What A Day

First song Mother taught me to sing–in my Dad’s early Revival years before Roanoke if He was preaching locally while Mother was still recovering from the surgeries and cobalt cancer treatments–but she would get me all ‘spit and shined’ and I would climb into the car with him every single night, sit patiently on the front pew until he came to the pulpit–and then it was my time. Standing in a chair or table where folks could see Dad’s Mini-Me, singing the same song. Every …

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