Sunday, July 18, 2004

Years ago my brother used to take and sell illegal drugs. So did I, but I did mostly different drugs (the Vin Diagram intersects a little bit) and he organized raves. Anyway, we grew up at a Quaker church down here where our Mom worked as the secretary for about twelve years. They got a new pastor who didn't like most of the people who went to the church. He set about driving away his congregation. The youth pastor told Pat that he couldn't come back to the church until he cleaned up his act. This upset Mom.
Pat cleaned up his act, got saved, went to bible college and came back right as they were weeding out the bad youth pastor. They promised that they would hire Pat. The bad pastor who didn't like anybody instead hired an old college buddy of his who nobody at the church liked either. Mom left the church abruptly and never went back.
There's more. There's people who treated her really poorly. Mom can hold a grudge like I can hold liquor.

Ten years later my brother went back to the church. There are all new pastors. Some of the old people are there but many left the church mainly because they stopped singing hymns and started having half the service as "praise music." Most of the Quaker church used to be people over 70. Now the congregation is about half of what it used to be. Most of them are people we knew only ten years older.
Pat and I decided, for our own reasons, that we'd like Mom to go back to the church. Pat because he thinks she needs a church that is her church and me because I think she needs a base of friends, a social group, and activities to keep her from her depression and loneliness (said the pot to the kettle.)
So I went back to the church this morning because I told Pat that I would and because I wanted Mom to see me go back there.
Little kids were all grown up. Adults were much older. The praise songs were awful but the sermon was great. It was great to see the old stained glass, the garden that Prentice Martin made all those years ago, the rafters I used to crawl up in, the piano I took naps under, and the mysterious door to what we used to call the Dead Body Room. Like so much of life it was unnerving and great fun at the same time.
I came home and told Mom all about it. She might someday entertain the notion of maybe going back perhaps if the conditions are just right. Baby steps.

This evening I took Charles to see Instagon. Phish completed my tattoo design and it is perfect. Yod, Dr. Oblivious, Cary Pealer, and Lob played. Dr. O is flying home tomorrow.

Tomorrow is another one of those wild card days. I pay for the books tomorrow and pick up more books from my grandmother. The tattoo happens at night. But other than that, I'm not sure what's going to happen tomorrow.

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