Belated Easter Greetings

Daughter Laura reminded me last night of my favorite Easter story, which I wish I had posted yesterday, but what the heck, here goes...

When I was a teenager I knew a man who was then in his 80s, name of Reginald Thayer. He had once been the chief engineer of the City of New York, and owned more fascinating conversation, and could tell more wonderful tales, than anyone I've ever met. He was a dignified, imposing, intelligent man – not large, but handsome, with a full white beard cut in the sharp Victorian manner, great bushy white eyebrows, and a full head of white hair. So self-possessed, so bright of eye, and so ready of wit was he that even as froward and bumptious teenagers we were respectful of him and sought out his company whenever we could. He was the patriarch of an extended family household that was one of the joys of my youth and the source of much of my education, a welcoming family with characters galore, not to mention three very attractive granddaughters of around my age, with each of whom I seem to recall being in tragic, unrequited love at one time or another... but I digress.

Reggie was, among many other things, a devout atheist, and had resisted decades of effort on the part of his wife and daughters to civilize and make a proper Christian of him. He steadfastly refused to go to church under any circumstances – a source of great embarrassment to the ladies, who were members, like generations before them, of the congregation of St. John's Episcopal Church in Getty Square in Yonkers. Once – just once – they had prevailed upon him to join them. No one was quite sure why, but one Easter Sunday, one year when his daughters (the mother and aunts of the girls I grew up with) were all teenagers, he agreed to accompany them to church. This would have been in 1939 or 1940, I think.

The girls and their mother were extremely nervous, and begged him not to say anything to disgrace them, and especially not to get into any arguments about – or even comment on – theology, religion, beliefs, or anything else that he might consider situation-appropriate. Please, Papa, if you love us, please don't embarrass us. Reggie merely looked at them, and did not answer.

But at the church itself things seemed to go well. Reggie smiled politely, murmured appropriate greetings when introduced, and seemed serenely indifferent to the mild stir of surprise his presence caused. He stood when the others stood and sat when the others sat, and, if he didn't give the responses or join in the hymns, he held his book like everyone else and made a decent show of paying attention. It was with a certain feeling of relief that the ladies preceded him in the line of worshipers leaving the church.

As was customary, the pastor stood on the steps of the church just outside the large double doors, and shook the hand of each congregant leaving. "Christ is risen!" he greeted them, and each answered in turn, "Christ is risen indeed!" before releasing his hand and making way for the next in line.

This was the last hurdle, then – but the girls' mother knew that it was the most perilous. She watched Reggie anxiously to see his reaction as the girls each gave their answer to the reverend, curtsied prettily, and stood aside. Reggie seemed detached; had an almost dreamy look on his face that she very much feared did not bode well. Then it was her turn, and if her voice cracked a little with the tension that good man of God appeared not to notice. But as she let go of the minister's hand, instead of walking down the steps, she stood rooted there – and her daughters rooted beside her – to watch Mr. Thayer meet the minister.

"Christ is risen!" said the pastor enthusiastically, gripping Reggie's hand in fellowship. There was a long silence as Reggie seemed to come into the present. He looked down at their two clasped hands, then looked back up at the other man. He tilted his head to one side and raised his great eyebrows in polite surprise.

"Indeed?" he said.

And, gathering up his brood, he led them away.