore a simple but attractive navy blue dress and hat, and a plain gold chain with a crucifix pendant hung from her slim neck. At thirty-six, Millie was still one of the prettiest ladies in all of Jacksonport. She and Joe had been born and bred here and met each other in the first grade. Draped over her right arm was a large black coat. Millie paused and put it around her shoulders. "Pray the rain stops for a little while, Joe" she said quietly, as she straightened her pendant. It was worn only on Sundays, a gift from her dear mother as she lay sick with pneumonia on her deathbed.
"Are the boys ready, Millie?" queried Kelly. "They can eat breakfast after church; that's the price they pay for sleeping late. And I've heard tell the good vicar takes a rather dim view of tardiness. We gotta get going ... I'm ringin' the bell today and it's gonna be done on time, God willing." He opened the squeaky back door and Gus blasted inside, shaking his drenched retriever body and looking like a drowned rat.
"Whoa boy, hold still and I'll get ya a bit drier with the towel ... What do you think, Gus, is three days of rain enough?" It had been a very rainy spring season in Door County, and Joe was growing restless waiting for dry work days. Gus turned a few circles and settled himself down on an old blanket in the kitchen corner. He wasn't usually allowed into the house, eating and sleeping out in the barn with the horses. But ever since his more than close encounter with an axehead at the hand of Zach, he and his sore but nicely healing half-tail were enjoying temporary house privileges and pampering by the Kelly family.
"BOYS ... Let's go!" Millie screamed at the top of her lungs. No sooner had she closed her mouth than two tall and handsome teenage lads came crashing down the creaky wooden staircase from upstairs into the small but quaint front parlor. All decked out in their Sunday best shirts and trousers, Millie looked at them and smiled with motherly pride. Zach, the older boy of 17 years, seemed unusually eager to get to church this morning. "Let's get going everyone," he exclaimed with a bright face. Millie wondered what was on his mind. It wasn't like Zachary to be in a rush to do anything on Sunday mornings.
Joe came into the room and shot a disapproving glance at Abe, the fifteen-year old, and flashed a quick smile at Zach.
"Abarham, straighten your tie, son!" he said slowly and deliberately. "Every Sunday morning it's the same thing with you boy," he continued, seemingly annoyed. "Look at your brother, his tie is straight," the strict father added. Abe could only frown.
Abe, whose real name was actually Abraham, not Abarham as his father called him, quickly fixed his crooked tie, frowning. Zach can do no wrong, he thought, shooting a disgusted look at his older brother. He got along fairly well with Zach, and actually liked him. But Zach gave him a lot of grief, sometimes over the silliest things. He wasn't surprised to see a smirk on Zach's angelic, boyish face.
Zachary, as Millie always called him, had been blessed with his mother's bright almond-brown eyes and high, delicate cheekbones. His skin was as smooth as a baby's bottom. Abe? Not as much. His face looked harsh and rugged, and adolescence had dealt a huge but hopefully transitory blow to his former childhood good looks. Abe's face was reminiscent of a war zone.
War was something this family felt isolated from as the boys were too young to be called up, although Zach was fast approaching eligibility. Their pal George Johnson was very nervous about the possibility of becoming a soldier in the overseas war, as he was now the perfect age to be summoned to duty. But maybe President Wilson would see to it that the war ended soon and no more Door County boys would have to go.
The boys donned their makeshift rain apparel, fashioned out of two fairly good-sized scraps of tarp which covered the family's woodpile in the back yard. They were silently reminded that their after-church chores included bringing in more wood.
As the Kelly family headed out the door, the rain had diminished to just sprinkles. Still, one had to be cautious about stepping into puddles in the drenched road, especially when sporting fancy Sunday apparel. The family spotted a few other brave souls who had left their horses and carriages in the barn, opting for just plain walking a few minutes to the little church. Fr. Jameson's masses weren't that short, and no one wanted wet horses and the chance of getting their buggies stuck in the mud if the weather continued to be miserable.
The family could have cut right through the woods to reach their destination. A path had been established years ago by Joe and his neighbors as a pretty decent shortcut. However, Millie wasn't fond of that narrow trail that wound through the thick mature forest past the little cemetery near their house over to Holy Nativity Church. The trail was full of dips and an occasional gnarly branch might decide to snag one's clothing as it sprawled across the uneven path.
The road proved too muddy to trek, so the four souls stuck to the edge where a combination of stones and vegetation offered some semblance of a dry surface along their neighbors' properties. They turned right at the corner and proceeded up the slight hill to where the historic little building stood on the north side of the somewhat washed out roadbed. There wasn't a horse or buggy in sight.
A few folks were heading into church as the rain suddenly resumed its relentless tirade. Sweet sounds were coming from the little pump organ as the Kellys took their seats in the back pew. Joe liked sitting there, especially when it was his turn to ring the bell. The whole family kneeled, and after a brief prayer, Joe arose and walked to the narthex to start pulling on the rope ... and the bell rang out.
Fond memories of his father Abe were always kindled when Joe heard the soothing peal of this bell, installed in the late fall of 1890. Joe had been there that day with his father when the bell arrived from the Centennial Bell Foundry of Milwaukee. He was a boy of just nine at the time, and the children of the area had flocked to Holy Nativity to watch the hoisting of the huge bell into the steeple.
By the time Joe returned to his seat in the pew, Fr. Joseph Jameson was starting the opening prayer followed by the Collect, saying quite forcefully:
"O GOD, forasmuch as without thee we are not able to please thee; Mercifully grant that thy Holy Spirit may in all things direct and rule our hearts; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
Zach couldn't help but notice that Pris Parker was there, just two rows up, across the aisle. She looked pretty in her green dress. She seemed to be staring into space.
The little organ blurted out the introduction to the first hymn. As the two dozen faithful stood to join in on the first verse, Pris turned and shot Zach a quick glance, but as the boy was staring right at her, she sheepishly turned her head back and looked up at the beloved Vicar, whose eyes were fixated on his hymnal. She felt a hot flush in her cheeks.
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No part of this work was created with Artificial Intelligence (AI). It is all the original ideation and writing from 2014 through 2023 by Stephen C. Allen.
Copyright 2023 Stephen C. Allen
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