Radio Preachers

Sitting in the yellow breakfast nook..
Every Sunday morning.
Reading Dick Tracy.
Reading Little Orphan Annie.
Waiting for the French Toast.
Smelling the frying bacon.

My mom would be cooking breakfast.
The radio would be on.
The radio was an old radio.
One with tubes that glowed.
This was in the mid 1950s.
Ike was President of the USA.

Flying saucers were everywhere.
Commies were everywhere.

One Sunday morning.
Everything was the same.
I was reading.
My mom was cooking.
The flying saucers were resting in the cosmic cupboard.
The commies were sleeping in.

The radio was on.
We were listening to a radio preacher.
He had a deep voice.
A Russian accent.
Or maybe it was German.

He was talking about the Holyland.
Send ten dollars in.
Get a prayer shawl.

Then he said.
Then he commanded.
"Put your hands on the radio
and feel the power of the Lord!"

My mom walked over from the sink.
Her hands were wet.
she was heading for the radio.

I yelled.
"Don't do it mom!"
"That ain't the Lord"
" It's electricity"
" You're gonna die"

She stopped.
Turned around.
Wiped her wet hands on her apron.
And then she said
"Freddy, you are so smart."

Later that day we went to church.
Then we took the bus to Morningside.
We ate fried chicken at Aunt Clara's house.