Linda Was A Tramp

Linda was a tramp.
Her family was churchachrist.
Purse lipped church ladies
tsk tsked.
Linda’s been seen walkin’ Meridian Street.
The men down there don’t look that appetizing,
but Linda laughs and they laugh
real, bonafide belly laughs.
I don’t get the idea
they’re laughing to keep from crying.
They line up in the afternoon shade
in front of old Lincoln School.

Sunday morning, Sunday night,
Wednesday prayer meeting, gospel meetings.
Linda’s mom, dad, brothers and sisters
come through the big glass church doors.
Her mama has a look of perpetual worry
that’s about worn out her brow.
Daddy looks the somber elder.
He keeps his head bowed
since he resigned.
A man can’t be an elder
when his daughter’s a tramp.
Brothers and sisters follow.
Everybody’s all balled up together.
They line up on the church pew.
The congregation tries to sneak a peek
at them sitting there.
Linda’s family all look
straight ahead at the baptistry.
We all wonder what it’s like
to have a tramp in the family.

Me, I’m six years old
and fascinated by Linda.
Sometimes I see her
when my mom and I
ride downtown in our blue Buick.
My mom lets a glance slide out
as we go past the old Lincoln School.
If Linda is out there
my mom will set her jaw.
No one seems to notice
my childish fascination.
What does one do
in order to “live in sin”?
How bad can it be to stand around
and everything’s funny?

The word ”tramp” excites me.
I stand near the tsk tsk-ers
hoping to suck up a single titillating morsel.
“You see Linda walkin up and down Meridian”
“Like she don’t care who sees her”
“Always actin out, cuttin up with those men”
My six year old mind spins.
Linda is a tramp and she laughs.
Her family is saved
and they don’t laugh at nothing.

The church sings and prays
one Wednesday night.
My daddy says a few words
in case anyone needs prayer
or saving.
Then one night it happens.
My daddy is talking
about how it’s so easy to go to hell
and there are a lot
of people going there
but none of us has to.
If there is any sin in our lives
we need to come forward
this very night,
repent,
and turn our lives around.
The church is singing the invitation song
and down the aisle comes Linda.
The whole church stops breathing.
Jaws drop.
Then church like composure
sets back in.

Linda sits on the front row,
my daddy beside her.
She whispers in his ear
and my daddy
writes something on a card.
He stands up to look out at us
and holds up his bible.
Linda starts shaking.
She shakes a little, then a lot.
Then she lets out a wooh, wooh, wooh.
The whole place is sitting real tight.
Linda’s family is dead still.
My daddy doesn’t say anything.
He just stares.

Linda is looking back at all of us now.
She has a big grin across her whole face.
She starts walking toward the back
and out the big glass doors.
I hear her wooh, wooh, wooh
until it is outside.
Linda’s voice fades,
but she’s still wooh, woohing.

The church collects itself.
My daddy tells the congregation
we’re going to sing
Just As I Am.
There’s fourteen verses in that song.

After a prayer we move out of the church.
No one says a word about Linda.
No one says a word to her family.

Back at home I sit in the dark,
listening to a radio station far away,
hearing songs by people I’ll never meet…
thinking about Linda.

Tonight I promise myself
as soon as I am big enough
I will never go to church again.
I will find Linda
and ask her about being a tramp
and what was so funny anyway.