Don't you know it has to be at least mildly interesting when the writer has to make "excuses" at the very beginning?
Around 1977-78, I used to go just about everywhere with my older sister, Colleen, and her two toddler boys. More than half the time, I would be the chauffeur for her errands around town, most often being trips to the grocery store and to the laundromat at Bruno's/Jack's parking lot in Dora, AL. We also visited the county Health Department in Jasper fairly regularly. We would go there for Colleen's checkups, which were provided at that time for low-income women, and we would also go for my nephews' required vaccinations.
Dora, I knew very well. Jasper, I knew not.
One such occasion we went to the Health Department for the boys' shots. After waiting in the crowded lobby for a little while, Colleen's name was called, and she and the kids went back with the nurse. I stayed out in the lobby to wait. Just after they went back, in came a large group of people--about ten or twelve in all. This diverse assemblage of adults consisted of men and women, black and white, and young and old. It seemed like one or two particular women were coordinating the seating arrangements for the group, and after some inconspicuous maneuvering, everybody was settled. Although I was mildly curious about this eclectic-looking mix of people, I didn't pay a lot of attention to them because I didn't want to stare.
After about ten relatively peaceful minutes of waiting went by, I heard someone say "take all day" in a low tone. I immediately thought "oh great, a complainer in the crowd". Three or four minutes more went by, and again "take all day". Hmm......that time he was a bit more vocal.
I knew by the voice that the speaker was African American and male, and I knew (or thought I knew) that we now had an agitator in the room. You know, like those people who start vocally complaining to themselves in a bank or checkout line, and they hope the person in front of and behind them will join in on the malcontent, and next they can all gang up on the teller or cashier to "hurry up". Yeah, that's what I mean by "agitator". I also knew this "agitator" was one of that diverse group of newcomers that had come in.
Well, another 3-5 minutes went by and "take all day" again, and then "take all DAY!" and "take ALL day" and "TAKE ALL DAY" and so it went every 3-5 minutes. I thought it odd that nobody in the lobby displayed any reaction to him one way or the other. Nobody helped him "agitate", nobody told him to be quiet, nobody looked at him, ...nothing. Nobody even seemed to hear him. But for me, I tensed up with every "take all day" because I felt like he was peer-pressuring all of us to join in and rally with him against the implied slow service.
Finally, a name was called and one of the "in charge" women in the diverse group got up and escorted two other women of her group into the back with the nurse. As the women passed in front of me, I realized the situation--that this group was from a facility that served physically and mentally challenged individuals, and they were here for their checkups or vaccinations or whatever.
I felt quite a lot better about the fact that the vocal "take all day" man was not an agitator. He was just a man who innocently liked making one particular verbal statement, and who just happened to have a mental impairment of some sort. This was the first time I had seen this group of people, but I deduced that everybody else in the lobby who seemed oblivious to the "take all day" man had at least seen him before.
After a short time and several more "take all day" proclamations went by, Colleen and the kids came out and we left. I didn't even mention the "agitated man" story to her, and I thought nothing more about it.
Nothing, that is, until about three years later.
At 21 years of age, I was a fresh member of St. Cecilia Catholic Church in Jasper. I am sitting in the Mass listening to Father Jerry Deasy's homily. Father Deasy, an Irish priest with a soft-spoken manner and a great disposition, had gone on for a few minutes, when "take all day" came out from about two pews behind me. I caught my breath and felt my whole body stiffen.
Now, if you don't know the Catholic Mass, it is a quiet affair, with a particular format. It is a solemn, reverent service without any unscheduled audible "amens", "glories", or otherwise out of order shout-outs, unlike some other types of church services where it is allowed and even expected. But at no church service is "take all day" expected, nor particularly enjoyed.
I hope Father Deasy didn't hear that! Surely everyone around me did, but not one person looked around to see who complained. Three tense minutes I waited, then "take all day" was louder. Now I know everyone must have heard that! But Father Deasy did not miss a beat with his homily, and nobody made a scene by turning around to stare at the vocal man.
I was on edge with worry because I knew what was up with this guy--I knew he really was not an agitator, but I did not know if anybody else in the church knew it. I held my breath through the rest of the homily, and through a few more "take all days". The remainder of the Mass sort of drowned out the final "take all days", thanks to the congregation's songs and scripted vocal queues.
Evidently Father Deasy had seen these folks before, because after Mass I saw him shaking hands with them, including the "take all dayer", as they left the church. Father had never once suspected that an "agitator" was at Mass, and even if he had, he would not have tensed up over it as I had.
That has all been thirty-plus years ago, and I wonder what became of the "take all day" man. I hope everything worked out with him, and that he has enjoyed a happy life all this time, despite his seemingly restless eagerness. He wasn't really an impatient person, he wasn't trying to rush people or hurry-up life, he was "just sayin'..."
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