My friend Brenda chose August 22nd as her wedding day, and Lord have mercy, I can't tell you why. I reckon she was ready to get on with the honeymoon and such. I was the only attendant, decked out in a green taffeta number that cost a fortune and made me sweat just lookin' at it. I put it on for her, because that's what friends do when one finds the love of her life. The wedding planners couldn't know that the electricity would go out mid afternoon at the tiny little Methodist church at Finley. Probably a snake in a transformer somewhere down around the Big Muddy.

My friend Chucky made a housecall to do my hair...it wilted as he styled and sprayed, trying desperately to save me from myself. When we gathered at the church in the dim heat I noticed that the tapers were melting on spot. The groom's idol, Neil Diamond, crooned in the background as the nuptials got underway. Did I mention that it was really really HOT?

Last time I saw Brenda Mae was at her Daddy's funeral. She was wearing a nice southern girl hat, escorted by her good friend Jim to the grave site. We had lunch at Finley Methodist, deviled eggs and fried chicken and all that stuff. There is nothing in this world like funeral food, if you know what I mean. What a pity that it takes a death to bring out the good cook in a southern girl.

I think they're still married. Jack used to be a preacher, of the Baptist variety. He got discouraged somewhere along the way with the subservient woman thing and the no dancing.no having fun.no earthly pleasures chapters. of the bible. My faith picks up right around the birth of Baby Jesus in a nasty ass barn, born to unwed parents who were asked to believe in a miracle.

I drove by my home church on the way to get breakfast and the newspapers yesterday morning. Daddy was there singing in the men's choir and going to sunday school. Mom couldn't make it. It hurts for her to walk.

Together, they gave me what I believe about God.

It's all good.

^j^