Baptizn

Give me the kind of Baptist that were baptized in Sullivan Creek in Independence County Arkansas. In the chilled waters of an early Sunday morning while the crows cawed in a nearby cornfield and the choir stood on the sandy banks and sang "Shall We Gather At The River"

As youngsters we hid in the bushes overlooking the creek gagging on our giggles as the preacher coped with a fat lady who in the panic of having her head under water pulled the preacher in with her. Destroying for a moment the solemn mood of the occasion.

For weeks afterward in an irreverent frenzy, we'd play "Baptizn". In the same stream. Imitating the whole process... arm raised to the heavens, calling down the glory as we ducked each other under time and time again. But that was before we were fifteen and prey to the "fishers-of-men". The fishers-of-men showed up every summer for a week long revival at the local church.

At fifteen, you were ripe if not overdue for saving. The Preachers laid it on.. fire and brimstone; that combined with social pressure got to you eventually. You sweat in your seat while the preacher sweats in the pulpit.

The process of being saved is a bit barbaric. The choir alternately sings and hums endless verses of "Just As I Am" while a friend or sometimes a relative comes to your pew and stands eyeball to eyeball with you over the matter. Every head in the church is turned your way.. will he? That's the question.

"Why Not Tonight" is more than a song, it's an ultimatum. So you trudge down the isle, red with embarrassment to join your buddies already standing at the alter heads bent in repentance... for what?... You were not quite sure.

Then at the end of the week you to waded down the stream toward the preacher. Feeling the cold water creeping up past your belt buckle you wonder why you had to ware your socks. Being baptized officially wasn't at all like it was when you and Cleburn and Jimmy Dale played it last summer. You knew the heavens were not going to open up and you knew it wasn't John the Baptist that had hold of your arm. But when you went down and came back up you felt differently.

The feeling lasted almost all summer. Being saved was awkward, you didn't talk back to your parents and you couldn't call anyone a liar, even if they were. And you never played "Baptizn" again. You knew childhood was past and many of the wonderful things that went with it were gone forever.

C. Prier 1974 (Adapted from an idea in "SnoFoolin" by A.C. Snow, Raleigh, N.C. 1974)

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