As a child, I remember many special Saturday’s. It was the day we cleaned the house and got ready for Sunday. Our kitchen floor was scrubbed, dusting of the furniture completed, and the front room floor which was hardwood, polished. We waxed it down, then put on stockings and pretended we were skating up and down and around to make it shine. For Sunday, we had special clothes that were just for Sunday. Dad believed in vacations and sometimes we found ourselves at a National park on Sunday. Prior to leaving for our vacation, Mother ironed all our Sunday dresses; we were a family of five girls and one boy. folded them nicely and put them in our suitcase. It did not matter that we were among the few at the National Park dressed in Sunday clothes. We wore them anyway. I had occasion to be in a Jewish home about six o’clock on a Friday evening. Everyone in the family was scurrying around getting their home ready for the Sabbath which would begin at dusk. It was a profound experience. There have been Sunday’s when I have felt the activity I was participating in was not in keeping with this special day. I can still remember the feeling I had that I was not up to the standard I should be. We can make Sunday a delightful day. Picture of Milan Domo curtsey of Barton family.
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