Johnnie Lewinsky and I had just gotten kicked out of Hemacheck's Pharmacy for ogling Playboy magazines. Our feelings hadn't been hurt. There was no righteous indignation from us on this hot and suffocating evening. We were bored.
"Want to go down the caves and smoke?" Johnnie had swiped smokes from his mom when we were out of cigarettes. I used to hide my Camels that I bought from the A&P in my dresser drawer underneath my briefs, forgetting who always put my freshly washed underwear in the drawer. My smoking would remain a clandestine activity, I was certain.
"Naw, I'm already in the doghouse. If Mom smells cigarette smoke on me I'll be sleeping in the garage tonight."
"Whaddya wanna do then?"
"I dunno. Let's go to my place and play baseball." I had a table-top pinball machine, strictly mechanical. No noises or flashing lights. Baseball was one of the games you could play on it.
We pedaled our bikes up to my house and I brought the game out to our front porch.
"Listen," Johnny said, his index finger across his lips.
We listened to the hymns being sung in the Assembly of God church next door. The church windows were open and the service was informal but emotional.
"The front doors are probably open," I said. "Let's go listen to the holy rollers."
Wednesday night servicesat Assembly of God were, well, charismatic and sometimes my mom and I had heard people moaning, some crying, another repeating "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," over and over in a hypnotic cadence. The noise of shoe heels in a non-walking but tumbling noise accompanied the clamor.
The front doors were open and we anticipated some rolling tonight. We wanted to see what the rolling actually looked like.
Johnnie was a Roman Catholic and I was a Lutheran and each denomination thought the members of the other denomination were bound for hell. Church wasn't important to either of us. It was just something we were required to attend. However this kind of church wasn't church to us, being accustomed to a more formal mode of worship. No, this was entertainment to us.
We sneaked over to the front entrance and Johnnie peered around the right side, his fingers clinging to the red bricks and I snooped on the left. The preacher would preach a few sentences and someone would shout, "amen!" and this ignited the congregation in a chorus of amens. We hoped rolling would start soon byt instead there were thumping noises from the top of the sanctuary as though someone was on the roof.
"If the Lord comes through the roof we'll gladly pay for the damages!" Reverend Shotwell proclaimed, in animated fashion. The congregation went quiet and I heard the buzzing of the neon sign above the entrance that said, "Jesus Saves." Johnnie and I listened intently and we heard more noises from the roof, prompting a wave of charismatic shrieks and groans.
Johnnie and I were more worldly minded, however, and we deduced that someone was on the roof and it wasn't the Lord.
We dashed across the street for a view of the roof and saw three teens ambling on the roof, then they jumped, one by one, to the roof of the house next door. It was Donnie Ihlenfeldt, Vick Mattson and Kent Newby.
Mrs. Larson from the house next door chased out of her front door to see who had invaded her roof space but by the time she had a clear view of her roof the agile youths were long gone.
The entertainment had exceeded our expectations
"Did you see who was up there?" Mrs. Larson yelled and we both shook our heads.
"Those stupid kids are going to get killed doing that." She said. We nodded.
"They're starting to roll now," I said in an urgent voice just above a whisper. We ran to the front entrance to see the rolling but to our dismay the door slammed shut.
We went to the front porch to listen to the heartfelt utterings but we had heard all that stuff before. Johnnie went home and I went inside, taking my game with me. Then I thought of God watching us and He couldn't be happy with us or the kids on the roof. I thought of lthe Scripture about going through the narrow gate because the wide gate leads to hell. My mind was seized with thoughts of being in some unspeakably horrible place of everlasting torment and I asked God over and over, silently, to forgive my sins. The silent prayers and whispered prayers continued far into the night. I beseeched God's forgiveness with the covers over my head. I was sweating but I dared not remove the covers because the devil was probably sneaking around upstairs just waiting for the chance to pounce upon me.
After all, there were narrow doorways in out house and there were wide arch-ways. I had gone into our garage through the wide entrance. I had gone through the double doors at St. Paul's. To get into the living room one had to pass through the wide arch-way. I had done that and I was headed for hell unless the Lord forgave me. Maybe if I prayed hard enough and long enough I would be forgiven, but then how would I know for sure?
I had seen Oral Roberts on TV and prayed the salvation prayer he exhorted his audience to pray. Immediately after this I passed through the wide arch-way and nullified my salvation.
Maybe God had been in the service next door. I wished He would be in my bedroom. I prayed myself to sleep, uttering, "Please forgive me," over and over. I also tried praying the Lord's prayer over and over.
I was also asking God to forgive me for the unforgivable sin of blasphemy. I didn't recall any specific instances of blasphemy but I was sure that I was guilty.
It was morning and Mom was shaking me. "Are you going to sleep all day"
While I was eating breakfast she asked, w"What were you doing in bed last night?"
"Nothing."
"Sounded like you were mutterjing something over and over."
"Were you crying? I thought I heard you crying."
"No, I wasn't crying. Girls cry, not boys.
