Stories: Whistling in the Bath House
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| I too remember visiting the bath house -- what a treat! I don't think I ever lived in a place with our own shower or bath. And for most of my mission the bath house was a Saturday afternoon treat. Now I wonder how we survived with only one bath a week.
During one of my first weeks in Bergen my companion and I were sitting in the bath house reveling in the steamy heat. Being a Saturday afternoon, the room was crowded. My thoughts were on the doors we had knocked on that day when gradually I became aware of someone across the room was whistling softly. After a few bars I recognized the tune as "Come, Come, Ye Saints." I had difficulty placing where the sound was coming from, but finally I recognized one of the local brothers and smiled and nodded to him. Even in a room full of naked men it just didn't seem appropriate to stroll across the floor to strike up a conversation on religion, so I let it go at that. |
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