Tales From Exit 22 by Al Batt

It was a buttery, creaky, fall day.

Plants were turning the color of butter and the wind was making things creak. The weather was pleasantly brisk.

I was having lunch with some Lutheran pastors. We’d all been off puppy chow for some years. We talked about the things that ministers and a doofus talk about.

We’d reached the “Have you heard the one about?” stage of our conversation.

Lena was interviewing for a job as maid for the wealthy Mrs. Uppington, who asked, “Do you have any religious views?”

“No,” said Lena, “but I’ve got some nice photos of Norway.”

That Lena cracks me up. She was two years ahead of me in school.

Ole complained to Lars, “I’ve got rats under the porch of my house. What can I do to get rid of them?”

“Throw some lutefisk under the porch. They’ll be gone lickety split.”

Two weeks later, Lars saw Ole at the cafe and asked about the rats.

“The lutefisk got rid of them, but now I’ve got a dozen Norwegians living under there.”

Ole was two years behind me in school. He’d been red-shirted so that he could reach his full potential as crumb boy on cookie day.

Ole was the pastor of the local Norwegian Lutheran Church and Sven was the minister of the Swedish Lutheran Church across the road.

One day, they were seen putting up a sign reading, “The end is near! Turn yourself around now before it’s too late.”

As a car sped past them, the driver leaned out the window and yelled, “Leave people alone, you religious nuts!”

Ole and Sven heard screeching tires and a big splash.

Shaking his head, Reverend Ole said “That’s the third one this morning.”

“Yeah,” said Pastor Sven, “Do you think maybe the sign should just say, ‘Bridge Out’”?

Four Minnesota Vikings are in a car. Who is driving? A policeman. That bit of jocularity was in reference to a report saying that Minnesota Viking players are arrested at a rate that is double the league average.

What’s green and smells like red paint? Green paint.

That one was mine.

I turned the discourse down a more serious road when I mentioned a local church that was closing.

We’d just attended a seminar in which the presenter had said that 28 percent of Minnesotans were Catholic and 24 percent were Lutheran. I’d recently read about a poll of smartphone users. Fifty percent of those folks said they couldn’t live without their smartphones. What percent of Minnesotans do you suppose consider themselves to be Vikings fans? It’s difficult to go far into a day without seeing someone wearing Vikings clothing. A friend of mine claims that the Vikings aren’t even the most popular NFL team in the state. That honor belongs to the Green Bay Packers according to him.

Fran Tarkenton, former Vikings quarterback, died after living a full life. When he got to heaven, God showed him around. They came to a modest little house with a faded Vikings flag in the window. “This house is yours for eternity, Fran,” said God. “Not everyone gets a house up here.”

Tarkenton felt special, but noticed another house around the corner. It was a mansion in gold and green, with a tall flagpole with an enormous Packers flag. Tarkenton said, “God, I’m not ungrateful, but I have a question. I was as good as the Packers’ quarterback Bart Starr, why does he get a better house than me?”

God smiled and said, “That’s not Starr’s house. That’s mine.”

The Lutheran pastors and I talked about the possibility of pro football being the largest religion in the state. “Football Is Our Religion” is a country-dance song by the band Rednex. Many people identify more strongly with their team than they do with their church.

A man admitted to loving his favorite team more than his wife, but only when the team was winning. A genie appeared and told the man that he’d been granted one wish. The man thought for a moment and said, “I want to live forever.”

“Sorry,” said the genie, “I’m not allowed to grant eternal life.”

“OK, then,” the man said, “I don’t want to die until after the Vikings have won the Super Bowl.”

He may live forever. America is a football nation. A friend said, “God is eternal, but kickoff is at noon.”

People do pray for the Vikings.

Where there is no faith in the future, there is no power in the present.

 

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.