“I am SO sick of these monthly chicken barbeques.” the Past Master said as he stared out the kitchen window of the lodge building into the parking lot filled to overflowing with Masons, their ladies, their children and clusters of others from the community all of whom were there nearly as regularly as clockwork each third Saturday evening of the month. “It seems like this is all we do at lodge any more. I think we’ve forgotten our roots and we need to quit this community involvement crap.”
The Old Webmaster continued to dab his shirt with the cloth soaked in tonic water he’d retrieved from the refrigerator. His clothes should really demand hazardous duty pay for the abuse they took when attending these cookouts. Turning, he looked quizzically at his long-time friend.
“I’m confused, Charlie. I see you here at almost every one of these – except when you’re off on your annual fishing trip – and yet you don’t like them?”
“Well, I’ve got to support the lodge so I show up. But all we’re known for now is these chicken barbeques. People see the decal on the back of my car and ask me if I’m part of that group that has the chicken in the parking lot on Saturday nights. They seem to have forgotten that we’re men of dignity and see us only as a way to get cheap food.”
The Old Webmaster smiled as he decided that he’d ruined yet another perfectly good shirt. Ah, but the chicken was SO tasty with that sauce…. He turned to face the Past Master squarely. “I seem to recall that as you were leaving office just four years ago, you were bemoaning the fact that no one knew who the Masons were and that you had been unable to change that despite the several community programs you’d tried.”
“Look, this isn’t about jealousy. I just think we’re becoming known for the wrong thing – and that we should spend the time that’s being used on this event into doing something that would further the education of our members.”
“Surely, my Brother, you don’t think that I’d ever favor anything that would replace Masonic education?” It was a clear statement which was beyond even a whiff of disagreement. “But” the Old Webmaster continued after a pregnant pause “I think you’ve forgotten the history of this program. Just as you were leaving office, young Wayne became a member. You did his initiatory degree, in fact, and you were afraid he was going to be too self conscious to even stand in public because of his weight. He wanted to take part in things but never had the self confidence to step up. Then when Bob was Master he somehow learned that Wayne REALLY enjoyed doing barbeques. Bob encouraged him to do one for the lodge and look at the success it has brought. We’ve only lost money on a couple of nights and then made it up the following month and more besides. We’ve got members of the lodge who hadn’t been here in decades now showing up for meetings after getting together with old friends in the parking lot over a chicken leg. Our younger members are bringing their young children knowing it’s a wholesome family atmosphere and we’ve got vacationers who wouldn’t go to such an event in their own town stopping in here and learning about Freemasonry in the process. I honestly fail to see the problem in all this.”
The Past Master began to look a bit sheepish. “Well, I’m just concerned that we’re becoming known as the guys who do the chicken barbeques.” as his voice trailed off.
“Would I like to have Masonic education programs eight or nine nights a week, Charlie? You bet. But I’m not so sure even I wouldn’t get tired of that before too long. Besides, those aren’t things where you can bring a family. To tell the truth, I’d a darn sight rather be known as the fellows who do the great chicken barbeques and have a great time with their families than those guys who go hide in that dark building over on Outer Maple Street to practice some sort of weird ritual.”
“That’s not what we….” his voice trailed off yet again. “OK. I think I see what you’re getting at.”
The outer door opened suddenly as the inrush of warm early evening air with the sounds of excitement filled the previously noiseless room. They both looked at the door. Standing there was Brother Wayne, now wearing a bib apron with the appellation of ‘Grand Chicken Chef’ complete with Masonic emblem. He spent countless hours each month organizing these events and he arguably should be selling his hot sauce commercially but his face bore more concern that either had seen at any time before.
“Brother Charlie, is everything alright?” His voice once so meek, these days had an air of authority but now it was clearly filled with concern. Wayne had matured SO much – and everyone knew it. He’d even lost some weight despite the presence of this delicious food all the time.
“Well, yes, I’m fine…. Why?” asked the Past Master.
“Several people have come up to me in the past hour asking where you were. I guess I didn’t realize it but you’ve been our primary ‘greeter’ for several months now. That new couple who moved into town on the day we had the barbeque last month just told me you’d been talking with them about the fellow joining our lodge. They felt so welcome thanks to you. Well, I told them you were somewhere and I’d go find you.” He looked towards The old Webmaster who was still dabbing at his shirt intermittently. “Are you tied up in here?” The young man knew that a discussion with The Old Webmaster could get pretty weighty and didn’t want to interrupt if it was an inopportune time.
“Actually, we were just finishing my daily advancement in Masonry, Brother Wayne” he replied with a slight grin. “Now I’ll be right out to put it into practice.” Wayne’s face brightened as he watched the grin turn to a broad smile.
As the ‘Grand Chicken Chef’ exited and the door closed, the Past Master turned to The Old Webmaster and reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “Thanks…. Again…. Sincerely…. for reminding me what we came here to do!” He looked downward and chuckled. “You REALLY should be more careful with that sauce. ” He smiled broadly once again and hastily made his way outside.
There’s a lesson there somewhere, mused The Old Webmaster as he too turned and walked towards the door. There’s plenty of room in Freemasonry for all sorts of interests whether it’s cooking chicken or studying dusty old tomes. As he mused on that for a moment, he wondered if there might be someone in the lodge who’d want to do a fish fry on Friday nights once a month as well. Perhaps he’d better let someone else pursue that, he realized as he reached the door. There have already been enough ruined shirts recently….
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