Wrong time to open my mouth.

     Sunday morning church service when I was around 15 or 16, Dad was standing in the pulpit preaching his heart away and I was sitting next to my closest friend at the time.  Richard and I were sitting in the second pew from the front and there was something I needed to say to Richard.
     I leaned over and whispered in Richard's ear; Although he was still looking straight ahead at Dad, he heard me and whispered back in my right ear.  His answer made me think of a follow-up I needed to "discuss" with him.  So, I leaned over to go another round of whispering.  That was so many years ago I cannot recall what our needed whispering was about.  In church, however, it was trite.
     Suddenly, there was no sound from the pulpit for what seemed like fifteen minutes and Dad finally spoke.  In front of a packed church, he had stopped his sermon and said, "George, do you think you and Richard can stop long enough for me to finish my sermon?  My ears and face turned beet red and all I wanted to do was sorta melt and disappear on the floor.  I answered, "Yes, please," knowing I would pay the consequences once we got home from church.
     I held my breath all the way home.  We were within walking distance (two houses in between) so the walk was actually a short one although I felt the tug on my heart about what would happen once inside the house out of view from our neighbors.  Dad quietly said, "Don't ever let that happen again, son."  Of course, I was stunsesned that I did get a heart-to-heart conversation with Dad about the matter.  Nothing was ever mentioned again about that day AND I never whispered again to Richard.  Instead, we learned to write notes back and forth and never once got caught with our notes.
     It's funny now, but I would have done anything at the time to be in someone else's shoe.

(c) 2007 George E Thompson