It was a damp, drizzly Sunday morning in mid-April in Weeder’s Clump, Illinois, and Bryce Nimbus was entering the First Malthusian Church to attend morning services. He had big plans for the day. After the worship service, he would ambush Olivia Pitts at the choir room and ask her to accompany him to next Friday night’s Beta Alpha Delta Rites of Spring Bacchanal, then grab a quick sandwich at Mom’s Family Restaurant, and devote the entire afternoon to golf. Sunny Tidings, the weather forecaster for the Peoria TV station, had promised viewers that the skies would clear by noon and everything would turn up rainbows and seashells the rest of the day.

Bryce had for weeks entertained thoughts of trying to persuade Olivia to be his main squeeze. She was intelligent and sweet, she enjoyed sports, and she had a lyrical voice that would transform a rats and pumpkins kind of day into a spectacular holiday. She made Bryce think of what life must have been like in the Garden of Eden.

After greeting various people, Bryce took his usual seat, one which gave him a clear view of Olivia as she sang in the choir. Bryce wondered if Olivia was aware that he constantly stared at her, couldn’t take his eyes off her, in fact. Women are good about picking up vibes, and Bryce had certainly directed powerful ones at her. Olivia, however, gave no indication she was aware of any worshipful attention. Recently, Bryce had found himself singing that old popular song “How Do You Speak to an Angel?” It was not an idle question, for he was, as the song goes, “completely in the dark.”

The pastor was a guest speaker from Quincy, Illinois, Reverend Goodson, who surveyed the congregation and leaned forward in a dramatic way as if he was going to reach out and touch someone. Then he began. “Post-Modern human beings lack adequate concern for their temporal and eternal welfare.” Then he gave several examples. He shook his head sadly and opined, “As the poet says, Post-Modern man is lost in a spiritual kindergarten, trying to spell G-O-D with the wrong blocks.” More examples. Then, “Human conduct must be grounded on the bedrock of morality and responsibility.” Some more examples. Then, “Our duty is to obey God and mitigate the suffering of our fellow humans.”

At that point there was a tremendous clap of thunder and the lights went out. The drizzle had turned into a downpour and a violent electrical storm. Reverend Goodson quickly concluded by urging the congregation to reach upward and pursue the horizon on silvery wings but dodge the lightning as they soared heavenward. He was devout but not without some levity.

Softly singing “One Way or Another I’m Gonna Getcha, Getcha, Getcha, Getcha,” Bryce quickly made his way to the choir room to speak to Olivia, but she had already gone. Disappointed, he drove to Mom’s Family Restaurant, but discovered it was closed due to the power failure. He would have to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at home.

Of course, golf was out of the question. Bryce decided he would watch the Hammond Eggs play their baseball game with the Quincy Gems, but the power was out. So he called Dick Bumpass to see if they could hang out somewhere. Dick did not answer his telephone; he was probably over at the biology lab dissecting a baby pig by candle light. So Bryce decided to write a letter to Uncle Biff. He began:

Dear Uncle Biff,
How are you? I am fine. The weather has turned somewhat inclement here lately. Are you planning to have a garden this year? Do the fruit flies still fight over the bananas at the A & P? Are you still wearing that shabby DeKalb seed cap? Yesterday I returned some bottles to the IGA.

Bryce quickly gave up because he realized that his letter was boring, boring, boring. He just could not think of anything interesting to say to Uncle Biff. “Crimony, has my life turned into a collection of sad old clichés?” Bryce wondered.
Then Bryce had a great idea. He would take a delicious nap. He lay down and closed his eyes, but sleep would not come. He could not even summon up a good fantasy of Olivia Pitts. Bryce gave up on the nap, and the afternoon dragged by like the 8th hour study hall in high school. Bryce thought it would never end.

Fortunately, the power suddenly came back on. Gratefully, Bryce watched a re-run of “The Dukes of Hazard.”

Post-Modern moral: In the words of that great British philosopher Benny Hill, “There are those who yearn for immortality who don’t even know how to get through a rainy Sunday afternoon.”