FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: This life story begins in 1973 (kind of) part 103

 Doocy fumbled around with his thoughts for the longest, wrinkling his brow until he had settled things in his mind satisfactorily. Then he commenced telling the story he had wanted to tell all along, just needed us to want him to tell it.

OUT TO PASTOR: Did I really say that?

 As far back as I can remember, I wanted to be a writer.My maternal grandmother wrote poems and would read one at the family gathering. I don’t know if that’s where I got it, but I got it.I wrote poems as a teenager, although I never shared them with anybody.

FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: This life story begins in 1973 (kind of) part 103

 I walked her to the door. We were not in a hurry, and Corrina held on tight for a long time. She didn’t say anything, she just held on as if for dear life. We said goodnight, and I told her I’d see her soon. She opened the door to go inside, but I put my hand on her arm.

OUT TO PASTOR: Truth is as the truther says

 One thing I have learned in life is that for many people, truth is a relative thing. The truth is what they say it is, and you can't convince them otherwise.I wrestle with telling the truth all the time. If you tell the truth, you do not have to remember what happened.

FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: This life story begins in 1973 (kind of) part 102

 An hour later we were on the Roanoke Road headed home. We crossed the Chattahoochee River, now flowing so calmly where it overflowed only a few days before. I reached over to turn on the radio, but Corrina put her hand on my arm to stop me.“Today Pup, let’s let it just be you and me.

OUT TO PASTOR: It’s my pain I’ll use it if I want to

 When I think I’ve turned a page to a new chapter in my life, I realize there is nothing new in life.I’m referring to pain.I cannot remember a time in my life when I didn’t have some pain.In the years of my naivety, I never imagined that when I got older, I would experience more pain.

FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: This life story begins in 1973 (kind of) part 101

 I opened the door of the Nova for Corrina as I had done a hundred times that summer. She didn’t get in, though. She stood there with me in the door. I looked back once more. The graveyard was now quiet; even the workers slowly lowering Mama to the ground worked in silence.

OUT TO PASTOR: Where oh where is my hair?

 It is true that I don’t pay attention to many things in life. I guess I’m just too busy to notice everything.The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage always asks me why I’m not paying attention. To keep engaged in that argument, I say, “I’m too poor to pay attention. Could I borrow $0.25 from you?

FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: This life story begins in 1973 (kind of) part 100

 Cheyenne had remained quiet through the retelling of much of the latter chapters of that summer, but he asked slowly, hesitant to interrupt.“Popman, was that Corrina who came to stand by you with your Mama?”I nodded, remembering again how sweet that moment was.

OUT TO PASTOR: Oh no, not another day

 I thought got over the problems I had two weeks ago. I thought I stepped onto new ground and everything was going to be fine.Very few times am I right, and this wasn’t one of them.A couple of weeks ago, I had a terrible day.Our electricity was off for over six hours.