Becoming a Man in the Shadowlands: a Survivor's Story
Copyright© 2019 by Dennis Randall
Chapter 33: Boys in the Bell Tower
That evening after supper, after the conference had adjourned for the day, I was hanging out with three other boys and we were bored. We had finished the day’s activities and there was nothing to do.
Victor was one of the kids in our group and he was also a member of the hosting church for the conference. Victor knew his way around the building and grounds of the church complex. He suggested that we sneak into the church’s belfry and play cards.
The Unitarian church hosting the conference was a massive stone structure built in the style of a European cathedral complete with a soaring bell tower.
Under Victor’s supervision, we gathered up supplies for our belfry adventure. I carried a cooler filled with ice and soft drinks. The other kids brought folding chairs and one boy lugged along a folding card table. Victor, as expedition leader, had a flashlight and a bag full of candles liberated from a storage cabinet behind the pulpit.
Hidden away in a corner of the church’s sanctuary was the entrance to the bell tower. We followed Victor as he led us up a winding wooden staircase high into the tower. After several minutes of climbing, we emerged through a trap door into the loft containing the church’s bells.
The loft was an open area about twenty feet by twenty feet square. Overhead several large brass bells hung from the rafters. The walls of the stone tower featured large open spaces on all four sides to let the sounds of the bells ring out over the countryside. Wire mesh covered the open spaces and kept most of the pigeons out.
The view from each of the openings was breathtaking. The sleeping town spread out in all directions and from our vantage point above the trees, we could see empty roadways illuminated by street lamps. Shops and houses looked like a toy village. The lights on the horizon merged with the stars in the sky. It almost looked like we were flying between heaven and earth.
Victor set up the card table in the center of the loft and lit several candles. I placed the cooler with beverages next to the table as the other kids arranged the folding chairs. We all took a seat.
He then produced a deck of cards and a boy named Fred laid out several packages of long thick dark brown cigars “borrowed” from his father’s stash. The gems of the treasure were four cigars imported from Cuba.
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