If I Were A Good Mennonite

Revised Jan 27 for Jeff Gundy

I would work hard all day without an unclean or covetous thought.
The house would be clean. My wife would cook regular meals.
I would be able to fix things around the house. My kids would work for three hours
every morning all summer, if not for me, then all day for an uncle on his farm.

I would lead morning devotions before breakfast, learning German
reading the Bible in Gothic script. I would pray before meals and after taking off my pants,
my hands above the blanket. I would lift my eyes up to a dark heaven,
before turning toward my obliging wife and the lineaments of gratified desire.

1362047794_abraham-isaac

Every Sunday morning smelling of soap I would put on my good suit to go to church
where my wife and I would be members. She would lead the congregational singing
and encourage diverse hymnody, though we would both draw the line
at choruses. I would be on the stewardship committee.She would be active in Peacemakers.

For summer vacation We would go to Conference, three neatly dressed kids in the back seat
I would drive long hours. The family would admire the splendour
of our country at a modest fifty miles miles an hour, or from the roadside
picnic tables and rest rooms, miles to go before we sleep.

Oh, and on Sunday afternoons I would lie with my wife
and be still, loosening my tie. Waking slow I would gather
the kids to visit their grandma with her big false teeth
her glass eye, and peppermints in her apron.

Weekdays, I would be good with money. My customers would call me shrewd
and still think they got a bargain. My neighbours would covet my new Olds,
bought with my credit card and paid off in cash at the end of the month
to get the airmiles needed to fly to the latest disaster for MDS.

I would eat at seven, twelve and six – three times not four
because I do not work the land, vaspa reserved now
for Sunday.  Buns, ham, and New Bothwell cheese from Co-op,
summer’s rhubarb in the slab pie, decaf in the cup.

I would not let the sun go down on my anger. I would not raise my voice
at table or when pointing to the fault of my children,
driven to success and the city, their hands soft with guilt.
I would have no use for irony.

 

 

 

 

This entry was posted in Poems, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.

3 Comments

  1. Posted February 3, 2017 at 3:42 am | Permalink

    Hello Victor;
    This blog made me smile because I can tell you have a “Goodly Heritage;
    If I was just a good Mennonite I would not even be online right now, cause we all were all well inculcated about the evils of “the prince of the air”
    Best Regards;
    delmer B. Martin
    Elmira Ontario

    • Victor
      Posted February 5, 2017 at 3:46 am | Permalink

      Hey, Hi!
      Way behind.
      Catching up when I can.
      best for 2017 come and visit
      but you should also check Rhubarbmag.com
      We’re always looking for bloggers, readers, subscribers, donors…

  2. Pam Klassen
    Posted March 20, 2021 at 4:12 pm | Permalink

    Na jo…

Post a Reply to Victor

Your email is never published nor shared. Required fields are marked *

*
*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

RECENT POSTS

Categories

Blog Subscription

To receive notification of new articles.