On vacation it was risky to lie to people about our family. My mother and sisters were so anxious to witness to people that there was a good chance they might start talking about The Things of the Lord to somebody who thought we were only a regular family of teachers. Then they would stand there staring angrily at me because I had betrayed them and said we were teachers, and now it turned out we were Calvinist missionaries. If they had been warned they would never have strolled over to my mom and said, “You must be the mother of that lovely little boy.” Now they were trapped, and my mom was sharing The Way of Salvation with them and telling them that if they let Jesus into their hearts, they could be saved. And they had only expected her to say, “Why yes, I hope he’s being good” or “How long are you in Paraggi for?” or “And are those your lovely children?” But because I had lied to them, they had innocently wandered over to talk to a born-again fundamentalist, and now they didn’t know how to get away short of just turning their backs and running for the pensione, checking out, and taking the train to Rapallo or La Spezia to finish their vacation as far away from us as they could get.

I might have lost Jennifer as a friend when Mom told me to ask Jennifer if she would like to come to our church service on Sunday morning in Mom and Dad’s room in the pensione. There we would sing hymns, pray, and listen to Dad preach an hour-long sermon to us, his congregation of Mom, Rachael, Janet, and me.