Leaping Like Impalas

I recently finished an excellent little book called “Jesus, My Father, The CIA, and Me: A Memoir… of Sorts” by Ian Morgan Cron. As the title suggests, it is a memoir (of sorts) about a young boy who grew up with a largely absent father who worked for the CIA. Cron is an excellent story-teller with a flair for a certain sarcastic humor that I couldn’t get enough of. My favorite story had to be the below excerpt, in which he describes his first encounter in a more, shall we say, enthusiastic church setting.

The service had already started when we got into the sanctuary. I was there all of five minutes before I realized that Tyler’s explanation about this experience being different was grossly understated. Episcopalians pride themselves on restraint and single-digit golf handicaps. They don’t jump, sing, and wave their hands over their heads unless they’re being electrocuted or thrown from a plane. Neither do Episcopalians frolic around sanctuaries, brandishing on raised poles big banners with tongues of fire and doves embroidered on them. Their services don’t include generously proportioned middle-aged women leaping like impalas down the aisles, trailing colored streamers in their wake (“dancing in the Spirit,” as Tyler called it). I saw investment bankers speaking in tongues and women dressed in boiled wool suits who resembled Barbara Bush being “slain in the Spirit.” It looked to me like a mob of well-sugared five-year-olds dancing the hokey-pokey, only less organized.[1]

“Generously proportioned middle-aged women leaping like impalas.” I nearly fell out of my chair after reading that. Anyway, it’s a fun book and you should read it.