What do you do on a Sunday if you don't go to church?
It sounds like a poll question, doesn't it? It evokes many memories for me....
I was raised going to Sunday School and church (in that order) every Sunday with exceptions.
My father was one of the first to build up on the hill (now Munson Street in Silverdale) where I grew up, and it was with a little bit of discomfort that he and my mother saw the Lutheran Church buy and build on the lot next door a house for the pastor of the church. (This is also part of the story about the lot on the other sideof our house, but that is for another post.) Not that they objected exactly...my father was brought up in the Lutheran church and my mother's uncle was a parson, and her father was a "lay preacher" in the Brethern church she grew up in...but the boxwood hedge that was planted as a property line pretty much expressed their desire for privacy, as the picture window in the pastor's living room faced our house. I found many years later that of the family who lived there first (8 years? 10?), Pastor & Mrs. Randoy and their 2 sons, Mrs. Randoy was an enthusiastic pastor's wife who was not unwilling to toddle over next door and inquire if someone was ill or there was another problem that prevented us from attending church? And would we be planning on attending the next Sunday? If one of us (I am an only child) WAS feeling poorly on a Sunday morning there was much discussion on who should stay home (besides the ailing person). It usually meant all 3 of us would stay home - and I always felt a vague atmosphere of relief that day. Apparently at one point my father told Mrs. Randoy rather bluntly that it was really NONE of her business whether we went to church or not and that if we needed help or visit(s) from her we would let her know.
Sundays when we DID go to Sunday School and church were busy and sometimes strained, as Sunday School was at 9 a.m. and church services followed at 10 a.m., which meant that there were 2 separate trips down the hill. Now this was my parents' choice, as my mother could have gone with me to be a teacher's assistant or help the ladies' group prepare the coffee and etc between services - and my father could have done something man-related (I am not sure what, my parents gender-isolated me pretty thoroughly in religious stuff). But my mother was not much of a volunteer (again the subject of another post, or several), and my father felt that since he was an usher for several years that his support of the church (besides obvious "offerings") was covered. Well, that meant a full breakfast (LOL yet another post on meals), and getting dressed in your best clothes because you are going to God's House. That meant for me a much frillier dress than I usually wore to school, white ankle socks (with lace trim) and patent leather shoes - which I was not allowed to wrinkle or smudge for at least 3 hours. AND sit quietly in Sunday School, no boistriousness, and no! talking or even whispering during church service (because God would know it and it is rude). The nice thing that I looked forward to was that Mom had usually put a roast of some kind in the oven after I got ferried down the hill, and that after church when everyone stormed out (the Doxology at the end of the service was more like a recess bell XD) we would have a nice dinner waiting (Sunday being the only day of the week that dinner was at noon-ish instead of in the evening, when it was called supper). Then we would pile in the car and drive to Poulsbo to visit Grandma Malde, with me hoping that the weather was nice enough for me to have the rear window at least cracked open for a little fresh air because otherwise I got carsick and children did NOT sit in the front seat - EVER.
Now occasionally - and these occasions happened more frequently as I got older - this whole routine would fly out the window as my father (with Mom's willing assistance) would plan an Outing. These Outings, along with summer vacations (more about those another posting) are some of my happiest memories of childhood. We explored! We might take a picnic lunch to a park we liked, or we might travel to somewhere interesting (places like Port Gamble, Port Townsend, etc.), or do a road circuit like doing the Hood Canal loop (going south to north usually, but sometimes the other way just for variety) or the Dewatto/Tahuya circuit. If circumstances were favorable, there was fresh seafood - crab, clams, oysters, etc to be picked up along the way, and even if not supper at the end of it all, back home, was always something fairly quick, and fun. No mall trips or grocery shopping, no, no! Stores (except for mom&pop stores, road stops and tourist attractions (Silverdale was NOT a tourist attraction in those days) were CLOSED on Sunday.
Sleeping in on Sundays was more frequent as I got older, as Sunday School gave way to Confirmation (the Lutheran version of Catechism in the Catholic church), which was 1 weeknight weekly instead of before church on Sunday. When we didn't go to church (for whatever reason) we would still have the Sunday Dinner & visit to Grandma (unless one of us was sick, don't want to spread the germs) or the Outing. TV on Sunday was anathema to my mother, especially as TV got "better" and my father would watch anything sports related that was available. Acceptable TV in later years was Jungle Theater on Channel 11 at 3:30 in the afternoon - my dad & I (mom there but in the background) watched many versions of Tarzan, Jungle Jim, and Bomba the Jungle Boy (and maybe even Sheena though I don't remember her and my mother would not have thought she was appropriate watching, she even wanted Jane to be more appropriately dressed). Things like yard work and mowing the lawn weren't part of the picture - it was Sunday, after all.
It is years later (obviously) and I still feel vaguely guilty about things like doing laundry or housework on a Sunday. Shopping, although I do it and particularly enjoy things like farmers' markets and other morning markets (got used to that in Europe and we need lots more of it over here), I occasionally have this feeling of ghostly discontent hovering over my shoulder. Since I no longer have a work week my time is not structured to need the Saturday/Sunday for Things That Need Doing.
