I grew up in a Methodist preacher's home. Papa was strict about the Sabbath Day. No work was allowed on Sundays. When Mama pointed out to him that cooking and cleaning were work, Papa knew he was cornered. So, he took us out to lunch on Sundays, but he felt bad about making the restaurant personnel work on the Sabbath. Papa did not like the idea of watching television on Sundays, but I noticed that he often peeped at the TV late on Sunday afternoons when his beloved Washington Redskins were playing football.

No swimming was allowed on Sundays. That was one rule I did not violate and I'll tell you why. I knew that even a good swimmer could get a cramp and drown. I could just imagine what the scene would be like if I drowned and reported to St. Peter at the gates of heaven. St. Peter would a…