On Zion's Hill

by Anna J. Small Roseboro

  “Me too and me neither,” she replies, still trying to redirect the conversation. “It’s the same with fish sandwiches. I don’t put hot sauce on them at home. I usually just use tartar sauce.”

  Not fooled, Ken probes, “Angie, what did you mean about Doctor Jamieson’s sermon? What about the reaping what we sow and his sermon?”

  Turning her head to keep her teary eyes from giving away the depth of her feelings, Angie sits silently, and then continues softly. “Well, Doctor Jamieson preached about forgiving and forgetting.”

  “And?”

  “I have a hard time with both.”

  “And?”

  “He also asked why we should expect God to forgive us if we don’t do the same for others. You know, like in The Lord’s prayer.”

  “Yes. The part that goes, ‘Forgive us our debts and we forgive others?’”

  “Yes. That bothered me. I don’t want to block God’s forgiving me. I’ve misunderstood a lot.”

  “And…? You okay, now?”

  “Yeah, I am. Thankfully, Doctor Jamieson is a teaching preacher who helped me understand more about God’s grace and mercy. Doctor Jay actually cleared up a lot for me.

  “I’m glad for you, Angie.” He stands.

  “Huh?”

  “Excuse me a moment.”

  Ken excuses himself to go to the men’s rest room. Puzzled that he would leave at such a pivotal moment, Angie takes the opportunity to run up to the dorm room to check-in with her grandparents. She hopes Ken is not disappointed in her because she’s not a more mature Christian. She’s pleased she had the breakthrough this morning, but is not sure she’s ready to go into details. Even with Ken.

  Now up in the dorm room, Angie is surprised how difficult it is to approach her grandparents about going bowling. So many older Christians in her church disapprove of bowling alleys. They have bars and they sell beer. Alcohol is a no-no. But, Angie assures Grammama that Brother Ralph has reserved the alley just for his group and they’ll not be selling beer. Reassured, her grandmother gives her consent. “I want you home by eleven, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be home on time.” Angie excitedly replies. Quickly changing to the green outfit she’d worn Saturday, the night Ken didn’t come, she scrambles out the door hoping to beat Ken back to the table. And hoping he doesn’t return to the topic of forgiving and forgetting.

  He’s waiting at the bottom of the steps. Skipping down, Angie joins him, and he escorts her to the car. Strange, he says nothing about the conversation they’d been having. And strange, she finds she doesn’t mind.

  “WELL, WHAT SIZE SHOES DO YOU WANT?” Ken asks pointing at the weird-looking green and red shoes sitting in slots like hotel mailboxes behind the desk.

  “Why can’t I wear these?” she asks, pointing at her loafers, pleased that she had changed into flats rather than wearing the high heels she’d worn all day. Angie hates to try on new shoes at the department stores and really is freaking out about wearing old shoes others have worn and gotten all sweaty.

  “What you mean? You wouldn’t wear loafers when you bowl at home, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t know. This is my first time in a bowling alley.”

  “Your first time? Thia!” he asks looking at his sister overhearing and trying to hold in her laughter.

  “Did you know Angie’s not a bowler?”

  “How would I know? We only just met today. When she agreed to come, I assumed she’d been before.”

  “Okay. Angie, I guess I’d better start at the beginning with you. I used to set pins here when I was in high school. I‘ve heard the bowling coaches give zillions of spiels to the old lady groups who bowl in the daytime.”

  Angie can tell from the smile and in his voice, he is not belittling her, so she looks up expectantly and listens. He explains about the shoes, shows her how to select the right ball based on weight and finger span, and leads her to the lanes they’ve been assigned.

  “I’ll never get the rhythm of the three steps and slide,” Angie complains after the first game. She sits re-tying her shoe laces, to hide her embarrassment at being so inept. But soon is back into the game.

  It’s fun getting to know more of the young adults in the larger than expected group who’ve accepted Brother Ralph’s invitation to bowl. Surprisingly, under Ken’s patient tutelage, on most rolls, Angie keeps her ball on the lane.

  Several in the group plan to stop by McDonald’s for a late snack, but Angie reminds Ken she has to get back. With regret. But she had promised. Ken agrees to leave now. With relief. He only has cash enough for gas. Ken shows her where to return the balls to the rack, and they exchange those weird-colored shoes for the ones they’d worn to the bowling alley.

