Their voices rang out in the cool late-afternoon air; the boy�s higher voice perfectly balanced out the older man�s voice. They sang together in a way that only a father and son could after years of practice.
The buzz of evening rush hour excited the boy. As he sang he watched men and women in suits rush up and down the sidewalk. His eyes took in all of the grays and blues and blacks of neatly ironed work clothes. He caught the red and brown leather suitcases, and a few with dark green- or black-scaled alligator skin. He smelled the heavy fumes from cars and buses, and the sharper scent of colognes and body odor.
He eyed his father and stood a little straighter. His Father's dark eyes blocked out his surroundings, refusing to take in what he saw. The boy knew that. Every few evenings, while on their way home, his father would talk of the busy people. He would always mention that their way of life was a sin. That every day they hurried about without recognizing God or even stopping to consider the sacrifices that Jesus made for them. They filled their lives with greed and selfishness instead of God and the Good Book. His father refused to acknowledge them, and that was his secret.
They finished the hymn and his father paused. �In the Garden,� he proclaimed. His hands were folded behind his back and his chest jut out proudly. Even when he announced the next hymn his eyes never strayed from dead ahead. Not even to look at his son.
The boy knew how much his father loved God. He turned his glance up toward his father for the moment before they began to sing. His father looked so much more important than the people running around to no end.
In the Garden was the boy�s favorite hymn. The upbeat choruses always made him feel happy. He was glad that they always sang it at the end of the day.
He looked up at his father again and watched the man sing a few lines. As they reached his favorite part, the boy couldn�t help but smile. The smile left his face just as quickly because his father wasn�t smiling.
His father always said that spreading the Good Lord�s word was the most important part of what they did. Every once in a while the boy got caught up in his surroundings or got too excited about the hymn they were singing. When that happened he would mess up the words a little or sing a little off key. That usually resulted in a swat from his father at the end of the day.
A man dressed in a long black coat walked up to them quickly. As the man passed by his shoulder bumped into the boy�s father. His father continued to sing the song without missing a beat or a word. His eyes still looked forward into nothing, even though the boy turned to watch the man in the coat go by.
Whether the bump was on purpose or done out of hastiness, the boy wasn�t sure. Sometimes people got angry with them for singing. Why they got angry, he wasn�t sure. But those angry people sometimes did things to try and hurt the boy and his father. It worried the boy, but never seemed to bother his father.
Another man passed them by and tossed a dollar bill at them. It fluttered to the ground in between their feet. As it hit the ground the boy saw that it was a one-dollar bill.
They had no hat or box at their feet to catch money. His father said that only beggars did that. They weren�t beggars, his father said, they just sang and spread the good Lord�s word.
His father stopped singing and eyed the money. He face twisted a little as if in anger and then went back to its blank look. He picked up the bill and turned toward the man.
�Excuse me sir, you dropped this.� The boy�s father was holding up the dollar and following after the man. The boy followed his father.
The man stopped and turned back toward the pair. �I was giving it to you,� he said.
The boy�s father looked at the money and then back to the man. �I don�t believe that this is what the Lord meant when he proclaim that the meek would inherit the Earth.�
�Excuse me?� the man said.
His father paused again, as if thinking something over. �We were merely singing the Good Lord�s hymns in order to pass on joy and happiness.�
�I still don�t follow you.� The man looked at his watch as if he had better places to be. The boy noticed a bald spot on the man�s head and wondered if it was penance for his sins.
�I don�t think that our singing deserves this reward,� his father said. He was still holding out the bill, but the other man did not look like he was going to take it back.
�Well, that�s all I�m giving you, so you can stop pestering me.�
Now the boy was the one looking like they had a better place to be. They had strayed from their spot; a prime spot with lots of foot traffic. If they did�t go back soon, some beggar would take it.
�I think that you misunderstand me�� his father began.
�No,� the man interrupted, �I think you misunderstand me. I am a hardworking man, with very little spare time. I am trying to hurry home and you are delaying me. I remembered that hymn from my childhood and I wanted to thank you with some of my hard earned money. Don�t make me regret it.�
The boy�s father lowered his hand with the dollar bill in it. �I am glad that our singing brought you back to your childhood. I am sure that it reminded you how easy and pleasurable life was when you walked with the Lord. But, about this one-dollar bill��
�Did you not hear me?� the man interrupted again. �I am heading home to my wife and three children. I have to cook dinner and put my kids to bed. Then I have to work on a report for work. Maybe then I will be able to spend a half an hour with my wife before we are both too tired to keep our eyes open. As I stand here arguing with you, I am taking time away from my wife. Now, would you please be happy with what I gave you and let me be on my way.�
The boy�s father held out the bill again. �Once we clear up this money, then you can be on your way. I really do not mean to take your precious time away from your wife. But it is just not right for you to give us this money. The joy our singing brings us is more than this one-dollar can buy. I would appreciate it if��
Once again the man interrupted his father. �I can�t spend my whole evening here. Here,� -the man fished out his wallet and took another bill out- �take this.� He placed the bill in the boy�s father�s outstretched hand and then turned away without another word. The boy watched the man hurry off down the sidewalk. His bald spot faded away in the mass of bobbing heads.
He was glad the man finally let them be. He had noticed a beggar in ragged clothes eyeing their spot on the sidewalk.
As his father stuffed the bills in his pocket, the boy saw that is was a ten-dollar bill. On returning to their spot on the sidewalk the boy saw the glimpse of a smile cross his father�s face. As much of a smile as his father ever broke.
They picked up In the Garden where they left off. His father sang with a new found energy. It seemed that as his pocket became fuller, his voice grew stronger.
The boy wondered if his father loved money or God more, and for a second he also wondered why his father didn�t love him as much as either.