I don't know what it was about
Sundays
that brought out the worst in my brother and I
we each had to take baths the night before
dad shined our shoes
as if we were expecting royalty at the afternoon dinner table
and while I found no problem in wearing my dark suit
starched white shirt and tie
my brother
always seemed to question everything there was to do about Sundays
and why nothing ever changed from week to week
everyone seemed so satisfied with the lord's day status quo
tossing down hell and damnation on anyone
or anything
altering the weekly routine of how the Lord was served
as my brother got older
and more persistent in his revolution
he stopped wearing ties altogether
sometimes turtlenecks
sometimes sweaters...
one would barely guess that he was going to church at all
and so I began to ask questions
and imitate
and agitate
and suffer for MY cause
wearing my hair longer
wearing ties
becoming welcome as September pollen and hay fever fits
now
with the freedom of choice acquired with age
I sanitize and scrub myself
and my shoes
the night before
laying out a nice starched white shirt across the ironing board
and diligently
patiently
reverently
choose a matching tie...

