What a lovely picture this write conjures up in my mind. What I would give to watch a river baptism. Even if people were only casual observers, the witness itself would have left its mark upon mind and heart.
I'm afraid the river that flowed through our village was heavily polluted. This was largly due to the discharging of waste from the surrounding coal mines, steel works and farms. Ugh! To think that we kids used to dive into this swill. We never knew any better and the fact that I am typing this proves that our bodies are more resilient than we give them credit for. There was a baptism of sorts in the river. There was a part of the river that was called the 'childrens dookie (dip)'. We splashed around this part until we were big enough to progress to the 'men's dookie'. This was the deeper water further up river. We could run and dive into this section and swim. It did not bother us that we swam side by side with water rats and the odd oil spillage floating by - indeed we swam within the oil spillage. Yukier still was the fact that we even drank this swill. Tasted awful! Days of innocense these were. It was invigorating stripping down to our underwear, sometimes skin, and running wild across the field then leaping up in the air then down into the river- splash! The 1960s was one big splash for us!
Thanks for stirring these thoughts through your words, even though I deviate somewhat.
Incidentally, we were baptised in a tank in a local independant gospel hall in 1986.
I like the image of the women with the towels. It reminds me I was once on a train with some black women in long white robes on a Sunday morning. They were reading to children. One was a very little girl and her sitter had a diaper tossed over the shoulder of this long robe.
Another wonderful slice of life from the heart, Joyce. You're going to get tired of hearing this from me, but I still think you should put these precious tales into a manuscript and send the whole thing out to publishers! Go for it, my friend.
Love,
CJ
Reviewed by J M (Reader)
Reviewed on October 5, 2006
Joyce,
This is so beautiful and meaningful I agree with Eillen your style to reveal golden nuggets of past memories and spiritual renewals is so wonderful, refreshing. Gifted sharing..
Blessings, Peace,
Joselyn
Joyce you have such a beautiful way of writing about these events. It is a pleasure to read, and remember when this was so prevalent. Though it is still being done today it is rare compared to the way it was. Thank you for giving us an account to keep and treasure.
Christians are such a prudish lot - especially the Pentecostals. I was brought up a Pentecostal and their rules and regulations were as strident as the Mormons...
This was a poignant remembrance of a powerful time in the Churches history. In some areas it still goes on. Well done!
This is beautiful, I was baptized at Pinecrest Lake, when I gave my heart to Jesus, at the age of eighteen before that I was baptized in the Mormon church, but that is another story all together, I enjoyed this read...
God Bless
Michelle~
this is so beautiful....Your Papaw sounds so dear.....you are like a poet-historian, recording glorious scenes like the baptizing at the river.
Thank you, Joyce, for sharing your memories and the feelings evoked once again.
For a time, I perched myself on a flat rock, comparing my life with the Guyandotte River. Just as its tributaries replenish it daily, changing it in some small—sometimes great—degree, so have the day-to-day occurrences of life changed me. Like the ri
The true story of Cheryl Pierson Cuccio who made headlines in 1986 and her husband Rob Cuccio. Cheryl was abused sexually and physically and Rob died for 43 minutes on Cheryl's 43rd birthday.
(Richard M. Feldman) Ever since I was a young boy, the only thing I wanted to be was a cowboy. I wanted to own and work on a real ranch, with cattle and horses. Especially horses.
While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
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I'm afraid the river that flowed through our village was heavily polluted. This was largly due to the discharging of waste from the surrounding coal mines, steel works and farms. Ugh! To think that we kids used to dive into this swill. We never knew any better and the fact that I am typing this proves that our bodies are more resilient than we give them credit for. There was a baptism of sorts in the river. There was a part of the river that was called the 'childrens dookie (dip)'. We splashed around this part until we were big enough to progress to the 'men's dookie'. This was the deeper water further up river. We could run and dive into this section and swim. It did not bother us that we swam side by side with water rats and the odd oil spillage floating by - indeed we swam within the oil spillage. Yukier still was the fact that we even drank this swill. Tasted awful! Days of innocense these were. It was invigorating stripping down to our underwear, sometimes skin, and running wild across the field then leaping up in the air then down into the river- splash! The 1960s was one big splash for us!
Thanks for stirring these thoughts through your words, even though I deviate somewhat.
Incidentally, we were baptised in a tank in a local independant gospel hall in 1986.
Gina
love Tinka
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Love,
CJ
This is so beautiful and meaningful I agree with Eillen your style to reveal golden nuggets of past memories and spiritual renewals is so wonderful, refreshing. Gifted sharing..
Blessings, Peace,
Joselyn
Love,
Eileen
This was a poignant remembrance of a powerful time in the Churches history. In some areas it still goes on. Well done!
In fraternity ...
Richard Lloyd Cederberg
God Bless
Michelle~
Thank you, Joyce, for sharing your memories and the feelings evoked once again.
Connie