l remember Locust Bayou….an old wooden church down a rocky dirt road with a hundred or so crackers singin’ to the tune of a pitch-pipe…With your heart make a joyful noise….

and every Sunday the stale crackers and Welches Grape juice…Do this in remembrance of me…cash laid in passed plates…bills…a ten….a twenty…leading up to the big show….

a rousing sermon calling for all sinners….,Come forth…confess that Jesus Christ is Lord…and you are but lowly, the cattle call with praises-be shouted out and Amen being sung from a hymnal….

shouts of glory with bodies arising from a makeshift tub of water….pastor and sinner, turned child of God, dressed in soaked white, Death to sin…and alive to Christ…..

I remember Locust Bayou….an old wooden church down a rocky dirt road…with a hundred or so crackers singin’ to the tune of a pitch-pipe….