The answer, for me: Sunday is a good day for reflection and relaxation.
I was raised going to Sunday School and church (in that order) every Sunday with exceptions.
My father was one of the first to build up on the hill (now Munson Street in Silverdale) where I grew up, and it was with a little bit of discomfort that he and my mother saw the Lutheran Church buy and build on the lot next door a house for the pastor of the church. (This is also part of the story about the lot on the other sideof our house, but that is for another post.) Not that they objected exactly...my father was brought up in the Lutheran church and my mother's uncle was a parson, and her father was a "lay preacher" in the Brethern church she grew up in...but the boxwood hedge that was planted as a property line pretty much expressed their desire for privacy, as the picture window in the pastor's living room faced our house. I found many years later that of the family who lived there first (8 years? 10?), Pastor & Mrs. Randoy and their 2 sons, Mrs. Randoy was an enthusiastic pastor's wife who was not unwilling to toddle over next door and inquire if someone was ill or there was another problem that prevented us from attending church? And would we be planning on attending the next Sunday? If one of us (I am an only child) WAS feeling poorly on a Sunday morning there was much discussion on who should stay home (besides the ailing person). It usually meant all 3 of us would stay home - and I always felt a vague atmosphere of relief that day. Apparently at one point my father told Mrs. Randoy rather bluntly that it was really NONE of her business whether we went to church or not and that if we needed help or visit(s) from her we would let her know.
Sundays when we DID go to Sunday School and church were busy and sometimes strained, as Sunday School was at 9 a.m. and church services followed at 10 a.m., which meant that there were 2 separate trips down the hill. Now this was my parents' choice, as my mother could have gone with me to be a teacher's assistant or help the ladies' group prepare the coffee and etc between services - and my father could have done something man-related (I am not sure what, my parents gender-isolated me pretty thoroughly in religious stuff). But my mother was not much of a volunteer (again the subject of another post, or several), and my father felt that since he was an usher for several years that his support of the church (besides obvious "offerings") was covered. Well, that meant a full breakfast (LOL yet another post on meals), and getting dressed in your best clothes because you are going to God's House. That meant for me a much frillier dress than I usually wore to school, white ankle socks (with lace trim) and patent leather shoes - which I was not allowed to wrinkle or smudge for at least 3 hours. AND sit quietly in Sunday School, no boistriousness, and no! talking or even whispering during church service (because God would know it and it is rude). The nice thing that I looked forward to was that Mom had usually put a roast of some kind in the oven after I got ferried down the hill, and that after church when everyone stormed out (the Doxology at the end of the service was more like a recess bell XD) we would have a nice dinner waiting (Sunday being the only day of the week that dinner was at noon-ish instead of in the evening, when it was called supper). Then we would pile in the car and drive to Poulsbo to visit Grandma Malde, with me hoping that the weather was nice enough for me to have the rear window at least cracked open for a little fresh air because otherwise I got carsick and children did NOT sit in the front seat - EVER.
Now occasionally - and these occasions happened more frequently as I got older - this whole routine would fly out the window as my father (with Mom's willing assistance) would plan an Outing. These Outings, along with summer vacations (more about those another posting) are some of my happiest memories of childhood. We explored! We might take a picnic lunch to a park we liked, or we might travel to somewhere interesting (places like Port Gamble, Port Townsend, etc.), or do a road circuit like doing the Hood Canal loop (going south to north usually, but sometimes the other way just for variety) or the Dewatto/Tahuya circuit. If circumstances were favorable, there was fresh seafood - crab, clams, oysters, etc to be picked up along the way, and even if not supper at the end of it all, back home, was always something fairly quick, and fun. No mall trips or grocery shopping, no, no! Stores (except for mom&pop stores, road stops and tourist attractions (Silverdale was NOT a tourist attraction in those days) were CLOSED on Sunday.
Sleeping in on Sundays was more frequent as I got older, as Sunday School gave way to Confirmation (the Lutheran version of Catechism in the Catholic church), which was 1 weeknight weekly instead of before church on Sunday. When we didn't go to church (for whatever reason) we would still have the Sunday Dinner & visit to Grandma (unless one of us was sick, don't want to spread the germs) or the Outing. TV on Sunday was anathema to my mother, especially as TV got "better" and my father would watch anything sports related that was available. Acceptable TV in later years was Jungle Theater on Channel 11 at 3:30 in the afternoon - my dad & I (mom there but in the background) watched many versions of Tarzan, Jungle Jim, and Bomba the Jungle Boy (and maybe even Sheena though I don't remember her and my mother would not have thought she was appropriate watching, she even wanted Jane to be more appropriately dressed). Things like yard work and mowing the lawn weren't part of the picture - it was Sunday, after all.
It is years later (obviously) and I still feel vaguely guilty about things like doing laundry or housework on a Sunday. Shopping, although I do it and particularly enjoy things like farmers' markets and other morning markets (got used to that in Europe and we need lots more of it over here), I occasionally have this feeling of ghostly discontent hovering over my shoulder. Since I no longer have a work week my time is not structured to need the Saturday/Sunday for Things That Need Doing.
The answer, for me: Sunday is a good day for reflection and relaxation.