|Who can read this thing?|
Of course, it was supposed to be over in May, 1980, right before my high school graduation. There was a huge theory in Keiser, Arkansas at the time, that the world was going to end the first week of May. Jesus was going to return, and I was convinced I would be totally left behind, home alone, alone on the planet Earth, NEVER receiving my high school diploma. It wasn’t that I was an evil person or more sinful than the next, but I was worried that I hadn’t done enough. What if I hadn’t been good enough or prayed enough? What if Brother Brown hadn’t given me a proper baptism at Brinkley Chapel where I grew up? And often, on Sunday mornings, I had a hard time concentrating on Brother Brown’s boring sermons. I just couldn’t help it. And the pews were hard.