Chapter 15: July 23, 1978

I got no rhythm.
I just keep losing my beat.
I’m okay; I’m alright.
Ain’t gonna face no defeat.
I just gotta get out of this prison cell.
Someday I’m gonna be free, Lord.
Need Somebody To Love – Queen

Sunday is not my favorite day of the week. Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s nice to have the day off, but Sunday meant going to church. I like the hymns and service. What I can’t stand is the Reverend Doctor Alfred P. Tanner.

I only know bits and pieces of Grandfather and Grandmother’s flight from Poland in 1939. From what I could gather, they had to leave, but the Catholic Church, to which they belong to, was unwilling or unable to help them due to the Nazi invasion. It was an Anglican priest that got them out along with their baby, my Aunt Klara, and to the United States.

Whatever happened with the Catholic Church, it must have soured Grandmother and Grandfather’s feelings towards them. They both converted to the Episcopal faith and had my dad and Uncle Stephan. I never knew Grandfather because he died at Nijmegen fighting the Germans. Grandmother refuses to talk about those times.

Anyway, we, including Grandmother, attend Saint Thomas, a huge, gray stone church downtown. It has a tall bell tower, which I’m not allowed in since the one time I was caught trying to sneak up the stairs, and an attached hall and office annex. The church ceiling look to be one hundred feet above the pews and supported by massive stone columns. I always fancied it to be a storybook castle.

The annex has classrooms, a nursery, offices, the Great Hall, a huge kitchen, storerooms, a chapel, and the library. Some of these rooms are under the church, but they are all connected through the annex.

The congregation is mostly professionals ... doctors, lawyers, etc. I guess they are drawn in by the liberal nature of the Episcopal Church and the intellectual stimulation. In charge of all of this is the Reverend Doctor Tanner.

I must admit the man is a genius. He holds roundtable discussions on social issues. He wants men and women to question his policies and debate with him. However, that does not include children under the age of 18. I went to him several times with questions and was basically told to come back when I had more experience and education. In other words, when I grew up.

After church this Sunday, I found myself sulking on the couch outside the offices. All the adults were talking in the library for coffee hour. The rest of the children had scattered about, either trying to steal cookies off the snack table in the library or playing games up in the great Hall.

“Why are you moping out here, Steve?”

I opened my eyes and immediately launched myself off the couch I had been laying on. This wasn’t just church lady or just a member of the congregation. This was Aphrodite herself. I had too many wet dreams about her to be anything, but tongue-tied.

“Nuttin’,” I mumbled.

Mrs. Whitehurst gave me a look, which made me feel all embarrassed. She was in her mid-thirties, six feet tall with short blonde hair, and piercing blue eyes. Her makeup, as always, was flawless and her dress made every other woman look like a frumpy housewife. She could grace the pages of any fashion magazine and, in my opinion, was better looking than Jacqueline Bisset, Leslie Ann Down, and Morgan Fairchild combined. I couldn’t say anything to her. It’s hard talking to a goddess.

“Steve... ?” she prompted as she sat down.

The only escape I could make was by running away. I would’ve done that, except for my talks this summer with the women at camp. Those talks seem to have given me some measure of courage. I sat down and took in a deep breath.

“It’s Doctor Tanner,” I said and then grimaced as I thought this might not be the best way to start. “I understand the sermon about helping those less fortunate than us. Everyone needs a helping hand now and then. The question I had for him was about equality.”

“You don’t believe in equality?” asked Mrs. Whitehurst in astonishment.

“Not the way Doctor Tanner implied,” I said. “He said that the blacks and Orientals should be equal to the whites, but then he went on to say that everyone should be equal in school, work, pay, and benefits.”

“That is not a bad thing,” said Mrs. Whitehurst with a smile.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why?” she asked in genuine interest.

“Um,” I floundered for second or two looking for an example. “There were a couple of guys in my class last year. All they cared about was hanging out and smoking weed ... you know what weed is?”

