Coming of Age in Mississippi by Anne Moody

usher had seated us there. I kept looking at them and every now and then they would look back to where we sat. “Stop looking over there at them!” Mama said as she caught me smiling at Cherie and Darlene. I was sorry that I had looked and smiled at them, since they didn’t smile back. Now that they were out in public with Miss Pearl and Betty, they were acting like they didn’t even know us. “After this, I’ll never play with them again,” I thought.
    After we were seated for a while, I forgot about them and I began looking around. Since it was pastoral Sunday, Reverend Polk’s regular preaching Sunday, the church was crowded. Just like at Mount Pleasant every member showed up to pay his dues and put on a good front for the pastor. I tried to notice every little thing that happened to see if things were different in a big town church.
    First, a couple of deacons began the service by offering two long, boring prayers. As each one finished, he hummed a song and the congregation hummed along with him. At Mount Pleasant the men sang through their noses, and here the deacons were doing the same thing, singing through their noses and hollering and going on. At Mount Pleasant I had even seen men cry in church like women, when they finished praying. At least these men weren’t crying, I thought, but they were hollering just the same. And just like at Mount Pleasant, I couldn’t understand one word of any song. All the old ladies did, though. They were humming right along with them.
    While the collection for the sick was being taken up, the choir sang a few songs. This was the first time I had been in a church that had a choir. I used to listen to choirs on the radio sometimes, and this one sounded just as good. They sang “Rock of Ages” and “Stand by Me.” There were young girls among the singers. Some of them didn’t look any older than me. I sat there listening to them and hoping Mama would change her membership to here. “Then I could sing in the choir too,” I thought. “Yes, I am going to join this church, I don’t like Mount Pleasant anyway.”
    When the choir finished the songs, one of the deacons announced the amount taken up for the sick. Then Reverend Polk, who had been sitting in the pulpit in the big comfortable pastor’s chair with two deacons at his side, rose to his feet. He raised his hands and everybody stood. The choir then sang “Sweet Jesus,” joined by the congregation. When the song was over Reverend Polk stepped up to the lectern that contained a big open Bible. That Bible was the biggest I had ever seen.
    Reverend Polk was a middle-aged minister with snow-white hair. I didn’t understand his hair being that white. The only other person I had seen with hair that white was Miss Ola. Her hair was white because she was very old, but Reverend Polk didn’t look half as old as she was. As soon as he opened his mouth the women in the church started fainting, shouting,hollering, and carrying on. One large lady jumped straight up out of her seat and fell out stiff as a stick. It took about five deacons to carry her outside. It seemed as though almost every woman in the church was crying. I looked over at Miss Pearl them again and saw tears in the corner of Miss Pearl’s eyes. “She should cry,” I thought. “She shouldn’t even
be
in church and she doesn’t even speak to Mama and she lives right next door to her.” I looked at Mama now and she wasn’t crying but she looked like she would any minute.
    I didn’t understand why all these women were crying. I hadn’t heard a word Reverend Polk had said. He looked as though he was mouthing a sermon for a movie or something and the soundtrack wasn’t working. Once or twice he raised his hands and the women hollered even louder. They went on hollering at least fifteen minutes after he stopped working his mouth and sat down, so then I knew they weren’t crying because of anything he said. “They are all probably crying because they are