Same River Twice, part five

continued from previos post ....

Still, he mastered the songs and formed friendships with Darren, Brandon, and Phil, though occasionally he heard “pinhead” under someone’s breath, followed by dopey grins and stifled chuckles. And they kept glossing over his songwriting prowess. Like after the first time he witnessed their performance, before he’d learned enough to join in. He’d sat enthralled on the front pew of the Sunny Face Christian Church, relishing the crowd response to his group. Two hundred clean-cut, smiling parishioners clapping, singing along, sometimes holding hands … the perfect fans: responsive enough to make it fun for the entertainers; reserved enough that no one was going to get thwacked on the head with anything just for staring at someone like a Jenny Lou Murphy.

Later, Marshall and his partners crowded into a booth at Shoney’s. “I been getting some ideas how to liven things up on some of them old standards we do,” he said.

Raised eyebrows. Maybe a hushed “pinhead.” Parker hardly moved his mouth as he said, “What do you mean,” as low as his Irish tenor voice box would allow.

“Just kinda fine-tune some of the lyrics. Nothing big.”

Phil -- slick-haired, pointy-nosed Phil, most likely the source of the “pinhead” taunts, said, “You got a sample there, sport?”

Marshall knew the suspense value of hesitation. He cut out a square waffle bite with his fork, swirled it in some maple syrup, and chewed it good and plenty before swallowing. Then, with everyone awaiting his response, he said, “Like on ‘I’ll Fly Away,’ where we sing:

When I die, hallelujah by and by …

we change it to:

When I’m dead, God will rub my weary head.

Silence. Several beats. Parker scratched his chin, said, “Mmmm,” and thought a while longer. Then said, “I’m not sure of the theological implications there, Marshall. God being some kind of head-rubber.”

“I do love a good head-rub,” Darren said.

“Some do,” replied Parker. “Some do. In fact-a-business, a lot do. I can see where half the congregation down at Your Move Baptist would like it, but the other half? We’d probably split right down the middle, with the half in favor of Marshall’s lyrics splintering off, forming a rival church.”

Phil said, “Likely call themselves the ‘Head-Rubbing Baptists’ or something.”

Parker said, “I don’t think the world needs one more Baptist sect. What we need is a unity of believers. Those lyrics -- no getting around it: they’re divisive.”

“Inflammatory,” Phil added.

Marshall felt tears well up inside. “I don’t mean to bring division to the Body of Christ.”

“No, no. Of course you don’t,” Darren said.

“Let’s just forget about it,” Parker said.

“It’s for the best,” Brandon said.

They let it go, and Marshall felt for the first time the grace of his singing brethren.

Ten days later Marshall slapped Old Spice on his freshly shaven face, laced up his red silk tie and otherwise prepared for his first gospel concert. Parker had decided to debut him at a small church. Place called the Upper Room Hallelujah Apostolic Heavenly Fire Holiness Last Days Tabernacle ...

To Be Continued ....