Resettlement Chronicles V: Dark and Bitter, Like My Women

We did, in fact, double the congregation of the little church we shall be attending. They meet in the fellowship building prior to services, and we chatted with the half dozen septuagenarians and octogenarians for a bit before church. I’ve never been offered coffee so many times in fifteen minutes. Finally I relented, and followed an old fellow into the kitchen.

“How do you take it?”, he asked.

“Black as you can, sir.”

“Now that’s the only way.”, he approved.

As I mentioned there is no choir. The CD started and the father began singing the processional hymn, “America the Beautiful”. The old folks let him ride solo until we Caldos joined.

Tina, my oldest, can really belt them out. That’s why we moved here. So she let ’em have it good and strong; a hymn like hot black coffee in the morning. Then the old folks approved, and joined us.

6 thoughts on “Resettlement Chronicles V: Dark and Bitter, Like My Women

  1. I’m enjoying your resettlement chronicles. You tell stories (and offer bits of wisdom in them) quite well.

  2. It is indeed his best format. In older days he’d make a good columnist in the style of Herb Caen.

  3. Pingback: Dark Brightness | The resettlement of Cane Caldo.

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