BEING "SEEN" IN CHURCH

I bacame a "born-again Christian" (at age 11), on June
28, 1959. On that date, I joined my 2 sisters, and dozens
of other men, women, and children, in the immersion cer-
emony, at the Poplar Springs Baptsist Church, In Rich-
mond, Virginia.

Earlier that day, as I was dressing to go to church, I found
that I had no clean underwear; nor could I locate my swim
trunks. Bearing in mind, my mother's admonition to "al-
ways wear clean underwear, in case you have to go to
the hospital," I advised her of my plight. She thought for
a moment, and replied, "Well, don't wear undrwear; your
baptismal gown will cover you." I had my doubts, but
went along with the decision. At the church, my doubts
returned, when I received my gown. It was VERY WHITE
and VERY SHEER.

As I stepped into the baptismal pool, I witnessed my gown perform a disappearing act. It was as though I
had been wearing a giant kleenex! The woman behind
me, and the man in front of me, were in good shape,
thanks to their undrgarments. As for me: Now that was
a different story. The phrase, "there was nothing left to
the imagination," certainly applied in my case.

From prior observation, I knew that, as initiates exited
the baptismal pool, they were handed towels, by elderly
"church ladies." I looked forward to the moment that I
could grab my towel, and wrap it around me. However,
as I left the pool, I was greeeted, not my "church ladies,"
but my GIRLS---------from my class. My humiliation was
complete.

Luckily for me, school was out for summer vacation. After
a few weeks without taunts concerning my faux pas, I be-
gan to breathe easier. For a brief moment, I harbored a
counter-intuitive, even "macho," resentment: WHAT IF
THE GIRLS HADN'T NOTICED?

From this embarrassng episode on, I always countered
my mother's advice concerning the wearing of clean
underwear, with my own: "Dirty underwear beats NO un-
derwear."