Monday, December 19, 1966
Spike Dumpster looked at his watch as he turned his new red 1967 pick-up truck into the parking lot at the Stockdale Apartment complex in Knoxville. It was four A.M. He knew his parking place at the back of the lot would be vacant. He remembered how badly he had scared the last person who had mistakenly parked his car in that space. Laughing to himself, he pulled in.
He opened the duffel bag in the seat beside him, looked inside, and smiled. Yes, the money was still there, hundreds, fifties, twenties, nothing less than twenties.
Ill save out enough to cover the next trip, he said to himself. Then Ill buy a camper top for this pickup and pay off the plane. After one more trip Ill have the cash to pay off the mountain farm!
With the duffel bag in hand, he got out of the truck and entered the apartment building through the back entrance. He hurried up three flights of steps to the top floor. Opening the door to his apartment with a key, he went inside.
He turned on the light.
Damn!
A pile of mail was on the floor. Before he had left, he had paid the apartment manager to bring it in each day.
Junk! Ill go through it later.
The January, 1967, issue of Nuclear Industry News caught his eye. A picture of the new Enrico Fermi Atomic Power Plant was on the front cover. He paused for a moment and stared at the picture.
The Enrico Fermi Atomic Power Plant was at Lagoona Beach, near Monroe, Michigan. It was to be the first commercial electric power plant designed to use breeder nuclear reactors. He had been a construction worker at that project for five years.
Curious, Dumpster picked up the magazine and read the headline.
TROUBLE AT LAGOONA BEACH! FUEL MELTDOWN FEARED!
He laughed to himself.
He opened the magazine to the cover story and read it with great interest.
Too bad the plant didnt blow sky high, he said. Theyll NEVER figure it out!
He laughed as he tossed the magazine to the floor with the rest of the mail and went to a dresser to get pajamas. Then he took a shower and went to bed.
Sunday, September 3, 1967
Just as I am without one plea,
But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou bidst me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
The sound of the invitation hymn rang out from a small stone church in the mountains of eastern Tennessee.
Again, as we sing the second verse, the pastor said to his congregation, anyone who wishes to profess his faith in Jesus Christ as his personal savior please come forward! Now is the time! Come!
Just as I am and waiting not,
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
The pastor glanced over the congregation for the last time. There were no new faces. There was no one to save for the Lord.
Please pray for my family in these trying times, he said, concluding the service. Please pray for our daughter Barb. Please pray that she will make the right decision. Please pray that Barb finds the Lord.
The preacher went slowly up the aisle to the front door. There he greeted the members of the congregation as they left the service.
He paused momentarily as the last one was leaving. He looked to his right at the gravestones in the church cemetery. Some had dates of death as early as the 1840s.
He remembered his father and paternal grandfather who were buried there. They had spent their lives preaching at this same church. They had dedicated themselves to serving the Lord.
Sadly, he turned to his left. Yes, the new expensive white European sports car was still parked in front of the parsonage. To him, it was a symbol of the devil. Beside it were cardboard boxes filled with his daughters belongings.
Slowly, he went to the parsonage and started up the front steps. His daughter came out of the front door carrying the last box. Her long, black hair bounced over her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes sparkled. She smiled as she saw her father coming.
Barb, you werent in church this morning! Her father scolded.
I know, Daddy, she answered softly. I was packing.
Are you really moving out? His tone was no longer demanding.
Yes, Daddy.
She continued down the front steps toward the sports car.
Where are you going? He asked hurtfully. He already knew the answer.
Im going to live in Knoxville.
She opened the passenger door and began loading the boxes into the back seat.
Shouldnt you marry him first? What about your children?
Were not going to have children.
Are you sure you want to do this? You will be living in sin. He paused for a moment. What would your grandfather say? What would your great grandfather say? They must be turning over in their graves.
The exercise would do them good, she answered.
She continued to load boxes into the back seat of the car.
We sent you to the university to get an education. Instead, you learned the wicked ways of the world.
I can make my own decisions.
We brought you up better than that, Barb. We raised you to be a good girl.
Daddy, good girls dont go places or do things. Good girls dont have any fun.
He raised his voice. What is God to think about your behavior?
If God gave me such fine equipment, surely he intended for me to use it.
THATS BLASPHEMY! Hurt, he looked down to the ground. He was almost in tears.
Then he looked up at Barb. A grim expression came across his face.
GO LIVE IN SIN! Youre not my daughter any more!
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