  Angie picks up her purse and turns to say her goodbyes. “Well, see you next year, Lily, and gives her a hug. Then joins, Thia. Melvin and Ken. It’s been great getting to know the two of you. Oh, Thia, when does your fall class start?”

  “We start right after Labor Day. I can hardly wait. Secretarial school’s just a two year program. So I’ll be finished before Ken graduates Penn State. What about you? When do you start?”

  “I have a couple of weeks. Wayne State doesn’t open the fall term till a week after Labor Day. I won’t know my schedule until I get back. I know what classes I want, but don’t know if I’ll get them all. What about you, Ken?” They continue talking as the four leave the bowling alley.

  “In Chem Eng we don’t have much choice the first three years. The classes are all laid out for us.”

  “Do you have a heavy load this semester?”

  “Yeah. A pretty tough schedule this fall. Sure hope the reviewing I’ve been doing in organic chemistry is going to help. With basketball, I won’t have much weekend study time.”

  “You’ll be fine. You sound like a disciplined kind of student. You know I’ll be praying for you, right?” Oops! Is she being too forward? “I’ll be praying for you, too, Thia,” Angie says, leaning over to give Thia a goodbye hug. Melvin looks eager to be going; Thia’s got a curfew, too.

  “Thanks, Angie. Let’s stay in touch. Yeah, I’m ready, Melvin. See you, Ken. You know you better get home soon. Dad’ll be worrying about his car. Don’t forget to fill the tank, too.”

  “Okay, Miss Bossy. See you, Melvin. You ready, Angie?”

  All wave goodbye to those also exiting the bowling alley, and shake hands with Brother Ralph, thanking him for arranging the social event. Ken reaches for Angie’s hand. She allows him to hold it.

  Pensively, they walk out to the car. Angie wonders. What now?

  Back at the turquoise Corvair, he opens the passenger door and assists her getting into the car. What a gentleman.

  Walking around to the driver’s side, Ken wonders, What now? I don’t really want to get into anything serious, but I’d like to stay in touch. God says she’s the one, but He’s also made it possible for me to have finances to attend college. Can’t give that up for a woman I don’t really know all that well.

  Sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for Ken to get in, Angie sees through the driver’s side window that he’s just standing there. She whiffs her under arm, murmuring, “I know I was sweating in there a little, but I don’t stink. Why’s he waiting?” She hears the key scrape in the lock. “I should have unlocked the door. That’s the least I could have done. I hope Ken doesn’t think I’m thoughtless.”

  Ken pulls open the door, swings his long legs in, sits, and pushes the key into the ignition. Then he looks over to Angie sitting stiffly in her seat. How can he prolong their time together and still get her back by eleven? The engine starts right away, and Ken shifts into reverse.

  “Angie, wanna ride with me while I go fill up the gas tank. There’s that station right at the turn-off up the campground?”

  “Sure, Ken. Just as long I get back in time. You know.”

  “Yeah, I know. We got a little time. Um…Angie. You got a pen or pencil in that purse?” She nods.

  �
�You want to give me your address? We can write once we get back to school. You can tell if you get the classes you want.”

  He wants to write! This is not the end. Maybe something will come of this.

  “Let me look,” Angie says, scrambling through her junky purse. She finds a pen in the bottom corner. I hope it’s got some ink. “You gonna give me your address, too or should I wait for you write me?”

  She wants to write, too. Cool. ”Um, you got two pieces of paper in there? I’ll give you my address and you can write yours on the other piece. I can put it here in my shirt pocket.”

  By this time, Ken is turning left on the street with the gas station. He’ll be there in a minute. Should I ask for her phone number, too? It’ll be a long distance call from State College. Why not? We don’t have to talk a long time if we’re going to be writing. “Angie, why don’t you add your phone number?”

  “I’d like to Ken, but I don’t know the number of the pay phone in the dorm. I can give you my mother’s number. She’ll know how to get in touch with me, or I can put the number in a letter once I get on to campus.”

  “Sure, why don’t you do that? Do you know the dorm address? Or, are you going to give me your home address and let your mother forward it to you?”

  “I know the dorm address, and that’s what I put on here. I’m moving in on Labor Day weekend.”

  “That’ll be a couple weeks. That’ll give me time to get settled. We start training and conditioning for basketball the first week I get back. Not sure how much time I’ll have for writing.”

