I really am not a holy roller (ask my wife and kids), but I have to relate a story from going to church yesterday (second time since Easter, which is good for me). So we’re rolling in just as the procession is getting started, slip into a pew near the back of the side nave. (Our church, which I’ll not name to protect the guilty, has a main central nave and two side naves, forming sort of the shape of a crucifix, which had never occurred to me until just now.) I didn’t notice it at first, maybe from just getting settled and looking around for familiar faces.

Then I heard it. It started out mildly enough, then grew and grew. Loud, piercing singing, as if the choir were in the pew behind us, she an alto and he a tenor (rather nice, if loud). Loud worshipers. Howlers. Two of them. Right behind us. Competing with the choir, and winning.

Maybe you know this, maybe you don’t. Catholic Masses tend to be subdued affairs. Yes, there’s singing, but most it sounds like dirges, somber death marches on organ or the odd “folk” group, often sung badly by the congregation in half-mumble. No one will mistake a Catholic Mass for a Baptist service, or an A.M.E. Sunday service. At least the ones I know. We’re not here to entertain or be entertained. No. We keep it low, bide our time, genuflect and move on.

But not this couple behind us. The alto would start out strong on the low notes, then as the song progressed to higher notes, the tenor took over until he was hitting full-throated wails worthy of the Three Tenors. I was beginning to get a headache. I was tempted to turn around and ask, “Do you mind? People have hangovers!” But I behaved. Though I did finally get a glimpse at the Howlers during the “sign of peace” meet-and-greet moment. I think they were getting that “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” look from others.

My wife and I exchanged glances, I looking as if to say, “Yeah, they’re THAT loud.”

Meanwhile, we could hardly hear the priest, an elderly gent with a soft voice — although his phlemy coughs came through loud and clear. Eeewwwww.

The Howlers stayed at it to the bitter end, taking only a respite to swallow down the Eucharist before belting out another hymn. I dunno, maybe the choir had the day off (How would I know??) and this fine couple doesn’t know how to sing like a proper Catholic congregation. Sotto Voce! Sotto Voce! Mumble! That’s better.

The only time Catholics get excited is when the priest announces, “Mass is ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord,” or some happy advice. To which the congregation heartily replies, “THANKS BE TO GOD!”

So at this moment, at the end of Mass, when some of us furtively slip out before the priest and his procession have finally wound around the altar and headed back toward the main vestibule, I looked left and looked right. Nobody was moving. I was trapped, and the Howlers were showing no signs of quitting. Gaaaaahhh! Trapped!

Which makes me wonder, if we’re so danged miserable at these things, why do people keep coming back? Gotta be the doughnuts after church. Or the pragmatic, Just In Case scenario. You know, the ones who don’t really believe it all, but go “Just in Case” it’s, you know, real.

Oh, right. Books

By this time it may have occurred to you that I have not once mentioned books (well, this church business is all an offshoot of The Good Book). Well, OK, read on

I just finished off a project about Walt Disney’s Cinderella as retold by Cynthia Rylant. I know, children’s books. But this actually took a lot of effort. And the book is well done. The thing about Rylant is she doesn’t talk down to the reader/readee. There’s a sophistication in her work that is often missing in children’s and juvenile stuff (Rotten School series, for instance). Not that there’s anything wrong with the silly stuff, but pretty soon adults forced to sit through that stuff are rolling their eyes. But with Cinderella, Rylant uses such elegant words so economically, it rises above kid stuff. It’s a classic story well told.

The next children’s book I’m looking forward to reading about is “On Top of the Potty,” which is about — guess what? Our writer working on that project, Chuck Bowen, was the perfect choice because 1) he’s a good writer 2) he has a sense of humor and 3) he had just started potty training his daughter when I gave him that assignment. We’ll see if the book is any help. Thank God the days of diapers are but a stinky memory for me.

Well, the quarry whistle just blew, gotta run. Yabba-Dabba-Doo!

Dave Wilson is the Grand Pooh-Bah of Editorial Content at DelMio.com, a site developed by SunLit Communications LLC. He also is at times janitor, chauffeur, chief cook and bottle washer. Once upon a time he was a metro editor and copy editor at the Akron Beacon Journal. Send love letters and trash talk to dave.wilson@delmio.com. Or post a comment. Whatever.

I found this quite amusing:

This is not my first blogging effort. There are bits and pieces all over this site and at our old home, and few scattered postings on other, even more obscure blog hosts. But I think I’ll come back to here fairly often. In my quest for book news and between various and sundry editing duties, I find stuff that’s interesting but doesn’t quite fit any of the usual pegs, round or square. That’s stuff I’ll dump on you, the unsuspecting and unfortunate reader of this blog (Yes, all three of you). I think I’ll call it Our Daily Red. I know, the name’s been taken. It’s a decent red wine for everyday dinners. Probably a blog out there too. So sue me. Maybe I could call it Our Daily Sandwich. I dunno. Our Daily Ned?

Dave Wilson is the Grand Poobah of Editorial Content at DelMio.com, a site developed by SunLit Communications LLC. He also is at times janitor, chauffeur, chief cook and bottle washer. Once upon a time he was a metro editor and copy editor at the Akron Beacon Journal.