“I think we should just hand the decision over to the Two Rogers,” said Lonna’s Roger deep into the second hour of the anniversary committee meeting last Saturday afternoon.
The two Rogers smiled gently. The taller Roger blushed a little and fiddled with the cap of his vintage fountain pen. The shorter Roger began, “We’d be happy to help, of course, and….” before he was interrupted by Katherine Schneidewind, Roger’s wife. Katherine went by the nickname Katty, and was she ever. She’d told the story of the Trinity Sunday bat infiltration seventeen times in multiple places around the county by the third week of June. Her husband Roger’s mild “Ope!” of surprise as the bats escaped had been embellished into a tale that would win a ribbon at the county fair if the fair board awarded ribbons for such things.
Poor Patty and Lonna had suffered greatly in Katty’s retellings, advancing from an understandable startled yelp and a tuck below the pews into screaming fits of hysteria ending in dramatic collapses requiring the services of the local fire department for revival. Katty did love a good story, and if the real one didn’t suffice, she was happy to get creative.
“Well, you boys always do just such a nice job on these sorts of things, it’s true!” Katherine Schneidewind chattered over the top of the shorter Roger. “I remember when the fellowship hall needed new curtains; how long ago was that now? I remember that Irma was in hospice at the time. Oh, gosh, you know, the hospice nurses were just so wonderful. And what a beautiful place that hospice was! The colors were just lovely, and the art matched the carpeting! Maybe we could commission some art for the anniversary, too, to match the carpeting! Wouldn’t that be a wonderful idea, Roger?”
Several Rogers around the table squirmed gently. It was often difficult to discern to whom Katty was referring when she launched into conversation. It is an unfortunate fact that St Dishtopass, as well as being of the North Wisconsin District, but not in the North Wisconsin District, has quite so many Rogers. Normally, men named Roger in the congregation are referred to in reference to their wives, but the Two Rogers were single men, and neither had ever been married. They shared a beautifully restored Italianate mansion on the opposite end of town from the church, right next door to the Catholic church. “Roger’s Roger” was unseemly for two good friends, everyone had tacitly agreed, and so all suffered through the occasional confusion. The two Rogers shared most activities at any rate, and oftentimes, distinguishing between the two did not cause any functional harm. Neither Roger seemed to mind; they were that close.
The two Rogers were deep into their 70s but involved in much around St Dishtopass, except when the taller Roger was out of sorts for some reason or another and on a huffy hiatus. The shorter Roger would apologize on his behalf and try to make general amends. In a few days, the taller Roger would be back, chiming in on the Christmas decorating to help out the Altar Guild or snipping the arbor vitae along the side of the church with the Garden Committee, sporting his imported English gardening gloves as if nothing had happened.
The taller Roger was known to Pastor as his most ardent email writer. Every pastor of a congregation learns to dread the emails, and Pastor Sunder was no different than any other pastor in this respect. Katty Schneidewind was, as clever readers might guess, the second most frequent letter-writer, but used enough exclamation points and emojis to supply an entire congregation’s worth of passionate ideas for improvements, which did tend to soften her blows slightly.
Pastor Sunder, at the head of the U-shape of banquet tables in the fellowship hall, and a non-voting member of the Anniversary Committee, picked up his empty coffee mug and walked to the back of the hall to refill his plate with treats at the kitchen window. Katty’s Roger was tidying up in the kitchen, consolidating cookies to fewer plates, and running another carafe of fresh coffee under the ancient Bunn coffee maker.
“Going to be a long one,” said Katty’s Roger as Pastor Sunder picked up one of the church’s many Pampered Chef tongs to select a few bars off the platters. Roger reached below the serving counter and presented an unlabeled brown bottle to the pastor, with only a raised eyebrow. Pastor Sunder lifted his chin in permission and held out his mug. Roger tipped a generous glug into the mug and then topped it with coffee. Pastor turned back towards the assembly, now suitably provisioned for hour three, and Katty’s Roger gave him a companionable thunk of understanding on the shoulder.
It was going to be a wonderful church anniversary.
If the men survived.
😂😂😂 Remembering the "PROCESS?" of choosing carpet for an addition of Fellowship Hall and 2nd storey classrooms added to a relatively historic church at Gales Creek, OR: The finalist was the absolutely ugliest thing ever made; like the carpet mill had used up every scrap from previous jobs! It lasted for decades out there; hosting as the substrate for ever so many meaningful events. Can we ever discern "the eventuals" of the choices we make today?
Love to Whitsun in the sun.
I love these stories so much. They could also very much apply to my Episcopalian church ⛪️ 😊