I can remember it like it was yesterday. I think almost everyone who attended Sunday school during the sixties and seventies has a memory of the high tech presentation systems used to etch memories in the minds of the young people who never missed a week. In fairness to this generation, attendance was not high because of the quality of storytelling but rather the willingness of a parent to use soap or the back of their hand to quickly put an end to any attempt to present an alternate to the fast paced drama that would unfold on the felt board every Sunday morning. We were told they were parables but we cared more about pulling the hair of the girl in the row in front of us or throwing a paper airplane at the teacher’s head. The felt board was a marvel of modern artistry but the stories got old really quick.
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