  “That’s okay. Just write when you can. Isn’t this the gas station?”

  “Oops! Wasn’t paying attention. I can make a U-turn right here.” He does, pulls into the station, and stops at the single pump. The sign says thirty-one cents per gallon.

  No one comes. The station’s supposed to be open another ten minutes. The manager’s already inside counting the cash in the till. He glances out the window and shoves the drawer back into the register. He keeps an eye on Ken, trying to decide whether or not to serve him. Apparently he decides money is more important than ignoring a colored customer. So he cautiously approaches the car and asks how much Ken wants.

  “Gimme three dollars.”

  The owner completes the service and reaches for the greenbacks. Ken hands over the last of his extra cash.

  Resigned, Ken leans forward and returns his wallet to his back pocket. He starts the engine and swings his arm across the seat, so he can see to back up and turn up the road to the grounds. This is really their first date. Should he ask her for a kiss?

  Ken is thoughtful driving the incline back to Zion’s Hill. With no street lights, the car beams provide the only illumination on this moonless night. Just as distracted, Angie wonders what she should say if he asks her for a kiss? This is actually their first date. Riding down to the park the other day doesn’t really count. Does it?

  Once through the gates, the car bounces over a rut into the parking lot. It’s nearly empty, so Ken can drive up and park pretty close to the dorm. The lamp posts on the grounds cast little light along the walkway to the dorm stairs.

  “Wait there, Angie. I’ll come open the door.” She waits and wonders. What next?

  Ken walks around to her door, opens it, and reaches in for her hand. She takes it, letting him assist her out, even though she doesn’t really need it. They stand together next to the car, looking up the hill.

  The tabernacle lights are still on where the grounds crew is still working. Ken and Angie can see one man up on a ladder dismantling the sound system to store it until next year’s convening on the hill.

  As if in tandem, Ken and Angie’s eyes follow the line of the tabernacle roof down over to the ice-cream stand and both recall misunderstandings seen from and into that narrow space. They look at one another and shake their heads. Ken looks at his watch. It’s a couple minutes to eleven.

  “I better get on home.”

  “Okay.”

  At the bottom of the stairs up to the dorm, they stop. Ken gently puts both hands on her shoulders, but doesn’t pull her into a hug. His warm brown eyes gaze into hers.

  “May I kiss you goodnight?

  She wants to nod.

  “I don’t think so, Ken. It would be nice, but I’m not sure it would be right.”

  He nods.

  In unison they chime, “Maybe next time?”

  Angie turns and walks up the stairs. Maybe next time.

  Ken turns and walks down to the car. Yes. Maybe next time.

  SWEETHEARTS OF ZION’S HILL

  *Couples who met on Zion’s Hill and later married.

  *Names included with permission of family member Stories of some of these couples will be included in collection The Sweethearts of Zion’s Hill due for release in 2016.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ANNA J. SMALL ROSEBORO is a wife, mother, and veteran educator. Born and raised in Detroit, Michigan, Anna attended camp meetings on Zion’s Hill as a pre-teen and teen where she met in 1963 the man she married in 1966. Once a parent, she returned to the grounds with her children and stayed in her mother’s cottage, located on Phillips Lane across the road from the tabernacle.

  A National Board Certified Teacher, Roseboro has taught middle school, high school and college students, served as chair of an English Department, coached a competitive speech team, and directed an academic summer program for students in grades five through twelve. She is active in her profession serving on state and local boards, and as a mentor in the Early Career Educators of Color Award program and the Emerging Leaders Fellowship, both part of the National Council of Teachers of English.

  During her nearly fifty years as an educator, Roseboro has lived and taught in five states from Massachusetts to California, has authored three books on pedagogy, a number of articles for professional journals, and has had her poetry published. She is a frequent speaker at state and national conferences and for chapel talks. A member of a group exchange of educators sponsored by Rotary International, Roseboro represented the United States in four East African countries, and in 2009 was awarded the Distinguished Service Award by the California Association of Teachers of English.

  Now retired with her husband, Roseboro has returned to her home state where she devotes herself to supporting the ministry of the New Covenant Community Church of God. She maintains a professional website, Teaching English Language Arts and is collaborating on a project to gather and publish stories of other couples who met on Zion’s Hill in West Middlesex, PA and later married, to be released in the summer of 2016 as Sweethearts of Zion’s Hill Collection..