Dear Dad: Church ain't the same today, but it ain't bad.

Dear Dad:  You've been gone quite a few years now but we still miss you a lot.  I hope heaven's everything you thought it would be.  I bet you don't have a special box to keep track of all of your pills, do you?  We're once again living in Texas now and we are enjoying it.  The girls are learning how to ride horses.  You never got to meet them did you?  They're smarter than a whip and prettier than a picture.  I suppose there's no better place to ride horses than in the heart of Texas!  Bradley's almost as tall as me, and he's quiet and kind.  Wonder where he got that from?  Smile.

I always remembered watching you when we sat in the balcony of First Baptist Church, Tulsa, when I was a kid.  You had a good singing voice and you knew all the hymns from memory.  I thought that was pretty cool.

I also remember you had a heckuva time staying awake for the sermon.  No matter how much old Warren Hultgren would raise his voice, you usually never made it past his second point.  I hate to break it to you now, Pops, but his third point was always his best. You probably could have been a CEO if you would have heard his grand finale.  He always got us out on time, though, for a good old roast beef and mashed potatoes lunch, interrupted only by the sounds of the Cowboys game coming in from the living room.  Those were the good old days.  I probably ought to come correct though, Pops.  Vickie hits me in the ribs to wake up in church now that I'm fifty-two.  Getting old is awful tough.

And speaking of church, it's different today.  We threw away all the suits and ties and fancy dresses and hats a long time ago. Most folks wear whatever they fell like and some even come in their pajamas.  Heck, there's not even a Sunday School in most churches, and the men sure don't go outside to smoke cigarettes after it's over and before the worship service.  Most kids come to church today looking like they just came back from Spring Break.  They carry these things called smart phones, which must not be that smart, cause any dumb *&% can use one.  They look at them all the time, and the parents even let them use them during the service.  I bet Mom would have marched our sorry %%$#% back to the cloak room and whupped us good if we would have tried anything like that.  Most folks are a little bit irreverent and some never stop talking throughout the whole "worship" time.  I guess there's a lot of important gossip to catch up on.  Some things never change, eh, old man!

Now the sermons you would like.  They usually throw in a video and a drama and they never last more than 30 minutes.  They tell you what to think in the notes and they never tell us we're going to hell anymore if we don't repent.  No screaming today.  More of a preschool teacher coaxing the kids in from the playground.

Well, Dad, I can't wait to get up there with you.  You were a pretty good Dad and a heckuva guy.  I bet you're driving a Cadillac now, which probably beats the hell out of that 69 Rambler wagon.  What a bucket of bolts that was!

Have a good evening, Dad, if you have evenings up there.

Your son,  Bill