May/June 2026 (Volume 18, Issue 3)

 

By Arvid Huisman

 

A Sunday afternoon drive through our neighborhood provides a vivid reminder that today’s Sundays are far different from the quiet, lazy Sundays I knew as a child.

 

I was raised in a succession of small Iowa farm towns and in our home the fourth of the Ten Commandments—to remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy—was taken quite literally. Back in those days, it seems, many folks did.

 

Family lore tells of a great-uncle who shaved on Saturday nights so he did not have to violate the Fourth Commandment on Sundays.

 

My birth family wasn’t that fanatical about it, but Sundays were distinct in our home. My father insisted, for instance, that anything my siblings and I viewed on television before church be religious in nature. That limited us to a Southern gospel music show on one of the three channels we could receive. It wasn’t Superman or Mighty Mouse but it was music with a little zip so we kids watched and listened.

 

 

An avid reader, I always wanted to dig into the Sunday newspaper first thing on Sundays but my father put the newspaper away until we returned home from church. I knew where he hid the Sunday paper but I also knew not to try to sneak a peek.

 

Though it looked like work to me, cooking apparently is not covered by the Fourth Commandment. Before and after church our mother labored over a hot stove preparing a big Sunday dinner while the rest of us took it easy. (Yes, I understood the inequity. For many years my family has gone out for Sunday lunch.)

 

Sunday afternoons were usually long and boring. After a large dinner, the six Huisman kids typically plopped our bloated bodies on the couch or on the living room floor for a time trying to think of something to do. Our mother often handed us a dish towel and gave us something to do.

 

On occasion we played catch in the backyard or rode our bikes around town. A walk down the railroad tracks to a trestle and back wasn’t out of the question. Sometimes we found enough kids uptown to shoot hoops at the town’s tennis court where no one played tennis. 

 

In the 1960s we lived in Kamrar, a farm town with a population of about 225 people. Ours and three other families provided the bulk of the kids in town. When you whittle it down to specific age groups there weren’t always a lot of other kids to play with.

 

In the winter, we might go sledding or ice skating … if it wasn’t too cold. We weren’t that bored.

 

On really good Sundays our aunts, uncles and cousins came to visit or we visited our grandparents where there were always plenty of cousins to go around. 

 

When I bought my first car, I learned that a Sunday afternoon drive with a friend or two was a great way to pass the time.

 

In my late teens I took on a 75-mile Des Moines Sunday Register motor route that had me up at 4 a.m. each Sunday, but only after assuring my father that I would be back home in time to go to church with the family. A Sunday afternoon nap became a reasonable pastime.

 

For a few years after I left home I had to work every other Sunday and soon began to appreciate the restful Sundays I had known a few years earlier. My wife and I came from similar backgrounds and we adopted a tradition of quiet Sundays.

 

By the time we moved to Sioux City the blue laws were fading and Sunday shopping was becoming popular. A large shopping mall opened five minutes from our home and an after-church lunch in the food court and a stop at a store or two was followed by a quiet afternoon at home. 

 

These days I find myself looking forward to lazy Sunday afternoons. A normal Sunday afternoon nowadays will find me watching YouTube videos, reading and at my computer keyboard; and an occasional nap.

 

I have come to understand that God gave the Fourth Commandment to the Israelites to help them learn to rest after hundreds of years as slaves in Egypt. What a treat it must have been for former slaves to be able to enjoy one day of rest each week.

 

All these centuries later a day of rest is still good for the body … and for the soul.

 

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