“Yes, I know what marijuana is.”

“Oh, okay. They either flunked out or barely passed, I don’t know which. I’m not the best student, but have equality in school means I’m lower down to their level.”

“I’m sure that is not what he meant. He meant equal opportunity for schooling.”

“But that’s not what he said,” I argued. “He didn’t mention opportunity, only equality. What would your husband, a senior partner in his law firm, say about his secretary receiving the same pay as he does? What would Doctor Tanner say if the vestry lowered his salary to be equal to Miss Jenny’s, you know, the church secretary?”

“I know who she is,” said Mrs. Whitehurst. She had a concerned look on her face. “Is that why you were out here?”

“Partially,” I admitted. “I wanted to talk to Doctor Tanner after I got out of my acolyte robes. He asked me if I had any black friends that I hung out with. He then asked me if I’d ever been to a civil rights rally. When I told him no, he patted me on the shoulder and said my lack of experience and education was the cause of my confusion.” I shook my head angrily. “I am not confused!”

“Confused about what?” came a voice from behind me.

I turned to see Mister Whitehurst coming towards me. Mrs. Whitehurst stood up and kissed him on the cheek. Whereas, Mrs. Whitehurst is tall and svelte, Mister Whitehurst is short and stocky. I felt a small pang of jealousy that I’m mentally stomped upon.

“Steve and I were discussing the sermon,” said Mrs. Whitehurst. “He has a different view on it.”

“You don’t believe in equality?” asked Mister Whitehurst, repeating his wife’s question.

“I believe people should have the opportunity to better themselves. Everyone should have an equal chance.” I then had a funny thought. “If we have true equality, Mister Snoggers would be on the Olympic track team.”

Mister Snoggers is 83 and shuffles along with a walker.

Mister Whitehurst snorted in amusement and his wife added, “Steve also said that in a truly equal society, you and Gladys would be paid the same amount. Maybe at the next vestry meeting, you should suggest that Doctor Tanner’s salary be reduced to the same amount that the church pays Jenny ... you know, for equality’s sake.”

“I believe we are talking heresy here,” chuckled Mister Whitehurst. “Honey, we need to get going to the club.” He took a look at me and extended his hand. “Steve, thank you for the insight.”

“Stephan, please,” I said, shaking his hand. “But am I right?”

“A simple question with a complex answer that cannot be answered yes or no,” said Mister Whitehurst. “Talk to your parents about reading two books, To Kill A Mockingbird and Black Like Me. They may seem a little dated, but the attitudes are still prevalent today. Not just among the blacks, but also against the Orientals and Latinos.”

“Latinos?”

“Those of Latin descent,” explained Mister Whitehurst. “Mexicans, Brazilians, ... to mean those from south of the border.”

“Oh, okay.”

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Stephan,” said my dream woman as she and her husband walked out the door.

Now, that the bad portion of Sunday was over, it was time for dinner at Grandmother’s house. Uncle Sal, being a devout Catholic, refused to open the restaurant on Sunday. That meant Dad had the day off. I mean, completely off since Grandmother would not allow him to cook at her house.

Sunday was the one day when the Zaworski clan got together. Aunt Klara and her family drove up from Bethesda, while Uncle Stephan and his son, Victor, came down from Westminster.

Aunt Klara, being a year older than Dad, just turned 39 on July 13th. I’d missed the party because I’ve been at scout camp. Her husband, Richard, work for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and was some sort of engineer. Her daughter, Paige, 18, was set to go to James Madison University in the fall. Her son, Junior, 16, would be a high school Junior this year.

Uncle Stephan was the youngest of the three at age 37. Grandmother had been pregnant with him when grandfather joined the First Independent Polish Parachute Brigade. Uncle Stephan had married a woman named Della, but, after their son was born, she decided she didn’t want to be a farmer’s wife or mother. She took off and no one has heard from her since then. Victor, who turned 12 on July 19th, got the Zaworski black hair, but his mother’s brown eyes.