kitchen and go against that."
"But there are Buddhist monks," says Charles, "who have studied religion for an accumulation of millions of years and they say Jesus was only a holy man and not the son of God. You can find anybody who's studied something for X number of years. I'm not sure what that proves."
"These Buddhist monks were not studying the Bible," I said. "They were studying the Koran. We talked about that in Sunday School ."
"I don't think they were studying the Koran," says Mrs. Shepherd. "You're talking about Islam."
"Well, the point is: I'm not talking about the Bible. If it's not in the Bible I'm not interested in it because if I have to stop believing in the Bible I might as well stop living on earth."
"Here, let's get the dishes washed up," says Mrs. Shepherd. "I appreciate your faith — I guess it's a small matter anyway. Sometimes I think we spend too much time on relatively picky religious matters."
It won't no picky matter to me.
While we were cleaning up I saw where Charles got his habit of taking the strainer out of the sink and leaving it out, and turning on the faucet and leaving it on. But I didn't say anything. She was nice to help.
Before we finished cleaning up, somebody knocked on the front door. That durn TEA Club meeting. I felt like I hadn't had time to get my bearings.
The meeting was something, and Millie joined in just like she knew everybody.
There was this woman dressed in rags who brought her baby in a sack on her back. Looked like she'd just walked away from a plane crash with her baby all tangled up in her clothes. What's more, she was cock-eyed. Looked like she was looking in two directions at once. Like those pictures of John Kennedy.
There were more unusual people there. But listen to what the meeting was about: they all, including Charles, and his mama, just flown in from Atlanta, are dead set against the Ferris-Jones nuclear power plant being built north of here.
That takes a lot a gall. These scientists have been working for years to get this plant built and Charles and these, well... a couple of them looked like hippies to me, and there was a doctor and two college teachers who looked like they don't eat right and the one with the baby — they all get together and in about fifteen minutes decide that the nuclear power plant has got to go. Has got to go, mind you.
They haven't hurt anything at the power plant. And electricity certainly has to come from somewhere.
I was in Pope's the other day and the mayor, Mr. Crenshaw, was talking to Mrs. Moss. He said the power plant was the best thing that ever happened to Listre — that it would bring new jobs and make taxes lower.
Now he's the mayor. He's somebody I can listen to. Somebody with a respectable position in the community who has to know what he's talking about, else he wouldn't be mayor.
Sometimes I believe these hippies and college professors sit around and frown and complain about what's helping a community most.
Look at the war. These hippies and such were telling the people who knew the most about it how to run it. So we lost. Now they're doing the same thing with this power plant. Do you see the people from the power plant telling the hippies how to be hippies? No, because they don't know anything about it. So they keep their mouths shut.
Charles told me I could come up front to the meeting but I stayed back in the kitchen. After about thirty minutes, Millie did come back and talk to me about how nice Charles and me had fixed up the house. She had a glass of wine, but that's the only one she drunk as far as I know. I never thought I'd see wine under a roof I lived under. Live and learn. I won't be a prude; but I do have principles and I will certainly keep close guard on what goes on. We're not going to have any alcohol under this roof for more than twelve hours, and otherwise only on some special occasions of Charles's. And when we have a child we'll have to discuss the whole thing very seriously. I
"But there are Buddhist monks," says Charles, "who have studied religion for an accumulation of millions of years and they say Jesus was only a holy man and not the son of God. You can find anybody who's studied something for X number of years. I'm not sure what that proves."
"These Buddhist monks were not studying the Bible," I said. "They were studying the Koran. We talked about that in Sunday School ."
"I don't think they were studying the Koran," says Mrs. Shepherd. "You're talking about Islam."
"Well, the point is: I'm not talking about the Bible. If it's not in the Bible I'm not interested in it because if I have to stop believing in the Bible I might as well stop living on earth."
"Here, let's get the dishes washed up," says Mrs. Shepherd. "I appreciate your faith — I guess it's a small matter anyway. Sometimes I think we spend too much time on relatively picky religious matters."
It won't no picky matter to me.
While we were cleaning up I saw where Charles got his habit of taking the strainer out of the sink and leaving it out, and turning on the faucet and leaving it on. But I didn't say anything. She was nice to help.
Before we finished cleaning up, somebody knocked on the front door. That durn TEA Club meeting. I felt like I hadn't had time to get my bearings.
The meeting was something, and Millie joined in just like she knew everybody.
There was this woman dressed in rags who brought her baby in a sack on her back. Looked like she'd just walked away from a plane crash with her baby all tangled up in her clothes. What's more, she was cock-eyed. Looked like she was looking in two directions at once. Like those pictures of John Kennedy.
There were more unusual people there. But listen to what the meeting was about: they all, including Charles, and his mama, just flown in from Atlanta, are dead set against the Ferris-Jones nuclear power plant being built north of here.
That takes a lot a gall. These scientists have been working for years to get this plant built and Charles and these, well... a couple of them looked like hippies to me, and there was a doctor and two college teachers who looked like they don't eat right and the one with the baby — they all get together and in about fifteen minutes decide that the nuclear power plant has got to go. Has got to go, mind you.
They haven't hurt anything at the power plant. And electricity certainly has to come from somewhere.
I was in Pope's the other day and the mayor, Mr. Crenshaw, was talking to Mrs. Moss. He said the power plant was the best thing that ever happened to Listre — that it would bring new jobs and make taxes lower.
Now he's the mayor. He's somebody I can listen to. Somebody with a respectable position in the community who has to know what he's talking about, else he wouldn't be mayor.
Sometimes I believe these hippies and college professors sit around and frown and complain about what's helping a community most.
Look at the war. These hippies and such were telling the people who knew the most about it how to run it. So we lost. Now they're doing the same thing with this power plant. Do you see the people from the power plant telling the hippies how to be hippies? No, because they don't know anything about it. So they keep their mouths shut.
Charles told me I could come up front to the meeting but I stayed back in the kitchen. After about thirty minutes, Millie did come back and talk to me about how nice Charles and me had fixed up the house. She had a glass of wine, but that's the only one she drunk as far as I know. I never thought I'd see wine under a roof I lived under. Live and learn. I won't be a prude; but I do have principles and I will certainly keep close guard on what goes on. We're not going to have any alcohol under this roof for more than twelve hours, and otherwise only on some special occasions of Charles's. And when we have a child we'll have to discuss the whole thing very seriously. I
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