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We went to a church in my old hood Sunday. It was in the backyard of the pastor’s house, set with a mish-mash of folding chairs and patio tables, including one with coffee, kid drinks, and other treats. I’m guessing there were around 20 or so people there, another dozen or two online via Zoom, and a kid’s group doing its thing on another side of the house.
Why am I telling you this? At this point, I have no idea. Things usually become clear at around the 600-word mark. We will see.
I grew up in the south area of the city and, given my unsupervised freedom, I regularly (and without an inkling of fear that can only be born of wisdom), walked into or came close to taunting my own ruin via treacherous situations involving criminal types and other hoodlums who were usually up to no good thing. I did not make it out of there unscathed.